Rhissai vs Shard

[Rugs]

COME ONE, COME ALL! THIS NIGHT ONLY! A CLASH OF THE TITANS! A DUEL OF DESTINY! A ONCE IN A LIFETIME FIGHT! DON'T MISS IT!





The gathering place of those that consider themselves to be cultured is empty this night. The crowds are long gone, and even the performers have made their journeys back to their homes for the night. Pity for them, then. A show unlike any other they will have ever seen before his about to begin.

Rhissai{Delta} vs Shard{Karl}

The Magic Coin Flip of Destiny says that Delta will be going first.

Five rounds, though it can be extended if requested.

Victor will receive one final post to kill/embarrass/screw/all of the above their opponent.

The glove slap of challenge has been heard

Round 1, go

[Dire Wolf]

Green eyes blinked out at the layout of the grand opera house that lay strewn out before her perch atop the ledge that separated the upper level of seats from the open air four stories above the ground floor. During this rare moment of silence and observation in the woman's life, she couldn't help but notice the perfection in everything that was set out before her. The ornate electrum gilding of the archetecture around her armor-clad form seemed to reflect a golden shine, even in the darkness that had fallen upon the house of music. Those almost glowing emerald eyes flicked skyward and quickly found themselves delighting in one of the most beautiful murals that she'd ever seen, were it not for the nature of her presence in the opera house that night she had no doubt that she would stare at it for hours. A heavy sigh caused the raven maned woman's shoulders to droop, and her gaze to lower to the far away floor. Even the chairs seemed to be arranged in a perfect fashion, their rows curved ever so slightly to accentuate the rotund shape of the area just before the stage. Rhissai's elbow met with her thigh as her mind began to wander, and her palm met with the hard line of her jaw. Long, elegant fingers laced their way up the side of her head, the tips of which pressed lightly into the softly tanned flesh of her temple... and her thumb quickly hooked itself around the corner of her jaw in thought.

Perfection. The people of the galaxy were almost constantly in pursuit of that singular word, be it in themselves, their work, their government, or their hobbies. Jedi themselves sought perfection within their ways, over their emotions, in their forms of lightsaber combat, and in the myriads of mysterious ways of the Force. But it was a lie. A few simple centimeters below that electrum lie nothing but slab of cracked dry wall. Behind that beautiful mural lie nothing but mini cracks waiting to expand to allow the elements within. An ever so slight error in spacing and distance marred every last row and column of chairs, though it was invisible to the naked eye. Perfection was a lie. No one singular being could ever attain it, no matter how hard they tried or how close they may have come to reaching it. Nor could their creations. Imperfection cannot breed perfection, just as perfection cannot breed imperfection.

Yet, the woman found herself pursuing that very thing, despite the fact that she knew it to be nothing more than a lie ingrained in every single organic to ever crawl out of the pre-sentient muck. As a Master and High Councilwoman of the Jedi Order, her personal duty was to ensure the safety of the younger Jedi and keep them basking in the light. Even if she fell into darkness because of it. She failed spectacularly at Rhen Var. That battle had left more young corpses than old, and all she could do was watch from her lofty perch as it happened. Her job as a High Jedi General in the Republican Military was to ensure that the Sith not take another planet, to draw a line in the sand and not allow a single craft or creature to cross. Another imperfection in her actions, her plans, and the Sith took system after system as a result. Finally, her goal to rid the galaxy of major corruption and evil. In her mind, she knew that ridding the galaxy of major evil was an errant venture, unless she found a way to kill every last being who stood to profit from their larger competitors.

Still, she found herself dreaming of that day where the final corpse of the wickedest of wicked men hit the ground with a dull thump! Foolish, yes, but that didn't stop a from smile forcing the woman's lips to spread thin. Her feet quickly rose up from their dangling position and onto the narrow ledge of the banister that she'd been sitting on, and with a few shifts of weight... she was standing on that very ledge. With the near-perfect balance of an avian creature, the woman continued to silently observe the state of semi-darkness that had set in around the empty opera room like the veil of midnight. Her mission brought her here, and she'd accept nothing less than the lie of perfection on this venture.

The wicked leader of the Dominion, a shadowy faction that had not-so secretly allied themselves with the Sith through their privateering enterprises. He was the cause of much pain and suffering in the galaxy, and part of the reason why the war between two superpowers still raged onward, even after so long. The raven maned woman had finally been able to track him down to that very opera house after far too many favors called in and credits out of her coinpurse. All to ensure that its beautiful lie would be the final thing that his miralukan eyes ever gazed upon. Another being entered her awareness, its presence was like that of a once beautiful picture, each stroke of paint on its canvas more glorious than the last, but the insidious combination of time and corruption had turned it into an ugly thing. Its fringes blackened and crumpled like the edges of a burnt piece of art, and its colors had run together from the water... forever changing it.

Shard.

Slowly, cautiously, a tendril of her mind brushed against his mental barriers. Rhissai was careful not to allow the pressure against its walls to cause any sensation within the mind of the wretch, as she was simply testing them for weaknesses. Imperfections to exploit and gain entrance. Every being had them, even Rhissai, as not even one of her power could attain perfection in the art of telepathy. Once she did find them, however, she'd take care to worm her way in vines on a stone... and begin to destroy the great slab only once her roots were vested into it. Her entrance would be nothing grand, nothing spectacular, nothing dangerous... all she would do is observe. Rhissai was a creature of honor, and would not tamper in the ways of the Force. If its providence deigned it necessary for her to fall upon his blade, she'd gladly do it... but she outright refused to tamper with the results. Though some actions were dishonorable to utilize in combat, such as shutting down one's ability to use an arm, and some were simply idiotic not to use, such as knowing what and where your opponent will strike next. Even before he does.

Rhissai held no illusions to his ability to fight, even compared to hers, and she knew that it'd be one tough battle. But her heart would not allow itself to stop beating, not until it had achieved the lie of perfection during this outing.

[Karl the Unfettered]

((Credit to Theory of a Deadman for the song, the acoustic version of So Happy. Obviously the real song would sound hella better, but I couldn't find a clean version on Youtube of the acoustic cover.))

In this, this most beautiful of places, there was much to enjoy. Architecture, painting, the sweep and plunge of space and empty air... even, perhaps, seating arrangements. Yes, seating arrangements; whoever designed this place, whoever toiled and worked and came home aching every night, bleeding even, was truly a genius. It helped to have eyes, but such wasn't truly necessary; some would say that eyes were inhibiting, even useless, for the truly perceptive.

Those who could make such a claim, to true perception, were quite rare; omniscience in its unadulterated form could quickly drive the average fellow mad, as it simply provided far too much sensory input and raw data to handle. One had to be above average to even come close, far above average. There were a great many who were above average, who could even claim to be exceptional (extraordinary, superlative... pick your qualifier) with some degree of honesty, but more often than not when pressed to prove themselves they folded like shoddy maps.

The stage was empty... but that would soon change.

The one whom Jedi Master Rhissai reached out for, the Miraluka Sith called Shard by a great many, had made his way to Coruscant, the very heart of his enemy's empire, for a singular purpose. He had gone to a great deal of trouble to get here, trouble involving enormous payoffs, unsubtle use of the Force to rearrange and erase minds, such degrees of stealth as he had rarely employed in the past, and not a few Jedi rendered into corpses for seeing too much at the inopportune moment. Unfortunate, really, but he was beyond caring.

The past year or so had been stressful for the Miraluka. The loss of Subterrel despite the presence of so many of the stronger Initiates, running his Dominion, dealing with students and hangers-on and minions galore... a man needed a break! A respite, a reprieve! A vacation, even!

So, one day out the blue, he decided he would do something he'd always thought about; break into the Grand Coruscanti Opera Hall and play his guitar. He left with no warning, leaving his lieutenants in charge; he didn't even let Looma know. And so, a month later, here he was, backstage, tuning his instrument, getting ready for a show of one.

As luck would have it, he was even graced with an audience! Ahh, the mysterious blessings of the Force.

Why, hello there, Rhissai would hear in her mind as Shard stood up. You seem familiar to me... who are you, again? He hadn't reacted to her subtle probe, he had simply sensed her presence earlier, as she had apparently sensed his. The heavy stage curtains rustled, and a figure stepped out to the stage; a wave of his hand brought one row of lights on, and he came into view.

He was a tall-ish man, blond of hair and fair of skin, with a jaunty goatee that highlighted the angular lines of his face. He was dressed very well, in black robes with gold trim; in the light it was clear, from the way the cloth shimmered, that the outer layers at least were of silk. Rhissai's trained eye would be able to tell that beneath the finery he wore half-plate cortosis alloy armor; though for all Rhissai would know it could have been made of ultrachrome, or anything else rare that those pesky Jedi lightsabers couldn't cut through. The overall effect might have seemed foppish or insincere on anyone else, but Shard had the sheer force of personality and physical charisma to pull it off, make it work as it was meant to. Across his shoulder was a quaint instrument, an acoustic guitar; in this era of water ballets and sophisticated synthesizers, not to mention various alien races apparently born and bred for the purpose of aural and musical pursuits, simpler instruments were largely forgotten.

"Ahh... Rhissai'arckan, of the Blades," he said, his voice echoing perfectly throughout the vast space as he adjusted his expensive black glasses and peered up at her. She would almost feel his gaze rake across her, a sensation of heated perception that saw much and left little unseen behind it. "You've done much to hinder us... then again, we've done much to hinder you and your little band as well. I bow to your continued endurance," and here he bowed, of course, eloquently and correctly as was rarely seen anymore, "futile though it will eventually prove to be.

"Anyway, I've come here for a very specific purpose, and I expect you've been following me." So much for silence; he knew he should have paid that extra two hundred credits. Ahh well. "I can tell you'd like nothing more than to run me through? Well I must politely ask that you wait; I must fulfill my purpose, and then we can burn this little auditorium down for all I care." He did not raise his voice, yet it was perfectly clear all the way up to Rhissai's level, every last subtle nuance, every rise and fall. This was the voice that had rallied legions, had turned an entire planet of neutral, double-dealing rogues and smugglers firmly against the Republic and the Jedi for the foreseeable future. Granted, he hadn't had the benefit of what were widely hailed as the best acoustics and sound tuning in the known galaxy, but now he did.

And now, apparently, he would sing. And, play his guitar.

Another wave of his hand, and a stool flew up from where the orchestra usually sat while playing; he sat it down precisely in the middle, then unstrapped a belt full of weaponry (an elegant Echani vibrosword (link courtesy of Lux!), a slugthrower pistol with silencer, and two dark lightsabers) and placed it carefully on the floor next to him before sitting down.

"I've always wanted to test this place," the Miraluka went on casually, making a few final adjustments to his instrument, "and now I shall. I count myself even more fortunate that you, of all people, are to be my audience." He cleared his throat, strummed it once, than launched into song.

Put the bottle down, finally got somethin' to say
Take another look around and find someone else to play
Needless to say!
That you've got problems
There's no farkin' way!
That I'm gonna solve them
It's never the same!
Every time you slip, then you fall down, down, down

Ever wonder what I been thinkin' about ?
I been thinkin' bout throwin' you out

I'm so happy about you
I'm fed up! So get up and get out!
I'm so happy now we're through
I'm fed up! So get up and get out!
I was so afraid, now you're gone away
Sent you packing, look who's laughin' now
I'm so happy that I feel this way
I'm so happy that I threw you away

Put your problems down and pick up what's left of the pain
Take a good look at yourself and see who's really to blame
Needless to say!
You got issues
There's no farkin' way!
That I'm gonna fix you
It's never the same!
Ever since you went fallin' down, down, down

Ever wonder what i been thinkin' about ?
I been thinkin' bout throwin' you out

I'm so happy about you
I'm fed up! So get up and get out!
I'm so happy now we're through
I'm fed up! So get up and get out!
I was so afraid, now you're gone away
Sent you packing, look who's laughin' now
I'm so happy that I feel this way
I'm so happy that I threw you away

I'm so happy about you
I'm fed up! So get up and get out!
I'm so happy now we're through
I'm fed up! So get up and get out!
I was so afraid, now you're gone away
Sent you packing, look who's laughin' now
I'm so happy that I feel this way
I'm so happy that I threw you away!

The last echoes faded away, the guitar went silent, and for a few moments there was no noise at all. Then Shard, an ecstatic grin on his face, stood up. "Everything as I had been told," he said contemplatively, "although I fear I did not do proper justice to either the song or the venue. Perfection is so hard to find, is it not, Miss Arckan?"

He put the guitar carefully away, in the vestibule for the orchestra, then stood straight and faced her directly. "Well... shall we?" he asked softly, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. He did not reach for his gun, or his blade, or even his lightsabers; he remained empty-handed, awaiting Rhissai's response.

[Rugs]

Alright, as I told Koeing and Daansn in their duel, I've recently decided to make an effort to grade harder, so let's see how thing pan out.

Round 1
Delta
Effort: 4/5 I very much liked the recurring theme of perfection. Good work on that
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 3/5 If I could make this a 2.5, I would. It wasn't bad mind you, but I'm holding this down until the fight actually gets underway. I need somewhere to go.
Bonus: /2
Comments: Good job with this. I am assuming Rhiss is feeling grey?

Karl
Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 4/5 You did a very good job with your imagery. Keep it up, sire
Coolness:2 /5 Once again, holding this down until things get going for real. However, though I know this is subjective, the song just seemed a bit out of place and kinda broke up the flow of post, at least to me.
Bonus: /2
Comments: Also a good post. I'm quite interested to see where you move things forward from here.

Total-
Delta: 16
Karl: 15

Mmk, so Delta has a slight lead, though with it being one point on the first point, and daresay it could be called negligible. Now, I'm really excited to see what crazy stuff you two come up, so let's get things moving on to Round 2.

[Dire Wolf]

The soft curves that made up the Aphithiri woman's face turned downward, surveying the layout of the soon to be battlefield carefully. Rhissai held no illusions of her ability to stay hidden in this situation, for she was far too strong in the Force to easily hide the refined power that radiated out into the world, especially from someone who was nearly equal to her level. Miraluka also seemed to have an odd prowess in the area of sense, seeing as they used it to view the world around them. The raven maned woman's mental barriers were well fortified and bulwarked, smoothed, shined, yet... they were far from perfect. Never could they be perfect. There was always a way into her mind, but should he try... he'd have to fight to even send a message through. Which was precisely why his thoughts were merely reflected back to him in the form of a faint echo.

"I am no member of the blades, nor the Jedi Covenant, the shadows, investigators, high council, or any other branch or division of the Jedi Order. I am here of my own volition, the parameters of my mission set by me," she paused for dramatic effect, and then responded to his second assumption just as quick as the first. "You've done little to hinder me, besides cowering in the dark and sprinting out of your hole when I draw near like some kind of frightened rabbit, nor do I have a "band." My name is no longer Jedi Master Rhissai'arckan, as that would imply that I have a will and possessions of my own. I am nothing. Nothing more than a humble vessel of the Force, one that seeks justice and wreaks vengeance upon those malevolent beings who seek to lord their power and money over the weak." Rhiss' words flowed from her mouth at a mere whisper, and she enhanced their volume through her skill in the Force. A small smirk crawled across one side of her face at the echo that resonated throughout the house. It sounded as if it came from the ghostly mouths of a thousand wraiths, each one chanting the same whisper from their seat.

Indeed, she felt his gaze wash over her... but it was little more than the gaze of a man, and a pompous one at that. Arrogance was one thing that Rhissai never could abide, even during her time on Aphithir when it was as prevalent as the hairs on a wookiee's back. The raven maned woman leaned her weight forwards, causing her body to plummet to the ground like a rock as the blind blonde spouted off the purpose for his presence within the Grand Coruscanti Opera hall. What a fool. The Force swirled around the woman during her free fall, slowing the inertia down to a negligible level so that the fall of nearly four stories wouldn't damage her in the least. Her weight rolled forwards into a somersault all the same, however, further negating any possible damage she may have taken. Shard was a fool. She'd tracked him half way across the galaxy, and did the same to his credits as they all but flew from his account during that time. Surely, she thought, he had some valid reason for spending so much just to get into the grand room of Coruscant's grandest opera hall. It was now blatantly obvious that she was mistaken, and his only purpose for being right there and then was to hear his own voice echo and reverberate through the massive room.

"Fool. You spent copious amounts of money to get yourself into this place, this world," again, her voice was a Force amplified whisper during the short walk towards her quarry. The same echo effect from before narrowly had time to cease just as her feet stopped her halfway through the room. That tendril of her mind continued to gently search for a weakness in the man's barriers, hoping for anything that she could exploit. Though her heightened senses and prowess in telepathy could pick up many weak points that riddled the man's mental walls, it was far more difficult to find one that she was sure he wasn't aware of. One that would allow her entry to go unnoticed if she so chose it. "When all that it took for me, one of the most wanted women in the galaxy, a thirty credit docking fee and enough wit to hide in the dark as the last of the security personnel left this place." Yes, the bounty on her head was indeed very steep... being the AWOL high general of a Republican army tended to do that to a person. The Republic wanted to clog a rather serious intelligence leak in their long term strategy and tactics. The Sith wanted her to open that same leak, and the Jedi... the Jedi wanted their High Council Member back, or for her to put up her lightsabers. She'd die before that happened.

Without allowing any more of those pointed words to leave her lips, the woman gave Shard leave to fulfill his goal. It would harm no one, and he'd spent more than his fair share of money to do it... she may have considered him his foe, but Rhissai was a chivalrous enemy. Which was why she didn't act on the valuable opportunity to steal her opponent's weapon belt after it left his person. Instead, she simply listened to the song that he felt the need to sing. Little did the man know, music was something of a spiritual experience to the woman and her species. She listened hard on every single word, every emotion, that caused the pitch and tone of his voice to shift and contort. After his song was completed, the now short haired Aphithiri woman only shook her head lightly in slight disdain.

Something deep within her heart told her that he cared nothing for the song. Which made any emotion she may have picked up as he spun the lyrics and plucked at his guitar a shallow, hollow, facade. It almost stirred her heart to anger, to hear such bastardization of the music and song that she loved so dearly. To her, the quality of the voice or tune of the instrument wasn't what made the song or music great... it was the emotion that hid behind the strings. Its spirit. That song felt dead to her, it felt hollow... and it caused her heart to sadden. "Contrary to popular belief, Shard, music is not something that is to be judged with one's voice or skill with an instrument. Yes, each note that left the strings of your guitar was well practiced... but it was sterile. It had no soul," her words were no longer an amplified whisper of a thousand specters, but rather that musical, authoritative voice that she was known for. "Emotion is what makes the song powerful, moving. It gives one the power to change lives, and feelings. That is what makes great music, and music great, not the amount of practice of that one has with an instrument or the skill of their voice. Or how well the band is synchronized with each other."

Those green eyes flickered up to the man as he extended his hand outwards towards her, and she did the same. A tendril of her mind wrapped around the suppressed slug thrower in the man's belt and yanked it from its resting place. A single flash and swipe of silver light marked the bisection of the barbarous weapon, leaving it in two pieces from tip of the silencer to end of the hammer. After this was complete she re-clipped the katana hilt to her belt, and shifted her gaze back up to the blind man before her. "I am not a dishonorable being, but make no mistake: if I were lesser you would be without a single tooth in this fight. I granted you that which I use, a pair of lightsabers, and one more, your Echani blade. But you are denied that trecherous handgun," after another pause, she weighed the consequences of her request. "If you will allow me the same request I granted you," her words trailed off and her eyes closed as she prepared for something that she hadn't done since her time on Aphithir.

A brief pause was marked with the dieing echoes of her rich, rolling, and almost musical voice as she delved deep within her heart. This was not something that she allowed herself often, certainly never within the company of another being. Especially her enemy. Words quickly flowed from the woman's articulated mouth, but they were not the kind of words that a man could understand... not even she could fully grasp their meaning. Each time her mind was on the cusp of understanding its words it seemed like the meaning slipped through her fingers like water would slip through a fish net.

Those lyrics rolled from her mouth like the ebb and flow of a great river. They emanated from deep within the inner sanctum of her soul, and each syllable rolled beautifully and angelically into the next because of it. Her heart spoke in emotions, and those emotions spoke through the pitch and tone of her voice... which embodied bravery, honor, skill, and heroism against a deep and dark evil. It was this song that was sung during the eve of the greatest battle during the ancient slave rebellions of Aphtihir, and it was known to stir the emotions it was based upon within the hearts of those who heard it. Fear in those dark things that the righteous fought. This was not a power that could be amplified by the Force, but rather by the emotion that was held up within her heart... and her ability to release it in such a moving way.

The song was barely complete before those bright green eyes slid open once more, filled with just enough moisture to blur the world around her. "Shard," her fingers laced around the hilt of White Fang and took him from her belt. The all too familiar snap-hiss! of her tool tore at the silence like the fangs of the Great Wolf of her homeworld, and the furious silvery light of her saber cut through the darkness like His razor sharp claws. "I live the will of the Force. Its told me that you will die this day, though if its divine providence decides that its time for me to join with it... I go happily." She paused for dramatic effect before speaking in her mother tongue, each syllable flowing from her lips like the lyrics of the song she just sung. The voice, the tones, the pitch, it was beautiful... yet terrible... like the dawn. "I'och lai'ye rec'tai vas'Alrilah." A blessing of sorts. One that roughly translated to, "I do pray that you will give me the same respect that I will give you, should the Nine guide your blade truer than mine."

Rippling muscles hidden by tanned skin below that light armor bunched and curled together like a ballista's sinew, and they bayed at her to release their fury. She did. The tight muscles released, and propelled her forward like a javelin from the housing of a ballista enhanced by the power of the Force. Rhissai's armored form was a blur as it sped down the rest of the walkway like a bolt of lightning, and she was upon the stage almost within the blink of an eye. At the very last moment, the woman's legs sprung her from the ground in an armless cartwheel. At its apex she threw a telekinetic shove down at the ground. The power of her push was hardly enough to push the ground down, but it was more than enough to cast her further into the air and over Shard's head. Rhiss was careful enough to keep her altitude within striking distance, giving her the opportunity to slash the scintillating blade at the top of Shard's blonde scalp. She did so, and the fury of the silver star whirred violently with the quick attack. The woman knew that this wouldn't kill him, but she also knew that so long as she made the first attack she would have the initiative.

That was all that mattered. All that she'd have to do was keep the wretch reacting to her proactive attacks, and the lie of perfection could be achieved.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Rhissai fell to the ground, no doubt showing off for his benefit. To this, Shard merely smirked and crossed his arms, though he frowned as she ripped his gun away. "That was unnecessary," he said simply, making his voice echo and roil just as she had done to hers. "I had no intention of using that gun, anyway. Have you any idea how much it cost me at the time? Or how much a replacement will cost now?" Inflation was a bastard, he could well attest to that.

However, Rhissai wanted to sing, so he bowed and allowed her the privelege; she had, after all, allowed him his. And as her words flowed, he couldn't help but smile appreciatively. His attunement with the Force, and with his own senses both within and without, let him see meaning where others found gibberish; he could feel the joy of release and the terrible ecstasy of impending vengeance, the glorious taste of freedom drawing nigh. He could feel it, for he had felt such things himself once upon a time; his face drew down in a dark scowl as he briefly recalled those dark years, when the hated Force Collar was on his neck and he could not do a thing for himself. It was those years that had forced him to look deep inside himself and find the tenacity, the persevereance, the overwhelming drive to live, to move, that had carried him through the rest of his dark years and brought him to this moment.

All this went through his head in less than a blink of an eye, and Rhissai would not see any of it despite her probing and her telepathic skill. Almost immediately the Miraluka began singing once again, a counterpoint to Rhissai's anthem of freedom; he sang in Mando'a, the harsh language of the Mandalorians, and his song was of conquest. It was one of their many battle hymns, sung on the eve of war; it embodied the skill, the desperation and struggle of that proud race, of every moment spent in the pursuit of personal perfection all for the sake of battle. For the sake of utterly overwhelming the enemy, no matter who or where or why, in the name of glory, honor and respect. Shard had always sympathized deeply with them, with the absolute and total dedication to ideals that such ferocity required; he felt these things himself, sought to instill those same virtues in his men so that they could fight with the same abandon and dedication as those legendary mercenaries.

Whatever else Rhissai heard in Shard's voice, whatever lies she insisted on putting in his words or hearing in his voice, she would know that this song was just as deeply felt, just as sincere, as her own.

They stopped singing almost simultaneously, and he regarded her across the distance. He did not understand the words, but he felt the meaning, and nodded in response. "Warrior to warrior, blade to blade, and never shall the living know of this night," he replied in Mando'a, readying himself for her attack. He did not draw his blade, he did not activate his lightsabers; he simply stood, arms at his sides, head high, as if facing the executioner in full knowledge of the rightness of one's actions and the wrongfulness of the law. He watched her speed down the aisle, her blade a silver blur at her side; one part admired her beauty, but another part, a part he had worked hard over many years to hone and focus, analyzed every twitch of her musculature, every ripple and curve of sinew, every shadow of expression on her pretty green-eyed face.

He had fought for years, body and mind against the bodies and minds of countless foes and instructors, to acquire the Echani martial disciplines, not just of combat but their rituals and mindsets; it was said that a master of the Echani ways could foresee the outcome of a fight, or even the course of entire wars. Shard was by no means such a master, perhaps half a dozen in the entire galaxy could claim such, but he knew enough to read an opponent and predict their movements. The head, he thought to himself, she will attack my head. Doubtfully a fatal blow, not so early; for all her ways she enjoys a fight too much to end it this early.

And, in the split seconds before her feet struck the stage, everything changed.

First, the lights went out, plunging the whole area into a darkness too thick to see through; they had been set extra bright, as well, so anyone reliant on such things as vision would be impaired. That meant, really, anyone with eyes; no matter how hard one trained and focused, eyesight accounted for eighty percent of one's decision-making processes, even if one had the Force as well. Only true blindness was a remedy, and it was one few were willing to accept.

Second, the hall suddenly filled with screaming voices in many different languages, none of them coming from a single sources. "Traitor! Oath-breaker! Fallen one!" they crowed, impossibly loud. Curiously there was no single source, none of the unique resonances within the Force and within simple hearing that indicated Force-based trickery; it truly seemed as if dozens of people had suddenly appeared in the darkness and were shouting at Rhissai at the very top of their lungs, without need of breath or respite. They disrupted the Force around her as well, not something that usually happened. Curiously, these presences could not be detected either, so where was the real source?

Finally, at the very moment her feet touched the stage, Shard himself disappeared. Rhissai's mental probes, futilely poking at the walls of the Miraluka's mind, suddenly met thin air and blank emptiness within the Force. She flew through the air where he had been, and he wasn't there, he had never been there. Her memories of the previous few minutes might suddenly seem indistinct, vague; where was the psychotic Miraluka? Had he been there at all, who had been singing just now? It didn't help that those voices were still shrieking to high heaven, filling the perfect sound arena with their jarring dissonance; it didn't help that the room was still pitch black. There was perhaps a vague scent of some expensive cologne, a high-class brand preferred by politicians and wealthy businessmen seeking to make a good impression, but that could have been left behind by the conductor, or one of the musicians if they were the moderately frugal sort.

In truth, Shard had simply drawn down on himself with Art of the Small to the fullest possible extent; if he had been out of his own body he would not even have been able to sense himself, so complete was his control. He watched Rhissai flip through the air from his crouch, and slithered forward with considerable speed himself; he would be there, when she landed, aiming a kick with his heel right between her legs. Contrary to popular belief, groin attacks were just as effective on women as on men due to the fragile collection of nerve endings down there; Shard knew this well, not being in the least above dirty tricks in a fight no matter who or where or what.

[Rugs]

Round 2
Delta
Effort: 5/5 I don't think I could give this any less. Great work.
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 4/5 Good job, good job. I'm rather liking the pointedness Rhiss is showing.
Bonus: /2
Comments: All in all, a very solid post. You're making my whole 'start grading harder' thing difficult xD

Karl
Effort: 5/5
Detail: 2/5 Okay, I flipped these so that I can explain my reasoning for this category and the next one. Starting four paragraphs from the end, I can't really tell what's going on. I know the lights go out and crazy stuff starts happening, but I cannot tell why they are happening or what is making them happen. Which flows into...
Fairness: 2/5 Here's the reasoning for this: I looked around at both Force Illusion and Art of the Small, since you mention Art of the Small by name, and if I recall correctly, Shard is rather fond of illusions. Now, Force Illusion doesn't really work on other Force sensitives (wookiee page, just so you know I'm not pulling that from in between my cheeks), so that wouldn't really work, if that's what it is you were going for, especially not on a telepath who is as gifted as Rhiss is. From there, we've got Art of the Small, which, as we know, shrinks the signature of someone in the Force to nigh-undetectable levels. So, the shrinking of his presence, I don't have a problem with, but I can't think of any feasible way for it to apply to all the other weird stuff happening in the concert hall. So, unless there's just something else that I'm missing, I don't really know how that works.
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: /2
Comments: Most of it was good, but I just don't think that the fourth through second paragraphs from the end really work.

Total-
Delta: 35
Karl: 29


On to round three

[Dire Wolf]

Anger. It pulsed around the Aphithiri woman's heart like a constrictor serpent, one that threatened to squelch out any form or memory of its host. Rhissai didn't allow it to overcome her, as delving into the ancient Conduhar would be ill advised while fighting such an adversary. Arrogant and idiotic as he was, his arrogance was born from power and his idiocy likely from eating led paint chips or being thrown head first into a trash compactor at a young age. Deprecating thoughts aside, the man was powerful in the Force and a worthy enemy. She would likely need all of her wit and cunning rather than brute strength and speed in order to win this duel. Despite this, her mind could not let go of one thing: his mandalorian chant.

Yes, it may have meant something to him, but why in the Force did he have to sing it with her? Did she not give him leave to sing his meaningless song undisturbed? Till the end, anyways, when she let loose a flurry of words with her sharp tongue. At any rate, she related Aphithiri custom to him after landing. Or was would have, if her serious prowess in the Force hadn't warned her of an impending attack. A kick. To her groin. Smart man. Sort of. He had since shrunk his own presence down to a microscopic size, one that was nearly undetectable and nigh-impossible to attack. Which was the smart part, but the sort of part came into play when he charged her with a low blow rather than an attempted impale.

The vigilante Jedi Master had quite the power in the discipline of sense, and that included battle precognition. Her Jedi senses tingled like mad as time seemed to slow, her mind more focused on what the Force told her rather than the impenetrable blackness that surrounded the area that White Fang's furious silver light illuminated. A shape flew from the blackness, sliding out of it like a powerful shade would glide from the underworld to take a mortal's life, and readied a lightning fast kick just as her. Instead of moving, her stance stood idle for a brief moment, much to the chagrin of her angry argent saber... which wanted her to simply hold her blade out and let his speed and momentum do the trick.

But no... she liked to play with her pray a bit.

She simply stood there, even a trained Echani master likely wouldn't have been able to discern her intent... not until it was too late, of course. For she made no outward preparations for her defense, no subtle shift of her arms towards her groin, no repositioning of her hips, and she certainly did not blade her body in such a manner that would make the defense easier. At the moment of truth, when the wretch's foot was flying towards the patch of flesh between her legs, Rhissai's taut muscles released and sent her lower body away from the kick. Her movement ensured that the follow through of his attack wouldn't hit her hip or the inside of her thigh. The latter of which could easily have been worse, considering the fact that if he hit her right it would hinder her movements.

The living Force flowed through her already speedy and powerful muscles as she watched her lightsaber whip around to hopefully catch the man's leg. It was extremely probable that it would, seeing as he'd already thrown his weight and momentum into the kick (presumably, of course, its hard to fake a kick. Even harder to turn a fake kick into a real one that hurts). If he decided to try and block her attack it would likely succeed, in a manner of speaking, by simply stopping the silver sun dead in its tracks. His kick would glide by her form, and likely into their locked blades... compounding the damage.

Oh, the wonders of physics. During his initial charge, he would have had little choice but to sprint toward her... if he did not she would have landed and simply attacked him as he crawled towards her. At any rate, the woman couldn't help but smirk as she pulled away from him, not bothering at that point to view her handiwork. "So, you mean to tell me that you brought a firearm to our little meeting with the intention of it resting there, on your belt? And I've no care of what it cost you at the time. If its purpose is to simply hang there, on your belt, then its worth is far less than its cost. As for the other issue... we are now married. Congratulations, my dear husband, as that mandalorian chant you sung happened to double as your vows. Or 'tis a grievous insult on yourself and your intelligence, seeing as the few on my homeworld who have the audacity to interrupt a song from the heart are branded idiots and out casts."

Her eyes gave a look towards him that would make a man feel insolent, and that he dabbled in things that he did not fully comprehend. Rhissai had not given it her all in defending herself from the previous attack, as she could have easily used the Force to overpressurize an area of air infront of her, which would send a blast of air towards her. A force pull, essentially. At any rate, it would have likely sent him sprawling, considering the fact that he was already running in the same direction.

Slowly, the woman drew the side of her lightsaber back towards her temple, and pressed its handguard into the soft flesh of her head. A small smirk formed at her lips as the distance between her legs grew, allowing for a more stable stance, and her her free hand extended outwards towards Shard. Green eyes simply gazed at him, or where he disappeared to, through that silver sheen that her lightsaber produced.

There was no need for her to attack just yet. No need at all. Rhissai'arckan had all the time in the world to finish this fight.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Rhissai evaded his attack; all to the good. She even countered with her lightsaber, though that met with little success thanks to the cortosis-woven greaves he wore. From his low position it was easy to retreat and regroup; it had been a snap kick anyway, not the lunging sort of roundhouse amateurs were prone to. Flashy, yes, powerful, perhaps; yet, all too easily countered even without a lightsaber. Shard happened to have two such weapons, though one of them was rarely brought out unless he was intent on bloodshed and death.

Her words, however, brought him up short. Husband, am I? he thought, bemusement flickering through him and across his face. Ahh... one of those culture-mad sorts. Probably went off to find her heritage once the Jedi gave her leash. Or after she broke that leash.. Interesting thing, heritage... Shard would have been glad to find his, except the Miraluka of Alpheridies were by and large a passive lot; it didn't help that he had watched his father die of a wasting illness, a father he hardly knew, surrounded by a family he barely remembered.

Slowly he came to his feet, his face pensive and perhaps a little sad beneath his glasses. "Marriage," he muttered, his gaze intent on Rhissai's green stare; again, the Miraluka's gaze was something to be felt, not seen, although it lacked some of the hysterical heat from before. He heaved a sigh, tilting his head to the side. "Would that were true... with a woman such as yourself at my side, we could bring the galaxy to heel in weeks." A strange place for compliments, but they were technically married so why not?

Abruptly the lights came back on, and silence descended once again. "I suppose I should raise my blade now," he went on, this time in High Galactic. She would sense the apprehension within him, the slight edge of sadness, but nothing else; he still held down on himself through the Art of the Small. The formal tongue of state, used by clergymen and politicians to indicate respect for one another, rolled easily off his tongue, a curious lilting language that predated Galactic Basic; it was sometimes spoken by the Jedi, and in fact many of the lightsaber movements and styles were words borrowed from that language.

"Yet, it would be a waste for us to kill each other now, without some attempt at pleasantries," he went on. "You have clearly abandoned the Jedi Order... surely your contempt for the Dark Side does not run so very deep? You have tasted it before, I can sense it on you. Tell me, have you done anything with yourself since then other than run after me, of all people? Me, who only wanted to hear myself sing?" His voice did not carry derision, but genuine curiosity.

"I would be remiss in my own duties if I did not offer you a chance of peace between us," the Miraluka elaborated, extending his hand palm upward. "Surely you have seen the rot, the corruption and decay that pervades the Order, the Republic... you must already know that the Jedi can only prolong the disease, perhaps stem its growth, but they are not in a postion to truly do anything about it; they are themselves too deeply involved in the system to see the true extend of the decay."

Shard was known for his ability to lead, his charisma and force of personality; he had made a point, all his life, of studying the old ways of influence, that the Jedi and Sith of old had used to bend entire armies to their will. Revan had been a prominent figure in his studies, and while the Miraluka couldn't hope to ever match that legendary being he still had a greater aptitude for it than pretty much everyone else. "It is so much clearer from the outside looking in, is it not? You can see how it flows; you can see it just as clearly as I can!

I believe I have a cure, and with your help we can implement that cure so much sooner." Even with his true self concealed, it was hard not to listen; his voice, amplified through the Force, echoed passionately throughout the building. He truly felt what he said was true, that was quite clear.

His voice wasn't all that echoed, though.

All the while he spoke and made his voice sound fancy, he was focusing in the Force, gathering it in. Rhissai's beautiful waist-length hair was too tempting a target to leave alone; standing as she was beneath the heavy stage curtains, her attention on Shard, it was easy to move slowly and subtley, disguising the trace disturbances these efforts made by generating further disorientations.

"Then again... maybe you left the Order because they wouldn't let you leave often enough," he concluded. "Maybe they didn't let you hunt as much as you wanted, hmm? Or maybe I'm wrong and you should elighten me why you left." Upward he went, to those heavy curtains and their sandbags; he could do this a little faster, not having to worm around Rhissai's form (enjoyable as it was).

"If we're both still alive later on I'll tell you why I left," he added, in all seriousness. "No doubt it's a cliche tale, but for me it is very personal and not anything I share lightly." Now it was done; his telekinetic web was ready, in Rhissai's hair and in the curtains above. "And if you must know, I wasn't expecting a fight of this nature so I brought my pistol anyway. Never go unarmed, after all."

And then he struck, simultaenously yanking the curtains down and Rhissai back by her hair. The sandbags fell down also, dragging the heavy material even faster. At the same time, the Miraluka let loose a narrow volley of Force Lightning from his other hand, sending it streaking toward the green-eyed former Jedi in a concentrated arc of deadly power.

[Rugs]

Round 3

Delta
Effort: 4/5 Dun get me wrong, it was still a good post, but I think you put a bit more into the previous one.
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: /2
Comments: Good show. Can't say I expected the tactic Rhiss used, but it was a clever one. So Kudos on that. And I do so love a good wedding *tears up* I can't wait to see the kids.

Karl
Effort: 5/5 I'd say this has been your best post thus far
Fairness: 5/5 And here I was, wondering how you'd escape that little set-up Delta made. Lucky him for having those greaves.
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: /2
Comments: Nice work. Interesting that he'd try to tempt a former Council member, but I guess it's worth a shot if she's gone grey.


And to both of you: what, no singing this round?

Total:

Delta: 53
Karl: 48

Carry on, gents.

[Dire Wolf]

(/wonders how the use of cortosis armor got a 5/5 fairness. =P Lawl, not too butthurt, and sorry for the delay. Just tried to figure out just what happened.)

Satisfaction's sweet touch on her heart caused her lips to curl about in a warm smile as she watched his leg swing towards nothing but White Fang's furious argent blade. The katana-style hilt of her favored saber shook with excitement at the prospect of its blade cleaving through the flesh of another man. Plasma the color of sterling silver buzzed like a drove of honey bees as it hung menacingly in place. Both hilt and blade bayed for the taste of her adversary's flesh, and wanted nothing more than to taste the seared flesh of their target.

Dissatisfaction. Disappointment. Displeasure's sting at her heart caused her eyes to wince and her form to slump at the sight of her blade simply bouncing off of his clothed leg. She had noticed the slightest of bulk about his form below the over-eccentric finery that was his clothes, but by no stretch of the imagination believed that it could be lightsaber proof. Green eyes drifted down to the cut in his clothes, paying no heed to his rantings, and simply looked at the metal beneath. Believe it or not, Rhissai had seen just about all of the few lightsaber resistant metals in her sixty years, and it wasn't likely beskar... seeing as there wasn't any time of carbon scoring from what she could see. That narrowed it down to Cortosis, which was energized and probably a little magnetized.

Disappointment's sting retreated as quickly as it came, and was replaced with a swell of hope in her chest. That feral grin could once again be seen curling about her lips, and giving her the appearance of a she-wolf about to trap its prey. Why? Cortosis was immune to a lightsaber's fury, yes, but it was also extremely brittle to the point where it was weak against most other things, save blaster fire. Her mind was far from his offer and his rantings and began to work feverishly at crafting a way to take victory from the man.

Her off hand drifted around her form to the small of her back, where her shoto was concealed in a waist pack. It took her mind a few moments to comprehend just what he had said, not because it was overly complex, but because she hadn't listened. "My contempt for the dark side is second only to my hatred for child killers," she paused, and that predatory smile was replaced with a look of disgust. "Don't patronize me, Shard. Your "cure" would involve an iron fist and a cruel temperance to the populace of the galaxy. The Republic and the Jedi have their faults, yes, but at the very least... its people are free. Freedom to choose is better than any sort of cure that you could offer."

A wicked grin once against curled her lips, "but you are not the one to create the cure, are you? No. You rule your domain, yes, but you do not rule yourself. I have followed you, watched you for far too long, as you bowed to your masters and mistresses." her tone turned into a simple one but cold one, almost as if she were speaking to a child... one who had been bad. "Behind all of that arrogance and that megalomaniacal fascade, there is simply a puppet. One good for little more than its use, and is to be discarded once its usefulness has come to an end. One who isn't even intelligent enough to see that he is, in fact, a puppet on a set of strings."

Ironically enough, no sooner did the final syllable of her cold speech leave her lips did she find herself flying backwards by her hair, reminiscent of a puppet. The humor of the irony was lost on the woman, however, as she found her body slam into the ground and begin to roll. Pain wasn't what slowed her mind to react, no, she had been trained for most of her six decades to not only withstand, but ignore pain's fleeting touch.It was the surprise that slowed her mind instead. Her off-hand yanked the smaller hilt from her pack and had the arctic-blue blade ignited just before the arc of lightning passed by its ice-colored reach.

As her shoto guarded her metal-cased body from the deadly Force-powered lightning, her strong hand weaved her silver blade between her neck and waist-length hair. Her wrist flicked outwards, singing off the long mane of raven black hair. It was a mistake from the beginning to allow it to grow so long and wild, and it was a mistake she'd never make again. Rhiss' stance solidified as the acrid stench of seared hair reached her powerful nose, and the light shlit of her voluminous hair hitting thr ground reached her ears. Cold green eyes bore a pair of holes into Shard's form, there was no wry smile on her face. Though she did still find him some sort of amusing joke, as she did before. "Perhaps, Shard, we should put an end to the discussion and begin the fighting. I've grown weary of this idle banter, and I'm beginning to run out of insults."

Without another word, Rhissai's stance widened to one that was far more stable. Her shoto once again disappeared behind her pack and White Fang's handguard pressed against her temple lightly. Her stance mirrored her prior one, though now she was sure to pay attention to his actions rather than her musings. Her emerald green gaze drifted up for a moment, and noticed a massive but delicate chandelier hanging above the space between them, but her eyes quickly shifted back down to Shard.

That was the most obvious weapon that he'd use against her, certainly not the chairs... they were all bolted down and connected. He'd have to telekinetically remove most of them to hope to throw the row at her. She smirked lightly, but that was only to hide the weariness behind her eyes. Rhiss had grown weary of hunting, of slaying, of killing the evil men. It was necessary, yes, but she'd much rather apply her skills towards healing wounds rather than making new ones.

Perhaps, after her victory here, she would go off to some remote corner of the universe and hone her skills in peace. Then take those honed skills to where they were truly needed. Yes. She just needed to remove this last obstacle, and she could finally give her sabers up.

[Karl the Unfettered]

((I'm gonna forfeit this one; I'm under scrutiny lately, since it seems my tastes are too violent and unrestrained for the style and censorship we cater to around here.))

[Rugs]

Ah, well that's unfortunate. :/

But with that, I suppose that makes Dire the winner. This will now be moved to completed.