Throwing Competition (open)

[Tempist the Uncaring]

It was sunny. Very sunny. Wasn't bad weather for boating, kite flying, or even a fight.

That wasn't on the day's agenda.

Instead, there was a knife throwing competition being held in the courtyard today, being sponsored by a local tavern. Posters were set up all over the city, advertisments for a contest that few could enter and do well in. All the rules were written on the poster, but there weren't many.

"1. No Cheating with daggers.
2. No Cheating with the force.
3. No Cheating with moving targets.

Anyone caught violating any or all of these rules will be used as a target."

Many had shown up to the competition, people of all kinds. Lawyers, mercanaries, bums, common folk, even a few force users. Only ten people had entered though, most had been found with trick daggers and been rejected on the spot.

It would be an interesting contest indeed.

[Dios Kane]

:: I had entered, I was something like sixth on the list. The rules were easy and simple, not too hard. And I wasn't really planning on losing either. It just sounded fun, I had seen a flier about it in a bar so I decided to have some fun.
I stood around waiting to be called, it wouldn't be too long before it was my turn. I hadn't been paying attention to any of the other entrants so far, only thing that mattered was me winning right now. The whole challenge was exciting.::

[Tempist the Uncaring]

After some time, the competition was ready to begin. The first two throwers had thrown, and both gotten 9.5, just barely missing the mark that would have guaronteed a spot in the next round. The third man was tall, and had a menacing stare. He'd long hair, and a beard. He was head to toe in black.


This man took a moment, taking time to aim carefully. At the last moment, he tossed the dagger into his left hand from his right one, an unexpected move, and emediatley threw it, without taking a fraction of a second to check his mark. A perfect 10, landed on a mark as thin as a human hair. A perfect shot.

[Cherice St_Hilare]

The crowd cheered as the man threw the dagger right on the mark. Cherice only scowled. She had bet twenty-some credits on him missing with an alien, and now she lost.

'Ekru m'sss ein ta ...

The alien demanded its money now, and the Sith Knight just pushed it back as she walked past. Angered, the thing closed its grubby fingers around her wrist and tried to pull her back.

Ssei akau kemi sumanhaa !

"Ugh, learn some manners."

Cherice turned around and brought her knee up into the alien's chin, then grabbed the arm it was holding her with and pulled it out of the socket. It let out an undecipheral screech of pain as she let go and went away. She had no time to deal with a dirty scumbag like this.

She finally made her way onto the field where the competition was being held, and a security guard told her to halt. Trying to explain to her that only those entered in the dagger-throwing contest could come in any further, Cherice only smiled and reached out with the Force to wrap his weak mind around her finger.

"You will let me into the field."

"I will let you into the field."

"You will forget about me."

"I will forget about you."

"Move along."

"Move along."

She moved past him out onto the field where Tempist stood, sweeping past a boy who was opening up a bag filled with daggers for the other competitors. She stopped and bent down, picking up one whose blade was curved, and then continued until she was by the man.

"Didn't Mother ever teach you not to play with sharp objects?"

[Dios Kane]

:: I noticed Cherice, I'd seen her in a few of the Sith order's supposed training missions but now was not the time. I was told it was my turn after I saw the first four go, the third the only one to get it on the mark. He looked strangely familiar... what was his name, I'd seen him before... anyways. It was my turn.
I stepped up and took the knife from the boy. I held it in my hand and balanced it, holding it upside down, a slightly irregular style that few people preffered. What most people didn't know was that where I had come from, knife throwing, jousting and other things involving pointy objects were the center to most people's lives. I was pretty good at this game, but it had been a while.
I stepped up, examening the blade before taking aim. Right as I pulled my hand back, I remembered who the man was... Tempist! The guy who had cut my arm off in my first days of being here... the sudden rememberance of that must've startled me because before I threw the dagger I tripped and stumbled. I regained my composure and threw the knife, it landed on the 10 mark, sideways thanks to the wonderful twist of my throw. Now that that was done with, I had more important things to deal with.::

[Tempist the Uncaring]

No, but my father taught me the more fun ways to. he said, straight into Cherice's mind. He hadn't even bothered to move, he was well prepaired for anything this girl planned on throwing his way. He sensed darkness in her, a very good trait. He also sensed somthing about her being, different from many others he'd encountered.

A Succubus.

He hadn't delt with one of her kind in a loooong time.

Silently, he watched the next man throw, one that was very familiar to him.

Hello Dios, looks like your arm is fixed. See ya in round two.

Tempist quietly turned, and walked off of the feild, into the tent on the side for the contestents. Mentally, he turned back to the Succubus, and spoke to her through the force again.

Come if you'd like, I should like to learn more about the people that want to kill me, and why.

[Dios Kane]

:: I stopped walking and merely rolled over in laughter. Round two? That would be interesting, but I would no longer fight unless the innocent were threatened. That would be an interesting fight though wouldn't it? I turned and walked to the tent Tempist had just entered. I nodded to him as I passed by and sat down, withdrawing the flask from my jacket and taking a swig of the good stuph. I wondered what would happen next in this tournament?::

[Cherice St_Hilare]

She could sense that this man's was brewing and instinctively she reached out with the Force to read his thoughts. He wasn't hiding them, so it made a "good picking".

Ah, so he thought she was a Succubus. She was a cousin of their kind, being a Succubi, yet they had the same traits. Except for the eating habits. She ate souls, whereas they didn't.

She idly began to twist the dagger about in her hand until she received a mental message from him, and, slightly intrigued, did follow him. Hell, she had nothing else to do, save kill the alien if it decided to be rash and come after her.

Entering the tent, Cherice noticed the other man had come in to, drinking from a flask that smelled slightly of bad odor. She crinkled her nose up slightly and looked back at the other man she had followed. Holding the dagger in her right hand, she ran the blade over her left arm oh-so-lightly, all the while watching him.

[Tempist the Uncaring]

Still seeming the cool headed dagger master that the crowd had seen him as, Tempist filled a gobblet with water, and took a sip, before sitting down at a small table under the tarplin. He looked up at Cherice, and held out a hand, beckoning her to have a seat with him.

"Salutations, O lady of darkness. What what label did they give you at birth?"

This was indeed an unusial way of asking for a name, but he never did anything that people would call 'normal'. Even when making others happy, as he'd done outside.

[Urrranni Frreeerrai]

"jIsss jit mjy turrrn jyet?"

Of course she was impatient, she had joined this contest more or less for the thrill of it, but waiting for her turn in a tent full of smelly forrda made her sick to her stomach.

"Well, jisss jit?"

she was pestering the man who was telling the contestants who was up next, and the fact that he was annoyed with her showed on his face.

"What's your name miss?" he asked of the cizerack female as politly as he could.

"jIt'sss Urrrrrrrrrannji Frrrrrreeerrrrrraji!" she said excitiedly, hoping it was her turn. The man just shook his head no, indicating that she'd have to wait awhile longer, she pouted and sat down next a male forrda who was drinking something with a vile smell to it.

[Cherice St_Hilare]

She cocked her head to the side slightly before looking towards the seat that he offered. There was a chair on the other side that looked clean enough, and so she sat. Crossing her ankles, Cherice almost stared at him in disbelief. Nobody had ever greeted her that way except back at 'home', which was centuries ago. She had almost forgotten her life before the Sith Order before he greeted her with the title, O Lady of Darkness.

She decided that she rather liked him.

"The name they graciously award me with was Cherice, and I was born into the family St. Hilare. Unfortunately, for me, my entire bloodline has deceased - leaving me to be the last.

"And you?"

She would know who he was, and why his aura seemed familiar.

[Tempist the Uncaring]

He smiled to Cherice, and gave his response.

"Ahh, we've somthing in common then. My name is Tempist Opps, also the last of my kind."

He took a quick sip of his water, and looked back to the Sith.

"So, what brings you here?"

[Cherice St_Hilare]

"Tempist? I've heard of you .."

Leaning back in her seat, she grinned slightly.

"What brings me here? Betting."

It wasn't something she normally did, but it did get her more credits that she could use to buy Aiden something. Besides, it was the thrill that one got while anxiously awaiting the outcomes.

[Tempist the Uncaring]

"Heh, whatever gets ya' credits I guess."

She knew of him? Had he really become that much of a wide spread living legend? Probably not, she may have heard of him through other Sith. Tempist sensed a Cizerack around, a female. He'd have to watch out for this one, Ciz females were notoriously violent and moody, espically when young. He took another sip of his water, and looked around at the others in the tent.

"Round two should be starting soon, I hope you do well with your bets."

[Cherice St_Hilare]

"It's doesn't matter if I do well or not - I always get what I want."

She had her ways.

"Good luck with the competition, though," she said, although the others probably weren't much of a 'threat'. Cherice almost chuckled at this thought while her blue eyes remained locked on Tempist.

[Tempist the Uncaring]

"Thanks."

As he said this, a bell sounded, announcing the start of the Second Round. A herald called out five names, the five that would compete in this half.

"Tempist Opps, Urrranni Frreeerrai, Dios Kane, Yavar Faklin, and Werdna Eikcaj."

The five of them left the tent, a few of them looking at eachother. Tempist knew Dios well, if simply from the short, unplesent history between them. Although Tempist wasn't fond of Dios, he didn't really care that he was there.

He didn't really care about much anymore.

[Dios Kane]

:: I stood up and smiled as I downed the rest of my drink. I could just barely sense the apparent dislike from Tempist about me, but then that was expected. Darksiders didn't like much as it was and me bein the lightside or havin a past with him didn't help much obviously.
I started to walk out lined up with the rest of the four as they prepared for their turn to try and make it further in the contest.::

[Tempist the Uncaring]

The five lined up, and axes were instead handed out to all of them, not daggers. With each level came different items to be thrown, each with increased distance as well. The two people who were of no intrest what so ever to Tempist were the first to go, the first missing his target by an inch or two, the second plowing his axe into the dirt ten feet from his target. What a waste of a good spot.

[Dios Kane]

:: I sat back and waited for Cherice to go. I wanted to see what she planned to do now with those bets.::

[Tempist the Uncaring]

Tempist took the axe he was handed, and grasped it firmly by the handle. He slid it up in his hand, and launched it forward, at the target. He was just slightly off from a perfect ten, about a 9.8. He didn't espically care, he would still get bumped into the final three, based on the huge errors of the first two throwers. It was now up to the Cizerack and the jedi to throw. In the back of his mind, he looked out to see how Cherice was doing, but his eyes stayed focused on the next to people.

[Tempist the Uncaring]

OOC: bump