When the Titans clash (Phoenix)

[Zereth Lancer]

The buzz of voices combined with the sound of training sabres and battle cries filled the main training vault with the kind of constant drone that drove men mad. In Zereth Lancer's case, the noise played havok on his sensitive hearing. He retreated to one of the many private training rooms that branched off from the main chamber and aloud a individual, or a pair of individuals to train, practice, and even talk, without having to shout over the noise or trip over the acolytes that where always underfoot.

Zereth used this room often; so much, in fact, that most would consider it his own private training room. On the walls were mounted ever melee weapon imaginable. From Katanas to Maces, Nunchucks to scythes, rapiers to battle axes. It was all there. They where all trophies and prizes from Zereth's many adventures. Each one of them represented an accomplishment and a piece of his past. One would wonder how it would be possible for one to gather so many weapons in a single life span. But there Zereth had cheated. He had lived nearly a hundred years since the genetic mutation he had gone under, and he lived at least thirty years before that.

Now he was waiting for his old friend and long time competitor, Phoenix Whyte.

[Lucianus Adair]

This was a day long awaited. The day where once again, he would compete with Zereth Lancer, and it made the normally emotionless predator grin to himself in the privacies of his own dwelling.

A mashing of two of the Order's fiercest warriors, a battle few witnessed.

It was early. First thing in the morning at a time when all the acolytes had learned to start their days, Phoenix Mars Whyte had merely been in a relaxed state. As it was, he was of a species that relied little on sleep, and he had learned one thing from the Jedi: Meditation was indeed of great use. Such relaxations kept the predatory basis of his being in check, and it even further removed the necessity of sleep for a Kpaur.

He brought with himself only one katana, of Kpaurian design. The blade was forged of bloodsteel, a metal of the colour of a dark bloodstain, and it was well cared for. Never had he let a blade go into disrepair.

Arriving at the designated room, Mars shed his long coat, and hung it out of the way.

"The training grounds are quite busy today, bustling with activity. It is good to see the younglings hard at work, Lancer."

[Zereth Lancer]

A smile crept across his face, "Yes. It is good to see them working, training, learning, growing in technique and skill. Some excelling in physical combat, while others wield their minds just as sharp as any sword. It is individuals who define the sith order, not the group itself." He rose from the ground and stood to his feet. "But lets not waste time in pointless conversation. We are here for a reason we both know well. The only thing that remains is the rules for the spar. I will give you the honor of choosing what weapon we will use and the conditions and rules for the fight." Zereth said, gesturing towards the many weapons that filled the room.

He was always very to the point when it came to combat. He hated to waste words if one is going to clash blades anyways. Why waste your opponent’s time in such a manner unless you are trying to bore them to death.

[Lucianus Adair]

Phoenix nodded respectfully to his colleague.

"You of all people should know, Lancer. I always make use of my own weaponry." He said, while withdrawing one Kpaurian bloodsteel katana from its sheath.

"You know Tuira well enough. This blade of mine has licked your skin more than once, if you recall."

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth smiled, "Yes, I know. But I thought I'd offer anyways." He said as pulled a sheath from its hiding place in his robes and slowly, almost ceremonially, pulled the Katana out of the sheath. It was not as impressive as Mar's blade, but it had seen just as much action. The silver metal was covered in strange designs, inscriptions in a foreign language, and its blade seemed to catch the light in the room and throw off a eerie blue glow. Zereth didn't have a name for his weapon, as Mar's did. And if he did he would call it by his own name, for a sword was as much as part of him as any of his limbs.

"Yes, and I will long remember it by the scars." He said before shaking off his robe and tossing it, and the empty sheath, to the side and out of the way. He held the blade out in front of him in both hands, "Would you like the first strike?"

[Lucianus Adair]

The first strike?

He had always been given the first strike. To many in hindsight - granted that they lived afterwards - this was a mistake. But this was only a spar. He had no need to take advantage of such.


"No, please. The first is yours." Mars spoke in a undisturbed voice, while running the blade over one fingertip for the briefest fraction of a second. Just that touch caused an open slice, and a small pearl of this predator's dark and rich blood appeared there.

And he licked it off, all the while watching Zereth.

"Take it."

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth had always hated attacking first. The first strike was usually the easiest to counter because you had time to see it coming. "Very well," Zereth replied and then launched forward, Katana held low in both hands. When he reached Mars he jumped high into the air, rotated his body around, and landed behind Mars as he brought his blade down vertically on Mar's neck.

[Lucianus Adair]

Phoenix, in the frame of the time it takes the mind to tell the eyelid to blink, turned just enough to grab Zereth's arm and pull down, as well using one leg to add more weight to the gravity of throwing his peer sharply to the ground. He then clamped one foot on Lancer's face, forcing it to lay sideways, and the other down on the arm which held his sword, while Whyte held his katana in one hand clamped over the portion of the blade closest to the hilt. He could break bones at this point, but what good would that make his opponent?

With in a deep, feral growl rumbling from the depths of his being came an angered voice. "Do NOT toy with me, Zereth Lancer. I am not here for games. You must be faster than this. You must have more control than this. Have you learned nothing from our previous encounters?" If Zereth was smart enough, and Mars was sure he was, then he should be able to get himself out of his current situation.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth met Mar's growl with a similar one of his own. True had not been expecting to be subdued so easily, and it always led to his downfall, but he was always good when it came to getting away. He first contemplated kicking Mars in the groin, but someone he doubted that would even slow the behemoth down. So instead he brought his legs up, and kicked Mars hard in the back of his right knee-- a feat only possibly due to his great flexibility, and causing Mars' knee to buckle enough for Zereth to pull his head out from under it. Now without fear of getting his head squished and Mars unbalanced for the moment; Zereth brought his foot and into Mars' back, pitching the giant forward and off of Zereth.

Zereth rolled over and got back on his feet. He charged toward Mar, jumping into the air and kicking out at Mars' chest.

[Lucianus Adair]

Having someone make an attempt at beating on him actually felt nice. In fact, it was rather pleasurable and as Mars stumbled forward, a small grin appeared briefly on his face. But being that his compensation ability was undoubtedly swift...fortunately for the larger man, there would be no floor to face action this time. Dealing with with a seasoned Kpaur warrior, no less one with slight sado-masochistic tendancies could be fun. Very fun. It was no wonder those that relied heavily on stereotypes for their opinions saw him as a little off the straight and narrow path. In some senses this may well be true, but not in the one sense that they thought.

Phoenix felt Zereth's position, speed and proximity accurately. He gripped the blade of his bloodsteel katana tightly and up against the hilt (which caused him to bleed from his hand, but was of little matter) then at the right time, turned just enough to avoid the airborne Lancer, and swung his weapon-bearing back, slamming the butt of the hilt directly into his opponent's ribcage. And he wasn't even facing the man.

On impact, the predator stated one small thing.

"It would be to your benefit to spend less time imitating birds, my friend."

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth felt all the air knocked out of his lungs from the force of the impact, but he did not allow himself to pause to and wait for his breath to come back. He instantly striked back with a kicked at the back of his opponent’s knees, knocking Mar's legs out from under him.

Zereth jumped back, pulling in a raspy breath as he did so. He put a little space between himself and Mars, giving Zereth time to recover from the blow and to allow Mars to get back on his feet. It was unhonorable to attack a downed foe.

[Lucianus Adair]

This was good, very good. Phoenix always observed his opponent's moves objectively, and in the case of Zereth, gave teasing little comments that were in fact his small way of being helpful to his comrade who needed more improvisation added to his technique. A warrior has an advantage when he makes himself harder to read, and when he makes his movements tight, he is less likely to succumb to debilitating attacks.

It was apparent that Zereth was catching on to this a small bit, as Phoenix was now posterior to ground, but not for long. The predator flipped up on to his feet, and brushed his hair back from invading his face. Mars stood with his weight distributed evenly over his spread feet, and held his katana, point down.

"I butted you with a good deal of force, but just short of what would have been required to crack or break your ribs. Expect bruising later. On the other hand, well done, comrade mine. Improvisation in your ingrained technique will make you harder to predict."

He grinned. "How are you feeling?"

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth pulled in a rasping breath and spit out a stream of blood from his mouth, "I've felt worse, but I'd have to say that that blow was something I had no expected. Good show, old friend," He managed a weak smile and then coughed again. He straightened his back and the weakness and pain disappeared from his body. Zereth hated himself for becoming so out of practice during his absence; during which he had favored a blaster over a blade.

"And yourself?" He asked, returning Mar's question.