Post by Cyrus on Sept 16, 2006 4:39:05 GMT 10
Slowly the darkened warrior strode, his boots clanging off dead rock with a robotic timing. Clang.....Clang.....Clang Cyrus, that was his name, no name for his heritage. Still he cared not for the Mandalorian life, they were nomad mercs now, a once glorious culture of conquest and the martial code, now reduced to damn bounty hunting fat old fools.
Still he was more, still a warrior, now a sith. Yes, at least his old master had been, that damn old man. He had taken power from Cyrus' clutches, how? By killing Cyrus' old Jedi mentor, the same mentor who had been teaching him of Vaapad. Even saying it made his clenched shut mouth water, his spine shivered in pleasure and it made his breath escape shocked lungs.
Swiping back his black robes, pinned to his form by thick iron the young sith stared around. To think such a barren place was a fountain of ancient secrets, forbidden knowledge. In time, it would be his. As he often did the young assasin rested his hands on his sabers, nestled deep within impassable crevices of robes.
Clang.....Clang.....Clang He shook the dull smashing of his boots away, normally he wore thin soles, so to feel the floor and keep quieter. However with the imposing boots he became all the more threatening.
Behind him lay the ship Fiery Heart, her engines lay dormant, ready to ignite at the touch of the button like a phoenix. Wing-like protrusions hung from the sides, jagged panelling giving a 'imperfect' look to the customised ship. Black silver shone with a aura of grace as Cyrus strode across the hangar.
Soon he would get to the Sith Temple, yes, surely one of them would know of Vaapad. It was like a urge, he felt uncomplete, far more than the dull instinct for water, more like the addiction of a Drug user. His smooth hands were removed from his sabers as he strode around, he felt no need to draw attention to himself.
A short stroll took him past several small shops, men laying about lazily and a cantina. He saw no purpose heading to that depressed crap hole, sitting at various seats were lank and dark pilots and crew. Around the bar were more of those chirpy idiots in that grey uniform. Wannabe sith, Cyrus dully noted the medalion they all wore, mostly with pride as they mocked nearby folk.
Finally he emerged onto the face of this world, huge crates were stacked up, numerous droids buzzing around them and cracking out with pointless data reports. In the near distance loomed the temple, yes, that dark rune encrusted door......what else? In front of the door stood a guard, his alien armor was unfamiliar to the young Sith. Faceless black glasteel.
"I wish for access to this temple, move...."
Under that dead mask Cyrus was sure the man, or whatever would were a face of deep offence.
"You need to either wear one of the medalions or you can prove yourself through a series of hard gruellin-"
"I'll take the first one, gimme a minute..."
Turning smartly the dark champion strode to the cantina, now he was quite pleased he had looked at the sith apprentices. Drawing up his jet black hood Cyrus engulfed his face in darkness, a lone shadowy trail of hair dripped over his face. Oh yeah, he had style.
"Nice medallion.......wanna let me look at it?"
The trio of sith he spoke to wore looks of disgust. After a flicker of understanding as they saw him one of them spoke. A tall male with a perfect black beard, his hand strayed to his saber as he spoke, contours of his slim frame thrust into the millitary-esque clothing.
"You think yourself worthy to speak to a sith? Explain yourself worm, give me a reason not to kill you now?"
Cyrus merely shrugged, he'd been provoked, he couldn't be accounted for his actions, right?
"Well, if you tried....I'd be the one doing the killing."
Slowly he pulled back the drooping edges of his robes, two curved sabers appeared. Their was a brief look of horror on the man's face then he looked to his two friends, a Kel-Dor and a Zabrak. Surely there was strength in numbers?
The dull hum of lightsabers emerged, the Zabrak and Human each had boring old red sabers, the Kel-Dor produced a custom purple saber, shortened and fatter blade. Slowly, elegantly Cyrus drew his own two weapons.
Perfect symetry, allowing his blades down low the sith kept the blades unlit. Finally they ignited, each a clear blue, longer than most sabers he smiled, then it began. Ducking under the red slash Cyrus span, his weapons vertical to his body, cloak lashing around wildly like crazed wings on a raven. Raising his left sword high and the right trailing behind the rolling attack started, motion carried him beyond the first strike, left smashing into the human's saber then right.
The human staggered, falling onto one knee under the sheet unforgiving of the strikes, finally he tried to better create a defense, allowing one elbow out further. Mistake. That elbow was sliced in half, as the human screamed his allies moved in. The Zabrak sliced for the open back of his foe the Kel-Dor showed some skill in parrying several hits although a flicker in his mask showed Cyrus enough. The former jedi flung himself to the left, sabers trailing behind him and forming a wall of sparks that shielded his retreat.
As the two sith reassembled themselves after impact to again battle the jedi they found him with neither saber ignited. Surrender? Hell no. They were Sith, surrender was not enough.
Springing forwards the Zabrak tried to snap him in two with a swift attack to the neck . Cyrus ducked, as he rose each of his sabers were ignited, instantly killing the Zabrak. The Kel-Dor faltered, it was like grasping air, always so close yet still impossible.
"Run, hell if I care....."
The alien did so. Slowly Cyrus placed his sabers from sight, tore both of the medalions and placed them around his own neck.
A few minutes he was back in front of the guard who probably was puzzled.
"Two? Where....Why? Two?"
"Yup, two means I'm very important.....lemme through."
Quickly the runic door was opened, energy seemed to freely assualt Cyrus' senses. This would be fun.
(Anyone join in.....by anyone I mean sith. Of course
)
Still he was more, still a warrior, now a sith. Yes, at least his old master had been, that damn old man. He had taken power from Cyrus' clutches, how? By killing Cyrus' old Jedi mentor, the same mentor who had been teaching him of Vaapad. Even saying it made his clenched shut mouth water, his spine shivered in pleasure and it made his breath escape shocked lungs.
Swiping back his black robes, pinned to his form by thick iron the young sith stared around. To think such a barren place was a fountain of ancient secrets, forbidden knowledge. In time, it would be his. As he often did the young assasin rested his hands on his sabers, nestled deep within impassable crevices of robes.
Clang.....Clang.....Clang He shook the dull smashing of his boots away, normally he wore thin soles, so to feel the floor and keep quieter. However with the imposing boots he became all the more threatening.
Behind him lay the ship Fiery Heart, her engines lay dormant, ready to ignite at the touch of the button like a phoenix. Wing-like protrusions hung from the sides, jagged panelling giving a 'imperfect' look to the customised ship. Black silver shone with a aura of grace as Cyrus strode across the hangar.
Soon he would get to the Sith Temple, yes, surely one of them would know of Vaapad. It was like a urge, he felt uncomplete, far more than the dull instinct for water, more like the addiction of a Drug user. His smooth hands were removed from his sabers as he strode around, he felt no need to draw attention to himself.
A short stroll took him past several small shops, men laying about lazily and a cantina. He saw no purpose heading to that depressed crap hole, sitting at various seats were lank and dark pilots and crew. Around the bar were more of those chirpy idiots in that grey uniform. Wannabe sith, Cyrus dully noted the medalion they all wore, mostly with pride as they mocked nearby folk.
Finally he emerged onto the face of this world, huge crates were stacked up, numerous droids buzzing around them and cracking out with pointless data reports. In the near distance loomed the temple, yes, that dark rune encrusted door......what else? In front of the door stood a guard, his alien armor was unfamiliar to the young Sith. Faceless black glasteel.
"I wish for access to this temple, move...."
Under that dead mask Cyrus was sure the man, or whatever would were a face of deep offence.
"You need to either wear one of the medalions or you can prove yourself through a series of hard gruellin-"
"I'll take the first one, gimme a minute..."
Turning smartly the dark champion strode to the cantina, now he was quite pleased he had looked at the sith apprentices. Drawing up his jet black hood Cyrus engulfed his face in darkness, a lone shadowy trail of hair dripped over his face. Oh yeah, he had style.
"Nice medallion.......wanna let me look at it?"
The trio of sith he spoke to wore looks of disgust. After a flicker of understanding as they saw him one of them spoke. A tall male with a perfect black beard, his hand strayed to his saber as he spoke, contours of his slim frame thrust into the millitary-esque clothing.
"You think yourself worthy to speak to a sith? Explain yourself worm, give me a reason not to kill you now?"
Cyrus merely shrugged, he'd been provoked, he couldn't be accounted for his actions, right?
"Well, if you tried....I'd be the one doing the killing."
Slowly he pulled back the drooping edges of his robes, two curved sabers appeared. Their was a brief look of horror on the man's face then he looked to his two friends, a Kel-Dor and a Zabrak. Surely there was strength in numbers?
The dull hum of lightsabers emerged, the Zabrak and Human each had boring old red sabers, the Kel-Dor produced a custom purple saber, shortened and fatter blade. Slowly, elegantly Cyrus drew his own two weapons.
Perfect symetry, allowing his blades down low the sith kept the blades unlit. Finally they ignited, each a clear blue, longer than most sabers he smiled, then it began. Ducking under the red slash Cyrus span, his weapons vertical to his body, cloak lashing around wildly like crazed wings on a raven. Raising his left sword high and the right trailing behind the rolling attack started, motion carried him beyond the first strike, left smashing into the human's saber then right.
The human staggered, falling onto one knee under the sheet unforgiving of the strikes, finally he tried to better create a defense, allowing one elbow out further. Mistake. That elbow was sliced in half, as the human screamed his allies moved in. The Zabrak sliced for the open back of his foe the Kel-Dor showed some skill in parrying several hits although a flicker in his mask showed Cyrus enough. The former jedi flung himself to the left, sabers trailing behind him and forming a wall of sparks that shielded his retreat.
As the two sith reassembled themselves after impact to again battle the jedi they found him with neither saber ignited. Surrender? Hell no. They were Sith, surrender was not enough.
Springing forwards the Zabrak tried to snap him in two with a swift attack to the neck . Cyrus ducked, as he rose each of his sabers were ignited, instantly killing the Zabrak. The Kel-Dor faltered, it was like grasping air, always so close yet still impossible.
"Run, hell if I care....."
The alien did so. Slowly Cyrus placed his sabers from sight, tore both of the medalions and placed them around his own neck.
A few minutes he was back in front of the guard who probably was puzzled.
"Two? Where....Why? Two?"
"Yup, two means I'm very important.....lemme through."
Quickly the runic door was opened, energy seemed to freely assualt Cyrus' senses. This would be fun.
(Anyone join in.....by anyone I mean sith. Of course
)
