The Life of an Acolyte Pt 2 (Char Development + Open)

[Slade Xandir]

Ouch, so it was either him trying to call him out on a bluff, or he really had been found out. Blood couldn't tell which was more amusing, but he decided to taste the flesh a bit of this statement. After all, word warfare was just as entertaining as physical was. And he loved the music of voices, as they were occasionally more telling than any fight could be.

"What leads you to such a bold statement, my friend?"

One thing he was starved for was ridding Kell of his cockiness. Full on hunger to make the Acolyte kneel. His usual urge for dominance. But he quelled the majority of it so he could focus on this new game of tag. It was still tag, was it not? Eeny, meeny, miney, murder.

He would remain on the defense as the Acolyte explained himself. He would be the dummy that Kell could attempt unleashing his passion upon, because oh he lusted to feel that wrath. Did it upset Kell how Blood kept his eye on the prize? His eye on that still beating...jugular...

Golds slid up and down the body of the newest Apprentice of his Alpha. So much music could be sung between these two, these wo that were so alike in their selves.
So many screams.

[Kell Sangros]

How often people mistook not being intimidated or confidence for cockiness. If he were cocky he would believe himself all invincible he knew he was not. The Acolyte was not intimidated if he was then he would never survive, and he would never become a Sith Lord. He would never bend the knee willingly to this Sith Lord. He bended the knee for one and only one and Blood was not it. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly , his normal color fading as his eyes turned yellowish gold. He was letting the beast within free. Although, he considered a few seconds if he should explain his suspicions. Maybe he would let him try to figure it out for himself. In the end he decided he would let him try to figure it out.

“Friend???” he laughed bitterly.

He had no friends, not here among the Sith nor anywhere else in the galaxy. His Anger was rising, his fury white hot. He was almost like a caged animal, the very same that was almost free from his restraints. He was enraged, fury white hot giving it all to the Darkside, letting the Darkside work through him. Would it consume him? Would he be sucked up into its currents? He had already been suspicious of Blood ever since that first meeting, in that first meeting he had adapted a mask of cordiality, that mask was shattered now that his powers were growing but would it be enough to come out of this encounter alive? He doubt reason would come in to play here, nor would he try he could feel his blood begin to quicken.

He would be a fool if he made the first move. That was not going to happen, He then wondered briefly is his “Pack” was nearby. Blood seemed like one who did not believe in one on one. That was a pack mentality. He did not believe in honor but respect was another thing. Neither one respected the other. Blood did not respect him and he did not respect Blood. He stretched his senses out further he would be ready. Though if they were nearby he was as good as dead. He could almost hear his Master’s words in his head telling him about the tools of the Sith. Deception, Stealth, Cunning all were at his disposal. He had to now figure out how to survive this.

[Slade Xandir]

Coward...
Unworthy.
Stagnant.....
Useless.
dEaD......

The Wolf growled lowly under his breath as he watched the whelp refuse his position. That in itself was disrespectful. This was tag! They had to-

"Move, damn you!"

As he snarled out the command, he leapt forward another severe attack of pyro mania. A maelstrom of murder flared from the fangs of his fury, leaving both fronts of his hands to churn murderously toward Kell. Orange carnage flew devilishly to sear Kell's flesh from his obviously unwilling bone.
A dark paradise began between the two as Blood inhaled his wrath and with it, the surrounding light of the room. A ruined dream began in this room as darkness began to creep in. Blood's golden irises were iridescent and snakeish in the dimming view of the hideaway terminal. A nightmare began to grow as the flames began their erasion, their job over and master lurking to take the next lunge at the life of Kell.

"It was rude for you to simply not abide by my rules," he began with faux hurt in his silken tone.

"But now you settle to not answer my question."

And now,

A chuckle in the Void between them now laced hidden intent.

"Your life is hanging on forfeit, Kellie."

Vibros crossed the darkness, their near silent hum a tell-tale sign of nearing doom. And with a serenic 'zhummm', they whizzed dangerously near the left calf of Kell as Blood swept low to make the disobedient new blood pay his due to karma.

[Kell Sangros]

The Acolyte stood his ground; he did not know himself why he wouldn’t move. He did not have a death wish or anything but he was in what he perceived a fight for his life. A fight he knew he was not going to win. His goal was to survive it. He could feel almost hear the Force tugging at his mind with an idea. It was a risky move but the Force had yet to fail him. He would obey.

=Begin Absorb/Dissapate Energy App=

The Acolyte opened himself to the Force he channeled his will, his focus. He gathered his control of the Force. He would not move. The Acolyte raised his hands as if to try to block the incoming fire that would soon hit him. The fire engulfed him, he could feel it’s’ energy and with every ounce of his will he willed the fire to be redirected back to the source. He did not know what he was doing, redirection, absorbing the fire anything to prevent it from consuming him and killing him. He would not give Blood that satisfaction. The Acolyte pushed his will outward using every ounce of concentration and focus and determination. He took the energy in as if it was his own; he was Master of his own self. With his intense determination He pushed his hands out further and he knew that he was partially successful as some of the attack was redirected, but he was not wholly successful. The fires consumed him and he was still engulfed in them when a maniacal laugher broke out one of insanity not of pain. He laughed. Inside his mind he was still trying to absorb the energy that had just been inflicted upon him. It was a battle of wills. His will verses the energy. It wanted to consume him. He wanted to absorb it and make it his. In the end he partially succeeded though the fires did not leave him untouched.

=End Absorb/Dissapate Energy Power=
Req Word Count: 200
Actual Word Count: 245

When the flames engulfing the Acolyte abated he was not left untouched. His robes were rags he had first and second degree burns all over his body but the Acolyte did not succumb to the pain, he took the pain, and he claimed it he took it into himself. He still was not entirely sure what had happened, as inside he was surprised on what just happened. But as the fires abated Blood was on him and at the last minute with adrenaline pumping through him he jumped back avoiding the slash to his calf. He landed in a crouch a primal look on his yellow tinted eyes. His blister covered face looked back at Blood a sneer of savagery as the blood thirsty smile crossed his lips. He had drawn out his dagger that he had kept sheathed on his back. He would not give anything Blood wanted. He wanted him to be afraid to cower. He would do neither. He was a petty man, feeling superior at the smiting of those beneath him. Valuing material might. Everything the Acolyte was not. He pushed out with the Force again (Altar) He did not know what he was doing but with his mind he pushed one of the vibro blades Blood was holding. He knew it would not be knocked from his hand but he’d hope it was enough to cause a momentary distraction. He could only hope

[Slade Xandir]

Devil, Devil,...

"Clever devil, devil..."

It was so much wrong in this little right of the situation. A hot, passionate thing stood right in front of him, seething in it's own right. Crushed? No. Smoldered? Barely. Not enough. It was obvious he was in actual agony. But the fact he did not allow it to consume him in blind fury was interesting. Fire usually had that effect on the unwilling. He was inhaled and exhaled by the flames, spit out as he stood there, actually standing against Blood's wrath.

This one was special.
And stupid.
Both.
Born for this life, it seemed.

What did his Alpha see in this kid? A punching bag? Surely not; Tormentous could end this child with less than a blink of his power...But he still stood. Trialed against Lord Blood and his fiery tricks. To him, this was a test. Unending, and relentless. He would not let up from this Acolyte until he proved what the hell Tormentous saw in him.

The direction where he had slid past Kell's left had Blood back to back with his prey until he turned on a smooth stroke to send a roundhouse kick directly at him. He had to resort to using force, as something malfunctioned in one of his vibros. Vibros he kept in perfect condition.
This twerp ruined his weapon!

[Kell Sangros]

The Acolyte saw the kick coming, he was somewhat skilled in martial arts, enough anyways. With the incoming kick he acted. He ducked and moved forward as the kick was still up and threw a punch into the solo-plex in hopes of knocking the wind out of him and maybe knocking him back a bit. He was in agony, he feasted on it , his pain was power. He felt more alive right now then he had during most of his time among the Sith. Even the mission was considered a warm up compared to this. Maybe he had misunderstood Blood. Maybe Blood knew him well enough to know that he would force his hand and sought to test him. If this was the case his opinion of Blood would definitely change for the better. It had been said that you truly do not know someone until you fight them. Maybe this was the case here.

His ploy with the vibro-blade worked surprisingly he didn’t know what he did but it was enough bought him enough time. He had barely spoken during this whole encounter. He didn’t speak verbally but through his actions he spoke volumes, Words were for politicians and diplomats, he was neither. After his assault he threw himself back. He was a good arm’s length away from Lord Blood. He wanted to say Tag You are It (assuming his punch landed)

[Slade Xandir]

A kiss was stolen from Blood, a fist of livid feelings was sent to his midsection. The wind wasn't knocked from him, but the energy sent into the pummel was what he used to fuel his aero-retreat. Leaping in time with the contact, Blood pushed himself up and away from the low crouched man. Landing on the balls of his feet didn't last long, as he returned into the fray of chaos.

A single dagger in left with a broken twin in right, Blood kept a concentrated effort as he landed near enough to release a barrage of scissor like clip off slashes. More than half were fully capable of being blocked, but that was the point; feints with forsaken promises of 'going easy' written all over them. The rest of the attacks were to be that shadow that belonged to nothing in the room, the shadow that leapt at you with intent to eviscerate and disembowel you.

"Embrace it, Kell...You hold back. Do not let wrath be all that fuels you. Other emotions harbor as much power as fury."

A whirlwind of dual slashes came to the upper left half of Kell's front, Blood intending to push the Acolyte through multiple levels to gain ground on insight.

"Harness it, shape it in your heart, your mind. Your mind is what gives you power."

[Kell Sangros]

The Acolyte saw Blood coming, his own blade still in his hand he gripped it. More and more he began to see this incursion more as a training exercise than an actual fight. He narrowed his yellow eyes and studied in the way Blood was swinging those blades looking for a weak spot in his technique. His mind calculating then he saw it. Half of the slashes he had blocked with his own blade, the other half he had dodged. One caught him on the upper left arm not a full slash but enough to draw blood. One he dodged and countered with a side kick aimed to the mid section. The last one in his attack the Acolyte once again went low. Ducking and stepping forward again his attack going for the thigh. He had released his fury and had given himself to his instincts was he fueled by emotions? Not really and if he was the closest one would be Joy. Joy he was in a fight, Joy that he was in battle. This was where he was the most alive. He ignored his injuries giving into them would only slow him down, corrupt his resolve.

After the slash (attempt) he would do a dive and roll getting back on his feet with ease once again a short distance away from his opponent. He stood there brandishing his own blade determination, calculation now drove him. Anything was possible through the Darkside of the Force.

[Slade Xandir]

The important things that mattered most to Blood was his cunning. It was wit that won fights, and it was obvious Kell was no slow learner. With less than no effort, the raven haired Acolyte released another slash directly to Blood, who was just recovering from the dodged leg to his gut. A growl seared from the smiling Lord, a growl of delight. Delight at Kell coming clean from him with his own blade tasting the garnets he had to offer. The glisten of blood was memorable in the darkness of the room, the dim sheen whispering seductive swears at Kell. Blood's golds began their own luminescence as he followed Kell in through their dance.
There was no getting breaks, no respite. If he were to receive his shank in this pack, he would work for it.
Just as his own Master taught him.

And if he were unfit, and happened to fall victim to a simple game gone horrendously wrong, then it would be his own fault, not Blood's. He would walk away from this, of course. Power was something he needed more than this Acolyte. And it wasn't going to be held at bay because this whelp decided to come into evidence as he got it, either.

But Slade held him at bay, his attacks not falling through with the lethal intent Blood madly pursued. What if Tormentous had plans for this Acolyte? Surely his Alpha took it easy on Blood as he was trained to be the ruthless Hunter who prowled and judged those who came to meet his Sire, but was it expected of him to outright demolish the rest of his coming Acolytes? Slade was as manipulative as Blood was, nd the auds of the Wolf canted to the sound of logic.
He would not kill Kell.
It was not commanded, nor expected from the Dark One for Blood to take this life.
And though he was he who judged those coming to seek Tormentous' favor, he would stick to his duty of maiming, but not killing.
All the more sheep for his Shepard.
Until the Shepard deemed them ready for slaughter.

Blood rammed a pummel clean through the air, his right fist perfectly primed to scald the Acolyte's jaw, but his left switched the blade underhandedly, a slash being scandalously crafted to score the width of the raven haired man's chest in a diagonal sweep.


Hours pass and it takes less to commit the room to darkness. The spar pewters well into the nighttime, and despite Blood having gone near entire days just fighting Tormentous, it was clear the Acolyte was not at such a level though. And Blood had to stick to his oath. So a final surge of refusal was sent into the Acolyte as Blood reigned a roundhouse into the chest of the Acolyte, sending the man to fly back a bit from his inner circle clash they so intimately shared.

As expected, the resilient warrior-hearted soul flung himself back to his feet, that sinister glow in his eyes declaring this wasn't over. A smile from Blood confirmed the promise through the grit of their passionate duel, but with a hand flung to the floor, Blood cast a line of fire between the two men, the flames blinking and flashing their warning well into the nightmare he hosted for them.
It was over.

"It was wonderful what we just shared, Kell. You are a vivacious thing, full of life and skill. Especially in combat."

His hands were pulled to the sides of tucked arms, as he stood looking his adversary across the line fire.

"I feel what my Alpha sees in you. And it is only a matter of time before you hit the ceiling. The House of Tormentous wait to see whether you will burst free of it, or fall to perish with the rest of the whelps who tried their luck with the pack, only to be eaten alive and tossed away."

Blood tucked his working dagger into its sheathe, while the broken one was sent into the flames between the two Sithians, the cracks and squeals of metal and mechanisms being heard singing as it became deformed and melted. Each fiber of the metal he felt toiling away in his flames, the heat growing and feeding on the destruction he commenced, and gurgling with pleasure from the energy released from the decision. His eyes, those feral and unsettling sun gems however, did not leave the Acolyte.
His smile, as vibrodagger began to do, melted away.

"Our game was fun. I enjoyed it. And next time, we will spice it up a bit more. Till then, Acolyte."

And with that, the illusive Wolf turned and walked free from the room, the flames only lasting until he returned to the chambers he resided in. Only then did those flames sputter and die away, leaving the cooling puddle of machine and steel, a reminder that he would not forget what happened betwixt the two Sithians.

[Kell Sangros]

The Acolyte deep down in his mind knew the attack would not find it’s home. Blood was more experienced and stronger in the Force than he was. But it was good to test one’s ability against someone who is more skilled. The punch to the jaw found its mark but it did not phase or slow down the Acolyte. The Slash to the chest the Acolyte was ready for as he had expected this. It would have been an insult to them both if Blood did not have a 2 fold attack. As that diagonal attack came the Acolyte brought his left forearm up in a counter clockwise circle which would push the attack from the blade to the side.

The hours passed as they battled, it was unheard of that an Acolyte could go as long as he and Blood did. Acolyte’s were neophytes and easy pickings, The Acolyte began to think he was above this title finally. He saw the roundhouse kick coming and he did block it but Blood had put the Force into it or a lot of strength into it. Either way it did cause him to jump back a bit.

The Acolyte could feel the heat from Blood’s unexpected and abrupt end to the fight by separating them by fire. His blade still in his hand he was twirling it in his hand , brandishing.

He paced up and down the line he did not dare to cross it. The Force had ebbed at his mind forbidding him to advance. So he paced like a caged and semi-crazed animal. He did not believe in honor in the traditional sense. That was for the dead and for his enemy. He listened as Blood spoke.

“I have learned much in our dance” he said simply his eyes not leaving Blood but a cruel smile raised from his lips as he continued “I am the future I promise you have never met one such as myself” he simply stated the smile widened in a feral sinister kind of way

“As have I , My Lord” He had put emphasis on the last word, not a taunt, not a jeer, whatever twisted senseabilities the Acolyte possessed he had come to respect the Sith Lord, a bit. He also knew Lord Blood a bit better as he believed that you truly did not know somebody until you have either fought them or fought beside them.

He watched as Lord Blood walked away only when he was gone and sensed him truly further away did he slump his shoulders a bit, his golden eyes returning to their normal color and for the first time he had felt the burns. It was time to spent some quality time with a Bacta Tank and so the Acolyte headed to the med center.