Piett...

[Gormul Hyfe]

Gormul Hyfe stands alone in the shifting sands. The heat of the twin Tatooine suns shine down on his back as he gazes out over the horizon, squinting his eyes to see through the blinding light of mid-day. There is a slight wind, which kicks up occasional clouds of dust in swirling currents. Gormul is clad in simple garments of a light purple-ish color, his attire reflecting nothing much more than a plain training outfit, with intricate gauntlets and a strange helmet. He actually feels rather stupid, but it was requested that he dress like this. His legs are bound for protection from the gusting sands. His usual DL-44 is hanging at his right hip, covered by the training garments that make him stand out so bluntly in his surrounding environment. He certainly does not expect that the person he awaits will have no trouble in locating him. Gormuls lightsaber hangs casually from his utility belt. Also, clasped firmly in his right hand is an intricately designed glaive, which he has with him by request of the one whom he awaits. As he stands clasping the glaive in his right hand in front of him, staring out over the cliff near which he stands, he begins to let the Force flow through him. Although Gormul has not yet mastered any techniques, he sometimes lets the Force flow through his body and veigns like water flowing through a stream. Feeling the agression and hatred of the Darkside pulsing through him, he feels more ready than ever. Ready to fight whenever needed. Ready to devote himself to the Dark Side of the Force. Ready to become a Sith.

Gormul clears his mind as he continues to stand, gazing out over the horizon of the sandy desert planet. He opens his mouth to speak in a calm dry tone.

"Piett..."

[GuardPiett]

A speeder skims across the surface of the scorched planet, and ahead the rider, robed in a yellow training outfit, sees the figure of Hyfe. He sweeps by, and unmounts with a slick flip. He pushes the button on his glaive, and the blades on each side burst out.
<img src=http://www.geocities.com/lord_sabrestrike69/glaivehilt.jpg>
The figure of Gormul moves to his belt, and he too draws out a glaive. Gormul quickly flicks the button, and the blades pop out. Piett, in his yellow, and Gormul, dressed in purple, circle. Nothing seemed to be going on, but Gormul lunged, and swiped the blade at Piett, who in turn blocked.
<img src=http://www.geocities.com/lord_sabrestrike69/ce3.jpg>

[Gormul Hyfe]

Gormul smiles slightly at the ease in which his first attack was blocked. He knows that he is certainly facing a skilled warrior.

"This should be interesting, eh Piett?"

Piett, not giving a response, casually swings his blade at Gormul, answering only with his brutal attack. Gormul quickly shifts his own glaive into an interception position, the two blades clashing together. Gormul pushes his own glaive outwards, shoving Pietts blade away from him, and then immediately slams the handle of his own glaive up towards the face mask which Piett wears. He knows this won't do much damage other than suprise his opponant, but he does not hold back. Piett stumbles back just a foot, indeed suprised by the attack. He counters quickly with another swing at Gormuls midsection, which is easily blocked again.

[GuardPiett]

Piett glances at Hyfe through mask, and grins slightly. He slashes severely at Hyfes foot, who ducks slightly to block with his glaive. His focus set on blocking Pietts glaive, which he does, he doesnt see the fist sliding into his face, and ripping fabric and skin alike. Piett spins around the glaive, and in the confusion, Gormul jumps aside to slowly to completely dodge another glaive slash right at his thigh, and it cuts right through the skin, leaving a large gash.

[Gormul Hyfe]

Gormul cringes in pain as the glaive slices through his his right thigh. Still holding his glaive in his right hand, he readjusts his helmet as he continues to stare at Piett. As a result from the powerful punch, his duraplast helmet slightly mushed his nose, and a bit of blood runs down his face underneath the mask.

Gormul quickly tears off a sleave from his training uniform and ties it firmly around his thigh over the gash. Although he does not appear to be loosing much blood, he is rather worried about having the wound exposed to the sandy air, which could burn and infect such a gash.

Quickly regaining a defensive position, he immediately feigns an attack from the right half of his glaive, but then stops short, slicing with the other blade of his glave at Pietts opposite side. The skillful attack is nearly dodged, which is quite increadible, but the blade does slice through Pietts right fore-arm, gashing a wound about 4 cm deep. As Piett tries to block out the pain, Gormul kicks out his right leg straight at Pietts groin area, which impacts with a force that would make any observer cringe.