Carida

[Oblivion]

A look of subtle puzzlement endured upon the rather expressions of the man who dared combat Dark Lord over the personal pride that held with it a higher level of responsibility in the Sith Order, a sense of responsibility that had been his one true purpose and goal within the same order. Atleast, it was. The downfall of being Krath, or any less redeeming trait within the brotherhood's eyes, was the lack for bloodlust which became subdued by the processes necessary to plan beforehand occurdingly with precision and without fail. Scenarios that involved improvision and sheer will over pure wit and clever devics had been what he once praticoned as an inniate, finding the primitive acts less tasteful as he matured within the realm of darkness and also within the realm of science.

 

A forceful clash was audibly heard as his shoulder blades met first with the granite wall, tightened together as well as the entire rest of his body within that split moment, to draw him into submission. He had let himself so open, so confident in his own abilities and the knowledge retained from making the very intricacies of the blade used against him to stage any kind of counter. An emotion was seen briefly as he hung there; the signs of desperation appearing as he clasped down on his low lip, bearing down in order to will himself out from the death grip hold.

 

As often as life or death setting were, the very nature and flow of the battle came easy to any battle hardened person. Regardless of his duties within the foreground of schemes, Oblivion was a man of heart, instilled with a sense of pride in every action made who never failed to fall to treachery or disloyality to the very man he fought. He was the embodiment of everything that he looked for in a leader whose unfailing amount of courage and wisdom turned the same nature of battle in their favor many times. In a sense: it was a true honor to face such a man.

 

Stretching out his digits that remained pinned to the wall, Oblivion concentrated upon that one moment before the blade swung to the side, directly a blast of his own devices by means of the Force to crumble the wall he had remained pinned to. A schattering sound erupted as it was large to free his legs, followed by his arms as his entire body curled around the structure, gaining back footing as he retreated into the next room.

 

Reaching underneath the breastplate of his armor, underneath the folds of his organic armor, the curved blade that had been used to perform the alchemic pratices of soul harvesting became exposed in his left hand, warded out low at his side to avoid immediate recognition as the Dark Lord made his move through the hole he had created to this new area, outfitted with little artifacts to call it a room, but a space to continue the fight for them.

 

"How does it fare, my Lord? Are you becoming better accostumed to its weight or is still unfavorable to your touch?"

 

The retort, as respectable as it was, had a sense of stale humor about it. He was more less making fun of himself then anything, commenting on his style of fighting while he still remained unarmed, other then the concealed dagger. A mental barrier had been created upon first thought of drawing the curved dagger, now fully concealed in his left arm's sleeve as he charged forward.

 

Using the inner fiery tempest the darkness created in both of them, he enhanced his legs, pivoting back and forth in a graceful pattern of smooth entries, inching closer and closer until he finally lunged forward with his left hand, angling the curved end to meet with the right rib cage of the fellow armored combatant in a slightly underhanded manuver.

[Bad karma]

A transport shuttle slips out of Hyperspace above Cardia, sending its identification codes in. It was marked as a Shuttle hailing from Coruscant, working for Barton. After it was given clearance to land it descended upon the planet and the soldiers inside set to work. This jungle planet was the prime location for them to go hunting upon. They set up a camp and over the next few days searched the jungles for the animal on their list. Not only an animal on their list, but a pregnant one. That only made this hunt all the more dangerous since they already had to bring it in alive.

 

In the end they got what they came for, but they lost four men in the process and had to slay the father of the "kittens" to be. Once the animal was subdued and locked away, they entered the ship and left the planet once more. Heading back to Coruscant.

[Enigmatic]

Revan was replenished. Recovered. Regenerated.

 

His body stepped from the cloning cylinder as the carbon air soared behind him in a thundering muster. His robes were layed perfectly folded along the table along with his face mask. Strapping his essential attire on, he descended down the medical bay stairs and soon found himself out of the temple. His eyes were blistering red, and vengence swirled in his blood. He would hunt Nom eventually, however not for his saber, but for the Jedi carrying it.

 

When he adapted to the enviornment once more, as though just being born, he contacted the Dark Lord himself through the force.

 

Master, I have fully recovered and ready to aid the sith once more. However, I need to speak with you, where can I find you?

[Nex Terren]

"Eclipse Two, a wedge and a wishbone are on my tail, assistance requested."

 

"Eclipse Leader, I copy."

 

Blackman jerked on the back on the controls and dialed propulsion power into the maneuvering jets with his left thumb. The craft responded in a tight flip that positioned him so he could see Eclipse Two. There she was, enemy starfighters bearing down on her, heading straight for him.

 

More deaths happened in face-to-face attacks then any other way. Blackman wasn't a Corelian, and he cared very much about the odds. Quickly he dialed his propulsion and jets into a rough balance and brought his fighter into a sharp climb that he let continue for two seconds.

 

"Eclipse Leader, this is Eclipse Two. Where is that assistance you promised?" Her tone was clearly less then pleased.

 

"Coming ar-" His craft convulsed and his windows were painted with frost of blue electricity wich framed an E-Wing. He had no idea where the fighter had come from, but that wasn't important. In fact, much of nothing was important to him, because he couldn't afford energy on conscious thought just now. Acting on instinct his craft fell into a simi-loop that situated him on the enemy craft's tail.

 

Or more the maneuver was supposed to do that.

 

Three red streaks flew past overhead kindly informing Blackman that the E-wing had moved from a head on assault to his tail. He couldn't help Eclipse two out now, however he also couldn't leave her without assistance. A quick glance at the sensor screen revealed the next closest fighter to Eclipse One.

 

"My hands are full - Eclipse One, can you take care of her?"

 

The gruff voice barked the expected reply. "I copy 'Clipse Lead."

 

Blackman barreled left just in time to miss a second barrage of laser fire. He noted the orientation of the triangle and was able to tell the orientation of the craft. He began to dive, and then dialed his engine into reverse. It had the intended result of switching their positions, and soon he saw the E-Wing shooting forward, apparently giving up on maneuvers.

 

In a moment the agile TIE Defender was on the E-Wings tail. Blackman tapped on the right trigger, lacing the craft's aft shields with laser fire. With a crackle and flash the enemy craft's shields went out. The E-Wing pilot clearly decided to return to maneuvers. He rolled to the left even as the last bolt disabled his shields, nearly throwing Blackman off. Blackman began to think of all the possibilities that the pilot could do, and filed them into different subsets, such as rash, simple, advance, commonly taught, and then he selected the ones he thought the enemy most likely would do based off what he had done so far. Mentally he plotted a sphere over the E-wing, placing ghosts off all the possible maneuvers branching off it, and highlighting the few he had selected earlier. As his conscious thought dissected the enemy's mind in an organized dash, his sub conscious was once again left with the task of piloting the craft.

 

The enemy pilot tried a climb. This was third on Blackman's list, however because one and two both were variants on dives, one a corkscrew, the other involved cutting speed and falling into a spiral, he had began on a dive himself. Blackman gave more power to the maneuvering jets from the propulsion, and brought the nimble TIE Defender about, correcting his mistake. The E-Wing fell into his sights, and he fingered the trigger, cutting the craft's ground shields to half.

 

He reanalyzed the pilot, taking in what he knew about his technique, and figuring in what he would do now that his lower shields were in such a state. A micro-second glance at the sensor screen gave him additional information, that about the status of the fighter, as well as that of the battle, which he figured in accordingly. Once again all the possibilities were painted onto the fighter, and the most likely were highlighted - far fewer then last time.

 

The E-Wing made his move. He reversed his propulsion trying the trick Blackman had just done. Number one on Blackman's list. He squeezed the trigger, and the E-Wing erupted in a fiery blaze.

 

Wasting no time he looked down at the sensor display, giving it more time then before. Eclipse Two was partly clear, hovering at the edge of the battle. What was left of the battle anyway. Only two fighters remained. One was the wedge still on Two's tail followed closely by One. Blackman tensed when he saw what type of fighter it was: a TIE Defender. Then a second jerked onto the screen. Three, four, six TIE Defenders clustered on the far right side of the screen.

 

"This is Base Leader, six rouge fighters have been detected baring on your position, four clicks from Eclipse Leader."

 

Blackman looked over at the com screen, seeing which fighter channels were still active. One, two, and nine. Including him they had four. The enemy outnumbered them by a half. Those certainly weren't the best odds, but they were manageable. However One and Two were still busy, so that gave them only two to fight with. Two against six. Blackman cursed under his breath. He needed to locate nine to form a quick plan. If he was nearby one of them could cover the other, if not maybe they could flank the enemy's force by both sides and scatter them. He looked down at the sensor screen and looked for Nine's position. He found the fighter directly in front of the rouge fighters. To make matters worst if Blackman was to aid Nine he would have to attack the rouge fighters in a head on collision. To make matters ever more dire if at anytime they would destroy Nine they'd be set up for a head on attack, which, unless they were fools, they would take.

 

The pinpoint of light that marked nine's position went out.

 

One against six, in a head on fight.

 

Immediately his mind went to work. He decided upon what he knew, what he didn't know, what would be good to know, how he would find these things out, what actions the pilots might take would tell him what. He guessed their attacks, and formed counter attacks, he formed attacks and guessed their counter attacks. He set himself inside their minds, tearing apart any physiology that would match theirs. He had never been a traitor, but he had flown against other TIE Defenders before, and he how such odds on your side changed your tactics. He also knew that they shared a common foundation: neither party held fear.

 

The rouge pilots because they thought they couldn't lose.

 

Blackman because he knew he wouldn't lose.

 

He had to instill fear into them, enough to cause them to call off a head on attack just long enough for him to attack them in a manner that relied more on skill, and also long enough that gave him the aid of One and Two, but not too much that would cause the pilots to brake formation and charge at him. A missile lock would do that, but only for one of them, and if that one happened to not be the leader it would only cause the formation to disintegrate. If it were the leader of the formation, however, he would lead them all into an evasive maneuver.

 

Picking out the leader was a fairly easy job, and it took only a few moments to get a lock. The fighters didn't make any movement. Surely their computers should have warned them of the lock, so why weren't they responding? Not only was it not a human response, it wasn't intelligent. If the leader fell the others would be lost, not knowing what to do. Even if the leader wasn't afraid to die for his cause, he should care about his wingmen's lives, and how all their deaths would hurt the cause they fought for.

 

Blackman's computer beeped warning a missile lock on his craft. They just wanted to trade one fighter for another? The leader was willing to kill himself, as well as his comrades just for Blackman's life?

 

He jerked back on the left trigger sending a proton torpedo at his opponent. In return the enemy's warhead appeared on Blackman's sensor display. It was identified as a heat/life concussion seeker missile, a powerful one at that, and it was charting brakeneck speeds. He realized he wouldn't have time for another missile lock, so he sprayed laser fire at his opponents, and then dove in a wild spin in an attempt to avoid the missile, but it proved too fast and agile. He never saw it hit.

 

A strange realization crept over the man as he discovered that he wasn't dead. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, and opened his eyes that he hadn't known that he had shut. Before him displayed the elapsed mission time, the number of kills each member achieved, and various other information that the programmers thought might be useful.

 

Blackman leaned back with a sigh. The reason the six rouge pilots didn't act human was because they weren't human. They were simulated pilots who weren't programmed to fear, to be angered, to get sloppy when victory was at hand. Destroying the 'leader' wouldn't throw their forces into chaos, or even disassemble their formation.

 

Getting into that state of mind was the only way he could perform, and it was his downfall every time. He could take down droid pilots, he had done it countless times before, except even droids had blind spots, and even droids were given some thought, some personality to aid in their performance. A few tales drifted about the ancient clone wars and how the simple battle droids made expressions of dismay before their deaths, or how some turn and ran, even when they knew they couldn't get away.

 

The simulator had a memory wipe after every session, however, and had a perfect 'sensor array' which in solely relied upon. There was no tricking it, and there was no preying upon its flaws.

 

Blackman looked back up at the screen seeing that Two had went down, but One had survived, even if it was by a narrow margin, completing the mission. Despite the fact that only a single member of their entire squadron had lived through the ordeal, he was pleased; no squadron had ever before completed the simulated mission. In fact the point of it was for the pilots not to survive in order to carefully examine their limits.

 

Blackman activated the door, and emerged from the simulator cockpit. He found the entire squadron clustered around One and Two giving congratulations. Blackman soon gathered that Two had died only a second before the simulation ended and was the reason the last TIE Defender had bit the dust. Although if it was real One was the only one that would have walked away, the squadron saw both pilots as the survivors, ignoring technicalities. Well, if it had been real, all three of them would have walked away more likely then not.

 

Blackman made his way to the elevated platform that led out of the simulator door in hopes to have a better chance of attracting the ecstatic group's attention. He had something to tell them and now was as good of time as ever. Eclipse One apparently took this as a sheepish withdraw, and quickly called his superior up on it. His deep gravelly voice easily rose above the noise in the room.

 

"Ya died and now you're trying to run away, ey?"

 

This caused the room to brake out in a bunch of whoops and cries of amusement at what they now unshakably took as a shameful retreat. There was no point in trying to deny it at this point, no one would believe it, and it would be suicide to say that he just wanted to get to the door to grab their attention; he realized now that it would only sound like a poor excuse. Instead he smiled and gave a shrug of his shoulders, silently accepting the accusation. When the room quieted down enough to speak, Blackman did so.

 

"I've got good news men." This quieted down the room, not enough to hear a pin drop, but enough that he could have whispered if he so wished. "We're going into active service starting to-" -day. The room returned into an uproar thrice what it had been. The pilots were to excided to keep their focus on anything for long. They hollered, slapped each other on their backs, and declared how they were going to kill the 'publicans. Even Eclipse Two had a wide, tooth filled grin as she glanced about her wing mates, something Blackman had never seen before.

 

The only one who didn't partake in the celebration was Eclipse Two. Other then Blackman, Two was the only one who had seen combat outside a simulator or training run, and he had seen easily twice what Blackman could claim. Also his work had been as a mercenary, where every battle was one for your life, unlike Blackman's military upbringing that included countless patrols and easy battles against small bands of pirates. Two knew how grizzly war could be.

 

Blackman quietly exited, retiring to his office. There he transmitted the message: Eclipse Squadron was ready to serve.

[Lord MacLeod]

Luke finished his report and filed it away. This he didn't really mind, though most pilots seemed to hate doing reports after a battle. For luke, these reports were a way for him to calm himself after the chaos of the battles. He sat at his desk for a moment and went over what had happened in the eariler battle.

 

He had done what he could at that time. As he sat there, his comm link buzzed. "What is it, Private?"

 

"Commander, a message was just transmitted from the simulation area. It seems scenario 66 was just used for training purposes, the Call sign for the squadron is Eclipse squadron. They did well at the scenario, one of the better scores of the scenario that has been recorded."

 

"Thank you for that Private, I will look into it."

[Kijdic the Hutt]

Edited: Edited for alias purposes. I changed characters.

Edited February 2, 2007 by Guest

[Kakuto Ryu]

--From KR's Cybercomm to Revan--

"Meet me on the bridge the new Star Destroyer--the black one."

--End comm--

 

Kakuto's fingers wrapped around the blade of the dagger as oblivion charged forward, the unfeeling steel suffering almost no damage from the maneuver. Kakuto's hand came up into the Lord's face, knocking him backward with a force blow to the face, while disarming him with the stun effect it produced.

 

A wave of force power lifted Oblivion up; taking what was aiming to be a fall and strangely playing it in reverse--now propelling him towards a horizontal stab of his sword. The Force controlled his direction, and quickly it became apparent that this was not an attack he'd be able to dodge.

[Oblivion]

The cold hands to which turned the edge of the falling dagger made swift work of the rather underhanded technique without breaking so much as a sweat. Bitterly confronted by the counter, the very life which he himself drew upon the darkness was used against him, the deeper tendrils that could only be seized by one such as the Dark Lord himself. What struggles came against the binding powers became triffle at best, objecting his chest and arms ever so slightly to elude the all encompassing grasp upon his slender frame.

 

Muscles stressed as the vein patterns along his forearms became visible, for his brillant mind had temporarily became overwhelmed by the sensations of the Force, and confronted every possibility to retain what he once had. Time was his ultimate confrontment, of what little became in those moments of retailation before the impedding edge of the sword marked his own had thrust against him. Wincing hard, the natural organic material that comprised the freeform armor beneath the cloak he adorned wrapped like vines, spreading out in attempt to absorb the impact.

 

That final moment came with a loud clatter, a groan escaping him as he fell aback onto the ground. A cut was left upon his right side, despite the sacrifical manuver the living soulful armor possessed to face the impact, having now leaked across the temple floor's ground in its original puddle form. Aiding the side which was injured, the Sith Lord brought himself up to his feet, boots soaked in the heavily coarse liquid material of his former armor, a hard glance exchanged between the two men before words were uttered on his behalf.

 

"You've certainly exposed my weakest element. Having been raised a swordsman, converted disciple, and born again into the services and teachings of the Krath, the bloodlust I once held has fallen from my lips. 'Though, had it not been for that knowledge I now possess, I believe I would be still brandished upon the edge of my own sword's edge by yours hands, would I not?"

 

It was clear that Oblivion had lost all savor for continuing, yet tried to produce himself to stand at an even pose, where if combat should ensue again, the man wouldn't be taken down quite as easily. Never the less, if it were so, he devised that said encounter would only result into him losing face in the eyes of his Lord once more. As for now, the Sith Lord proudly remained standing, that hand which had aided his stab wound lingering off to the side, allowing the crimson taint upon his cloak to spread down across his thigh, trickling down past his boot, and collecting upon the already muddled floor.

Edited July 16, 2006 by Guest

[Moric Thian]

The thick trees of Cardia finally ceased their enshrouding hold on the Serpent Lord as he finally eased himself into the sun flooded surface of Cardia. The fresh tendrils of battle still eased a sense of foreboding on the lush evergreen landscape. Dried blood still littered the ground as if it too was amoung the asorted echosystems. Yet all this seemed to escape Moric's senses as he trudged through the wilderness. His journy seemed to end however as he finally found what he was for. The charred remains of the Sith Temple stood in view, a testiment to the Sith themselves. Even on the aftermath of a triumph, their temple stood as a bruding form of what it once was desimated by the fires of one of their own. That was the way of the Sith. Their foolish blight upon the galaxy amounted to nothing when they only managed to destroy themselves in the end. What was power when one could not hold it?

 

Yet this thought dissipated as he reached the hanger. The last remaining fighter gleamed in the hanger, its potential as Moric's escape almost cought his attention immediately. Considering the deserted nature of the facility, the Serpent Lord had no trouble acquiring passage into the one-man vessel. With a flip of a switch, the sublight engine filled the hanger with a resounding echoe as it roared to life. A jump into hyperspace soon followed suit.

[Haphaestus]

The strange being known as Haphaestus rose from the place in the forest where he had been meditating on the battle that had come and gone. There was still something wrong on Carida, some lingering effect that the Light Side had left behind. He stalked out of the forest, seemingly aimlessly.

 

Following the call of the Dark Side, the Sith Master soon found himself in the charred remains of the Sith Temple's hangar. He tracked the movements of one of the remaining two ships as it left the planet, its pilot certainly a Sith. Still, the disturbance that Haphaestus dwelt on did not disappear. There was something here...something elusive.

 

Wordlessly and almost thoughtlessly, the being that had lasted thousands of years swiftly and smoothly traversed the durasteel floor to the back corner, which still smoldered with fire and was wreathed with shadow. There he dropped into a cross-legged position, his mask betraying none of the biological feelings he had become unnaturally a custodian of.

 

With practiced ease, Haphaestus then proceeded to erect a mental barrier that satisfactorally and efficiently masked his rather ample Dark Side presence.

[Nom Anor's avenger]

Darkness shrouded the land of Cardia like a ominous cloud plaguing a once thriving world. Yet even with the chorus of ravinous lightning and booming thunder spawned by the dark side, a ray of sunlight broke through, puncturing the would be perfect blanket of darkness. That ray of light shot through the forest as if on the brink of being extinguished. Through precise application of the Force, Nom Anorus was able to mask his signature from any prying Sith, at least to the best of his ability.

 

His cloaked progression however halted at the remains of the Sith Temple. How it cought fire eluded the Jedi Master, yet wasting time contemplating that mystery would soon get him killed. He needed a way to escape. Having been stranded on a remote Sith world did little to promote his health. He had been lucky so far however, perhaps there would still be a ship within the charred Sith ruins.

 

The deserted Sith temple amounted no opposition to Nom roming its depths freely. As a result, he was able to locate the hanger with minimal difficulty. The hanger itself appeared empty and a quick sweep of the Force seemed to indicate that very same observation. Yet even before he took another step, something cought his attention. The reading was quick almost invisible, yet Nom's mastery in the Force was able to catch it.

 

Snapping his head to the side, his eyes immidately searched a nearby corner, its depths bathed in darkness. The Jedi Master could sense a small sign of life, yet nothing to amount to any hostile creature. It must have been a rat or something. Basic logic told Nom to investigate further, yet his survival instinct told him to leave the planet as soon as possible. Unfortunately for the ill-fated Jedi, he chose the second option.

 

He picked a rather spacious transport, the last remaining ship, and used the Force to jam the door free. Upon its release however a loud thud permeated throughout the compount. Something in the door must have broke off leaving the entrance ramp ajar.

 

Crap....

 

Upon closer inspection, the Jedi Master was able to note the central latch bend out of position as he forced the door open. He smiled slightly upon learning the minimal nature of the damage. There had to be a spare in the cockpit. That thought in mind, Nom made his way to the head of his newly obtained vessel, the entrance ramp standing ajar...

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus watched intently as a human figure entered the hangar and moved furtively towards the last remaining ship therein. The being wore the robes of a Jedi Knight but was careful to hide his affinity with the Force that he clearly served. Simply by the way this man moved, Haphaestus identified him as a Jedi. Leftovers from the battle, he thought quietly to himself.

 

It was quite possible that this man was of Master level, if the fact that he had survived the battle meant anything. He also hid his Force ability with quite a solid shield, one almost tough enough to completely exclude Haphaestus' searching Dark energies.

 

Not that it mattered. As the Jedi entered the Sith transport (clumsily making needless noise as he did so), Haphaestus rose from his cross-legged position without the use of another limb. He was completely silent as he moved towards the transport, for his thick skin dampened the sounds of his servomotors and the way he placed his feet minimized noise, making silent their connecting moments with the hard durasteel floor, which was as charred as the rest of the temple.

 

The Sith Master continued to hide his Force presence as he arrived at the boarding ramp of the transport. He spotted a wisp of the Jedi's cloak further into the ship, apparently attempting to locate something. Haphaestus swiftly leapt into the air towards the entryway, one hand gripping the doorframe and altering his momentum to carry him inside the ship. Knowing the layout of the craft, he landed lightly inside a storage area that had an open door leading into it.

 

Rather than risking closing the door and alterting the Jedi to his presence, Haphaestus leapt again into the air, pressing his hands against the two walls that intersected into a corner. With untiring strength, he suspended himself there on the inside corner so that even one who looked into the storage area would have to turn around and look up to see him. Of course, the Jedi had no reason to enter to begin with....

[Enigmatic]

Revan got the reply from KR almost as soon as he sent it.

 

"Yes Master, I will be there shortly."

 

The new star destroyer was orbiting above Cardia at this very moment due to the conflict that made its way to the sith planet. The Jedi were hosting an attack, and Cardia would be a great challenge to take. Moving to his ship, he hopped in sending it upwards towards space where the star destroyer floated above the battle. When he was close, the hangar doors opened and he slid right in. Landing his ship gently, he hopped out moving towards the sliding doors.

 

Walking into the ship, he followed the pathway to the bridge, coming up as he saw the Dark Lord himself training with one of his apprentices. Moving cautiously towards him, Revan spoke out.

 

"Hello Master...it is good to see you. I have fully recovered, and I must speak to you about taking my last steps in apprenticeship."

[Kakuto Ryu]

Kakuto inverted the blade, offering the hilt of the sword back to Oblivion.

 

"A fine Sith. You have passed your trial--but do not think this is an opportunity to stop improving yourself. A true master never stops learning new things about his art. Take your sword and your dagger, and with them your rank as a Sith Master."

 

Kakuto smiled, offering the weapons back to the Sorcerer as Revan appeared. Quickly moving to the next task, Kakuto pulled up a cable and connected it to his implant--getting the log from the orbital camera that was monitoring the fight. He pulled it up in screens on the walls. Kakuto watched the scene quietly.

 

"I hardly knew that it was an apprentice down there, furiously fighting a master for dominance. Even if he got you in the end, you certainly showed the skill I expected. I'll bestow upon you, too, the next rank. You are now a Lord, and as such you may use all the powers and privileges that accompany it. Congrats."

[Enigmatic]

Revan smiled as the rank of Sith Lord was set upon him. He nodded as he began to turn away.

 

"Thank you master, I will not let you down."

 

He walked along the bridge and out towards the hangar where his ship was waiting. Hopping in, he set out into space towards his next destination which was currently unknown.

[Guest]

OOC: Crap, ignore.

[Oblivion]

Beginning his ascent up from the ground, the actions that had been brought upon him were finally given greater cause and clarification through the Dark Lord's words. Though the man had rightfully known what the challenge was from the beginning, it was sincerely gratifying to know that his intuition served him so well, even before the events unfolded. Conjuring upon the dark powers that be, Oblivion collected the source of his shattered armor, the powerful liquid collecting underneath his ankles as it formed once more to his body underneath the cloak. Soon after, he seized the weapons from the Dark Lord with the same careful manner he had offered it to him, relinquishing the dagger in the seathe behind his back, the sword tied along the loose cord around his waist more tightly then without.

 

Those cool grey pools of eyes examined Revan, unwantedly easedropping upon the quick conversation without so much as the oppertunity to introduce himself to the newly appointed Lord. Regardless, Oblivion approached the Dark Lord once more, pulling the same dark hood over his scalp and speaking fairly quietly then his remarks before.

 

"So, your numbers grow, my Lord. While what ties they have to you and this order may be strong for now, are you certain that all are truly well versed upon this path? I'm sure some measure of doubt still clouds the minds, especially those with the most and least experience alike."

 

Folding both arms behind his back, Oblivion took two steps forward, yet still honorably presented himself always behind and off to the side of his liege, never infront or directly at his side.

 

"Doubt and traitors have been the downfall of this organization for millenia, now. With this recent promotion and greater responsiblity, I feel it is my duty to inform you of this and my personal insight on the matter in order to ensure the future of our line."

[Nom Anor's avenger]

A few moments of searching through the cockpit was all it took for Nom to find the right part needed to repair the door. He passed through the hold and onto the entrance ramp. He took a while tinkering with the mechanics of the door, having not seen to many Sith transports. Fortunately his days in the Coruscant defense corps helped him manage with minor repairs. The Jedi Master was able to slid the piece into its position and the slight hum of the servo-moters told him his repairs were complete.

 

His senses seemed to sputter as he made his way pack into the main hold of the ship.

 

I have a bad feeling about this place. The sooner I get out of here, the better, he thought to himself as he took his place in the pilots chair.

 

A quick sweep of the controls later, the ship was settled nicely into orbit around the planet. A small alarm interrupted Nom's hyperspace calculations, halting his escape rather quickly. It seemed the hyperdrive was overheated. It needed an hour or so to cool.

 

Nothing seems to be going right today...

 

The almost eerie feeling in the pit of Nom's stomach seemed tangabile as he remained motionless within the confines of the rather spacious cockpit. Something within the Jedi almost seemed to life him out of his chair. Due to the fact that the ship still needed cooling, Nom saw no harm and searching through the ship. There might have been some kind of Sith holocron that was creating such a strange presence within the transport. With that thought in mind, the Jedi Master left the cockpit heading for the main hold.

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus felt the strange emotions of satisfaction and smugness as the hyperdrive failed to engage. The fires inside the temple must have had enough heat to temporarily disable it. It didn't matter. It worked for him. Circumstances are but modifiers in the equation of forward progression towards a given goal, his organic mind thought.

 

Scanners detect target movement. Target apparently patrolling craft suspiciously. Target approaching present location.

 

The Sith Master took the information provided from his mechanical functions to prepare himself (though he didn't really need time to prepare). He watched intently as the Jedi stuck his head into the room, then stepped in. As soon as there were two feet between him and the door, Haphaestus released his hold on the walls and dropped silently down behind the Jedi, not bothering to draw his weapons.

 

"Greetings, Jedi," he said enthusiastically, the Force calling his lightsabers to his hands. He didn't activate them.

[Nom Anor's avenger]

Before the mysterious being aboard Nom's Ship even thouched the ground, the Jedi Master had already spun to face him. Thinking on instinct, he lifted one of his two lightsabers to his hands. Following the suit of his newly found passanger, he did not ignite them.

 

The Dark Side seemed to leech to this man as if it were a suclent sorce of nourishment. It radiated through him, throbbing out in each direction. Whoever he was, he was definately a Sith. The man's Force signature was not quite as massive as some of the other Sith that Nom fought; but that observation did nothing to ease the Jedi Master's mind.

 

Just when I hoped I could get out of here alive....

 

"Is this your ship?" A hint of smugness seemed to leak its way into Nom's sentence despite himself.

[Haphaestus]

One of the things Haphaestus liked about his ability to feel emotion was that he actually understood when something was supposed to be funny. He had survived for thousands of years, devoid of emotion and only capable of catching the most blatant of humor and even then not really understanding it, but reacting as his programming had dictated.

 

He still wasn't capable of laughing, so he didn't. His tone came out thoughtful. "I believe there has been a misunderstanding," he said with the precise tone inflection that the HK-50 droids were made with. His vocabulator had remained unchanged, though his voice was slightly masked by his helmet to make it sound a little less mechanical. "You see, while this may or may not be my ship, it certainly isn't yours. If I may venture a guess at your intent, it appears that you are performing an act of theft. Of course, such a minor crime hardly carries a penalty of death, even among the Sith.

 

"I deem it reasonable to allow you the chance to simply turn this ship around, take it back to Carida, and find a different way off the planet," he said with the same thougtfulness. "Of course, if you decline my generous offer, I may be forced to draw my weapons on you, and I'm afraid that I'm simply not very good at capturing fragile meatbags alive, even though taking you into custody via incapacitation would certainly be desirable."

 

Biogicals would be distracted by even their own speech. But Haphaestus used this time he granted himself to read the Jedi Master as he would read a datafile. The human male had put himself in a fighting stance as he spun around, if only for a second. This was enough to tell Haphaestus that he would likely be fighting a user of the Form III combat style. The Jedi's facial expressions portrayed some wisdom and experience, but his eyes had a hardness in them that droid programming couldn't pick up on. Hapheastus deemed it the mark of having seen many difficult challenges, some of which he had failed to overcome.

 

Should he choose to fight me, he will find defeating me another challenge too difficult for him to overcome. For my skills with the lightsabers are greater than any Sith Master's. For not only do I have the precise programming of a droid, but the full might of the Dark Side at my disposal.

[Nom Anor's avenger]

The black cloak surrounding the man did little to aid Nom in the process of identification. He spoke as if he were some kind of droid. The guy obviously had a dire lack of friends, or any social experiance for that matter. Yet judging the Sith's social situation had to come latter unfortunately.

 

Was there something about this transport that held value to the Sith? Or was this person just being a git?

 

Revan's blade felt almost soft in his hands, almost right. He couldn't even begin to imagine the atrocities inacted by the end of the lightsaber in his grasp. Yet here a Jedi Master stood, wielding that very same weapon of evil.

 

Time to do some good with this thing.

 

 

"I tell you what. I will let you have this ship if you personally take me to my prefered destination. If not, then I'm afraid you're going to have to set along for the ride. I hope you like twenty questions."

 

The lightsaber within Nom's grasp almost wanted to ignite itself. Yet the Jedi Master restrained. It would be his foe who would make the first move here. It was time to see just how much humor this guy could take.

 

 

((3 posts, no damage, PM Dan and or Robbie with Ruling?))

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus didn't move for a moment, as if he were deciding what to do. The pause was more a programmed imitation of human behavior than actually a required delay until his mechanical mind devised an appropriate course of action. "Why, I must admit, I feel somewhat obliged to take you up on your terms," he said in that annoyingly precise voice of his. "After all, this isn't a dispute that's beyond diplomatic remedy. I have no substantial reason to want to kill you, Jedi, though I find your current disposition towards me irritable at best."

 

The Sith Master fingered his lightsabers, processing the Jedi's intent by the words that he spoke and the terms that he used. "Regretably, you seem rather eager to combat me, contrarily to my own wishes, so I will not rob you of the challenge that you single-mindedly pursue," the former HK-50 assassin droid finished.

 

Haphaestus had noted in the past the unusual physical properties of the activation of a lightsaber blade, or, in this case, three. When a Jedi or Sith was attacked by an enemy in hiding, the simple urgency of the scenario seemed to physically hasten the hiss as the blade extended. Contrarily, other times the blade extention was held out in the drama or awe of the moment, often emphasizing shock or allowing an extra pump of adrenaline to disperse through the arteries. At any rate, when Haphaestus now activated his twin silverish-red blades, they seemed to take a full second to reach maximum extention, and their rather unique properties became apparent.

 

The air begin to tingle with static, and a few tiny shocks of electricity bounced from one lightsaber to the next, as they were held close by each other. The looser threads of the Jedi's hair raised and stood on end due to the static, as if an electric current were already running through his body. The Jedi's lightsaber sprung to life as well, and Haphaestus noted that it was red, the lightsaber of a Sith.

 

Maximum attack capacity achieved. Powered up and ready to begin engagement. Applying observations....

 

Haphaestus called then on the Dark Side of the Force. He was aided by his so-called "negative" emotions, the most powerful of which was anger, something he had achieved presently by allowing his slight annoyance at the Jedi's temperment to fester, fostering it into something much more potent.

 

Still standing in the doorway to the storage hold, Haphaestus flipped backwards startlingly, his lightsabers flashing out to the sides and cutting into the door frame. Sparks immediately flew and the Dark Side came to Haphaestus' compliment as his lightsabers flashed forward again through the frame at an exact forty-five degree angle to the last passage, cutting loose two chunks of metal.

 

To compliment the sparks, he let loose a volley of the feared Dark Side Lightning that had slain Jedi for years and he now had almost unlimited access to via the crystals in his lightsabers which gave them their static properties. The Dark Side also acted to push forward the chucks of doorway towards the Jedi's face, a high attack that Haphaestus synchronously accompanied with a low strike from one lightsaber, the second remaining in a classic two-weapon defense position in case the Jedi should find a way to overcome all the attacks in less than a second.

 

The battle had begun.

 

((1))

[Nom Anor's avenger]

As Revan's crimson lightsaber came to life, its fleeting visage could only watch as Hephaestus flipped backwards, well out of reach of any melee weapon. The man was already in action, his hands and arms moving as if through intense calculated precision. He had obviously thought Nom's suggestion was enough to invoke the Sith's swift strike of "justice". The Jedi Master almost laughed to himself as the foe before him began to slice through the door frame, the components of his attack beginning to form. The electricity brought on by the Hephaestus' blade itself seemed to spark with life as tiny tendrils of mechanical furry jumped into the air, striking at an unseen foe.

 

Yet through all this, the crimson pillar of blood red dissolved into the darkness infesting the ship. Nom would not need a lightsaber here. As soon as his hands left the hilt of his deactivated blade, the lightning was upon him, having traveled much faster than Hephaestus' other two strikes. Yet the streaks of purple death ebbed in the makeshift night. The foul dark side spawned mockery of nature held no sway in this fight. Before its electric furry could even begin to manifest itself into any real damage, its contents were lost amid the palm of the Jedi's hand. The ability to absorb lightning had always come easy to the Jedi Master, and this instance would be no different.

 

Yet the loss of lightning did nothing to halt the other two hazards threatening to end the fight. That was until the defender acted. Using the Force as a greater median of power, the absorbed lighting within was suddenly channeled for a new purpose. Its innate energies pulsated outward as they were reconstructed into an invisible barrier with little to no effort for the Jedi. The Sith's lightning already provided the energy needed. Nom need only to redirect it. The pieces of metal slammed into the unseen shield, falling to the floor motionless.

 

The Shield even served the purpose of protecting low as well as high, something a lightsaber could not do. Hephaestus' blade seemed to halt as if on the whim of its own wielder. Yet as the silver pillar of pure energy lashed against its obstacle, Nom was at work again. Summoning more energy to him, he shot the force field forward and through the doorway. The invisible wave slammed into the man causing him to fly backwards creating plenty of space for the Jedi to operate.

 

With the opportunity now presented, the pillar of blood red appeared again, its luminosity propelled through even the darkest corners of the room. Yet no one could stop and gaze in wonder of such a beautiful spectacle for it was already in motion. An arc of crimson stained the room with its magnificent shadow before entering the hall.

 

Knowing Hephaestus was there waiting, Nom seized his opportunity to attack. He brought his shimmering column of death down into a vertical slice, looking to split the still recovering Sith Master.

 

 

((1))

[Haphaestus]

An immense, terrible crang echoed through the halls of the ship as Haphaestus was hurled backwards into the metal wall behind him. He felt no pain from the blow, and the jarring effect of such a blugeoning attack failed utterly to hinder him in any way. He put a foot down on the floor and used its strength to pull himself forward a step out of the indentation in the wall resembling his outer shell of armor.

 

The Sith Master took less than a second to recover and raised his weapons again before his masked face, the red glow reflecting off sharp angles and further adding to the archaic, cold intimidation that his ancient, warlike features naturally exuded. He had, after all, created this armor himself, forging it with skill and vision. It was the perfect representation of his being, unique and inspiring, barely human and impersonal.

 

There was something about looking upon one that had a mask when combating them. There seemed to be no emotion, almost no thought, as if combat was a daily chore that was more simple than, say, combing one's hair. It was as though the masked fighter were but a program, a computer, or an apparition, simply following a predesigned course and not having true thought or reflex. But Haphaestus was not of his mind. He was unreadable and yet so much more dangerous than even his appearance may have suggested.

 

This Jedi Master could, perhaps, match him in Force talent, but it was not his power in the Force that made Haphaestus powerful. No, he held the raw programmed skill of the best of combat droids as trained by an expert (tales of one Jedi slayer General Grievous could be accurately compared), only instead with the power and insight of a Sith Master, one who had spent countless hours in the Dark Side of the Force, worshipping its power and evil.

 

The absurdity of the Jedi Master's attack was apparent to Haphaestus, its seeming success laughable (Haphaestus would have laughed had he been capable of such). The former HK-50 blocked his enemy's verical slash with ease with one blade, counter-attacking with the other. The Jedi's Form III defense served him well in granting him the ability to rebound from the first attack and maneuver his blade to block the second with minimal movement. At least this won't be too easy.

 

Haphaestus launched himself into a full-offensive series then, his lightsabers rotating and flashing with the speed that only a droid could obtain. The Dark Side almost visually projected the weakest place in the Jedi Master's defense, though the defense was all-around solid. Haphaestus always struck at exactly the angle he wanted at easily twice the strength a normal human would strike with.

 

His form was unlike any other Nom Anorus had faced in all his days. It was a form only designated as the form that Haphaestus used. It was a hybrid. It was inspired by Nurgle, a chaos god. It was made possible through almost unlimited physical capabilities. It combined Juyo and Vapaad and Form IV and Form II, yet it was none of these. If it lacked anything, it was defense, but Haphaestus had no need for defense. It would have been terribly tiring, but Haphaestus did not tire. It would have been very easy to make a fatal mistake, but Haphaestus made no mistakes.

 

At one point he brought his left-handed saber across his body and connected with the the left side of Nom's red blade (from the Jedi's perspective). He pushed it towards the outside, then brought his right-hand saber around towards Nom's neck, launching himself upwards with the Force to flip over the Jedi's head, his unchecked blade closing with Nom's neck, the blade accelerating suddenly with double speed due to efforts through the Dark Side of the Force.

 

Calculating trajectory. Planning landing maneuvers. Anticipating reaction....

 

((2))

[Nom Anor's avenger]

The Darkness itself within the ship seemed to halt as a serene beam of jade green energy shot into existence. Its brilliance was a forthcoming shadow of what Nom was trying to accomplish. It was everything the crimson blade was not, and every thing the Jedi Master could be. It was peace through beauty, beauty through the shimmering gems of brilliant energy, and it was energy through power unlike any other. And it was with this that Nom wielded the truth that every Jedi clinged to. With this blade, he could change the world with one duel at a time. The Sith could not destroy it, or overwhelm it. It embodied exactly what Nom fought for, the reason why he risked his life so many times. It was the extension of his soul, his being, and his life. It was the lightsaber, the very weapon that could save the life of an innocent child...or an entire galaxy. Whether Nom had even earned the right to wield such a weapon was yet to be established. One thing was for sure however, Hehpaestus had not.

 

Sparks showered over the darkness as the jade green pillar of light rose up to meet its challenge. The Dark Man's blade halted within inches of finishing its job. Now with two lightsabers in hand, that job would be even harder to accomplish. He now held a lock with two blades on opposite sides of his body. Fortunately both his arms were on the inside, closer to his own body. This provided the opportunity to centralize his strength. With that thought and ability in mind, the Jedi Master lashed out with his two arms, lightsabers digging into their physical barriers. With the Force as an addition to his strength, he was able to create enough space to get to his feet.

 

He launched his attack soon after as if shot from the gate of a particularly suspenseful horse race. His jade and crimson arch of death seemed to be stopped at every angle from the Sith Master. His opponent moved with a flair of dignity never out of place. If he needed to parry, he was right there never to far or too close. Nom brought his weapon into a horizontal arch that aimed for the Shadow Spawn's left leg. Not only was the attack parried, but it was also relinquished in such a way that left Nom open to an attack from Hephaestus' other blade. Nom just defended in time, his crimson arch smashing against silver.

 

Using the opportunity, Nom slammed his knee into the gut of his enemy. He drew heavily on the Force so that no armor could withstand all of its effects. Yet even as his knee connected, he felt the momentum rush past the armor's defense as if an anvil had fallen on a trampoline. Yet what Nom expected to be a finely crafted and conditioned abdomen, came a surface harder than anything that could be found on the human body. Pain from the preceding clash had caused Nom to halt his attack and create space between the two combatants once more. Nothing seemed to be working so far.

 

What are you? His opponent seemed to possess a near perfect lightsaber form. The Jedi Master's from III always counted on the enemy plaguing to fatigue. Yet Hephaestus seemed to be immune to it. He moved in a flawless design, as if conquering the very weakness that made one human. Even Kakuto Ryu could not move with such precision. If the Jedi Master continued to match lightsabers with him, he would be defeated. And worst of all, his insides seemed to be steel as well, ripped from an artificial structure. Was this a Grevious who could use the Force? This very thought sent a shiver down Nom's spine that he could not stop. Yet this thought alone was not enough to deter him. Time to think outside the box.

 

Searching with the Force he could feel every nook and cranny of the Ship. He even noticed the crude design of his entrance ramp repair job, the Force acting as a supernatural window to his own mechanical weakness. Even though this was slightly amusing Nom continued his mental search. In an instant he found what he was looking for. The light box was nestled next the entrance ramp. With a minute flip of his wrist, light flooded the room. The Darkness was gone in an instant as if fleeing from an act of God itself. It was amazing how much people took for granted, even the workings of a light bulb.

 

With his plan in motion, the Jedi Master attacked again but with only one blade. His crimson lightsaber lay dormant at his waist, waiting to be unleashed once more. He attacked a few times providing open parries so that Hephaestus could easily transition into offense. Considering he had greater skill with the lightsaber, it would be very difficult to find suspicion in Nom's plan so far. He started to give ground, his jade lightsaber flashing across his body intercepting attacks with a refined skill and precision of his own.

 

Out of nowhere, Nom shot his hand to the ceiling. It was as if he invited a fountain of pure energy and power as the Force quickly beckoned his call. A hurricane of energy proceeded to carry the Sith Master to the stars. The only problem with making that destination was the ceiling hovering over the ship. And on that ceiling was a panel of light casting its brilliance on the battle below. That spectacle of artificial beauty would end however considering a Master of Darkness was getting plunged into its electric depths. If all went according to plan, a metal interior could not defend against the unseen terrors of man made electricity.

 

 

((2))

Edited July 22, 2006 by Guest

[Zon]

When Zon arrived at the Imperial Academy he reported to the highest ranking Officer there. He told the Officer he was to be a Space Shock Trooper.

[Enigmatic]

The atmosphere was clouded with dust, the reminence of a battle yet to be finished. Still, ships began to blast away at eachother, each with a goal of victory. Revan's ship, a small fighter ship flew through the ruccus between the two factions like a needle in a haystack. Swarming through, he landed on the landing pad near the Imperial Garrison. He was the newly appointed Squadron Leader of Venom Division. Eventually without hesitation, a low ranking imperial officer came running towards him with a data pad in his hand.

 

"Sir, here is the current roster of Venom Division."

 

Grabbing it, Revan handed the officer his cloak as he walked by. Taking a look, the first soldier on his list was Zon. His description was one of a Shock Trooper, which was very common, however needed. Continouing his walk, he awaited for his new recruits to show up, being that he wasnt going to go out of his way to look for them. For if they were to survive a real life battle, first they have to learn to do things on their own.

[Haphaestus]

A willing transition from two-saber skirmishing to a single-weapon defense didn't create a sense of logic in Haphaestus' mind as his opponent made said transition, but he attempted to press his advantage. He couldn't help but allow himself to be slightly impressed by the human's ability to defend himself from even Haphaestus with only one weapon, a testiment to his mastery of Form III, the defensive form.

 

He had been equally impressed by the Jedi Master's ability to absorb his lightning attack earlier, an attack that usually devestated the typical opponent. He had used it not long ago on the world of Mechis III to some effect, though it was ultimately his lightsaber that had the last say. It always was, and it always would be. For the Force did not make a Jedi or Sith, but enhanced him or her. A true warrior could be stripped of the Force and fight with nearly the same heroism and strength and courage.

 

It was very difficult to catch Haphaestus off-guard, for his mechanical mind made more sense out of Force precognition than an organic mind would (organic minds treated them as apparitions and hunches while a droid mind treated them simply as truth), so the Sith Master was more or less prepared for Nom's newest form of attack, one relying again on the Force that he claimed to serve even as he manipulated it in combat. He was launched upwards into a light, which immediately poured electricity into him, electricity that was conducted by his armor and made more effective through it.

 

He suspects that I am a machine, the Sith thought, bemused. And his tactic very well could have fried a machine. This will put his suspicions to rest. As the electricity shot through his armor, it made contact with the skin that was underneath, a layer between his phrik and his chassis. It was part of the skin of Nurgle, but it was enhanced. It was extremely rubbery, and, therefore, the electric current was simply tossed aside by it. It was slightly painful, and Haphaestus felt pain, but it did not debilitate him as it would a biological.

 

In fact, it made him stronger. For pain was "negative," and all that was "negative" led to more strength in the Dark Side.

 

Haphaestus landed lightly on the ground again, his cloak fluttering outward. "Master Jedi," he said, "I am more than you know." He attacked again, pressing back into his clear lightsaber advantage. But this time he attacked more brutally, sacrificing a small amount of finesse. Nom was thrown into a full defense that was unavoidable--or, that is, avoidable only through death.

 

The Force fueled Haphaestus' servomotors, enhancing his strength further. He already had great strength as a biological would see it (and as was directly shown during the Jedi's useless physical attack), but it was not the kind of strength that said meatbag could understand. It was not a strength that dictated whether he could lift something or not by picking it up manually, and it was not a strength that allowed or disallowed him to tear something apart. It was truly unlimited strength that was restricted only by the durability of his servomotors. Were his servomotors made of indestructable metal, it was quite possible that his strength would truly know no bounds, for his strength did not require muscles or effort. It was just strength.

 

Wielding weightless weapons, this strength was devestating. Each of Nom's parries met a blade that threatened to slam his weapon back into his body or at least out of the way. But this did not sacrifice Haphaestus' speed. The former HK-series droid attacked furiously, allowing his emotion of anger to cloud his organic mind and the power of the Force to ring clear, in harmony with his mechanical mind, which never doubted, only knew the truth that was the Force.

 

He gave a right to left swing with his left-hand weapon again, then leapt at the wall to his right. His feet met the wall and he leapt off, traversing the distance to the near left wall in less than a second. He proceeded to reverse the move, leaping again to the right and attacking as he did so, his head near the ceiling at the top of his shallow arc. This time, as he met the wall, both his lightsabers spewed Force lightning again. One concentrated volley headed towards the Jedi in an attempt to distract him. The second went past the Jedi and hit the control board in the cockpit of the transport which had grown near while Haphaestus had pushed his offensive.

 

Electricity exploded everywhere as the circuits fried. Haphaestus knew that this Jedi was capable of absorbing at least most of it. So he threw in the punch line. He came barreling down on the Jedi Master's position head-first, his lightsabers out to his sides. He projected as a phantom through the Force that he was going to bring both his blades in a floor-to-ceiling sweep which would be difficult enough to dodge or parry with the additional distraction. Nom's Force precognition warned him of said attack, but Haphaestus instead brought one lightsaber around high towards Nom's head and the other in from the side. If successful, the blades would rendezvous in the center of Nom's chest.

 

And, of course, calculating all possibilities, Haphaestus prepared to enter a roll should Nom manage to evade the mechanical and yet living projectile altogether. Everything had crescendoed to this point.

 

((3))

[Nom Anor's avenger]

The mask dawned by the Dark Sith before Nom seemed to feed the man into an uninhabited world of procedures and precise calculations. No emotion graced his features at any given time. It was as if the Jedi Master were dueling with a machine or a droid. This conclusion would explain the unshakable posture, the almost indestructible disposition, the lack of fatigue, the metal body itself, and near perfect precision with a lightsaber. For all intensive purposes, Nom was fighting the perfecting fighting machine. He was dueling against the perfect duelist. It was as if he was taking on the very computer program designed to kill him. And in that line of logic, the fundamental flaw within the Sith Master was revealed.

 

Hephaestus was nothing more than a computer program designed to combat using the Force as well as lightsabers. He was motivated by precise mathematical calculations, determining the probability of any given attack's success rate. He then acted accordingly, using the Force to comply with the research data given from within himself. And through this existence, an artificial creation mocking the very of art of life itself, he could engage in combat successfully. That is, until someone figured him out.

 

There was one thing Hepaestus lacked that was absolutely essential to any fighter...Humanity. The ability coupled with humanity came imagination, through the right side of the brain. This subjective form of behavior had the power to conjure endless possibilities, images, and even hostile's behaviors with only a thought. It was the power a math equation or a computer program could not understand. It could not be explained through conventional means nor could it be stopped until death rips it away.

 

And through this art of human forethought, living adaptations could be made. It was the ability to create or react to any situation without the limits of physics or mathematical equations. This was the ultimate form of unpredictability and something a soulless killing machine such as Hepaestus could not touch. And through the Force, even the impossible could be obtained and enacted. The Jedi Master only needed to create a realm of complete and utter unpredictability; a situation where the realms of precise calculations and probability expressions could not compute the situation until it was far too late. Nom needed to create a place where even the laws of physics were turned upside down. In the mist of a lightning filled, out of control transport seemed like the perfect place to make such an environment.

 

As Hephaestus jumped from wall to wall, prolonging his attack, the Jedi Master before him was already in action. He stretched out with the Force, letting its supernatural current take him to the control panel. He flicked the joystick, sending the ship into a heavy roll. If not for the gravitational compensators spread throughout the ship, each combatant would be flipping over each other in an endless cycle of motion.

 

Nom turned his awareness back to his opponent only just in time to absorb the Force lighting now streaming towards him. Unfortunately for the Sith Master, a stray shot manage to pierce the control panel, leaving any chance to reverse the ship's spin destroyed. The control panel itself erupted into a shower of sparks, its metal construct itself acting as a conduct for the lightning now slashing through the ship itself. Its electrical rampage managed to knock out the lights as well as the gravitational compensators. The result managed to release gravity's wraith into the ship.

 

The contents of the transport itself began to fly everywhere as whatever attack Hephaestus was about to execute was suddenly interrupted by the sudden shift in gravity as the vessel itself began to increase its deadly spin in the airless void of space. Both Force users themselves were hurled into a chaotic sense of movement as they had no choice but to conform to the kinetic state of the ship itself. Fortunately for the Jedi Master he was ready and counting on this very thing to happen.

 

Calling on the Force once more, the Jedi Master broke the lighting panels above sending shards of glass to inhabit the very space within the hold. The panel covering's sharp pieces of glass bounced harmlessly off of Hephaestus' armor and at the same time, off of Nom's newly created Force Shield. To add to the tapestry of chaos, the Jedi Master activated both his lightsabers and sent them into the material fray, their beams of energy tearing over anything they came across.

 

And with this, came the situation Nom needed, complete and utter physical chaos. The air within the transport was filled with various items; repair kits and other mateneince items, shards of glass, activated lightsabers, stray bolts of electricity left over from the violent clash at the control panel, as well as the bodies of the combatants themselves. This large anomaly was enough to overload any computer program. The question was simple. Was it enough to overload Hephaestus? The Jedi Master's last hope was that it was. Using the Force as his eyes and his steady rock, he was able to catch his jade green blade as it soared close to beheading him. He grasped the coordination he managed to harness from his Force perception of his surroundings. The Jedi thrusted his lightsaber with all his remaining strength into the armpit of the Sith Master, where his armor was weak in order to allow for the basics of mobility. Hephaestus needed his precise calculations more than ever in order to sort out the almost pure apocalyptic scene around him. Would he notice the threat now inches from breaking him?

 

((3. Great duel Ian. It seems Dan and Robbie are on vacation this week. I'll PM Mark with a ruling.))