In brightest day, in darkest night... (open challenge to two Sith, any rank)

[imported_Akrabbim]

Akrabbim Melchizan stands on a small rise, overlooking a plain. His eyes are closed in concentration as he reaches out with the Force, searching, learning. He is perfecting a technique, one that would be very useful against the hordes of the Dark Side. His Force signature is very strong, giving off waves of Light Side ripples. Any Force sensitive person within several thousand yards should be able to detect them. But no matter... the training must go on.

[Blaine]

The small rise, not being hard to climb, stood in front of the infamous Cold Blaine. He saw a figure at the top of it, and knew that it was time to do what he loved to do: Fight. The Dark Side grew in him, and as he saw the form getting nearer, Cold spoke:

"What are you doing here?"

[imported_Grev Drasen]

"A little far from home, isn't he?"

Just as the second voice was heard, Grev Drasen stepped from an opposite direction, his arms lingering in a bit of a sluggish fashion in the depths of his slate-colored duster. His eyes fixated a perusing stare towards the Jedi Master, who was seemingly in a mediation of sorts. He had not looked in Blaine's direction, but he knew of his fellow Order member's presence. This event would serve as interesting, to say the least.

[imported_Akrabbim]

His eyes snap open, glowing blue. He fixes his gaze upon the newly arrived Sith.

I happen to be training. And you are intruding. It would be in your best interests to leave. Soon.

[Blaine]

"Too far," Cold said, amused as he tilted his head to look at a Dark Sider he'd seen at the Order.

The Light Sider spoke peacefully, and asked politely for them to leave. But for Cold, this was just an invitation to spar. Cold grinned maliciously and responded to the Light Sider.

"Intruding? Leave? Soon?" Cold laughed.

"Better watch your words," Cold approached the Light Sider and slightly pushed him on the shoulder, "...it gets pretty dangerous around here"

Cold's black eyes looked directly in to his in a threatning mood.

[imported_Akrabbim]

He looks down briefly as the man touches his shoulder.

Oh, you have no idea of the danger...

*Are you ready, my friend?* He concentrates, envisioning a large gauntleted hand. The image appears beside the two men, bobbing up and down slightly as it hovers there.

Well, one good push deserves another, don't you think?

At Akrabbim's mental request, the giant hand sweeps in, grabbing the Sith in its massive grasp. It pulls back and hurls the man about thirty yards away and returns to hover beside Akrabbim. With a wave of his hand, the construct vanishes.

You see? You never know what may appear out here.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Drasen held his position, watching as Blaine and the Jedi had their exchange of words. For now, he would not put himself into the mix of it all, Blaine could handle himself at this point. With his fists still digging into the pockets of his overcoat, Grev continued to observe the unfolding confrontation.

[imported_Akrabbim]

Akrabbim turns and notes the other arrival onto the field.

And who might you be? Another person come to disturb my training, or something else?

[Blaine]

Being hurled away yards away, Cold landed roughly on the ground. Knocked out a bit, Cold had difficulty getting up. He shook his head, and walked, patiently, and calmly towards the one that had pushed him. Cold observed the odd being as he talked to his fellow member of The Sith Order.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

By this time, Grev had a firm grasp on the metallic cylinder of his lightsabre; slowly pulling his hand from the depths of his overcoat. His facial expression remain impassive, as he watched Akrabbim with a blank stare.

"Who I am is not important, Jedi. What I am, however, is."

Just then the crimson blade of Drasen's weapon shot from its hilt, he continued to stare towards the Jedi, awaiting any sort of action that might be foolishly made.

[imported_Akrabbim]

Akrabbim inclines his head, as if speaking to a person behind him.

They never do listen to reason, do they? Well, no better way to test this technique than battle, eh?

He closes his eyes momentarily, concentrating on a new construct. In a flash of light, a large being appears before the Jedi. It looks like a giant man, roughly 12 feet tall and 5 feet across at the shoulders. It carries a massive warhammer, wielding it with both hands. It advances slowly on the two Sith.

[Blaine]

Cold wondered where the tall man had come from. It looked like the Jedi had summoned something... but it was too easy for him. Something was not right, and the giant was an issue.

"...looks like we've got a tiny problem," Cold told himself.

Cold took out his lightsaber. He glared at the giant, but something was not right. The giant seemed artificial; something was not right about it.

[imported_Akrabbim]

The golem moves closer, nearing the men. Once it is within range, it raises its warhammer above its head, and swings downward.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

:: The business end of the warhammer connected full across Grev's torso, flinging him against Cold and sending both careening end-over-end from the force of impact ::

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Absorbing the impact of the mauling warhammer as best he could, Grev tumbled back from the blast with no real alternative; crashing into Cold en route of his landing. A bit shaken from the sudden attack, he returned to his feet, attempting to dispel the pain.

“Attacking one out of no reason but spite... surely not the deed of a Jedi.”

Responding as he clenched his chest, which was thriving in pain by now, Drasen attempted to regain his proper breathing. At first he had no intentions of intervening, but now it appeared he had no other choice. He glanced back at Cold, who was seemingly still recovering from the collision.

“Get up, there is more than one of them.”

[imported_Akrabbim]

Akrabbim drops the illusion covering his fellow Jedi. Anbira Hicchoru appears behind him, hand on his shoulder. Akrabbim provides the visual component, the outline, so to speak, of each construct. Anbira, in turn, provides the substance.

No reason? You have drawn your saber in anger after you were warned to leave. You have no one to blame but yourself.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

It seems our enemies are disappointed.

:: Anbira kept his hand on Akrabbim's shoulder, watching the two opponents regroup against the warhammer golem. ::

Here I've been a Jedi since before they were born, and only now do I discover that even in the face of adversity, we should be soft and sweet.

:: He smiled ::

I know enough to admit when I am wrong, and to duly accomodate to your wishes.

:: The Golem paused, shook violently for a moment, and exploded into a shower of incorporeal schrapnel. For a few moments, there was nothing but a disturbing silence and calm, as the fighters stared each other down. Seconds passed, until a faint whistling sound could be heard, high above. The Sith looked up in the sky, and saw a white object, growing rapidly as it accelerated toward the ground. It looked like...a three-story marshmallow.

Which is exactly what it was...plummeting down at terminal velocity. ::

[imported_Akrabbim]

OOC: TTT

[imported_Grev Drasen]

(Ooc) I was waiting to give Cold the chance to reply, but I'll go ahead and continue.

Averting his gaze back to the opposing Jedi, no reply was heard from Cold. He must have been out cold, pun intended. A faint grin snarled its way across the lips of Grev, as he watched the two Masters exchange words, mocking the Sith, no doubt. With his lightsabre still clutched in a cold grip in his right hand, the apprentice watched on as the golem decomposed itself, scattering into uncountable fragments.

Then in the sky, seeming to be a cloud of sorts, expanding larger with each second. The Jedi and their illusions, surely a deadly game played by the apprentice; two on one, all odds seemed to be stacked against him. Escape was ruled out, but nor was it an option that Grev had thought to begin with. As the 'marshmellow' reached its full expansion, it began to descend, at quite an uncharted rate.

With nowhere else to go, Grev gave a final glance to fallen comrade, before snatching him by his shirt collar and forcefully dragging him from the point of impact as the giant formation closed in.

[Blaine]

OOC: I'm so sorry, I was very busy IRL. Thanks Grev for doing what you could.

Cold opened his eyes, and looking at Grev dragging him. Cold shook his head and observed a giant object in the air.

"I must have been knocked out real good, 'cause I'm seeing a marshmellow."

As Grev rushed his way out, Cold followed and moved away as far as he could.

[imported_Akrabbim]

The giant marshmallow lands with a muffled whoomp, blowing up dust and dirt all around it.

Well, Anbira, it seems like our opponents are a bit more mobile that we gave them credit for. Hmm... perhaps a change in tactics is due?

The marshmallow begins to distort, stretching and bending until it becomes the image of a man. It is a giant, bulbous, marshmallow shaped being, topped with a sailor's beret and a blue cloth around its neck. The face, contrary to any expectation, is a smiling, cherubic visage. Akrabbim speaks to the creature.

Alright, big boy... have at 'em.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Grev released his hold of Cold's shirt, now out of dodge, and turned his attention back to the situation of the 'marshmellow' man. A snarl of irritation formed across the Sith's face, as he recalled his weapon once again, sprinting towards Akrabbim.

The marshmellow man seemed to be preoccupied with Cold, allowing for Grev to easily evade his path, now standing but a few yards from the Jedi Master. His eyes roamed from Anbira to Akrabbim, attempting to conclude an idea that would not foolishly get him killed.

Then, almost instantaneously, the Sith sniped an attack at Akrabbim; the crimson blade swiping for his torso, swinging down in a diagonal position. On reflex, the Darksider rolled back after the attack, hit or not, readying himself for the backlash.

[Blaine]

Serving as the bate, Cold knew that 'both' of them could not attack their foes at the same time. Light saber in his hand, Cold smiled and kept backing away from where the Jedi Master was.

Cold rolled, leaped, ran at every attack that the giant gave him, and waited until Grev interrupted the Jedi Master's concentration.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

:: The distance between Grev and the Jedi was suddenly filled with a gigantic, medieval iron shield, which deflected the Sith's lightsaber off its path ::

[imported_Akrabbim]

His eyes gleam anew as he watches the man's saber deflect off the shield. They were using their minds, at least, he had to give them credit.

Well, Anbira, it seems our oppenents are not as foolhardy as we would have thought. They have decided to split their forces and attack separately.

He sighs before continuing.

But alas... two constructs are not so difficult to create either.
[i]
He concentrates on the large Marshmallow man, causing him to stand still. He stretches sideways, as if being pulled apart. The pulling continues until he becomes two giant men. One continues toward his original opponent, the other quickly moves toward Grev.

[imported_Akrabbim]

TTT

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Quickly rebounding after the deflected attack, Grev backstepped as the defense began to take form. With no options of getting to the Jedi, he turned towards Cold, who still seemed to be holding off the first marshmellow man.

They're playing with our minds...

A voice found itself calling inside of Blaine's mind, the voice of Grev. Watching as the second marshmellow man began to form, he ran in pursuit of it, striking at the upper regions of the marshmellow's right leg; attempting to maim one of its limbs in hopes of slowing down its movement.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

:: With a hiss, the saber sliced through the marshmallow man's leg, severing it clean, and causing the behemoth to tumble forward, on top of Grev. Its form began to melt, and soon, Grev was awash in a large puddle of marshmallow creme. It clung to him, encumbering his movements in its sticky embrace. The severed leg seemed oblivious to its former owner's predicament...rising on its own power. ::

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Rising from the broiled remains of what was the marshmallow man, Grev attempted to remove what best he could of the ivory creme, which was pasted all over his body. He pulled his feet from the ground, as the sticky substance trailed from the bottom of his steps, rendering it difficult to even walk.

Using what he could of the Force, the encumbrance began to slowly drip off his body, forming into liquid as it trickled to the ground. Freeing himself of the restraining creme, Grev hurried towards the second giant, applying the same tactics; only this time ambushing the behemoth from behind -- swiping the crimson lightsabre where the hamstrings would be located if the beast were to have any tendons.

This time however, he made sure to evade the aftermath.

[Blaine]

As Cold observed the second marshmellow man form, he observed as Grev attacked the first one. Grev was trapped under the marshmellow's body, but had escaped with the sticky cream over him.

Cold observed as Grev headed toward the next marshmellow man and followed him. As the other marshmellow man was attacked, Cold moved away and as it began to fall, Cold let the darkness flow in his blood as he attempted to Force Jump. Once he arrived toward the giant's neck, Cold slashed the giant's neck and quickly leapt away from it before it fell completely.

Landing on the floor, Cold took a deep breath and nodded at Grev.

[imported_Akrabbim]

As each of the Marshmallow Men are wounded, they fall to the ground, first becoming a sort of goo, then vanishing into mist.

Well... it seems that they are willing to fight back at least. Let's see how they do against something a bit more hardy.

Akrabbim sweeps his hand upwards. From the ground, two men rise. They are both dressed in gladatorial armor, carrying a gladius and shield. They advance on the Sith quickly.

I'd be more careful this round, gentlemen. This batch won't be as easy to disintigrate.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Catching his breath after their successful defeating of the two marshmallow men, Grev turned to watch as the Jedi Master began yet another series of summonings. This time, the challenge would prove itself a bit more difficult compared to the former round.

“This can't go on much longer,” the Sith added, his stare averting towards Cold, “Ideas?”

Before a response could be given, Grev pushed himself towards the advancing gladiator on the left: preparing a headlong attack for the armed fighter's torso. His lightsabre ripping through the metal in attempts of cleaving the brute directly in two.

[Blaine]

"Ideas?!" Cold repeated.

Cold's dark eyes focused on the gladiator on the right. The dark energy flowed through his veins, and his mind was covered with the shadows. Extending his arm in front of him, Cold attempted to end up behind the right gladiator by using Force Speed. He moved quickly behind the gladiator and with a swift move, he jerked his lightsaber, aiming directly toward the right gladiator's spine.

Not knowing if he had gotten the gladiator, Cold moved away and shouted:

"Well if you wanna get it over with now, I'd say we hit those two over there." Cold pointed to Akkrabbim and Anbira.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Hmm...perhaps we would be more expedient at this if we were to simply fight them man to man?

:: Anbira looked to his fellow Jedi Master ::

Take the one with dark hair. I will handle the other one.

:: He stepped away from Akrabbim, approaching Cold with a demeanor of nonchalant calm and ease ::

[imported_Akrabbim]

A wicked grin accompanies the glint in Akrabbim's eyes.

Indeed, Mr. Hicchoru, your assessment seems sound.

Akrabbim draws his katana and advances on Grev, weaving illusion as he walks. His image blurs to the point that he appears as little more than a walking haze. A basic body shape can be seen, but nothing else. He moves toward Grev, preparing to attack.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Grev readied himself as the Jedi honed in, sideglancing in the direction of the second one to reassure that Cold would handle him. He paid little mind to the Akrabbim's fallacy, instead he jumped in for an early attack, leading the blade of his saber for the Master's throat.

It was easily deflected, but Grev quickly followed up with a second blow. This time the blade aimed for Akrabbim's lower torso, the Sith's aggression serving only as a catalyst for his attacks.

[imported_Akrabbim]

After the first blow is deflected, the man attempts a second swipe lower on his torso. Instead of stopping to parry, Akrabbim continues onward, rushing past the Dark Sider. Because of his blur illusion, the man has no way of seeing where Akrabbim is striking. He sweeps his sword low in case the blade is able to catch up with him, and rushes in on Grev. Holding his sword in his right hand, he raises his left to chop at the man's neck, and continues moving past him.

[Blaine]

Feet firm on the ground, Cold's dark eyes fixed themselves on Anbira as he approached him. Lightsaber still in his hands, he stood in his defensive stance. Without waiting for the Jedi Master to attack him, Cold ran toward him, twirling in a 360 degree motion, he extended his arm to attempt slashing Anbira on his left arm.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

:: Cold's momentum slowed drastically, halted, and was repulsed in full, sending the Sith spinning and falling backwards. Anbira didn't even move. ::

You are all the same. Brave and stupid. The only thing that separates you from a dog is your paltry knowledge of the Force, far dwarfed by my own. Yield. You are no match for me.

[Blaine]

Stumbling back from the momentum of the lightsaber and whatever hit it, Cold tried to position himself once more. Throwing the lightsaber, Cold used the Force to direct it toward Anbira.

As the lightsaber was thrown with force, Cold threw himself to the floor dodging any reflects Anbira gave the lightsaber.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

:: As Cold returned to his feet, he saw his lightsaber exactly where it was when he had dove to the ground, except that Anbira was now nowhere to be seen. The lightsaber slowly turned around in mid-air. ::

[Blaine]

Cold rolled away from the returning lightsaber. Cold's black eyes fixed themselves on the lightsaber. He extended his arm and with what he had learned, he Force Pulled the lightsaber back, the hilt landing on his palm.

Cold quickly pushed himself up. Where had the Jedi gone? Lightsaber in his hand, Cold looked around, trying to find the arrogant Jedi.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Above you, darksider!

:: There was barely enough time to react, as Anbira swooped down from above, his mastery of physical manipulation allowing the gift of flight itself, as he dove downward, his lightsaber Gallanthor slicing downward in a full-force cleave...brilliant white blade forming a blinding arc of powerful motion. ::

[Blaine]

Cold heard a voice above him. Not having the time to move his head to see him, Cold felt the lightsaber slide and cut his left arm in a smooth line. Knowing that the Jedi would appear out of nowhere, Cold threw himself to the ground before his wound could get bigger.

Once on the floor, Cold saw the Jedi, standing in front of him. Holding his left arm, Cold saw the wound starting to draw liquidy crimson blood. The burning pain of the deep cut made Cold back away a bit nervously.

Cold took his lightsaber in his left hand, and with his right arm, pushed himself. Switching the lightsaber to the other hand, Cold closed his eyes. As he opened to reveal his black eyes, Anbira seemed blurry. The loss of blood made him dizzy, and Cold shook his head, pressing his wounded arm so he wouldn't lose blood.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Having missed his second attempt, Grev stumbled forward a bit as the man brushed passed him in his blurred state. Unaware of the illusionist's current position, the chop successfully strikes into the back of his neck. The blow sends the darksider to one knee, as he quickly retaliates by sweeping his free leg back. Attempting to take out the legs of the Jedi and take him to the ground.

[imported_Akrabbim]

Akrabbim continues his rush, never stopping as he runs by the man. The counterattack from Grev hits air, as Akrabbim moves on past him. He turns once he's past, and drops his illusion. He reaches into his gi and draws three shuriken, holding them in his off hand. He flings them toward Grev, but as they fly, he uses illusion to make them appear to multiply. By the time they are five feet from his hand, there appear to be more than thirty shuriken hurtling toward him.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

OOC: Grev's taking a break and he may not be back. What do you guys want to do with this? :)

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Having seen the Jedi brush past his sweep, Grev quickly regained his stance and readied himself the Master's collateral attack. Noting the Jedi's sudden reach into his gi, Grev extended his hand and flicked his wrist forming a mental grip on the dirt below Akrabbim's feet. Bringing his hand back up, a handful of grime shot up into the face of the Jedi, hopefully blinding him enough to impair his attack.

Stepping back on his left foot, Grev promptly evaded out of the harm's way - allowing for the shurikens to pass. Catching his breath for a moment, the Sith then lunged himself the Master once again, exposing the crimson blade of his weapon for the right shoulder of Akrabbim. Meanwhile, having Akrabbim deal with his attack, Grev shot his foot firmly into the Jedi's kneecap; attempting to immobilize him enough for a strike at his stomach with the sabre once again.

[imported_Akrabbim]

The dirt to the eyes blinds Akrabbim for a moment. His shuriken fly off in a straight line, as he is unable to keep a visual eye on his target. He rolls back quickly, gaining space so that he can clear the debris. He wipes at his eyes, quickly dislodging the majority of the detritus. As he opens his eyes, he sees the man swinging in with his saber. His vision is still a bit blurry, but at this range, he can see well enough.

He blocks the swing to his shoulder, and sees the kick coming into his knee almost too late. He does not have enough time to move his knee, so he simply drops his weight, changing the way his knee is positioned. In doing so, the kick's strike does no real damage. The position of his knee shunts the blow entirely. Taking advantage of the momentary disruption of his opponent's movement, he quickly slams the hilt of his katana into the man's zyphoid process and steps back, sword at the ready.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Landing the kick successfully, albeit doing little to no damage whatsoever, Grev attempted to roll back to give himself a little bit of room for leverage. Not seeing the oncoming strike of the katana hilt, he did little effort to deflect the attack on such a small notice. Instead, he took the blow unrestricted, causing a display of grimace to shoot across his face.

For a brief instant every bit of oxygen left his body, leaving him stunned for a few short seconds—which would give Akrabbim more than enough time to get to his feet for a following attack. Finally managing to catch his breath once again, Grev bucked towards the Jedi once again; bringing a vertical swing of his lightsabre.

[imported_Akrabbim]

Akrabbim rushes forward and covers himself in an illusion once more. He appears to block the saber with his katana, but instead rushes in, leading with his elbow. He mistimes his rush slightly, his vision still hazy from the dirt in his eyes. He is able to throw an elbow into the man's stomach, but the man's arms come down on his shoulder rather hard none the less. He grunts at the hit, and pushes the man off him. He stands once more, attempting to get the remainder of the dust out of his eyes, while still keeping his eyes on the man as best as possible.

[imported_Grev Drasen]

Grev stumbled back as the man pushed him, regaining his own position as the Jedi appeared to be still recovering from the old dirt in the eyes trick. Seeing a frank oppertunity for attack now, he drove himself at Akrabbim once again. Only this time, he brought his lightsabre down with his right hand- which would more than likely be blocked easily. Meanwhile, his left hand guided itself towards the bridge of the Jedi's nose, packing quite the velocity with it.

[imported_Akrabbim]

As the Dark Sider swings in, both with saber and fist, Akrabbim simply charges. He raises both arms, crossing them in front of his head as he lowers under the saber strike and rushes in. The left hand hits his head, but because of the angle of his arms and the way he is situated, it is a glancing blow. It is unpleasant, but not debilitating. His elbows slam into the man's chest, knocking him off balance slightly. Akrabbim rights himself once more and calls his shuriken back, aiming them for the back of the man's knees.