Master Sith Bloodfyre-Tarentae vs. Augur Cimozjen Kurios

Master Sith Bloodfyre-Tarentae

Elder, Clan Naga Sadow
Male Shaevalian, Sith, Sorcerer
vs.

Augur Cimozjen Kurios

Equite, Unaffiliated
Male Human, Force Disciple, Sorcerer
Comment

Auto-close due to time out

Hall Cooperative Hall - Ranked
Messages 1 out of 4
Time Limit 7 Days
Battle Style Singular Ending
Battle Status Closed by Timeout
Combatants Master Sith Bloodfyre-Tarentae, Augur Cimozjen Kurios
Force Setting Standard
Weapon Setting Standard
Master Sith Bloodfyre-Tarentae's Character Snapshot Snapshot
Augur Cimozjen Kurios's Character Snapshot Snapshot
Venue Dromund Kaas: Dark Temple Ruins
Last Post 25 February, 2020 10:13 PM UTC
Member timing out Adept Bentre Stahoes
Assigned Judge dbb0t
Posts

Dromund Kaas Dark Temple Ruins

Abandoned and forgotten, the ruins of the Dark Temple have slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. In the central chamber the walls have crumbled, the ceiling has caved in, and the jungle now flourishes within the once pristine halls.

Green light filters through the temple, mixing eerily with the dark, violet hue of Dromund Kaas’ sky. Lightning flickers overhead, the raw energy of the Force clashing high above. The floor is overgrown with large plants and grasses that have swallowed the old stone. Wild creatures roam freely, skittering away from the presence of intruders while vicious predators hide just out of sight.

The main hall is lined on both sides by towering statues, heads bowed in supplication. They stand in deference to the sculpture of a pure-blooded Sith, which towers over the chamber with outstretched arms. The sculpture has been split diagonally down the middle, as if cleaved in two by a rusted blade, but the majesty in the stone still echoes to the past.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. One might tilt their head to take in what is left of the mezzanine—the balcony overlooking the chamber—still held aloft by the great pillars standing behind the statues. Several of the pillars have fallen, providing a pathway up to the mezzanine for those willing to take the risk for higher ground. Spirits of the Sith are rumored to still haunt the grounds—waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain.

There was something regal to Dromund Kaas. While it was no longer the throne world of an expansive, glorious empire, it held memories of ages past. It held sensations and whispers of power. It held nightmares.

The seer had come, sent on this errand by the Overlord. There hadn’t been much need to press him to take this assignment. As always, Cimozjen had been visited by dreams and premonitions, and he felt compelled to answer their summons. Arriving at the fallen world, overrun as it was, the visionary had stretched out with his feelings, with his senses, with his power, and he’d been drawn here. There was something delicate about the raw sensations of power and prestige. There was something intimate and sensual, like the fingertips of a lover running across every inch of his body. It was tantalizing, and almost arousing. And yet, it didn’t fulfill his visions. Another was here. And the path was opened before him. Night was fallen, and the dreams seemed ready to unfold in great and elaborate detail.

“The Overlord said you were likely to come,” Cimozjen called out, neither loudly nor softly, but his voice carried well enough to be heard by the other. “I vaguely recall him saying something to that effect. The truth be told, I paid it little heed. I was called here by power and vision. What is your reasoning for being here?”

“Ghosts of the past have reached out to me,” Bloodfyre responded as he made his way through the grand hall of the temple, “and I responded. Former friends, perhaps. Former enemies. Acquaintances from another life.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you believe yourself an immortal, a vessel for the powers of death,” Cimozjen stated flatly. It seemed more an invitation to conversation. The Shaevalian either missed the invitation, or pointedly ignored it.

“The beasts gather, and I would witness something of yourself,” Bloodfyre seemed to change topics as though turning deftly on his heel. And yet he remained standing several meters away. He’d closed some of the distance and seemed neither threatening nor inviting. Like the stars in the night sky, or the winds howling during a hurricane – he simply was.

No more was said for several moments as the two exited the temple. They’d come to invite the old ghosts who had yet to appear. The spirits were watching, waiting, biding their time. This was their world, their creations, their nightmares. The two interlopers would prove themselves. As the two men descended the grand staircase at the exterior of the temple, a flock of nightmares seemed to swarm the landing below. Perhaps they were feral creatures that had slinked in unnoticed under cover of the black of night. Perhaps they were the night, revealed as the entities of darkness and warriors of Naga Sadow emerged from the great and massive edifice. Perhaps this was all a dream.

Am I dreaming? Cimozjen seemed to ponder this briefly. It was certainly possible. His visions were often more real than any living, breathing trek through mortality. There was always a palpable sensation, a need to discover the depth of reality brought by visions of the Force. He turned his head toward the Sith Master. Bloodfyre continued to descend the platform. The Shaevalian was keenly aware of the beasts below but seemed dismissive of them. What were they to one such as he?

Cimozjen turned to the creatures to try and study what they were. Their general forms seemed oddly familiar. Perhaps Tuk’ata? Vornskyr? They were easily quadrupeds, and there seemed to be perhaps eight or nine of them. They were moving around, stalking the landing below, waiting to pounce. There was rage within them, viciousness that would have been bred into them and allowed to evolve over the centuries that their kind had been on the planet. And yet, their moment was fleeting. The powers of the Sith Master began to whip about and swirl, like tides and eddies in the aquatic demesne. Cimozjen could feel the hairs on his arms stand up, magnetized by the powers and effortless rage that suddenly raged and seethed from the Shaevalian, a tidal wave of voracious magnitude that swept out from a torrential outpouring of hatred. In a child, it might be described as an outburst, a tantrum. What was it for an adult to unleash their overwhelming emotions?

Daggers sprang out from the Sith Master’s belt, a trio of them that began to flit and dive through the air. The beasts were not caught unaware and began to leap and skirt away from the weapons, but even the very rocks and fallen debris around the landing became swept up in the potent fury of the Elder of the Brotherhood. It became of dervish of debris and destruction and it was more than the dark beasts were prepared for. Two of the creatures were felled in the initial onslaught, the rest adhering to their primal natures to flee and slink through the darkness and wait for a better opportunity to strike. The first blood had been drawn, but the storm was only beginning.

Cimozjen nodded slightly, inkling his head a bit as he pondered the majesty of the being near him, who was moving farther away. The seer moved to follow and slowly closed the distance between them. In passing the felled bodies of the dark beasts, Cimozjen took a mental image. The beast was dark, seemed hairless, and was adorned with vicious horns and spikes, but was otherwise as black as the night around them. He would study further after leaving this place, but there would likely be reasons to return. The fallen worlds of the long-dead empire held secrets that would be tantalizing for Clan Naga Sadow. Perhaps next time, Ashen would come, or others of the Clan leadership. It would be an interesting prospect.

“Tell me why you have come?” Kurios asked the Shaevalian as he finally caught up to the Elder.

“Why have you come?” Sith retorted.

“I followed a dream,” Cimo shrugged slightly.

“And I’ve come to reclaim my nightmare,” Bloodfyre said matter-of-factly. Cimo’s eyebrows raised slightly, perhaps amused or enlightened by that notion. The two left the grand temple behind and headed towards the overgrown woods. There were other structures, other places of power that would present precious opportunities to learn, to evaluate and evolve. The darkness stretched outward, the dream ever onward. And into the night they went.