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| Tumult of Clashing Blades; Arcanum Vs. Vexas | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 16 2007, 04:05 PM (196 Views) | |
| Arcanum | Nov 16 2007, 04:05 PM Post #1 |
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A black silhouette of a figure haunted it's way into the bleak abandoned compound - in the undercity of one of Coruscant's more isolated and desolated sector. A figure swathed in an encompassing dismal black shroud - the cowl of the hood drawn high, to cast the entity in the appearance and demeanor as nothing more than an apparition. A wraith, haunting this forsaken place - searching for it's prey, whom it will seize with metal-clad, steepled fingers and drag back down to the grave, screaming and howling in lament. The fabric of the sinfully dark shroud would be of the material of skinned Defel-fur, interwoven with spidersilk composition. Thus, as this creature would move under the gloom of a shadow or the darkness of a towering, half deteriorating overhanging building - the figure would fade from physical perception, due to the trait of the Defel fur. Should any sensor or scanning array currently watch the figure, the same effect would obscure the figure, and the arsenal it would bear under the concealment of that cloak, from radar. The frame of the silhouette would be rather mechanical, more eminent on the shoulder line of the creature. A spinal, protruding spiked fold would spike out from either shoulder, to suggest the chest plate beneath the veil of the robes would be adorned with arachic and carnal armor - the mantle beneath, a technological beacon all it's own. Outfitted with a personal sheild system, as well as a stealth field generator. Both of which - would not be activated. He came here as a challenge, to his swordsmanship. Thus he haunted, waiting for the arrival of his adversary. Walking along the debris-ridden ground of this forlorn sector, guiding his pace and gait with a long ornate, obsidian quarterstaff. The polearm composed of phrik and electrum composition, upon closer attention. At either butt end of the saber-staff, there would be present the faint outline of a lightsaber emitter - yet neither would be evident, as combat had yet to ensue. The visage of the form would be nothing but the raised cowl of the hood; casting the obscurity of an umbra of shadow over the facade which was the man's face. The veil of shadow impenetrable, and unwavering. Having eclipsed what could possibly be made of any facial feature, and upon perception would be nothing but absence or vacancy. Albeit, for two faint glowing halcyon-silver eyes - which would shine of an inner luminescence, opulent and vehement in it's own way. Glowing faint enough, to where nothing else of the visage would be open to perception. Beyond this, the entity's presence in the Force would be a thing all it's own. Palpable, and tangible. The figure of Arcanum would make no effort to obscure or distort the presence, what so ever. Resonated, and bleeding with inner virulence and hatred - the very signature would seem to be illuminated, in the Dark Side of the Force. By comparision, it would be very similiar to the tumult of a raging hurricane. Carnal, and natural in it's wake. Holding the fury and withheld rage, as if the storm were waiting to descend upon an unprepared village, and lay waste and ruin to it absolutely. Desolution, in it's most original incarnation. Deceitful, and calculating. The sheer manipulative and insidious power would symbolize the influx of energy, that would radiate outward from the storm of a presence. While the identification of the creature's Force presence would manifest itself, as the perverbial 'eye of the storm.' And thus, he would wait. Calculating and prepared for the arrival of his dueling opponent. Reverence and respect present in the figure, for even the opportunity to challenge himself to such an extent. He was ready - and he would show possibly the most dangerous man in the galaxy, just how adept and brutal his lightsaber form had become.
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| Vexas | Nov 16 2007, 04:41 PM Post #2 |
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Unregistered
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He stalked the shadows, as close to being in his element as he could possibly be. His smooth gait made no sound, even without the sound dampners of his Infiltration armor active. While he wore no cloak, he had a short cowl pulled high, as black as the strange surface of his armor. It was black and smooth, appearing almost skin tight save for the extra gray padding on his shoulders and other places. However it was a modern marvel of technology, using a woven fiber design to dissipate a blow across the mesh. Of course this armor was custom in ever sense of the word, being created using Armor Flex technology, its every peace moulded to his body, and thanks to the tiniest of electrical current, its surface as hard as durasteel. The cells of that armor had been shaped to his body, and when that pulse passed through them they would rigify into a semi crystaline weave. The tiny field extending outward a molecule from the surface, granting limited protectino from a lightsaber strike, but really nothing more than a means to evade certain death and provide only a "near death" experience. His weapons lay on his belt, twin lightsaber hilts that were of a long design. Rather than the single hand width these hilts were slightly longer, as though he prefered a two handed grip with room to spare, many speculated that they were based on the grip of an Echani Katana, while others thought that it provided a balance point for his own personal style of fighting, but Vexas had yet to confirm either rumor. A simple straight and thin bladed dagger sat above his left hip. His expressionless face betrayed no emotion, it might as well have been a mask for the good it did those trying to read him. However inside he felt a twinge of excitement, follwed by the cold fire that proceeded combat, which usually equated to murder for the king of assassins. How long had it been since he had been challenged? He could not remember, certainly before the murder of Lord Valec, perhaps back when he was still but an initiate. He at last approached the appointed place, reaching deep within feeling the ebb and flow of the force in his own body and slipping into his Frenzied Nerves. As his senses expanded and sharpened he focused inward, feeling the steady rythem of his own heart, hearing the sound of his own blood rushing through veins, and feeling the air touch what little skin was exposed. Then he pulled away, satisfied that his body was in peak condition. He paused only to remove the cowl and let his hair fall freely, before he lowered himself to the ground and moved into a meditative position. His hands rested easily on his knees, though they could move to his fabulous weapons in the blink of an eye, faster should he choose to reopen his Frenzied Nerves. He could feel the storm that was his opponent through the force, yet he gave no hint of recognition yet, instead he focused on preparing for combat. The silent cold demeanor often threw his opponents off, as they no doubt expected typical Sith foolishness. His force pressence echoed that machine like precision. Many burned in the force, twisting like a torrent of fire. But Vexas was still, giving the feeling of descending into an abyss, total control and the sub-zero intent to kill emmenated from him easily. Perhaps it would be better to say that rather than a feeling in the force, he was something else entirely. A great void that suddenly opened up, absent of the movements of the living, absent of passions or emotions, only the ruthless and cold precision that had made him the killer that he was today. |
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| Arcanum | Nov 17 2007, 03:03 PM Post #3 |
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Upon the realization of the ellusive Vexas Saix's arrival, Arcanum's own beacon in the Force which would be personified as his presence; would seem to face into obscurity, before vanishing all together. The silhouette of Arcanum's ink black form moving back from the courtyard which was the battlefield - and into the gloom of that abandoned, deteriorating overshadowing building. His dismal, cowled and enshrouded figure stalking it's back into the solace of the building's ground level - and heading toward what was left of the staircase. Having to skip every other step, as some were missing all together. The bottom of that rotting, putrid black shroud skimming the ground as the duracrete soles of those buckled combat boots would tap along the floor; albeit with the predatory gait and step, there would echo no noise to resonate out, echo off the walls, and alert the positively acute and keen hearing of the warrior outside. The creature would then begin it's ascent up to the third floor - the cowled visage taking in the ambience of it's surroundings with measure. Syphoning information through a superior intellect, and able to decypher which could be of use in the enmity that would come, and which would not. Upon the third floor, he would move to the open crevice which would save as the 'window' to the building's floor - vast, yet withholding much shadow in which to haunt in invisbility within. Through the keenest of sight, and even to the most elaborate scanning method - Arcanum would be very much invisibile - a generation of nothing in the Force as well, as he would seem as nothing but the duracrete rock of the building itself, to someone who would advocate the Living Force itself. The being would situate itself, within the cover of the third floor's dark interrior - retreiving a rather large modified projectile launcher from within a huge case, carried under the encompassing folds of that enshrouding cloak. Bringing it down and connecting the various peices together infront of them - within a second-based frame of time. As if he had been trained, effeciently, to do this. Once finished, he would brace the frame of the launcher against his hip, attached to a floor mount held in place beneath the duracrete sole of a single buckled combat boot. Taking a moment to draw aim through that elongated scope on top the frame of the weapon. That red panorama taking in the perception of the battle zone beneath him - the bleak green bead taking aim a meter or so /behind/ the meditating figure of Vexas Saix. And drawing a breath, he would squeeze the first trigger (one of two) launching a 'dumb-missile' down to descend to the region of ground a meter behind where Vexas sat. The projectile would rocket to the mark it was drawn on - and almost in unison, to a heart beat's moment after the first projectile would be fired - that steepled metal-clad taloned index finger of the right gauntlet belonging to Arcanum would shift to the second trigger, and pull it back; holding it down, this time. The initially fired projectile would impact the ground behind Vexas and explode in a maelstrom of detonating flechette rounds. Hundreds of razor-sharp flechettes would come up in a flurry, as well as rain down upon Saix's rear. Each flechette coated in a thin bead of energy, and from the sharp form of each flechette, even a glancing wound could be enough to deliver far more then mundane damage. The exact moment /after/ the flechette projectile would hit the ground and detonate, the shooter's position should be exposed. As the second trigger fired a huge amount of gel-like substance - spreading all around, and coming down directly on Vexas's position on the ground. A moment before their descent onto Saix's location, the gellitine substance would ignite in a roaring frenzy of flame. A napalm mixture, apparently. Designed to ignite upon impact a moment after oxygen would hit it, it would essentially project a storm of fire to descend down on it's target - five meters wide, and 4 meters high; the entire ground around Vexas would be alight in chaos, and fire. From the third floor of the building, the sniper would still be under the generation from that stealth field generator. However from the air oscillation that would rise from the tumult of the hell which had enveloped the ground below, a faint silhouette could be seen of the figure which was Arcanum. Vexas may see this, as the fire of the napalm would give sight to Arcanum dropping down from the building's 'window' and landing on the ground soundlessly. The stealth field dropping, to allow a keen perception to see a figure shrouded in a cloak, the color of blackest night, holding an elongated obisidan staff as a weapon. A simple, ornate quarterstaff - gripped in both gauntleted hands, and held in an 'en garde' defensive stance. As he knew the projectile launcher which Arcanum had fired at him, would do little more to this figure then grab his attention. The cowled and swathed figure of Arcanum would now wait on the ground - melee weapon choosen, and in hand - awaiting for the incarnation of death, Vexas Saix, to engage him in combat. This was the challenge he had been waiting for.
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| Vexas | Nov 17 2007, 11:41 PM Post #4 |
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Unregistered
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Imagine the world as a giant bowl, surrounded by that mysterious field we call the force. Much like an aquarium or fish bowl every action, every movement disturbs the contents rippling outwards and creating an ever widening series of disturbances akin to a wake. Imagine now, if you will, that long ago you had torn free your own eye so that you might replace it with a strange bio-engineered implant designed by one of your many dead opponents that had been created for the intent of seeing the world in such a way. It was sight beyond the trappings of mortal sight, just another tool in the assassin's employ. Consider now, that such an eye does not "see" in a physical sense, oh rest assured that it can function in the manner an organic eye does, I only do my best to impart that this miraculous second site lies beyond the realm of our "normal" sight. As such, even with his eyes closed he remained aware of the world around him, he had opened himself to reach out to brush the world around him, and as he did so that strange eye named The Omen peered this way and that. At the time that the first projectile launched, it spun to peer behind him. Since it did not physically "see", the fact that it was facing inward as though peering into his own skull made no difference. After all, bone and brain were of little use as a barrier when one saw the ripples in the current that was the force. Muscles honed from decades of training, countless hours of physical agony that had been intended to transform the body into the most lethal of weapons. It was strange really, for Vexas was a creature of paradox. His speed was great, though he was not fast in the sense of velocity and movement. His skills were paramount, though he was the first to admit that his repitoure of force use was dismal compared to many of the Sith Lords. Yet even so, he had killed a man who had for years reigned as a self proclaimed god, and faced and triumphed over a Jedi Grandmaster on two occassions. Those two, along with a few others might know the truth of the matter, might be able to explain to you the mechanics behind what happened next. Speed was relative, and while it could be increased to a certain point, it was really quite useless in the end. Moving fast was trivial compared to the persuit of his training, no, thinking fast was by far the most important. When one could think- ie - process information of varying degrees at high speed, the the body could react faster. Such was the measure of the assassin, in truth Vexas Saix was a creature of extraordinary reaction. So when he moves, it does appear to be with some supernatural speed. However it is not that simple, not in the least. With the click of the trigger and the sudden blossum that passes for its wake in the force he moves. Action before true thought, the culmination of a lifetime of training. He has not yet rationalized just what is coming his way, only that their is indeed something, and in truth that is enough. The muscles in his thighs flex and then snap, propelling him upwards without any real concious thought. He doesnt know what he is evading, only that it is no blaster rifle or shattergun. It is a physical blast yes, perhaps some type of extremely large caliber slug weapon, but it is not the mass of superheated energy that is a blaster, or the supersonic projectile of a shattergun. And that is enough to send his body into overdrive. His careful meditative stance had been a ruse, as he had kept his feet beneathe his buttocks, balanced atop them with his hands on his knees. A common enough stance, yet one that kept his legs and body in the perfect position to move in any direction with the swiftness of a striking snake. If his enemy has a weapon, and is firing upon him, then he can be fairly certain that it is no mundance single shot rifle. So rather than move to either side, he chooses up. And before he can actually rationalize that out, his powerful legs have propelled him into the air. With assistance from the force of course. He turns as he rises, bringing both eyes around to pinpoint the direction of the shooter. Explosion... Heat... That is all he pays the missed shot to mind. The ringing of shrapnale decimating the area beneathe him is filed away for thought later, he is safely above the hailstorm of tiny flachette blades, that is all that matters. He does not hear the second shot over the echoing boom of the first explosion, instead he feels that tiny flutter in the force of approaching danger. And once again his body reacts on his "Vexxie-sense" before he bothers to think it through. The second projectile fires, and he continues to move. Their are two abilities that set him apart from his peers among the Sith. Kyokeimyaku is the name for the supernal level of clarity beyond what he has shown thus far, an ability that he has claimed allows him to make the very rain drops stand still so that he might move through a downpour without getting wet. That is of course, utter banthapoodoo, not even his "Action without Thought" is that fast, but it never hurts to imbellish ones reputation. The other is the more subtle of the two, it is also the more dangerous. Ryukei Quiong is the name, "Dragon's Ki" as he calls it. It is a simple idea, with a plethora of uses that borders on the infinte. It is really the solid manifestation of force energy, shaped and controlled by his will. From lethal flying blades that are flung much in the manner of a simple force push, to the glove like shield that allowed him to perform his legendary barehanded catch of the Dark Lord's ignited lightsaber blade, and even beyond that to the power of the Tashinkou Shinden, its uses are as I said, near infinite. So to the eyes of any who might have been watching, when his right foot stepped and propelled him forward, he might as well have been stepping on thin air. In truth this "Sky Striding" as he called it involved creating the proverbial staircase of solid force energy. Solid, yet still invisible to the naked eye. The second projectile explodes, raining fire onto the area below, and with a vague thought akin to "I might have to get one of those", he propels himself forward. Drawing upon the force he flings himself upwards. The shots had come from the third floor, so either he would find his intended challenger, or he would find mechanized tripod that had been set up with the intent of luring him their. Either would suffice, though the latter would probably be filled with booby traps galore. Alas, such was the dangers of being the "Man atop the mountain", those that came looking for their "shot at the title" would inevitably do so with steadily mounting dangerous tactics. However it is with the faintest feeling of surprise that he witnessess the hidden figure drop to the ground, preparing for combat with staff. With that Vexas disperses his "staircase" and drops smoothly to the ground, his legs coiling to bear the brunt of the landing, even as he rolled forward drawing one of his mastercrafted electrum sabers as he went. In a heartbeat and with bizarre grace he comes to his feet so swiftly that he might as well have simply somersaulted through the air. Ever alert he is already in a crouch, saber held to the side when he lands. "Such ingenuity, a promising start to this affair. The others usually rush ahead, and die quickly." He said quietly, his body remaining loose and languid, utterly motionless save the rise and fall of his broad chest. He takes a moment to take stock of himself, and is satisfied. His heartbeat has elevated a mere three beats faster than average, and the rest of his body is of course in perfect fighting condition. "A burning swathe at my back, this carefully chosen battleground before us, I can see that you go to great lengths to prepare this battleground for our battle. And now that I have been impressed to some measure, let us see if you can avoid dissapointing me with that blade, and perhaps avoid an embarassing and pointless death." He finishes, his words quiet and concise, for he never raised his voice. Yet while his voice is calm, almost to the point of being laconic, the subtle confidence behind them is as strong as a wall of Mandalorian Iron. This is Vexas Saix, a swordsman of legendary skill, a master of his body in every respect, and a man possessing such supreme confidence in his own abilities that the thought of anything other than supreme victory is as alien as the thought of compassion from a person that many regail as a souless assassin. Whether he will live up to such confidence remains to be seen, however the rigid control that defines every nuance of his life is painfully evident even now. |
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| Arcanum | Nov 19 2007, 04:24 PM Post #5 |
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Arcanum would stay motionless as Saix would execute that precise show of acrobatic skill, as well as empathy in the midst of battle. That elaborate midnight blue scrutiny would watch the elaborate movements of Vexas Saix as he would avoid damage, and danger all together. Watching from beneath the veil of that raised cowl - his pallid visage beneath still obscured in the shadow of the fold in the dismal hood. Even through the concussion blast of the original flechette detonation, the hood would remain up to facade his identity as a cloaked being of anonymous caliber. An enigma, in flesh and perception. As the assassin lord would come to land before him, honed for battle, Arcanum knew this would be a true test in skill. Something he had saught after, for what felt like an eon or millenia. A battle, etched in enmity and mastery, where Arcanum would be forced to fight for his life. He would show this master swordsman, and assassin king something more then a sheer test to his own ability. He would show him reverence, honor - and the taste of true combat, himself. That metal-clad hand still holding the center mass of that obsidian quarterstaff - the other gauntleted hand would move to take hold of the hood of that raven black cloak. Drawing the cowl back, to enhance his auditory perception, and the empathy his physical vision would bring. As he would draw the hood back, a mane of opulent white-silver hair would flood out - it's lucent strands falling back from the cloak, and being caught in a soft wind current. The luminescent head of silver hair cascading back, past mid-back length. The face's skin would be of a death pallid hue, having no pigmentation other then stark bone white. Inhumanly pale. His vision would be a panorama completely different, from the ethereal look of his hair. Scornful, and cruel midnight blue eyes would peirce out from between fluttering locks of pure white-silver hair, crossing over his face caught in random wind currents. The scrutiny of the gaze would be enough to make one feel as if he could not only stare right into one's soul and read it like the page of a tome, but rip the anima out and tear it to shreds. However, from someone of Saix's higher perception. He may be able to perceive a sense of honor in that gaze. "If you are the one I am searching for, then an honorable death would be fitting for the existence of desolution and death that I have lived. En gardé, Vexas Saix. " His voice bleeding out in a sibliant, battle worn tone. His voice not raised in the least, yet unwavering and vehement. Spoken in a calm, measured, and even tone - and carried along the wind, to Saix's ears. At that very moment, the timed detonation of the rigged explosives to that abandoned weapon on the third floor of the building right behind Arcanum would trigger. A thunderous explosion would roar out from above them, the reaction of a concussion wave and then a mighty detonation. Taking out a chunk of the building's floor, and causing enough of a disturbance to the structural frame of the building to cause much debric and many huge chunks of duracrete to come falling down onto the both of them, and their area around them. Tapping into the more carnal side of the Living Force, Zetsu would be in motion the moment the first 5 meter wide, and 5 meter tall chunk of duracrete building would fall in their midst - casting a sheen of ambient debris and dust to cloud the area around them, and bath the battle field in a chaos of dust and falling rock. Big enough to crush one under it's weight. He knew this would not do much other then distract his opponent, thus he took advantage of it. Showing Saix his own skill in empathy, and reading danger through the Force. As the second huge rock of duracrete would fall a meter to the right of Saix's position, it would cloud the entire area in debris and dust particles. Making it essentially impossible to see, physically that is. More danger and debris would be falling from the sky, however Arcanum would be moving forward through the dangerous trek - augmenting his physical rate of motion by the Force, as well as his endurance and strength. He could sense Saix's higher rate of heart beat, and knew his opponent would be a force to be reckoned with in melee combat. Thus he adjusted, accordingly. To match the skill, in order to enter melee combat a force of his own. As that overbearing block of duracrete would land a meter next to Saix, the moment it would rocket debris and dust all around his area and obscure the physical realm of perception, Arcanum would be upon Saix. The top end of that quarterstaff swinging in a powerful arc, to spiral out and strike against Saix's nearest knee cap. The polearm carrying enough force and momentum behind it, to very well knock the knee cap out of socket, should it hit. Such would be a measured, and steady attack from Arcanum - and more to show honor, and exhibit a non killing stroke to initiate melee combat, and lure Vexas Saix on to draw his weapon, and use it. To annouce this warrior held honor and a code of ethic when it came to battle, but was no novice of it. He recognized Saix's mastery already, and thus respected it enough to do so. To commence this battle with the first strike, and also give Saix measure to defend himself at first. However, he had a feeling that would not be the only case.
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| Vexas | Nov 20 2007, 12:11 AM Post #6 |
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The words of his challenger slide forward like oil through water, as he assumes a stance of his own. Then their is an explosion, a wave of concussive force and heat as whole chunks of the building behind them seem to disentigrate. Yet the truth is far more dangerous than that, by far. Those large chunks and slabs begin to rain downwards. With clarity born of countless battles, and the own relentless excersizes of his "Diamond Mind" the universe clicks into place. Kyokeimyaku bursts open, exploding into his senses like a novaburst of information. At the same time he reaches outwards with his subconcious, wrapping the force around him as though it were a protective cloak. Even as the first chunk falls, the battle begins. Arcanum's foot steps down, and in that sliver of a second, a sliver so small that most sentinents with their organic brains cannot even begin to comprehend the Assassin begins his own charge. The second earth shattering impact, and his own supernatural vision is obscured by a shifting cloud of dust. No matter, he can see the battlefield as clear as day in his mind. Besides, vision is only one of his senses, and thanks to the clarity afforded by his trademark Kyokeimyaku, better known as "The Frenzied Nerves" its removal was hardly a handicap. He felt a tug in the force, and with that astounding speed born of total mastery of mind and body the weapon in his hand flicks downward to meet and parry an attack that his eyes cannot even see. His thumb depressed the power control, a lance of pure energy boiled forth, hissing and crackling in a silvery cyan loop that began and ended at the Flux Aperture that made up the emmiter of the lightsaber. The weapon in his hand held a deadly surprise, yet now was not the time to reveal the secret of this specific weapon. The frictionless blade of his weapon met the tip of the staff, and as predicted by the Echani assassin, did not sever the weapon. Of course the design was resistant to his saber, he would never have risked the challenge had he not been prepared. With the squeal of a blade that is and of itself the perfect cutting instrument, sliding along the length of that staff with an eerie howl he flexed forward. Twisting his arm as he went to push the staff away from his body, and extending his own body forward, shifting his foot slightly forward to maintain his balance. The force had blossomed within his body, resonating within like lightning, augmenting decades of torturous training, guiding his reactions, and for a moment time might as well have stopped. Flexing his knees he rose, letting his blade ride straight along the edge of the staff, before a snap of the shoulder brought the blade up in a flourish. His movement took place in less than a second, a smooth parry that sent his blade riding the length of the staff to sever the fingers that held the weapon, followed by the rolling snap that would bring his blade up in a neat arc to shear right through the shoulder of the side that the staff was held too. It was a motion that was deceptively easy, an almost casual manuever of indifference that was the basis of the killer called Vexas Saix. A combination of deadly weapons, deadlier skills in their use, and deadliest of all the perfect clarity and absence of morals to inhibit their use: An interlocking crystal of killer, even the force around him carries a hint of chill. The coldness that proceeds death, or is it murder? When one is a professional killer the lines between the two blur. |
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| Arcanum | Nov 20 2007, 02:16 AM Post #7 |
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There would be no more talk, not now. Combat had been initiated, and been heard by a worthy blade. The heat of the battle was on now - and only blood could quench the fire that drove both of their blades now. Blood, and the death that would follow. Arcanum knew this, and faught accordingly. His empathy augmenting his strength and dexterity in a supernatural manner - so fluid and capable that Saix may or may not begin to realize this was no push-over upstart of a padawan-swine. No, this was someone whom had spent his entire expanded life training - and killing. Learning from each kill, and shaping that execution into a more effecient, and cleaner death. Beginning to thrive and gorge himself in the feeling of victory, and the heightened euphoria of combat. And he faught like one, whom had become addicted to the battle. Especially the challenge, of a worthy hand. As the silver opulent illumination of Vexas' drawn weapon would come to light the cloud of dust particle that was ambient to them - Arcanum let a grim, feral smile bleed over those pallid white lips. Bearing for the briefest of moments, the fanged canine teeth which would protrude down from his top row of teeth. Vampyric, and carnivorous in a sense. Indeed Arcanum was a being, whom had grown to quench for the taste of blood, combat, and desolution in it's entirety. As the luminescence of Saix's silver energy blade would rake along the surface of Arcanum's phrik-based quarterstaff, he would draw back a step - turning his lower body in a pivotal fashion, to draw the counter-attack (which he knew was coming) in more. And professionally spinning the ornate obsidian staff in his grip, to divert the original parry of Vexas' blade high - and thus save the metal-clad taloned fingers of his hands. Diverting the parry high with the relapse of the quarterstaff, yet doing nothing to ward off Saix pushing his staff, and guard back from the initial parry. But due to him drawing back, Saix would need to extend himself on the offense, to acheive the proper counter-attack. Which would come regardless, as not even a heart beat's moment later Saix's blade would lance forward at Arcanum's designated shoulder. Drawing back on the defensive, Arcanum's polearm would continue the spin that it had broke the parry with, and proceeding with that added momentum to execute a parry of it's own, with the extended force of that additional momentum. The lower end of his staff spiralling back to catch Saix's blade on the inner side of the lightsaber blade's forte, and guide the thrust off to the side; and away from his shoulder. The blade passing by the shoulder guard of his light-weight mantle of a chest plate - however in conjunction to the parry, the other side of the polearm would be in effect, in a potent counter-attack of his own. An ominous 'snap-hiss' would then resonate down low, from the other end of the quarterstaff (the end pointed lower to the ground, as the opposite end of the polearm would be spinning high, to parry the thrust Saix sent at his shoulder) and in the general radius of Saix's right foot, and leg. As the high-end of the quarterstaff would be spinning high to parry Saix's blade from his shoulder, the lower-end of the staff would illuminate in a brilliant, opulent dark blue luminescence. Meaning to ignite the cloud of dust and debris around them, in the gloom of a dark blue lightsaber blade's shadow - and flooding the area in that same hue. As the high-end would be deflecting the original attack, the lower-end would be spinning with that initial added momentum, and with the extended length of that ignited lightsaber blade, it the newly formed blade of energy would be spinning with the pivotal motion of the quarterstaff, in a rate of motion and angle, to cleave through Saix's lower leg - the slash intended at the thigh, a milimeter above the knee-cap of Saix's right leg. Arcanum growing fond of his adversary already - as one could learn from another much better in battle, then one ever could in conversation. In essence, this was their conversation. Arcanum's personal method, in 'getting to know someone' wraught by combat, and danger alike.
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| Vexas | Nov 20 2007, 02:59 AM Post #8 |
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Both had lapsed into the steady rythem of combat, and it came as no surprise that his quick opening counterstrike was defeated. However, the sudden hiss of the lightsaber blade cleverly concealed into the end of the staff was less anticipated, yet he had gone into battle expecting some form of hidden surprise concealed in the staff. At that hissing ignition of the concealed blade he grit his teeth and brought his deflected saber down in a lower cross parry, bringing his own sizzling blade inches above his knee to block the shaft of the weapon. With the staff's longer hilt, and thus heavier hilt, he did not even attempt to halt the blade. Rather he slowed its approach then stepped hard to the side, timing his movement so that at the moment the staff blocked his enemies field of vision he struck. His left hand moved to his belt and pulled free the second saber as he stepped. The cyan saber in his right hand flicked up once more driving hard for his enemies left flank as he scissered the second blade around low in a driving slash for Arcanum's right hip, igniting it as he went and letting the bronze blade flare to life at the apex of the slash. In truth both attacks were little more than a quick diversion to take stock of his opponent's measure of defense. While certainly quick, and certainly lethal in their own right they proved no point other than to probe his the range and speed of this mysterious opponent's defense. |
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| Arcanum | Nov 20 2007, 03:20 AM Post #9 |
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A thin eyebrow would furrow, as a second 'snap-hiss' would resonate out, and another blade would shimmer to life in it's opulence and rather unexpected arrival, warding him off from cleaving a leg from the rest of his body's mass. So many in the past had fallen to the tactic that was just parried, he was quaint in his thought that he was glad Saix would not be so fool-hearted to fall from the same show of misdrection, and combatant skill and affinity. Thus as he would draw that second blade, Arcanum's field of vision would not matter in the least. His defense would be flawless, and his empathy unwavering in the least. Taking a measured two-step back, be would backpetal into a tight and vehement defensive stance as Saix would come in to his left flank on the offensive. Falling into the true aspect of the ellusive and effecient defensive side of the fabled Form VII; Sokan. He would exhibit this lightsaber form not only in his fluidity, but his ability to adapt to any situation - and use his ambient terrain to his advantage. However this would only commence, as the double step would only lead him closer to the towering chunk of duracrete which lay behind Arcanum - that he would slowly be drawing Saix closer to, with each maneveur and show of swordsmanship mastery. The butt-end of that solid obsidian quarterstaff coming up, to catch the inner side of Vexas' left saber blade, and pushing his higher leverage over the length of the staff's hilt to catch the blade in a lock, and hold it back. Dropping into a swift pivotal motion, while holding that end of the staff against Vexas' blade, in that lock. Moving deftly /under/ the lock of the blade, with the staff correctly accordingly as those boot-clad feet would take him under the lock. The end of the phrik-based alloy polearm adjusting, to keep the lock /above/ Arcanum, and keep him from simply being cleaved intwaine by a mere fluctuation in the strength of his end of the lock. As he would pass under that lock - and thus away from Saix's right blade coming at him, and thus under and out the left side of Vexas' guard (Saix's left). Moving past his right side, that staff spinning to push Saix's blade in the opposite direction that Arcanum would be moving - and as he would move past, the end of the staff which would hold the luminescence of that lightsaber blade would pass low, with his movement. Leading another slash out, to rake across Saix's left thigh, and to his left flank should he not tighten his defense himself.
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| Vexas | Nov 23 2007, 01:46 AM Post #10 |
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It could be said that the most difficult form of fighting to master lay in the use of two long blades of equal or near equal length. Paired weapons had to be used in concert, each motion flowing in a fluid display that kept them working together and in perfect synchrony. To lose that flow, was to risk tangling the blades together, and thus throwing off the entire rythym and risking death on an opponent's blade. Thus while adding a deadly degree of freedom for both blistering volleys of high velocity offenisve and deffensive manuevers, even the slightest lapse could lead to disaster in the face of a true deathmatch. Likewise the double saber, or in this case his opponent's saber staff was also a rare and difficult to master form of combat. True, such a long reach and wide avenue for powerful attacks made the longer staff weapons both suited for aggressive offensive manuevers, and equally quick spinning defensive volleys. Most important of all the rare and exotic staff and double weapons had a certain degree of intimidation that they brought into play, especially when once considers the long reach, wide area of attack, and double nature of the weapon. Novice swordsman would get caught up trying to predict the subtle patterns that arise in combat, and attempt to read both blades of the weapon seperately. However, when dealing with a linear weapon one can always be certain of the placement of both blades, merely by observing one of the two. That was the secret of the double blade and saberstaff. In truth the double blade was actually a more limited weapon. It was useful for large sweeping slashes, but could not transition well to shortened stabs and lunges, not without leaving the wielder almost totally exposed. While he would never claim to be a master, Vexas had studied each of the seven basic forms, deciding to devote himself to the mastery and completion of his own form of the incomplete Juyo style of combat. The result was what he had coined Arashi, and since this style had first been devised around the use of a double bladed saber, he knew the inherrent strengths and weaknesses of his opponent's weapon. When his blade was batted aside he did not blink an eye, instead he prepared for the inevitable counter. True, he could have easily taken advantage of the lock that Arcanum had created, however he needed to wait for the precise moment to attack. Victory in combat did not always go to the most skilled, nor did it inevitably fall at the feet of the most powerful. Rather sometimes victory came to the one who would use his opponent's strength against him, allowing that opponent to defeat himself. With one blade locked high, Arcanum nimbly moved to the side, ducking beneathe the guard of his weapon that was held high. Then came the lightning quick counter, a quick twisting slash to Vexas' leg. Vexas waited, carefully measuring the attack and making certain that his opponent had commited to the attack, before snapping his right blade down and across to deflect the oncoming slash. Simultaneouslly he barely shifted his grip on the left most saber, which had built as a perfect twin to the saber in his right hand, and twisted the hilt ever so slightly. This lightsaber was a perfect replica of the very first double bladed weapon, and while he did not ignite the hidden second blade he had also built in Exar Kun's other great technilogical marvel, the variable blade. The microtwist adjusted the strength of the bronzeish orange blade, leaving it at its weakest setting. Though the brilliant color did not fade, he had lessoned the cohesion of the blade itself to the point where it was so weak it could no longer stand up to the blade of another lightsaber. True it would no longer cut flesh and bone, but it was still a dangerous weapon in its own right. While unable to cleave flesh it was more than powerful enough to damage nerves as it phased through flesh, creating temporary paralysis in its wake. Without missing a beat he whipped the saber down in a cross slash that would normally cleave his opponent open from left shoulder to opposite hip, letting his slash bring his blade to the area his parry had left his second blade in a low guard stance. |
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2:24 AM Jul 11