Event Deathtober Do-Or-Die House Cruor Death Match

[Kielor]

IC: Apprentice Kielor
Golgata, Catacombs of Kalee

6/7

Note: hit approved by GM

Kielor bursts through the dusty haze to lock with his opponent. The ashen cowl of his robe casting shadows about the visage of his durasteel faceplate; the robe fluttering in the breeze created by the kinetic energy of his rapid dash toward the younger man. The entire arena was now bathed in flame, the fiery glow illuminating even the farthest reaches of the ancient catacomb, reflecting off the exposed surfaces of Kielor’s helm and armour. Emerging from the dust cloud resembling some ancient beast of flame and shadow, the apprentice of General Invadator joins with Magma.

The blade of the younger man’s lightsaber sweeps from Kielor’s right; the agile strike of a duellist. It was a strike that the older man had been expecting however, and with only a minor adjustment to the angle of his own weapon he is able to catch the strike, locking their blades in a high position with a furious crackle of plasmic energy.

Magma was indeed correct, the superheated air within the arena was not only challenging his lungs, it was heating the plates of his armour to the point which it felt likely they would slowly broil the muscles beneath them. He could feel that his concentration was waning, and that his instincts were beginning to take carriage of his movements. Honed over thirty years of combat, the motion of battle was like second nature to him. He rode the waves of battle, allowing the ebb and flow to take his opponent’s attack and neutralise it, before sweeping back in to deliver his own.

Realising that the crimson blade of his offhand weapon remains on an unfettered path to cleave his housemate, the veteran combatant pivots fluidly, using the lock of their blades as a kinetic fulcrum to turn counter clockwise and barge into the side of his opponent. The impact of his sizable frame knocks the other man off balance, allowing Kielor to follow through with a stepping side kick to his torso. “You should focus less on my comfort, and more on my attacks brother,” Kielor huffs out, his lungs burning from exertion and the lack of oxygen.

The last thing that the middle aged man wanted was to maim his housemate, and while he was feeling clearly addled by the conditions of the Deadlock, he would not allow his thirst for battle to claim the life of a brother in arms.

Powers used:
Augmentation (1)
Tutaminis (2)
Jar Kai (2)

TAG: @Ben Sargent ( Magma ) @Reiis Invadator @Grievance Vexx @Darth Cruor

 

[Reiis Invadator]

IC: Raseri Av'Klipporna
Kalee, Golgata Arena

Move 5 of 7

More Kaleesh curses were aimed towards Karros as he kicked her second sword away. She very much wished for them to come back at her opponent as they had before...or to her, it didn't matter which. She was the one who knew how to catch a lig sword in midair, a skill that had taken many years of cut hands to learn. Yet instead...fire. A vast flame arose around them, threatening to consume them like a hungry beast, a situation made significantly worse as Karros made his next move, miraculously -- incredulous as it seemed to her -- commanding the flames to target her. She dodged deftly, ignoring the pain of being slammed onto the ground just moments earlier. And when another arc of fire sailed towards her, she dodged that ad well. Time was running out. Advancing towards Karros, she took advantage of his downward kick -- slightly singed by the flames, it did not phase her. By the time he was turned partially away with the momentum of his strike, her lig sword would be swinging down to strike where shoulder and neck met.

@Karros Zaruiel


@Grievance Vexx @Darth Cruor

 

[Grievance Vexx]

DEADLOCK UPDATE - CURTAIN CALL

The combatants are growing tired. Grievance Vexx can feel the fatigue weighing on all of them across the arena. The air is hot and filled with smoke, forcing their bodies to work harder as they struggle to breathe the stale underground air, now toxic with the fumes of burning oil hitting a ceiling with no place to go.

They are nearing the end of this hellish duel, that is certain and doubtlessly looked forward to by the weary and battle-worn drawing on the last reserves of their Force energy and physical stamina, some of them using their pain, anger, and other dark emotions to keep them standing in defiance of their opponents.

Raseri's blade does glance off Karros's shoulder, easily slicing through his armor and scenting the air with the tang of blood and sweat. Fortunately for him, his neck is spared the Izvoshra warrior's hungry and vengeful blade. The other sword, which the Owl had kicked out of her reach, does in fact appear to become possessed by a will of its own yet again as it reverses direction, coming back at ground level and spinning like a throwing star toward Raseri's ankles, sending up sparks as it hurtles along on its deadly path.

The kick delivered to Magma by Kielor sends the Fury Incarna's apprentice sprawling across the arena dangerously close to where the flames attempt to lick his robes. Though he has the upper hand for the moment, the General's apprentice should beware as it seems the flames would love to consume him as well.

Sharkish'ki's boot connects squarely with Duraanir's diaphragm, sending her sprawling backward, likely with the wind knocked out of her. He, too, may have gained the upper hand in this duel as the Deadlock draws near its end.

But just when confidence may be on the rise for at least half of the combatants, the Krigsbefallaf decides to level the playing field. There is a struggle in the Force, as though all the powers of the combatants are being pulled away from them forcibly. It is none other than Grievance Vexx himself making ready to execute Force Sever on the entire arena. All of the participants will be targeted. They will feel as though the Force itself is pressing in upon them; like it is trying to cling to them and not be violently ripped away. The pain bombarding the combatants in the midst of all this will be unbearable; the sounds, terrifying.

Then silence. Emptiness. Their world is now without their connections to the power they have relied upon since they had discovered it as their respective gifts. Now they will all feel more lost and alone than they have ever felt in their entire lives. Even worse, the General, Vexx, and the mysterious Kaleesh accompanying them and holding apparent sway over their fates are still just as powerful as they have ever been.

The General could feel the combatants' power being stripped away, and it gave even her chills to feel it. Force Sever had always been low on her popularity chart of powers, and even while the only time she'd ever been subjected to it was accidental, it had not been particularly pleasant.

She thought it was a wonderful idea for this tournament.

A wise warrior once taught her that the only thing she could really rely upon was her skill with a blade, and she credits that warrior with single handedly making her the duelist she is today. It was something, she felt, they all needed to learn. And now was as good a time as any.

She turns with an approving smile towards the Krigsbefallaf, before addressing the crowd.

"Well?" she asks, her voice carrying even though she is not speaking at a particularly high volume. "No need to wait around. Keep at it!"

Vexx chuckles darkly, doubtlessly enjoying the toned down presence of the Force. Now only the General and the other Kaleesh warrior standing with them can potentially aggravate his tinnitus. He isn't too concerned about the spectators and their use of the Force as it will not interfere with any of them involved with the tournament. He turns to speak to the mysterious Kaleesh warrior one more time.

"I know you have ideas of your own to throw into this duel and you have held back until now," he speaks in a low grumble, "Now I will tell you something a very powerful Sith Lord once said: do it!"

The other Kaleesh looks out over the weary participants with pure malice shining in his unnerving white eyes. Without so much as a word, he places his hands in front of his chest, palms pressed together, then he pulls his hands away from each other, violently throwing them out at his sides. With this very purposeful gesture, he makes life a bit more difficult for the guests competing in the catacombs of Kalee.



All of the Cruorites will suddenly lose their grip on their weapons as the Force rips them from their grasp, sucking them into the fiery whirlwind still blowing around them. After mixing the weapons all around in a tornadic spin, the weapons explode from the whirlwind as though it is casting them away from itself. Now the warriors of House Cruor have a real problem on their hands. They no longer have access to the Force and now their weapons are searing hot and scattered all over the arena floor.

Tag: @Reiis Invadator, @Darth Cruor, @Rayge, @Karros Zaruiel, @Kielor, @Ben Sargent ( Magma ), @Sharkish’Ki, @Evis Dharkar’ta

 

[Sharkish’Ki]

GM Approved.

Move 7/7


IC: Sharkish’Ki
Kalee, Golgata Arena


Duraanir flew through the air toward the centre of the arena, before tumbling to a halt several meters away from Sharkish’Ki. Her head slapped the ground; her dead weight stunned and paralysed upon impacting the ancient, dusty stonework. He was a little proud that the Force had obeyed, strengthening his muscles to achieve such a feat. And yet pity lurked in the shadows of his thoughts. She was a strong adversary, with cunning and guile; and yet things had not gone her way.

Sharkish’Ki’s eyes began to water as the smoke had accumulated enough to descend. Puffs of swirling carbon lingered where Duraanir’s limp body had travelled, like vortices of pitch that invaded the remaining unsullied air.

“You know, I may actually shed a tear for you,” he sneered, raising his voice so as the cover the distance, as he wiped the corner of his eyes with the back of his prosthetic, wary of the blade nonchalantly crossing ahead of him. “But this smoke… It’s definitely the smoke!”
His lungs had begun to feel tight, forcing a cough as he brought the crux of elbow back to cover his face. He paused, half holding back a second, sputtering into his leather armour, and avoiding a third, as his mind pictured his master’s typical stance of hacking coughs.
“This must be what it’s like for our Krigsbefallaf!” He choked, bringing himself back into the moment. Black soot had accumulated in the corner of his eyes, as he smudged his eyes and brow, and adding to the blood of the slugthrower wound, and the murderous intent upon his face.
His mood soon changed, however. As he began to step forward, a sense of depression and dread descended on him, as his muscles once again began to feel fatigued. He’d felt this before, on Kamino; his humanity. His mortality without the connection to the Force. He’d hoped he’d never have to experience the circumstances again, as his master had taught him to endure without the powers it yielded. And yet here he was. And at least he knew what to recognise, as his legs and shoulders began to feel heavy, mirroring the emptiness that swept over him.

He stooped, holding his arm across his face in an attempt to mitigate the smoke. The gauntlet felt heavier, as he clasped its weight. Through watering eyes, he searched the chaos ahead of him, looking for where his opponent had landed, his depth of vision beginning to obscure with the thickening air.

Sharkish’Ki began striding forwards, closing the distance between them to a few meters, clawing at his blood-red cloak to sweep it over his shoulder and across his face, as he watched her slowly reeling from the blow. His lightsaber illuminated the falling particles around them, adding to the menacing crimson aura about them. His stride was cut short as his grip on the weapon failed, flying from his prosthetic to only the Force knew where, spinning off into the distance like a vicious throwing toy, before deactivating in the thick blur of colour that lay beyond them.

“Now that’s just unfortunate,” he sighed, followed by another cough, that strained his voice, “for you, I mean. Now I’m going to have to use my hands.” He peered down at her from behind his hood and cloak. His irises were a pale amber, devoid of the Force energy that usually highlighted them. Yet they still harboured dread, as the blood vessels swelled from the irritating atmosphere, engorging the whites.
“I had some of my finest cage wins using my hands!” He flared his clawed gauntlet at his side, running the edges of the talons along each other to exasperate the terror of their edges. “And this?” He clenched the cortosis prosthetic, briefly admiring its craftsmanship, “I’m eager to find out how much of an improvement Darth Skyllan and The General made to me.”

He thought of his House Sister. The journey she’d taken and the time she’d sacrificed to participate. Steps on our path, he thought. Duraanir’s legs would be enough, as he took final lunging motions toward her before reaching out with both hands in an attempt to grab at both legs, and squeeze with all the pain he felt in his eyes. Whichever boot might kick out, it didn’t matter; it could be talons slicing through one calf or a crushing grip on the other, or both if she failed once more to escape.


Tags: @Darth Cruor @Grievance Vexx @Reiis Invadator @Evis Dharkar’ta

 

[Kielor]

IC: Apprentice Kielor
Golgata, Catacombs of Kalee

7/7

The kick to his opponent lands with a dull thud, as he projects the ball of his foot into the lower rib of his opponent, launching the man bodily toward the flames which had engulfed the battleground. As far as Kielor could see, his housemate had not gotten up, and was still sprawled in a heap; the vortex of flame licking toward his robes.

His own lungs were burning. The oxygen in the depth of this catacomb was being all but entirely consumed by the inferno which had splurged from the moat of flame. He cast back his cowl, then unclasped the faceplate of his helmet and let the durasteel mask fall to the earthen floor with a dull and heavy clang. It was a relief to remove the heated metal from his face, yet the superheated air did not offer much comfort. He drew deep breaths of burning oxygen into his chest, as motes of ash float about him and settle upon his sweat soaked face.

Lowering his weapons to his side, Kielor begins to approach the still form of his opponent. He shakes off his black robes as he walks forward, the sweat soaked fabric releasing steam as it falls onto the hot ground of the arena. He feels lighter, but only for a moment, before an oppressive force assaults him. The feeling is unnatural. Like his nerves are being torn at from within his skin. An unbearable dragging pain tears through his entire body, as he falls to his knees, releasing a deep guttural shriek.

Then, there is silence.

The world is hazy. His vision blurred. His ears ring, as though he has just survived a blast from a thermal detonator.

He finds himself on all fours. Looking up from a near crawling position, before lurching to his feet and hobbling a little farther away from the dancing flames which reach to consume him. He feels hollow. The world no longer speaks to him, and he can feel that he is no longer connected with the force. Where he should be able to feel the presence of those around him, there is emptiness. The inferno which surrounds them no longer sings to him, it is just an oppressive and volatile heat. He cannot even feel the presence of his Master watching on from above; yet he does feel as though there are eyes upon him.

He straightens to his full height, shaking off the haze and tries to center himself in his current reality. It could all be a mind trick, or some other sorcery. No new instructions have been provided however and so he readies himself to continue as previously commanded. Wearily, he raises his lightsabers, readying himself to see if Magma is still in this fight. Taking a tentative step forward, his arms suddenly jolt outwards, as an unseen force reefs the weapons from his hands. His lightsabers whirl across the arena as they’re sucked into the vortex of the inferno. His shoulders slump forward.

“This is getting out of hand,” he mutters hoarsely through chapped and cracked lips.

Fatigued, struggling for breath, he squares his shoulders and raises his fists. The armored gauntlets shielding his face in a high guard, as the scorching wind of the inferno whips about him.


TAG: @Ben Sargent ( Magma ) @Reiis Invadator @Grievance Vexx @Darth Cruor

 

[Karros Zaruiel]

IC: Death Knight Karros Zaruiel

Kalee, Golgata catacombs

Move 6/7

Just as Karros' foot touched back on the ground - missing its target as she dodged his heel- he was met with the sharp sensation of pain across his right shoulder. Instinctively he backed up to put space between himself and his opponent to assess the situation. Back up several feet the Owl glanced at the source of his pain. His opponent's counterattack had connected with his shoulder, slicing cleaning through the armorweave material to the flesh below where a diagonal line of red was marred across where his bicep met his shoulder blade. First blood. Well done Karros mused as he acknowledged the point to his opponent. The cut thankfully was shallow enough to completely disable his arm; deeper than a glancing blow but not deep enough that it had reached the muscle tissue. Still, it made moving his arm at that junction terribly uncomfortable - enough perhaps to noticeably hinder his movements with his right arm. Lowering his right arm to place his shoulder is a less painful position the Owl watched the benefits of being a Solider of Venom manifest themselves. The bloody wound began to quickly mend itself before everyone's eyes as if the would being made in a reverse time-lapse. Not instantaneously though - the process took several moments to complete. During that time the other Soldiers of Venom - such as Sharkish'ki - would likely feel an intense, almost compellingly burning itch on their right shoulders in the same place Karros receive his wound as he drew on their lifeforce to heal himself. In the meantime the Owl would slowly regain that lost mobility during the healing. Though during that time he was painfully aware he was at a disadvantage.

Those moments of vulnerability - at least in part - were covered by the distraction of the General making her declaration the arena. It was followed by the sensation of the Force leaving Karros. This was made particularly manifest when the enhanced healing process stopped partway through. The bleeding had certainly stopped and the wound closed, but it certainly didn't look closed, at least to Karros. And if it didn't look closed to Karros, it likely didn't look closed to anyone else. Cosmetic appearances aside, he could move his arm around free of pain again. Still, the Owl was in no hurry to test exactly how much he had been able to heal in that short amount of time.

His assessment was interrupted when his sabers were simultaneously torn from his grasp. As his weapons flew from his hands - instantly deactivating as part of their built-in safeties - the Owl could only hope that his opponent was experiencing the same predicament as he reached for his twin, duraplast short swords on his back. These weapons he kept in reserve for when he didn't want to use his sabers - or couldn't, such as a scenario like this. A smart combatant always had insurance, though he prayed he'd never actually have to use it. Though he meant both draws to be simultaneous, if one was paying attention there was the briefest instance of delay in the draw of his right sword. That moment of hesitation would disappear as Karros settled into a guard stance with both swords held up in front of him, his left sword held out further as the front-liner.

Spotting his opponent's sword once again returning - to his mild irritation - towards his opponent across the ground like a spinning pinwheel of death, Karros quickly assessed the situation; at a guess his opponent would likely either move to intercept the spinning blade to recover her weapon, or she might more likely try to dodge it. Granted both were split-second theories but Karros had to to at least try to guess his opponent's next move if he was going to make his. Hoping to ensure the latter scenario the Owl took several steps forward. Not enough that it would put his feet in the trajectory of the spinning blade, but enough to close the distance between himself and his opponent for his move. As he closed the distance he moved to make a downward, diagonal, feinting slash with his right - and ever so slightly slower - sword. This was deliberate choice. Hoping to bait his opponent with the apparent foolhardiness of his move, Karros would begin to quickly - or as quickly as he could - pull back his arm as soon as the swung started going downward while his left sword was preparing to intercept any attacks that hoped to capitalize on his bait. All this was in the hopes of distracting his opponent from the incoming weapon - either to keep her pinned so that its trajectory took her or forced her to leap away from both the Owl and the sword, denying her a chance to recover her weapon.


Tags: @Reiis Invadator @Grievance Vexx @Darth Cruor @Sharkish’Ki

 

[Grievance Vexx]

End Round One - Deadlock
Begin Round Two - Dead Weight ​

The combatants had weighed in. They had fought valiantly. Some had brought their very best and given their all; some could have done better. Regardless, the event would now move forward. The Deadlock phase was complete. Grievance Vexx sends a Force Push into the arena, pushing all of the Cruorites away from each other with a command to cease and desist.

"Stand down, Cruorites!" his modulated voice cracks like thunder across the cavernous, smoke-filled chamber, "Your fates have been decided. Standby for scoring."

Beside him, the mysterious Kaleesh stretches his hand toward the flaming whirlwind and closes his fist. The flaming cyclone obeys his silent gesture and dissolves into nothing as though it had never been, disappearing into a crack in the arena floor; perhaps returning to hell, where it had come from.

"Several things had an impact on your scores as you fought here, Cruorites," Vexx continues, inspecting a datapad he has withdrawn from his cloak, "Adherence to the rules, formating, and timeliness bear the weight of the scoring. Let us start with...the Owl. Knight Karros Zaruiel of House Cruor, you fought bravely and for the majority of the duel, you were prompt and precise. Your final score rests at 25 points. Apprentice Kielor of House Cruor, you have shown dedication and courage and you gave your brother one hell of a challenge. Your commitment start to finish has earned you the highest amount of 35 points. Well done. Apprentice Magma of House Cruor, you have been brave and fought well, but there are some things that repeatedly wounded your score, these being proper formatting* and timeliness in this last round which gave you a final score of 14 points. Apprentice Sharkish'Ki of House Cruor, your laser focus has rivaled my own in this competition. Like your brother, Kielor, you have never missed a beat and this has also yielded the highest amount of 35 points to you. Apprentice Duraanir of House Cruor, you fought well and your attacks were fierce and precise. Unfortunately, timeliness was the greatest wound to your score, which stands at 12 points."

The Krigsbefallaf pauses for a few moments, letting the sweaty, bloodied, tired Cruorites absorb the information he has given. Deciding now is as good a time as any to practice that Fold Space trick again, Vexx removes apprentices Magma and Duraanir from the smoldering arena, relocating them to where EV-A4-D waits to treat wounds on the sidelines.

"You may continue to observe the proceedings of the Deathtober event if you wish," Vexx tells them, "But you will not face the challenges of the future rounds this year. Perhaps next time."

With targeted precision, he returns the Force to Magma and Duraanir. The three remaining in the arena, however, will not have their powers returned to them; not yet.

"As for the rest of you, another challenge awaits," the Krigsbefallaf reaches out to pull on a bone in the wall that proves to be yet another lever. There is a rumbling as a stone slab on the east side of the arena retracts into the wall, revealing three tunnels leading into unknown darkness. "You each must choose one of the three paths to take. Regardless of which path you choose, know this: you will face your greatest fears and you will do so without the aide of the Force. The goal of this exercise is to find your way out of the catacombs. Use whatever natural resources and skills you have to do so, but tread carefully. The things that you subconsciously fight like hell to avoid will manifest themselves here. As soon as you have collected your weapons, choose a door and begin round two: Dead Weight."



OOC- Your storytelling abilities will be put to the test here. This is where you will explore the deepest parts of your character and give readers a look inside what secret fears they hide behind their Sith identities. You may include songs or orchestral pieces in your posts to set the mood, but it is not required. Please remember to adhere to timeliness and proper formatting. There is strength to be found in becoming vulnerable and this exercise is an opportunity for intense character development. From left to right, we have Tunnel I, Tunnel II, and Tunnel III. Depending on which one you choose, this will be used as your location whenever you post for this round. May the Force-- well...let me rephrase that. Best of luck to each of you.

*Formatting refers to proper forum posting etiquette with character name, location, and proper tags included in each post.

Tag: @Karros Zaruiel, @Kielor, @Ben Sargent ( Magma ), @Sharkish’Ki, @Evis Dharkar’ta, @Reiis Invadator, @Rayge, @Darth Cruor, @Darth Xxys, @DarthNoxia

 

[Sharkish’Ki]

IC: Death Apprentice Sharkish’Ki
Location: Kalee, Golgata Arena


Sharkish’Ki reached forward with greedy grasps towards his opponent as she scrabbled half-conscious to back away from the encroaching terror. He clenched his fists, and wearily rose his stance, leering above her to get a better angle on his final attack, only to watch as the ground about them grew dark. The stones beneath them became devoid of light, as if the photons themselves were being consumed and, as he stared in puzzlement, and upon hearing his master’s words, he looked up. Not the blink of an eye, and Duraanir vanished, dust calmly settling where her body had been, as he sighed a breath of relief. You fought bravely, girl, he thought as he caught sight of the Krigsbefallaf’s motion.

A rumbling vibrated up through his bones, as his gaze swivelled to the newly forming openings. Blackness extended beyond, swallowing the nearby light and smoke like the gullet of some sleeping beast. He heard a whispering, like a laughter on a breeze that chilled his flesh in spite of the surrounding heat, as he looked to his surviving comrades, Apprentice Kielor and Knight Zaruiel. The lingering smoke burnt his watering eyes, and he rubbed his face with his cape. He wandered in the general direction of his lightsaber, happening upon it after a few minutes of searching. The fixtures that attached the unique talon on its pommel had glinted, reflecting the dancing flames with the twinkle of fools gold.

Sharkish’Ki reached down and snatched it up with all the fondness of an old friend. A firm grasp and flick of his wrist breathed life in to the deadly blade, it’s plasma screaming at the smoke that surrounded it as he flourished it to his side before striding with renewed intent towards the tunnels. With his Brothers to his left, and his lightsaber held above and forward, he stepped on into the mouth of the third tunnel.
“May the Force serve you well, brothers, and may your fears bear witness to your strengths.”
His words lingered on the air as his form melded into the enveloping shadows, each of his tentative steps taking him deeper into the darkness, the light of his blade bathing him and his surrounds in deep crimson as the smells and burning, carbon-heavy air dwindled behind him.


Tags: @Grievance Vexx @Reiis Invadator @Darth Cruor @Karros Zaruiel @Kielor

 

[Karros Zaruiel]

IC: Death Knight Karros Zaruiel

Kalee, Golgata catacombs

The Owl's feint was abruptly interrupted by the hard, backwards propellement of a Force Push, forcing him to switch into a defensive stance with both of his duraplast swords held in an "X" in front of him as he skidded his heels backwards to a stop. Lowering his blades at the sound of Lord Vexx's voice ringing out across the arena while the flames that had surrounded them whirred back into the earth, Karros listened to the Krigsbefallaf's declaration of their respective scores and the second part of the challenge while to the side the stone wall of the arena slides away, revealing three neatly carved tunnels like worm-carved caverns leading out of sight into darkness.

Assuming this the end of their bout Karros sheathes his swords while giving a subtle nod of acknowledgement to his opponent. Under normal circumstances he would simply summon his lightsabers back to his hands with the Force. However the sensation of Force-deprivation remained on him - something that made him actively start rethinking his future tactics moving forward as he walked over retrieved his sabers from where they lay across the arena floor. One after the other he picked up his sabers, dusted them off and checked them for any damages they may have sustained, including a quick ignition of both to check for functionality. Finding none he let both hands - still holding his sabers - fall to his sides as he turned to face this next challenge.

Ahead Sharkish'ki had already chosen his tunnel. The Owl turned just in time to see him disappear into the shadows of the right-most tunnel. As he walked up the ominous entrances Karros made his choice; without breaking his stride he walked in the central tunnel, his sabers igniting as soon as he crossed the threshold to provided a mixture of crimson and sable illumination in the darkness. He kept his blades more or less parallel at his sides, swinging along with his arms as he walked. There was a wariness in his stride as he walked through the darkness. An anticipation that while he moved surrounded by these foreign shadows, they too would decide to 'interact' with him.

Tags: @Reiis Invadator @Grievance Vexx @Darth Cruor