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Post by Cap'n Failz on Dec 11, 2012 17:56:44 GMT -6
He hung suspended in the air, several feet off the ground, so that, even with his head bowed in deep meditation, he rested at nearly his full height. Between loosely clasped fingers, laid over his folded legs, lay the infamous mask. Once belonging to Mandalore the Ultimate, it had served as a prize to the one who would go on to acquire the title of the Revanchist -- Darth Revan. And it had served many purposes since its acquisition. Hiding his identity and motives from all those he met, and doubling as a protective measure in emergency situations; its Mandalorian Iron construction was all but impervious to both blaster fire and lightsaber blades.
And now the infamous mask was held in his limp fingers, its eye-visor staring back up at his hooded face.
Eyes closed in thought, Darth Revan was seemingly lost in his meditation. All about him, in the quiet glade on the outlying edges of the city of Hallowton, there were signs of his focus and concentration. Objects of all sizes were floating lazily through the air, in a loose, slow orbit around the robed Sith. Occasionally they would glimmer with an odd, gray light, giving off trace amounts of power before it would fade.
Despite being so absorbed in his own thoughts, his awareness and sense through the Force was spread out over a vast area. Among his chief areas of interest, that he kept track of, were Hallowton itself, as well as several other distinctive fields of energy and strange disturbances. There was no little attention paid to his own surroundings, as well. It would do no good for him to learn of whatever he might, only to be struck down by some accident of fate, after all.
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Post by Sparda on Dec 12, 2012 17:39:13 GMT -6
He had felt it. From across the city - likely from across the continent if he had been such a distance away - he had felt it. A beacon in the Force that blazed with power quite unlike anything he had felt before. It was both vast and refined, honed by experience and ceaseless learning; the trademarks of a true prodigy of the Force. And its allure was nigh-irresistible.
No doubt, he himself would be felt approaching. And as he crested the hill upon which this beacon rested, he was certain he had been felt coming from half the city away if this individual had cared to notice. His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight; ahead of him, a tall, robed figure sat levitating a few feet off the ground, with a number of nearby objects floating around him in a telekinetic grip.
But as the Barabel, Vaarn Karyus, drew closer, a whole different detail drew the entirety of his attention... That mask. There was no other like it, and he had of course pored over enough historical datapads and holocrons to recognise it. Given how he had been pulled from his time and space to this new world, the otherwise mad notion in his mind was somehow now conceivable...
"Can it be...?"
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Post by Cap'n Failz on Dec 12, 2012 18:02:28 GMT -6
He could feel the presence in the Force from more than half the city away, if truth be told. He noted it, but paid it no great mind until he had felt the Force-user grow closer and closer to his own location, clearly making an approach. He could not of yet discern intentions, but he could already gauge a fair measure of the power this oncoming force user possessed. It was unquestionably great, and it was apparent it was not bathed in the self-righteous light of the Jedi, nor was it tainted by the blackness and evil of the Sith.
It was a familiar sense to behold.
He remained quietly observing as the barabel approached, and at the moment he spoke, the meditating Sith finally took action. The space before him fuzzed, and a ghostly image of Darth Revan materialized into being. For a moment, it was pale, transparent, and barely there, then it solidified entirely, looking as if there were suddenly two of the infamous Sith Lord.
"Can it be what?"
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Post by Sparda on Dec 12, 2012 18:31:58 GMT -6
The appearance of the phantom before him brought Vaarn to a sudden stop. He could almost feel its eyes boring into his very soul from behind that mask, and met its hidden gaze as it spoke in reply to him. The barabel paused, deliberating over his answer.
"This one is not mistaken... You are the Revanchist." Slowly, the barabel lowered himself to a kneel, his head inclined in a show of respect. "This one comez from a time thousandz of yearz ahead of yourz, Lord Revan. Yourz is one of the galaxy's greatest legendz."
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Post by Cap'n Failz on Dec 12, 2012 18:41:52 GMT -6
"The Revanchist....hm." He shook his head, an amuse expression adorning his masked face. "That is a title I have not heard...in many years." He listened with mild curiosity to what followed, and did not hide his curiosity. So then....not only different worlds, but differing times as well? Fascinating.
"Please, rise." He gestured lightly to his guest as he spoke, before letting his arm drop once more. "If I may ask....what reason do you have for seeking me out?"
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Post by Sparda on Dec 12, 2012 19:02:02 GMT -6
As prompted, Vaarn rose to his feet, his reptilian features shadowed by his hood. He stood very slightly taller than Revan, and the athleticism of his stature seemed to carry upon his robes; not least given away by the presence of his wiry, powerful tail, which idly swayed to and fro. The difference in magnitude of their commands over the Force was clear to those who were sensible to its flows, for powerful though he was, the barabel was quite cognizant of how Revan's might outstripped him. This was not a man one would want as an enemy.
"This one felt drawn to your power," he began. "He had thought himself the only Force-user on this strange world at first, and waz compelled to investigate. Never did he imagine to meet you of all people." He would've hazarded a step closer, but guessed that the Revanchist would take offence to the intrusion; the fact that his mask was off at all spoke to how he had not expected an interruption of this kind.
"We find ourselvez in a predicament that iz without documented precedent. This one thinks it would behoove uz to find company with whom to gather our bearingz and seek a way back to our galaxy, if that iz even possible... If you would have this one, my Lord, he would be honoured to accompany you in such tasks."
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Post by Cap'n Failz on Dec 12, 2012 20:11:04 GMT -6
He could tell, just from looking at the shrouded form of the reptilian being before him, that in a purely physical contest, he would stand next to no chance. He was far from a weakling by human standards, but the human race was noticably more....squishy than some other races, as HK-47 had delighted in pointing out on numerous occasions. It was perhaps better for the human that he was sufficiently more powerful in the Force that it would not be an undue task to eliminate the reptilian man if he should prove....problematic.
"I thought much the same when I first arrived here..." The phantom doppleganger turned to one side, pacing a few steps forward, his arms clasped loosely behind his back. This was most curious. He had not been expecting an interruption during his meditation, but it was not altogether....unwelcome. It presented him with something of a unique opportunity.
"Your thoughts are wise, and your plan is a sound one." He paused, turning his masked gaze to look at the barabel. "As it so happens, I may have the beginnings of information on a possible bridge between the countless universes which are converging. I am not so foolish as to think I am capable of finding a way to control this method in any reasonable time while working on my own. But I have need of help with sufficient....fortitude." As he spoke the final word, the air seemed to grow heavy, the clearing growing quiet as death.
"If you would consent to something of a challenge, so that I might measure whether you will be of use in this particular task, or others I have need of doing, I would be the one honored to have your assistance."
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Post by Sparda on Dec 13, 2012 13:35:17 GMT -6
The unnatural silence did not escape the barabel's notice. He glanced around, perceiving a sudden shift in the flows of the Force, no doubt at Revan's command; to what end remained to be seen, but Vaarn had a feeling he was about to find out.
"A challenge...?" Could the Revanchist be meaning to raise his saber against the barabel? Was he fated to cross blades with one of the most legendary Jedi - and Sith - to have ever lived? If that was the case, he could only hope he would prove himself strong enough to match pace with Lord Revan, if only temporarily.
"Colour this one intrigued," he hissed quietly. "What manner of challenge do you dezign, Lord Revan?"
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Post by Cap'n Failz on Dec 13, 2012 14:04:01 GMT -6
"It will be a simple test. Many facets, but all relating to the tasks I have planned. Your ability to think calmly and clearly under the pressure of combat. Your rationale and ability to improvise. And whether your mental strength and fortitude be sufficient to....perform questionable acts, if it should become absolutely necessary."
The phantom held one arm out to his side, and from the belt of the still-meditating physical body of Revan, a lightsaber unclipped itself and flew into the waiting hand of the phantom. With a broad flourish, he ignited the saber, and its purple blade flared to life with a vibrant hiss, humming through the air.
"Now then....let us begin without delay."
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Post by Sparda on Dec 13, 2012 14:57:17 GMT -6
Vaarn had been correct. He would lock blades with the nigh-mythical Darth Revan, despite being born thousands of years in the Sith Lord's future. He had known plenty of Jedi who would leap at this chance to meet the Revanchist face to face, or otherwise gauge their strength against his legend... But there was much more at stake here. He had a potential alliance with the hero of the Mandalorian War riding on his display here.
He would not disappoint.
His robe folded over his front twice. The barabel brushed both those folds aside, and with a brief tug with the Force, pulled his two sabers into his hands. With two unified echoes of the unmistakeable snap-hiss, his two jade green blades sprang to life. They cast a faint glow ovet the grass around him, a humming challenge to the violet luminescence of Revan's weapon.
"Certainly."
With no other warning, the barabel suddenly rushed forward. He crossed the short distance between himself and the phantom with an incredible burst of speed, little more than a blur of grey and green as he lunged with the saber in his right hand twirling forward into a quick diagonal slash at the spectre's upper mass.
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Post by Cap'n Failz on Dec 13, 2012 15:09:14 GMT -6
So then....two sabers. This might prove interesting. With any luck, he might even be forced on the defensive. He could not, after all, bring all of his power to bear while his attention was so divided. But it should be enough to attain the gauge he needed.
The sudden charge caught Revan momentarily unaware, and it was only with the barest breadth that he evaded the initial blow, a swift backstep and half turn, causing the green blade to swish past just milimeters from its mark. And in the same motion of dodging, Revan brought his arm up, in a quick strike aimed at the leading right arm of the barabel. Just before the blow would have connected, he pulled the strike, spinning the blade with a deft flourish so that it seemed to spin about his wrist, its angle completely changing.
In a flurry of ghostly violet and white, he swept the blade far out to one side, as if going for a powerful horizontal strike, before the ignited blade was pulled from one hand to the other and immediately brought to bear in a harsh downward blow at Vaarn's left shoulder.
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Post by Sparda on Dec 15, 2012 17:50:35 GMT -6
As if the rest of existence had slowed to a crawl, Vaarn was able to observe his opponent's moves in intimate detail. The celerity and deftness with which he handled his saber, especially to completely pull such a quick counterattack and reverse his momentum, could only be described as beautiful. Alas, the barabel would be afforded no time to admire Darth Revan's obvious skill - only analyse it and match pace.
While Revan's hands were at work guiding his counter home, Vaarn's mind had already reached ahead through the whirling flows of the Force to divine the course of the violet blade. His left hand gave a brief, unified twitch of its armoured fingers and reversed its grip on the saber in its clutches. The whole limb then stiffened to place the very tip of that blade in Revan's path.
With equal grace, Vaarn stepped slightly aside of the screeching clash of saber against saber. His arm stayed stiff, keeping Revan's blade at bay, while he turned his body to the left to fend off his opponent from such close range with a broad upward sweep of his right-hand blade, seeking to both cleave into the base of the phantom's left arm and smack his mask off his face from beneath.
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Post by Cap'n Failz on Dec 18, 2012 3:39:11 GMT -6
A swift defensive maneuver saw his own blow clash with the jade green blade of his opponent, if only for a moment. His blow blocked cleanly, Revan withdrew his striking arm, again whipping his wrist around in a flourish of the blade. As the blow came in for his left arm, Revan struck out with the very arm being targeted. Calling upon the Force to augment his movements, he twisted his arm and torso out of the way of the blow, and just as it would have struck his mask, closed his fingers around the green blade.
To most, it might have seemed an incomprehensibly foolish feat to attempt. But protected as he was, even in this phantom state, by both his physical armaments and the Force, it was no different from grabbing hold of a stair railing. He pulled sharply to one side, aiming to simultaneously disrupt the blade of the lightsaber, and pull Vaarn off-balance, and in the same instant, brought his opposite arm around in a rising slash at the barabel's left hip.
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Post by Sparda on Dec 28, 2012 18:10:22 GMT -6
Though his left blade was freed from the brief deadlock, his right was grasped in Revan's very hand. Any other foe may have panicked to see their nigh-unstoppable weapon so easily manhandled, but Vaarn was certainly not any other foe. He had a counter well practised for just this eventuality.
Almost as soon as Revan had closed his hand over the blade, Vaarn flicked his thumb across a subtle button built into the hilt to deactivate the weapon. A high-pitched hiss saw the green blade shrink away out of the Dark Lord's grasp, freeing Vaarn's right arm. His left, at the same time, turned with a flick of the wrist to place his other blade in the path of Revan's swift counterattack. There came another screech as the blades connected, keeping the Revanchist's weapon from its mark.
The barabel reeled back his right arm a short distance, turning the wild ebbs of the Force around them to his will, and thrust forwards with a brief and powerful Force push to throw his opponent across the hill, opening some breathing space.
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Post by Cap'n Failz on Jan 7, 2013 4:41:09 GMT -6
A clever tactic. A simple one, to be quite sure, but clever. Most, upon seeing their weapon reported to be nigh-unstoppable so easily manhandled, would have panicked and allowed their focus to be broken and destroyed, and either fled or flew into a futile assault, somehow pulling through and surviving, or being struck down. In their panic they would never think of suck a simple solution in the few precious seconds they had. Destroying the blade of a lightsaber was not an immediate action, and took a handful of seconds to accomplish. And even then it was only disrupted, and would in the course of several minutes restore itself. But those few critical seconds -- perhaps even fractions of a second -- it took only a minor flick of one finger, or a light movement of the Force, to shut the blade off and prevent the blade from being disrupted at all.
Vaarn's composure was still and well-maintained, even with such odds as were set against him. Excellent.
As the clash of sabers resounded with an unearthly screeching hiss, Revan could only grin faintly under the mask. It had been some while yet since he had dueled against a foe weilding two sabers while he only used one. Had he chosen to take up both of his own, this duel would have been far more interesting...
And as the barabel called upon the Force, Revan steeled his will, and the flows of the Force began to rear up about him in preparation. He was thrown back across the clearing for several meters, and launched into a swift backflip, landing lightly on his feet, in a low crouch. His free hand, slowly curled into a fist during the maneuver, now flexed wide open, and there came a ripple in the air as Revan seemed to vanish.
A sudden whirling in the air, as of robes whipping in a high wind, and a pronounced stomp of armored boots were the only warning as Revan unleashed a spinning slash to Vaarn's waist from behind, having traversed the entire clearing roundabout with a burst of Force Speed to blindside the barabel from behind.
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