Rust and Age (open)

[Zereth Lancer]

The halls where empty, for the most part. It was the middle of the night, or as close to such a thing as they got down in the bowels of Korriban. A lone figure stalked the halls. It moved from shadow to shadow, only visible for a second or two as a flash of movement, and not a sound was heard from the silk slippered feet. The figure made its way to the entrance to the training grounds... and fell down the short flight of stairs that led into the lower room with a mighty crash that echoed throughout the cavernous room.
“Yeah, some ninja you are Zereth” He muttered as he pulled himself off the ground and dusted his black attire off. “A year and you’ve reduced yourself to a blundering fool.” He shifted his eyes to look around the cavern. It was vast. A huge hole dug into the rock to house the order’s training grounds.
The place was empty. “Well, duh. Everyone’s sleeping” He slapped himself on the forehead and picked up the bag he dropped when he fell. With great effort he pulled the heavy bag off the ground and walked deeper into the cavern,
He reached the far corner of the cavern, an area cluttered with exercise machines and free weights. He set his bag down and started on a pair of barbells of unknown weight. After straining for a whole minute without budging the weight, Zereth moved onto a lighter set of weights and lifted them with ease.
An hour went by before Zereth finished with the weights. His body was soaked with sweat and his shirt had disappeared after the first ten minutes. His ripped body glistened in the bright lights as he moved over to where he had left his bag. He dropped down to one knee and worked on the zipper. The bag, once black now a faded grey, was covered in dirt and garbage, and in some places blood.
He dug into the content of the bag and pulled out the many weapons that he had used to his survival in the last year. A Katana, worn with use, was pulled out first and set aside. He pulled out several knives, hand blasters, and shurikens and various other throwing weapons. Finally he reached the bottom of the bag and extracted a lightsabre. The hilt was worn and dented from near constant use. It needed repairs and new parts, things Zereth hadn’t been able to do in his travels. He possessed two other lightsabres, but both of those had been left behind in his room when he had left.
He had yet to return to their room. His room, he corrected. It was tainted with the memories of his former life that he still was not strong enough to face. Instead he had slept in the hall outside his room, not the most ideal but much more comfortable then some of the places he’d slept in the past.

Zereth settled down on the ground and picked up the katana, removing it from its sheath and laying it across his knees. He pulled a wetstone from somewhere and started to sharpen the blade with smooth cautious moments like a doctor placing a bandage over a ragged wound. He became so over engrossed with his work that all other things disappeared from his mind, his thoughts, his pains, everything. He just centered him mind on the job at hand. All other things where irrelevant.

[Dakler Terrcin]

Dakler was of the nocturnal persuasion. He liked to wrap the darkness around him like a blanket. Bright, open spaces made him feel almost naked. Dakler had heard Zereth fall and come to investigate. The man seemed like the discarded skin of some great reptile. The form was still there, but it obviously isn't what it used to be. Still, it seemed best not to disturb him. He seemed to be living in another world, and Dakler thought it would be best to let him work things out on his own.

Still, Dakler was intrigued by the man. What would lead him to be training at such an hour. Not that Dakler would never have done it himself, but it was uncommon. When Zereth opened the bag of weapons, Dakler became even more interested. How did the man integrate his martial and Force skills? Did he smash or use finesse? How a man fights tells you much about how he thinks, and this man obviously had a lot on his mind. Perhaps, Dakler thought, he should find out what he could about this man, Zereth, they said his name was.

No sith became as troubbled as this man obviously was without having a good story to tell.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth finished restoring the blade and rose to his feet. He spun the blade around in his hand. Faster and faster it spun, until it was moving too fast for the eye to follow. His own eyes where closed, only his keen senses and weapon skill kept him from cutting himself to ribbons. He took a step forward and then launched himself into a rigorous training routine. His body moved like a feather on a breeze, his weapon sliced through the air like sunlight. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle. It took one years of training before they even attempted what Zereth was doing now. It was a dance of steel and death, a whirlwind of energy, a glimpse of ultimate grace. At the climax of the routine; the blade launched from Zereth’s hand, spinning up into the air high overhead. Time seemed to slow down as the blade started to descend. It fell at an alarming speed, but with the grace of a feather. Zereth sidestepped and snatched the blade out of the air with his right hand. His left hand, though, shot forward; a shuriken flying from his fingertip and heading toward the dark watcher. The shuriken hit the wall, three yards away from where Dakler stood. A string of corellian curses ripped the air as Zereth cursed his rusty skills.

He walked back to his bag and replaced the Katana in its sheath. “Sorry about the shuriken,” He said to Dakler, “Force of habit.” He looked up and smiled weakly, “Lets just be happy that my aim isn’t as good as it used to be.”

[Dakler Terrcin]

OOC: yea, I'm sorry bout the long absence. I was visiting internet deprived relatives. I should be keeping to a regular posting schedule for a bit.

IC:
"Force of habit?" Dakler wondered. How could Zereth have done his whole routine, never once hesitating or making a mistake, and then have missed so badly with the shuriken? Was it all some show for Dakler's benefit? There was only one way to find out.

"I am happy." said Dakler, "It would have been a shame to die without meeting the great Zereth Lancer." Dakler walked over to the shuriken and picked it up. "The few things I've heard about you.....well, lets just say they sound too fantastic even for a Sith. Perhaps the mystery of your disappearance also helped." Dakler let the shuriken fly and hit a man-shaped target in the chest "I may not be as skilled as you, but I may be a bit more consistent right now.

Dakler pulled a Katana from a nearby rack. "Perhaps you would like to find out how your skills compare to an actual human, since you seem to have mastered the skill of cutting the air to ribbons." Dakler knew no man with any pride could turn down such a challenge. "May I also suggest a friendly wager. You name the terms, and weapons if you so desire."

[Zereth Lancer]

His offer was reasonable and his intentions worthy, for the most part. But Zereth did not like it. He disapproved of such matches. It often let to the death of one of the combatants, and the order needed every member it had. It had happened before. In the old days he had killed many a cocky acolyte so thought Zereth to be no more then an exaggerated story. It was true; now, that he was not as good as he used to be. During his absence he had lost most of his grace and melee weapon skills and increased his animal instincts and use of less civilized weapons. He had, though, never lost his skill with a lightsabre. It was his constant use of the lightsabre that had allowed him to handle his Katana so well a moment ago, but he hadn’t thrown a shuriken in months.

Dakler’s challenge did play on his pride. If he declined then he would not only be a looser in his own mind, but those of others as well.

Zereth raised his right hand and his lightsabre hilt jumped from the depths of the bag and landed in his hand with a slap. The blade ignited into a brilliant white beam. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked and then a second sabre hilt flew out of his bag and floated over and stopped infront of Dakler.

[Dakler Terrcin]

Dakler stared at the sabre hillt floating in front of him. His sense of machismo told him to take it and fight the man, but his sense so self preservation told him not to touch the thing. Dakler reached out to grab the hilt, but then stepped back.

Dakler began to speak, telling Zereth "I don't know if--Screw it, it's not like force users grow on trees." Dakler stepped foreward, grabed the hilt and igniteing the blade. He began his attack, offbalence and with aukward footing. The blade slashed down at Zereth from above Dakler's head, both of Dakler's hands wrapped tightly around the hilt.
Dakler couldn't back down from his own challenge, not if he wanted to be considered seriously by any Sith ever again. That, and the fact that he trusted Zereth, as a Sith, not to kill him.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth kept his mouth such and his mind free as he studied his opponent. A smile crossed his face as Dakler grabbed the blade and charged at him. He had passed the first test. One must be honor his own words despite the situation at hand. Zereth picked his sabre up and both hands and held it horizontally to intercept Dakler's sabre. The blades sizzled as they connected. Zereth held his blade there for a moment before pushing the opposing blade to the side and then stepping back to allow space between them. He wasn't on the offence here, he was going to allow Dakler to prove his skill of attack before questioning his defense. Zereth remained silent, his red eyes remaining on the acolyte and his sabre held firmly in both hands before him.

[Dakler Terrcin]

Dakler made a few more attacks on Zereth. Nothing that left him wide open for a counter attack, but at least keeping up the apperance of attacking, while Dakler got the feel of the new weapon. Gaining confidence, Dakler began to use the force to amplify his movements, putting more power behind his attacks, stringing them together in more rapid succession. He had stopped thinking about why he was fighting, and was simply starting to act on instinct. Zereth still parried all of Dakler's attacks easily, but that was to be expected.

As Dakler's attacks continued to proove inneffective. Clearly he wasn't going to get anywhere with a concervative approach. Dakler Increased the pace of his attacks, stringing them together as quickly as possible. He finally though he saw an opening in Zereth's defence and lunged towards it, the glowing blade racing towards Zereth's chest.

[Zereth Lancer]

War rages, men battle to the death, lights clash in the dark, evil against evil, and a raging warrior pitted against an impenetrable wall. But even the strongest wall has a crack or a hole. It is the way of things. There is no perfect defense without offense. You can’t turn your cheek when their both kicked in. This is why the Jedi philosophy fails. A pure defensive stand only gets you pushed into a corner. It would be faster if they just crawled into their own grave. This is what separated the sith from the jedi; offense and defense. Funny how such a difference of view has ripped star systems apart and devastated planets. The jedi protect what the sith seek to destroy; life itself.

The sabre spun through the air, but every time he stopped it with his own. Dakler was only getting a feel for the sabre and had accomplished rapid combos and utilized complicated techniques in his assault against Zereth’s defense. But Zereth was no jedi, he could only hold of his shield for so long before it was battered out of his hand. A opening In his defense opened up and Dakler plunged his blade towards it.

Screw defense.

Zereth concentrated on the lightsabre and pushed it to the side with a telekinetic shove. The blade hissed by his body, burning his flesh where the blade had come far to close. Zereth acted like a wounded animal, and striked back. He brought his foot up and kicked it straight out at Dakler’s stomach with the force of a volcano behind it.

[Dakler Terrcin]

Dakler's attack was closer to successfull than he had ever anticipated, but Zereth's kick was also completely unexpected. Dakler only just had time to clench his abs before Zereth's boot cought him in the stomach, lifting him into the air and throwing him back several meters. Luckily, Dakler had the presence of mind to drop his borrowed lightsaber as he was kicked, narrowly avoiding slicing off his own head.

Dakler collapsed in a heap on the floor coughing as his lightsaber clattered to the floor. He had the wind knocked out of him, and was breathing so hard he could barely think.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth took the pause to look at the wound on his side. Dakler's blade his burned through his clothing and the flesh underneath was red and crisp. The smell of burnt flesh now filled the room but Zereth paid it no mind. Instead he looked down at his opponent, who was struggling to breath. His mind told him to just let the man lay there until he recovered or died. But his honor inclined him to help. He walked forward and offered his hand to the fallen acolyte. No words were exchanged, for there was no reason for them, just a simple hand up to a fellow warrior.