Foy

[Guest]

So marks the end of Rane Scando...

 

”œSo marks the end of Piccolo!”

[Piccolo]

Piccolo was beginning to question Scando's sanity. The ferocity of the man's assault was a stark contrast from their previous encounters. Scando was normally a cold and calculating opponent. But right now his attacks were full of venomous emotion and animal-like intensity. Piccolo certainly admired the latter, but to see it coming from Scando threw him off his game. He had Scando in his clutches now. Whatever the reasons behind the man's mysterious behavior, it would not make Scando's death any less enjoyable.

 

Rane Scando, I finally have you where I want you.

 

As Piccolo thought this, a wall of red came between them. For a moment, Piccolo was confused. Then, as the pain started to spread he realized his foolishness. Piccolo should not have forgotten the flamethrower, it was standard bounty hunter equipment. The orange flames reflected off his visor as the two men were engulfed. Piccolo's armor was not constructed in the same way Scando's was. Eclipse armor provided slightly less protection from fire, and the hunter felt the searing pain as his metal chest plate heated up. He backed off, knowing that his skin had been burned, and that it was potentially serious. Piccolo was not deterred. The familiarity of the agony made it easier to deal with. His whole body had been set aflame before, this was nothing in comparison.

 

And I lived through that one.

 

"Rane Scando, I don't know why you chose this moment for us to fight. But you will regret it, I can promise you that. Your end will be as dishonorable as I can make it. A proper reflection of how you led your life."

 

Piccolo was silenced with the sound of Scando's rifle going off. The hunter felt no pain, he had no pain receptors in his arm. But the sparks coming into his field of vision warned him the damage was severe. The readout on his visor showed him what his mind already knew. Piccolo had made another mistake, and he'd lost a limb. He should have gotten rid of that rifle when he had Scando in his clutches.

 

Am I just not as good as Scando? He has beaten me every time. Is he simply a better warrior?

 

Piccolo could not permit himself such self doubt. It was the same thoughts he had every time Scando defeated him. Piccolo was not the same bounty hunter then. He had ceased to be a Fett wannabe. Piccolo was his own man, and Rane was no match for him. Piccolo was even further heartened when Rane made the mistake of coming close once more instead of finishing him from a distance. Rane was not thinking clearly, obviously. Piccolo grimaced as Rane's armored hands pushed at his wound.

 

Rane Scando, you old fool.

 

"I still have one more arm. You should have gotten rid of it first. You are a resourceful fighter, but you are still physically weak."

 

Piccolo reached down with his good arm effortlessly tossing the smaller man backward.

 

"You probably should have went for my neck. I won't make the same mistake."

 

He stretched his hand outward, his grappling hook wrapping around the man's neck. Piccolo blasted into the air, dragging Rane along the ground by the throat. He pressed the button on his suit, activating the wire that connected the two combatants. Electricity flowed through Rane Scando's body. Piccolo had no other hand to hold against his stomach. A trail of blood fell along the surface of Foy. For the first time in his life, Piccolo wished he was full Doshan. The wound would not be life threatening if that were the case. He could only hope his stamina would outlast Rane's. Piccolo watched the other man's Mandalorian combat suit smoke as the voltage flowed through Scando. He increased the speed of his rocket pack.

 

((3 Good fight))

[Guest]

Rane Scando screamed in agony as the electricity flowed through his body. The intensity of the electrical energy was not strong enough to kill the Mandalorian instantly; the electricity brought excruciating pain, but not death. As Piccolo pulled Scando through the open air, the old man pulls off his armored gloves and then fumbles with the utility belt around his waist ”“ hands shaking, Scando pulls out a small syringe full of a strange, blue-colored liquid. Just as a strange, somewhat foamy liquid begins to drip from Scando's lips, he injects himself; Scando closes his eyes as the drug blazes through his bloodstream, numbing much of his body. Just as the last drop of the drug enters the Mandalorian, the syringe explodes ”“ Piccolo's electricity was such a drag.

 

With Piccolo's electrical storm still pulsing in and about him, Rane Scando draws his blaster pistol and blindly squeezes off a few shots. Most of the shots go wide, but one lucky blaster bolt hits the mercenary's rocket-pack, which fizzles and dies ”“ had Scando had his wits about him, he would have cursed and wished for an explosion. As both Mandalorian and mercenary fall, Scando drops his blaster and claws at the cable wrapped around his neck ”“ no easy feat, once again considering the electricity. Scando finally frees himself of the cable just seconds before the two opponents both crash down...

 

Open your eyes, you old fool!

 

Rane Scando could not move. It was the second time that the Mandalorian had fallen from the heavens that day ”“ for a moment, Scando hoped he would have the opportunity to fall a third time, as it would mean that he wasn't about to die where he lay. Scando couldn't see where Piccolo had fallen, but he knew that if the green-skinned mercenary rose first, he himself might not rise at all. Scando's hands were nothing more now than bloody stumps ”“ clawing at Piccolo's cable while electricity had pulsed about it had seen to that ”“ but the Mandalorian still found use for them as he pushed himself up off the red earth of Foy.

 

Nothing is more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose, a voice in the back of Scando's mind told the Mandalorian. It was true; Scando, despite his now two broken legs and numerous other injuries, crawls across the red earth, heading towards the sound of Piccolo's heavy breathing. Nearing his opponent, Scando was pleased to see that the mercenary had not yet got up. As the Mandalorian inched closer towards his opponent, he again hears a voice in the back of his mind...

 

Is he dead, Scando?

 

”œNo, not this one ”“ it would take more than a long fall to kill this one.”

[King Kheldar vos Correlli]

As the old saying goes- damn, damn good fight and one which has left me I'm afraid almost at a loss while trying to declare a winner, given the obvious statement that both parties both posted above and beyond and not only beat the hell out of each other, but took damage fairly as well. Everything else balancing it, it comes down to last blows and ultimately to the question of can Piccolo get up fast enough to react to Rane's muddled attempts to fry him with a laser and stop him? I would have to conclude, with one arm, most likely not. The winner, by the narrowest of margins is the nearly incapacitated Rane Scando. Good fight gentlemen.

[Guest]

His teeth clenched, Rane Scando uses his wrist-mounted laser to cut away at Piccolo's helmet. The task was extremely difficult, considering the Mandalorian's state, but after a few minutes Scando used one of his bloody stumps to cast aside what was left of the mercenary's helmet. Piccolo appeared to be unconscious ”“ the fall had taken a greater toll on the mercenary than Scando had first suspected. With a grunt, Scando grinds his wrist-mounted laser up against Piccolo's shoulder ”“ adjusting the weapon's power setting. Finally, Scando aims the weapon at Piccolo's head and opens fire...

 

”œI've still got it,”

[Reagan McGreggor]

Reagan looked at the ship and rolled her eyes... "this man's luck just never seems to run out...." She stood up and entered the ship, and made her way to where he lay getting his legs fixed by the droid... the urge to shoot the droid flared through Reagan... keeping it in check, she stood there and looked at him with hatred in her eyes...

 

"You are one lucky bastard... you know that right... you should be dead..." She picked up an object in the room with the force and just held it there, suspended in the air... turning it over with her mind... she let it drop onto Rane's abdomen... using the force to help it hit its mark harder then the large paperweight would have... hearing a "wuff" come out of him as he lost his air, she smiled...

 

"Why don't you tell me what it is you want Rane, or just leave me here, I can catch a ride out of here with the imperials... "

[Piccolo]

Piccolo was unconscious for some time. The sound of erupting volacanoes rumbled in the distance. The fallen warrior lay perfectly still feeling no pain. This had happened to him before. When the Dark Jedi had withdrawn his soul from its body, and again when Ara-lai retrieved it. He knew the feeling. Picccolo was dying.

 

Scando didn't make sure I was dead. That is odd. Perhaps he's coming back. Either way, I cannot let the old man end my life. Anyone but Scando.

 

Piccolo forced himself out of the fog of death, and opened his eyes. His arms were gone or useless, he couldn't tell which at this point. But he knew he had to get to his ship. The hunter rolled onto his side, it took all his strength to move. Blood was pooled around him. His hand lay beside him, severed in the fall. Piccolo stuck out his lizard tongue, and pressed the button on his wrist. The Howling Runner came for him as he passed out again. His R2 unit dragged his body onboard. It pumped electric impulses into his brain all the way to Coruscant.

[Guest]

It was a satisfying feeling, knowing that you were still the galaxy's best bounty hunter. Rane Scando smiled to himself as he lay, his back propped up against a wall, in his ship's tiny refresher unit that doubled as a ”˜med bay' when need be. The grin did not fade when Reagan McGreggor stormed in and started running her mouth about how the Mandalorian should be dead and whatnot. Should be dead? Scando thought to himself. Ha, no ”“ I am and should be alive... alive and kicking. Maybe it came down to the variety of drugs running through his veins, but Scando had never felt better; he was on top of his game, able to complete any task...

 

”œI can catch a ride out of here with the Imperials... ”œ

 

”œThat's not about to happen,”

[Reagan McGreggor]

Reagan leaned against the door jam and smirked at the man”¦ she pulled off her cloak, and drapped it over her arm, her white silk shirt and black pants a sharp contrast to her long red curls”¦ pulling her hair off her face, she smiled”¦ ”œSo, tell me what it is you want, what is so important that you need my assistance and I should not kill you for your past attempts on my life old man”¦???”

[Mandalore]

The R-41 Starchaser known as Misery, exits hyperspace in the vicinity of the planet Foy. The planet that first appeared the size of an apple through his viewport, was quickly swelling into a beach ball. A sensor sweep of the area was conducted as he approached the point where he would be most vulnerable to a sneak attack. The sweep came back negative for threats. A minor course correction, lined him up perfectly for atmospheric entry. He hit the upper atmosphere a little harder than he intended because of his speed. The outer frame of his ship shuttered as he pulled back on the yoke causing the belly of the Starchaser to dip at the rear of the ship, tipping the nose up. A tremor ran through the ship. Mandalore fire his braking engines, which made his ship level out and then applied power to the engines as he broke through the lower atmosphere, with a clear view of the surface.

 

On the surface below was a city of ruins. Most of the larger building looked as though time had taken its' toll and the houses were almost non existent. Over the next rise, in a wide open area stood what appeared to be an old coliseum. Mandalore conducted a flyby over the structure, while he scanned the feed from HQ's computer of the fight on Foy to try and match land features. His aerial camera confirmed the structure as the same one from the Holonet broadcast.

 

He lands on the outside of the coliseum, securing his ship before entering the lower part that was identified as the arena floor. The first thing that his eyes found upon initial entry was the wreckage of a YT-2000 Correllian freighter known as Night of Vengeance. The ship was completely obliterated. There was nothing salvageable left of it.

 

Walking into the arena further possibly 125 feet from the entrance was a dark smear on the ground. A pile of black ash in the outline of what appeared to be a humanoid form, lay atop the white dirt that covered the entire arena floor. The final resting place of ShadowFett.

 

"This must be where it happened?" He thought to himself.

 

Mandalore kneeled down, touching the ash with the tips of his fingers causing it to collapse and blow away in the wind. Under the ash lay something metallic, buried slightly beneath the surface. A closer examination showed it to be an old Mandalorian codex. He slid the codex into his concealment compartment in his armor, then turned to search for something else. He wondered where the Mandalorian's armor was? It was no where in sight and he knew that it wouldn't have melt completely.

 

He spent the next hour searching for clues and any other piece of valuable material that could be recovered, but found nothing more. Satisfied that he had examined the area thouroughly, he left the arena and boarded his starfighter. His ship took off and headed for deep space. Destination: Coruscant-The Last Call.

[handofthrawn]

The Dawn of Vengeance appeared out of hyperspace over Foy. Aboard was ShadowFett, returned from the dead for the second time. He was in a fresh body untouched by the many scars that he had earned over the years, something that he wasn't particularly fond of. More importantly, he was wearing a new suit of armor, one that he had recently made his own with the correct colloring and upgrades purchased from Corellia.

 

Again, it wasn't the same, but it was close. And that was besides the point. The point was that he was not even held down by death. More importantly, though, he had come to accept that he was not immortal, not invulnerable. There was still something to work towards.

 

He would need to train himself to defeat the Force.

 

But that was not why he had returned to Foy, the place of his death. He ran a detailed scan of the area and, after several minutes, located his effects. He had been disarmed at the beginning of his last fight, his weapons flung into space. And here they still were. It took a little work to bring them onboard, but he did so despite the fact that he had to open himself to vacuum.

 

Next he would try and salvage 2277, though he wasn't sure if he'd have any luck.

[handofthrawn]

ShadowFett landed on Foy and departed his new ship at the wreckage of his previous one. In many ways, it was a pity that it was destroyed, for the sake of sentimentality--something that a Mandalorian did not attempt to shun in some cases. This had been the ship that had served him for many years, had basically shot down Jedi Master Kirlocca, and had taken on a Golan defense platform over Artus.

 

But such things were now meaningless. They were shadows, phantoms of the past that only equated him to his current form and ability. He was that he was--his past brought him here, but it would not advance him further. The fact that he had been defeated here attested to the fact that he still had a lot of training to do.

 

Combat was his way of life, and failures came as well as victories. It was all moving from one stage to another, making entrances and exits as long as he had cues. The galaxy was not ready for the disappearance of ShadowFett, so disappear he would not.

 

He found 2277 in what was left of the cockpit--he couldn't get inside, but accessed the cockpit externally. The droid's head appeared undamaged, luckily, though its body was basically scrap. He would be able to restore his copilot and finder, as long as he got a new body for him. Or, better yet, he may be able to do without that...forming some sort of direct link with the ship.

 

"Time to get out of here," he said to himself, making for the Dawn again. Soon, he lifted off the planet and was back in hyperspace, seeking self-improvement through combat experience.

[Alora]

The Sundered Heart emerged from hyperspace, followed by a transport filled with slaves and headed down to the surface of Foy. The darkside was strong, reaching out to all who neared. The Sith Mistress grinned, letting the dark energies take her down to a location to set up a new Temple. Nothing but the best for the Sith.

 

Touching down, Alora left the droid to finish final checks, heading back into the luxurious depths of her ship to find her passengers. She touched Leo's mind, beckoning him to her as she approached Geki.

 

"We're here Mi'Lord, the transport just touched down on the next landing zone, ready for your orders."

[Jidai Geki]

*Geki strides from the craft, ordering the Imperial crew accompanying the transport to disgorge their living cargo. The slaves, some moaning and whimpering, some simply staring vacantly into space, are herded into huge pens ready for the whims of their Sith masters.

 

Geki selects one at random, a young man, his hollow cheeks grizzled with stubble, already greying from the rigours of his life. Lifting him using the Force, Geki reaches into the depths of his emaciated form and bursts his stomach like a rotten melon. The young man cries out in agony as gastric juices flow into his organs and begin to digest them. Drawing on his pain and fear, Geki lifts him away from the pen and slams him telekinetically into the floor, bones shattering with each slam, until he is a bloodied mess incapable of moving. Geki walks over to him and casually steps on his throat, ending his miserable existence. Merciful, really.

 

Reaching out with the Force Geki can feel the powerful darkness that is Alora. He speaks to her telepathically:*

 

My dear, whilst we are in training the orders are all yours.

[Alora]

The Sith Seductress laughed, the amused sound making a couple of the slaves smile, even though they were in the most dire of places. She answered him aloud, her tone as if she wasn't answering a silent comment. Alora's hand indicated the slaves and soldiers accompanying them.

 

"They await your orders my dear... "

 

She turned back towards the darkened recesses of her ship, the deep crimson walls of the embarksion ramp making the entrance look like a deep cavern with the way it was lit.

 

"Once Leo joins us, I shall give him his next task, then you and I can get to work... "

[Ravyn]

sorry wrong thread

[Leonardo Stovachi]

As he knelt on the floor of the pleasure yacht, Leo delved deep inside himself and feel the full effect of the Dark Side. On Cardia the young Sith had barely touched the vastness that was the darkness of the Force, and he had relished in it. It had made him feel alive, brought him strength and clarity that he had never experienced before. As he delved deep into himself he felt something that he had felt in a long time, and saw something he had not see in an equally long time. Before his eyes he could see Mara's face radiating all the love they had once shared. For just a moment, he once again felt all his old emotions returning. But then his memory took over and he remembered why he was here. She had left him. And now she wanted him back. Anger flashed across his eyes and hatred burned deep within.

 

Deciding to give her some payback, he lashed out with his anger and hate. Along with his pain and suffering, he sent her images of himself and Alora, during their lustful expression. Smiling, he rose to his feet and joined Alora and Geki outside the ship.

[Alora]

"Ahh, there you are my dear. Come, I have a task for you... I think you'll enjoy it..."

 

She guided Leo over a way from the ship, her arm slipping around his waist as she stopped in front of the slaves. Allowing her robes to fall open so that they had a profile of her tightly clad body as she lent forward to kiss her apprentice. She had felt his conflicting emotions before and had felt him succumb to the darkness. The kiss was a reward.

 

"Now my dear apprentice. You will go on a mission. You are to gather all the items you require to make a saber and then you will find a furnace. In this furnace you will create your crystal. Use all your hate, your anger, your emotions to create the lifeforce of your saber. Once you are done, come and find me..."

[Leonardo Stovachi]

Feeling her lips upon his own once again was tempting to once again take her body for his own pleasure. But he knew now was not the time or the place. Surely again they would act out the lustful whims of the Dark Side, and Trucido longed for that moment. Sliding his tongue across her lips teasing her slightly, he allowed them to part.

 

As he heard her words, the darkness within him rejoiced. He could now create the weapon by which he would slaughter countless Jedi. In his mind he could begin to see his weapon being formed, and in that picture he saw himself atop a pile of corpses, all bearing the robes of the Jedi Order.

 

"Yes, my Mistress. It will be done."

 

Drawing his cloak around himself, the young Sith apprentice made his way into the woods surrounding them, all while feeding off the pain and dispair of the slaves they had brought along for the treacherous ride.

[Jidai Geki]

'As far as I'm concerned, we are ready to begin. The slaves are here for whatever you deem fit to further my training. Whilst we remain on Foy, you are the master and I am the servant. Now-'

 

*Geki spreads his arms and inclines his head-*

 

'What would you have me do?'

[Alora]

Alora grinned at Leo as he agreed to do her biding, watching him head away from her to begin his task. She turned back around towards Geki, her robes flaring out around her as she lengthened her stride without losing any of her grace or poise, to reach his side again.

 

"To begin with... show me what skills you have retained finesse in. You had an impressive display with the last slave."

 

She gave it alittle more thought, her eyes moving to rest on a group of young slaves, both male and female.

 

"You once had me influence the minds of others into thinking what I wanted them to think. Show me how you would manipulate that group over there... going easy upon their numbers... we may need them to build something later... or for another reason..."

 

She grinned. What she had in mind was something she'd practiced a while ago.

[Jidai Geki]

'As you will it... master.'

 

*Reaching into the minds of two men and one woman, Geki works as subtly as his rusty skills allow him two, sowing strife and discord. Subliminal images and niggling feelings creep into the minds of all three slaves, all related to another woman near to them; was she the woman who betrayed them to slavers on their home world? It couldn't be... they had never seen her before being thrown together on the slave transport. But there was something familiar about her... the more they thought about it, the more they felt a strong sense of distrust and hostility towards the woman.

 

Geki manipulates the seeds of murderous intent into blossoming flowers, the mental darkness insinuating itself into their minds and turning mild suspicion and doubt into intense rage and hatred.

 

Geki's skills leave something to be desired; the woman he had tried to manipulate collapsed gracelessly, descending into catatonia, as Geki's attempts to infiltrate her mind instead result in him inadvertently tearing through her feeble psyche.

 

For the two men, their minds more attuned to primitive violence and hostility, it is easier to turn their natural propensity for brutality against the woman. They descend upon her and beat her to death savagely, manipulation of their minds no longer even necessary.

 

Geki withdraws himself from them and leaves them bewildered and confused, the horror of what they have done dawning on them as they look at the battered body of the woman before them.*

 

'I still need practice,' *mutters Geki in disappointment.* 'The woman's mind was too delicate for me to control.'

[Alora]

Alora found it different that their roles had changed. Regardless, she would do what was required of her. Watching the manipulations, and how the woman collapsed far too quickly, she figured that he would need much more practice on the women. The men he was more familiar with, their primal instincts easy to manipulate.

 

"You'll need a lighter touch for the women my dear. Not such a heavy hand with them. Delicate manipulations will do much more than rushing into it like a bull at a gate."

 

The men showed all the signs of horror as they realised what they had done, though none knew that they had been manipulated into doing something they normally might not have done.

 

"There's another group over there... try again... lighter touch on the women and ..." Here she smirked, "make them lose their inhibitions..."

[Jidai Geki]

*Geki nods and turns his attention towards the group of women. He reaches out again, as delicately as he can this time, so that he is barely aware of the presence of their minds. Working delicately, painstakingly, Geki stokes the fires of lust and desire in their minds. It takes him half an hour of concentrated, exhaustive mental manipulation, but at last he has his result. The women tear at their clothing, rendering themselves naked, and they pull each other to the ground to rut like animals.

 

Geki withdraws his mental touch from them, noting with some distaste the passion he had caused. He is a creature of rage, hatred and destruction. Such carnal pleasures did nothing for him. He longed to snap the women's necks like kindling, but held himself in check. Alora was his master, for the time being, and he would adhere to her wishes.*

 

'It is done, my dear.'

[Alora]

"Much better my dear..."

 

She could feel the frustrations within him, knowing the more she held him in check, the more powerful the explosion of powers that would come.

 

"I think you might enjoy the next task my dear..."

 

She turned towards the guards, demanding they separate a dozen of the fittest slaves. Each were to be armed with either force pikes or vibroblades and placed into an arena. Turning back towards Geki she smiled

 

"Like to test your battle skills dear?"

[Jidai Geki]

*A cold grin breaks out across Geki's face as he approaches the arena. The 12 slaves are young and powerful, years of hard manual labour bulking them up and making them hard as stone. Yet even in his imperfect condition, Geki would not need to break a sweat to defeat them.

 

Stepping forward, Geki pulls his lightsabre free but doesn't bother to ignite it. For the pathetic slaves in front of him, he will use the Tràkata form; a technique which will impose a handicap upon the Sith Lord and will actually give his opponents a chance.

 

Eight of the men don't even pick up the proffered motley collection of weapons, so terrified are they at the prospect of facing the scarred and masked man who had whimsically murdered several of them already.

 

Using his burgeoning telepathic capabilities, Geki stimulates their minds into a frenzied bloodlust, urging each of them to take up their weapons. He projects into their confused and addled brains the image of himself as the ultimate object of hatred, an enemy to be destroyed by any means necessary.

 

As one, the unarmed men reach for their weapons and rush at Geki pell-mell.

 

His lightsabre still not ignited, Geki waits patiently as the slaves rush at him.

 

He sidesteps the first man's clumsy blow with a force pike, driving his knee into the slave's midsection. As the man's breath leaves him and he doubles up in pain Geki ignites his lightsabre and decapitates the man in one fluid motion, the blade deactivated again before the disembodied head is rolling in the dust.

 

Geki rushes forward, his rage and pleasure at the impending kill flooding him, and catches the vibrosword of another man in one gauntleted hand. He drives the pommel back into the slave's face, breaking his jaw, whilst cleaving through the midsection of a third man with his temporarily activated lightsabre.

 

Geki is a whirling dervish of anger and sadism, his blade flashing into existence and deactivating again constantly as he tears through the hopelessly outmatched servants.

 

A third falls. The slave with the broken jaw has three limbs lopped off in one mou kei strike. Slaves number five and six topple as Geki's crimson blade cuts through their stomachs simultaneously.

 

Leaping away from them, not because he is tired or because he needs to regroup but simply because he wishes to prolong the carnage, Geki grins savagely as he surveys the dead or dying slaves and their six remaining companions, their earlier bloodlust rapidly becoming bewilderment and terror.

 

He walks towards them nonchalantly, his extinguished lightsabre dangling casually from one hand like a slumbering viper...*

[Alora]

Alora seated herself in a location that overlooked the arena, allowing her a terrific view of what was happening below. Relaxing and steeping herself into the dark energies; the fear, anguish, anger and terror the slaves felt, the Sith Mistress began to manipulate all of those remaining in the arena.

 

To give Geki more of a challenge, the injured slaves rose back to their feet, now intent on getting revenge upon the man that had mangled them. Two of them having to push the contents of their stomachs back into their bodies and tie scraps of their shirts around themselves to keep them in before they picked up their weapons to attack him again.

 

The other slaves showed horror on their faces that their 'fallen' comrades were again on their feet and attacking again, though saw this as a chance to maybe take him out. Their minds having been touched by the Mistress above, fueling bloodlust within them...

[Jidai Geki]

*Geki's grin threatens to split his face wide open as it widens even further, his revitalised opponents like so many lambs to the slaughter.

 

Greatly enjoying himself, Geki leaps into the midst of his opponents and, evading their feeble attacks, pirouettes. His lightsabre clutched to the small of his back, he crouches and performs a three-sixty degree spin, activating his lightsabre and cutting a swathe through three of the slaves.

 

One man swings his weapon around in a crude arc and looks to bury it in Geki's skull. Calling upon the Force, Geki twists the man's wrist, and the heavy sword is sent instead into the collarbone of one of his companions.

 

The dusty ground of the arena trembles and begins to dance as Geki creates a sandstorm, blinding and confusing his opponents.

 

Geki dances a savage dance, feinting and dodging, cutting and killing. Limbs soon litter the ground the arena, his enraged opponents unable to touch him, his lightsabre only ever ignited to deliver a killing or debilitating blow to his opponents.

 

Soon only three men oppose him.

 

Geki sends his sabre spinning outwards with a flick of his wrist, activating it at the last possible second and slashing through a slave from crotch to scalp, bisecting the unfortunate individual and sending his sundered body toppling to the ground, the partially cauterised wound steaming and an expression of shock on both halves of his neatly sliced face.

 

Geki is upon another man before his lightsabre is returned to his hand, using the Force to bolster his strength. Placing one hand against the small of the man's back and shoving with all his strength against the slave's sternum with the other, Geki pushes him backwards and into an unnatural angle, snapping his spine in several places.

 

The final slave's force pike is streaking towards Geki's back when his spinning lightsabre reaches his hand. Igniting it, he pirouettes gracefully, slashing through the force pike, and runs the man through with the blade. He gives a strangled gasp and falls to his knees, the humming blade still impaling him.

 

Geki deactivates the lightsabre, letting the man's body fall to the ground.

 

He turns towards Alora and smiles his terrible smile.*

 

'What would you have me do now, my dear?'

[Alora]

It seems her illusions were not noticed... and too easy for him to conquer being as he was in his bloodlust stage. The Sith Mistress banishing them to reveal the bodies of his first slain, no signs of them having 'wrapped up' their protruding stomachs with the contents spilled out all over the ground.

 

"You didn't notice the difference between illusion and reality?"

 

Her eyebrow raised as she approached the side of the arena.

[Jidai Geki]

*Beneath his mask Geki's features frown in confusion.*

 

'Illusions? I must confess, I had no idea. Please, elaborate.'