Log:Sith-Jedi: Duel on the Wheel

Sith-Jedi: Duel on the Wheel

OOC Date: July 19, 2022
Location: The Wheel
Participants: Jedi Order: Jax Greystorm, Ax; Sith Empire: Tamsin Cas, Darth Ferren

The Force leads its subjects to strange places and stranger crossroads, and it has conspired one such meeting tonight.

The Wheel of Besh Gorgon, a space station of fantastic size, is the locale. Chasing a lead on the mysterious Sentinel Prime, the Jedi have come to the Wheel, summoned deep into the station to meet a contact who has promised them information... for a price. Unbeknownst to the Jedi agents, the Sith Empire has received the same offer.

The contact specified the gladiatorial arena as the meeting place, and there are no fights tonight, a rarity for the thriving bloodsport locale. Instead the stunning features that normally divide the arena into disparate rings are deactivated, and the lights lie in a low, dim state that casts the space in soft, ill-defined shadows. A shifty figure waits in the gloaming, out in the central ring, muttering to himself and wringing his hands with barely contained anxiety.

Jax was dressed in his jedi robes as he steps into arena that the contact had meant for them to arrive at. The Corellian jedi's eyes scanning in the dark. The force allowing his eyes to see. He calls out to Ax, "I have a bad feeling that we've been stood up for nothing."

It had been a busy few weeks for Ax and Jax alike, the two had trained together for years. Looking about the arena, and the dim lights, Ax just shakes his head. "Yeah, this definitely feels like a trap," the Echani says.

Reaching out with the force, detecting roaming life signs, Ax half expects the lights to come on once the two Jedi reach to arena floor, revealing a crowd of onlookers to see the Jedi mowed down by dozens of whatever new mechanoid construct Sentinel Prime would throw their way next.

"This was your contact, so you've got lead, but I'd keep a hand on your holster or your saber one," Ax says with a sigh. "Maybe he just likes to be dramatic?"

The shifty-looking figure in the middle of the arena starts as Jax's voice pierces the silence, his attention swinging that way like a dog hearing a car in the driveway. "No no, I'm here! I have your information... if you have the- the credits! Fifty thousand, I need-"

"Not for nothing," another voice interjects, a surer, steadier voice, gravel and velvet. A tall man emerges from the darkness into the low light, black garments from neck to toe, a heavy cape hanging close behind him.

"Krif, you both- I didn't-"

"Surely you didn't schedule both sides for the same meeting time, did you? That's an amateur's mistake, my friend. The sort that prevents one from ever becoming a professional," Darth Ferren continues, loosening the lightsaber from behind his hip as he surveys the landscape, stepping more fully into the wan light.

The dark robed figure of Darth Ferren was not alone, as a shadow walked behind him. Smaller in stature, but wearing robes of a similar cut, with the addition of a faceless mask which called to mind the look of another era. Perhaps another Sith. The figure offered no words of either praise or derision, as the moved, that faceless mask tracking the sound of the seemingly incompetent information broker. Finally, a few words, heavily modulated, "Does the man protest too much?" What could be better than bringing both sides together and selling to the victors?

"I hate to say it my friend, but the man in black is correct. I suggest running along now as fast as your legs will carry you." Jax pushes his robe back but not reaching for his saber yet. "I don't think I've had the honor of either of your company before. I'm Jax Greystorm." He calls back to Ax, "Turns out the contact does have a flare for the dramatic. Much to our chagrin." He offers a smile to the Sith, "I don't see a need to ruin such a fine evening any more."

The man in the middle, the one both groups are ostensibly here to bargain with, appears on the verge of a panic as Ferren continues speaking past him to the Jedi. "He has information I need, and I would /suggest/ he disregard your advice," the Sith Lord shoots back, dark eyes sending a short dagger towards the contact before returning the pair of Jedi. "Unless you two prefer to sell some knowledge instead. The boy and the girl, Solo and false 'Skywalker'," he specifies with no lack of disdain. "Give them up and we can all go our separate ways as friends. I'll reward you handsomely, the money means nothing to me."

Black boots fall heavy on the arena floor, his slow march towards the contact never really pausing. "Decide quickly." The inactive lightsaber is held ready in his hand.

In the interim, the info seller begins to cringe backwards, the lack of attention on him feeling like a potential opening.

Instinctively upon hearing the new voice, Ax is unhooking the folded cylinder from his belt. With a flick of the wrist it folds out to a long, ornately carved silver and black shaft with emitters on each end. "We really need to get you better friends, Jax," Ax says to the man at his side.

"Is this an enemy of my enemy situation or are the Sith still tight with ol' Palpy? Or, I guess in this case, Palpy-bots?" Ax asks. "I'm not opposed to a fight, but I just washed my hair and would hate to get it all sweaty and oily," he adds, running a finger through his hair, then tugging at his clothing, "and getting blood out of white silk is a nightmare."

Looking at Feren, Ax just shakes his head. "Solo kid? He an orphan or something. I know a guy, an ugnaught who has an orphanage. I can ask him if he knows of one, but you'll have to be more specific. Most of the kids at the orphanage are solo, I mean that's kinda the whole thing about being an orphan."

As the info broker begins to slink back, Ax makes a gesture with his hand and a focus of will, the Echani tries to encapsulate the info broker in at least some bit of protection. The jedi did need that info after all and should this turn ugly they may not get it.

The figure moving behind Ferren lifted a hand, the right, which was saber free, raising a single finger at the information broker, the digit moving back and forth, the gesture they offered universal. 'No, you don't want to think about doing that." Whether to provide a backup for the Sith Lord in regards the jedi, or to offer additional incentive to the broker, the figure;s left hand retrieved the darkened hilt of its own saber.

"I've got friends but I'm always looking to add more." Though as Darth Ferren names his terms. Jax smiles, "Who? Never heard of them. You think I have an interest in credits?" Jax asks with a shrug and moves to cover the broker's escape. His hand reaching for his own saber now but not igniting it. Then as Ax pipes up about Solo, the Corellian adds, "I mean I have heard of Luke Skywalker, but that's not who you mean. We don't have to do this."

"That's fair, if they mean nothing to me why would they matter to you?" Ferren replies amiably, unconcerned by the Jedi's refusal to accept his offer. "I'm sure with more time, we could have come to an arrangement. A bomb dropped on someone you hate, blame it on us; the power and respect you always feel you've truly deserved, but never received." He shrugs, still headed forward. "Anything you desire, I could give you. Unless you have no desires, which feels sad in its own right." The amiable tone turns almost sympathetic for a moment before the saber in his hand activates, a long length of bright, steady ruby-red illuminating the gloomy arena chamber. "You're right; we don't have to. But it seems we will."

"I like credits, but I've got enough for the moment," Ax lies. He almost mentions something about ships, but then the Sith might actually offer him one and who knows how that would pan out.

When the red saber ignites, it is echoed by the twin blades of Ax's own saber. Beams of a muted silver pour out of the double bladed staff that the Echani carries. Steadying his mind, and channeling the force to enhance his speed and agility, the jedi initiate prepares goes into the stance of someone very familiar with their weapon.

"I wasn't aware that one of the requirements to call oneself a jedi," the masked figure offered as their feet carried them in a comfortable stroll with the Sith Lord, "was to be patently terrible at dissembling in any fashion. Unless you are simply new recruits." Beat. "Are you new recruits? That would be unfortunate. The loss of so //much// potential. But, perhaps, the galactic news that your Order, because it was harbouring these two individuals, was banished from the New Republic missed you completely." That faceless mask canted slightly in Ferren's direction, "Perhaps they prefer to recruit the profoundly ignorant." A matched crimson blade ignited a moment after Ferren's. "Not for very much longer."

"A jedi does not crave power nor does he crave bombing mishaps. Sorry, the ancient texts don't really cover that.. particular offer. So I'm improvising." Jax says as a tube of blue light extends from his saber's pommel. The jedi circling with the knights and he drops in a high form III defense form. "I am sorry to disappoint Miss but I'm going to have to go with profoundly ignorant on my end. Though fair question, are you two new? I have not faced either of you before and unfortunately you are not my first Sith. Dour fellow in all white. He had a real love hate thing going on with Malik Ren. You guys know him? Then there was Palpatine."

When the fighting seems imminent, Ferren's conversational spigot abruptly squeaks shut. He closes the space between Jax and him with a last few quick steps and leans hard into a first swing that goes humming past the Jedi's defenses, the next meeting an easy riposte from the Jedi that nearly grazes his clothing before the final is blocked on high, a downward chop that Jax is able to catch and Ferren leaves crackling against the opposing saber for a long moment, getting the measure of his enemy. "No relation," he grunts as the sabers separate.

Now that the two groups have engaged each other, the contact seizes his moment, scampering back from the platform to a control panel on the periphery of the rings that he slaps in desperation, activating the lights. The orange energy ropes crackle and spark as they whir to life, thin threads of power reaching out to the pylons that ring the rings themselves and twining into thick cords of light.

Ax looks to the smaller Sith. "Well, I am just an initiate, so guess you could say as far as recruits go, I'm pretty low on the roster," he says with a slight shrug, the whole while his body moving in fluid motions. "I haven't faced off against a Sith, I don't think. There were a few of those Knights of the First Order, but none that called themselves Sith."

When sabers started flying, however, the Echani's mouth shut and those fluid movements speeding up as the twin blades of his staff started spinning. A naturally aggressive fighter, Ax went on the offensive. Were this a starfighter battle, Ax would be with Jax focusing fire, but here that would likely just get one of them stabbed in the back. Instead, he's facing off against the smaller of the Sith, the one with the synthesized voice, the twin blades flying in near wreckless abandon.

In sharp contrast to the sudden explosion of movement from the Sith Lord, and the wild and reckless abandon of the Jedi whose double bladed lightsaber selected them as the target, the smaller Sith moved with an almost reptilian grace, some echo, perhaps, of teachers past. Red blade clashed with white, the pair of weapons bleeding light as first one strike and then another were met, parried, and the combatants danced aside to strike again. Perhaps, in this instance, height was not an advantage, as one of the crimson blades swings came close enough to leave the traces of the angry, almost hungry growl of the crystal held captive within its chamber in the pale echani's ear. No words were given in exchange, however. The Sith's movements spoke volumes.

Jax blade slings around in quick circles and fast blocks to knock away Darth Ferren's attacks. "It seems our mutual friend has decided to trap us in here." He says circling with the Sith lord. "There are sure a lot of Sith these days. YOu're all coming out of the wood work. I had thought there was only ever two of you. So who did you have bombed to make you feel batter? Did it make you feel better?" Jax though sees an opportunity to turn the momentum and press the attack. His offense was not a classical lightsaber style, it had hints of an Iridonia fighting styles mixed with the close combat techniques of a Republic Commando.

Ferren moves with a feral sort of intensity that makes it difficult to correlate him with the man who stood there just moments before. His face, unobscured by helmet or visor, is nevertheless masklike in its set. His blade flickers out each time to meet Jax's, trying his defenses, seeking an opening and nearly finding one. "Jealous?" he returns, between questing blows. "It must be hard to have found strength in numbers for so long and have that challenged." Every bit as practiced as the Jedi, the Sith watches, pushing each opening as it presents itself in spite of setting the pace, driving Jax to retreat or respond.

Ax had been in enough of these battles to know not to underestimate any opponent. The twin blades were harder to defend against when in full motion, but they didn't do him many favors on defense. Without hesitation, the Echani keeps pushing the attack, the blades a blur. When they make contact, they almost instantly change direction to fly in at a different angle. His attacks were relentless, definitely a mindset of the best defense is having a solid offense.

If the smaller Sith felt themselves at a disadvantage, it did not show in their movements, as the crimson blade whirled and spun, matching strike for strike, the single blade's speed, for the moment, enough to carry them in a solid defense against the double blade of their opponent. There was no show of rage or anger in how they moved, inly a precise point and counterpoint. Perhaps, the broken, had they not fled the arena, might take bets on which of the two was more likely to die tired.

Jax shakes his head, "Everyone thinks we're the jedi order of old. We're young and scrappy. We still get things done. Besides I'm horrible at being dour." Jax says dancing out of the way of Darth Ferren's attacks. Jax blade swing up for several strikes that miss.

"The Jedi Order of old?" That cracks through Ferren's fighting shell for a moment, as he can't resist responding. "No, no. That's gone," he answers, and as if in tandem he comes on with even more furiosity than ever, watching for the swing that causes the Jedi to overstep and slipping his blade into the opening it presents.

It's at that moment that something else in the arena shifts, the contact jamming the panel trying to get the exit door to open. Instead, a deep hum thrums underfoot as the low-grav arena mode activates.

The change knocks Darth Ferren off his rhythm and saves Jax from the strike as he finds his footing again, each movement from the floor becoming oddly exaggerated.

Being in a constant blur of motion, the moving floors don't seem to affect Ax as much. Maybe it was his sensory input that kept him somewhat stable, or maybe it was just pure dumb luck. Then again, he did spend more time in the artificial gravity of a starship than anywhere else, so maybe that had a factor in things. Regardless, his assault was non-stop brutal punishment targetted on the smaller Sith.

And now, while the height had not put the smaller Sith at a disadvantage, the lessening of gravity did, as there was, quit simply, less of them to keep a solid hold on the ground. This, alas, did them no favours, as the pair clashed, and a strike intended for the echani's left side went wide, ending up high over that shoulder, leaving the Sith open, as one of the silver blades cut through the thick muscle of their arm. That was a lie, the muscle wasn't that thick. BUT, it did result in the crimson blade falling from the Sith's hand, trailing down towards the ground, almost in perfect time with it's master, before the falling Sith grasped the weapon with an invisible hand, sending the blade back towards the pale jedi.

Ferren's strike hits close to home and if Jax hadn't twisted at the correct moment he would be sporting a new scar in his torso, but it had resulted in a nice hole in his hooded robes. He pushes off and away from Darth Ferren. He finds himself on a higher platform. He shucks off his out hooded robe, "I lose more hooded robes." Then pushing himself off the plate form towards Darth Ferren, his blade sweeping out at the Sith.

"Wasteful," Ferren tuts, the changes in the environment and the near-hit relaxing him slightly before Jax comes at him, almost gliding on the low-gravity field. The inertia is unusual and disorienting, almost causing the Sith Lord to miss the last swing the Jedi levels before cruising past, the weapon closer to him than expected in that span of time. Adjusting mentally, he launches after his opponent, drawing on his connection to the Force to alter his trajectory as he moon-bounds at Jax, the red glow of the saber moving without the new protracted follow-through of the rest. His compatriot's defeat registers somewhere in the periphery of his attention, lending fresh urgency to the hurtling blows in anticipation of Ax joining the fray.

With his opponent out of the fight, Ax wasn't so much worried if they were dead, just not a threat, it was time to focus on the remaining Sith. A backhanded swing manages to bat away the projectile lightsaber, but not before it cuts a long hole in his outfit, and singing a bit of the hair on his chest.

Time in lower gravity aboard his father's smuggler vessel when Ax was a child made this scenario at least somewhat familiar. It wasn't ideal, but he could work around it as his offensive edge was pushed towards Darth Ferren now, his blades never stopping their blurring motion.

Despite the fact that only one of their arms was functionally useless, and despite having a second arm that was entirely hale and whole, the smaller Sith did not move to engage the combatants. In what might be considered a total Sith move, the masked figure departed the floor of engagement, saber held, but not extinguished, as they retreated to just outside the arena, using their good arm to retrieve some supplies or another from beneath their robes.

Jax pushes off giving Ax a chance to move in and strike. Then as the Echani recides back for a moment, Jax engages in again with wild strikes. "It's two to one, Sith. Perhaps It's time to consider your options."

When Ax flies in from the other side, bounding over the orange energy ropes that had divided the arena into rings, the Sith Lord shifts his stance, reaching out to the Force, pulling on his frustration to pull himself towards the floor, lending his feet the stability they need to pivot from one assailant to the other.

"Two to one? I like those odds. Double the stakes, double the reward," Darth Ferren replies with a temerous swipe of his saber, turning Jax's attack aside easily and nearly managing to lay his blade on the Jedi once again, though once again a disabling blow eludes him, his mind and senses working overtime to address defense from both (and one with two sabers) and still manage to give it back. "Unless he makes /you/ nervous."

Jax laughs, "We've fought together in our years. You may like those odds but they are stacked against you." Jax says driving in from another angle than Ax. "There's no shame in taking your wounded partner and leaving." Though when Darth Ferren shows no sign of relenting. Jax continues to press the attack and draw the Sith Lord's ire giving Ax an opening to strike. It was going to quite well till Jax zigged when he should of zagged. His saber going into for a strike. Ferren's attack finding Jax's right hand slicing though his arm. Jax lets out a scream as his hand going one way and his body going the other.

The ensuing battle is EPIC. The Jedi and Sith face off, two against one, like something out of an early 00's blockbuster. The arena dances with electric orange light, bathed in the glow of the red, blue, and white sabers. The duelists bounce and whirl, moving with extranatural speed, jumping higher, lunging further, and fighting as hard as anything this battleground has ever seen before.

The man in black holds both attackers off for as long as he can, but finally Ax tags him, a deep scorching wound across the battered black metal breastplate, leaving a divot of burned flesh beneath the flash-melted metal. Incredibly, he keeps going as if by inertia alone at first but then rallying further. He follows Jax inexorably, fighting through the smoke rising from his chest until the Jedi's hand is severed and falls with strange grace and slowness to the mat.

The dark lord turns then on Ax, seeking to return the blow and battering through the whirling twin sabers to earn his reprise.

The Sith might have liked those odds, and honestly, he was doing damned good with those odds at that. Ax was sweating, a few near misses almost made him rethink his purely offensive fighting style. Then he landed a solid strike against the Sith.

Was the fight finally over? NOPE. Jax gets nailed and Ax's overconfidence results in him getting a nice slice across his mid-section, were it not for adrenaline and the force, it's likely he would have fallen right then. Wincing in pain, the Echani pushes his assault again, though a little more careful this time, wondering if he could incorporate a hidden breastplate into his own attire.

More brutal assaults come from the Echani. "Why won't you just die!?!" he screams, knowing he'd need to make sure that Jax got to a medic, or at least a bacta patch real soon, and they couldn't stay on the wheel for it either. If there were two sith here, no telling how many would be left.

Around the word 'DIE?!', Ax's battering blows break through Ferren's defenses, the clashing sabers sliding off of the Sith's upraised one, but the direction saves his torso, not his leg. The Echani scores a deep gouge just below the hip, and the towering figure buckles, stumbling backward, hissing between gritted teeth. Sweating, shoulders heaving, Darth Ferren struggles to stand but only manages to jettison himself away, making use of the low gravity to pull back. "The only thing you desire that I cannot give you," he grudgingly announces, looking towards Tamsin, his nameless faceless associate. "Come. There is always another battle."

As the two dark warriors fade from view, escaping into the dark corridors of the closed-down arena, if one strains their ears, they might hear a low voice saying "I didn't bring the fifty thousand anyway."