ᴼᴺᴸᵞ ᴾᴿᴱˢˢᵁᴿᴱ ᴹᴬᴷᴱˢ ᴰᴵᴬᴹᴼᴺᴰˢ, ˢᵂᴱᴱᵀᴵᴱ. [Xendiss, Krox, and any other Sith wanting to steal Apprentices]

[Kroxata Akhoi]

It felt Blood’s mere presence here now as an insult, did he see him as a blind fool? A cowering frail weak Sith? Another member of the corrupt order? It appeared Slade no longer held the reins to the Sith’s leash. The conflict between the two main emotions they both used to harness the Dark Side of the Force caused great disturbance to the surrounding area, the room seemingly throbbed shockwaves repeatedly into either’s mind striking their auras with a continuous stream yet no blows were done. An intimidation confrontation, both Sith would see what would make them back down from the other, submitting to his authority, however Kroxata would not win battles with words and his skills were that even the Emperor, Tormentous would consider dangerous if he were ever to face the Dreadlord in combat.

The Dathomiri Hammer tired of Lord Blood’s petty attempts to gain what he wanted through silver tongue, for it only further proved why Kroxata deemed the Sith Lord as unworthy to spoil such potential, to maine in his own image to create another taint he would eventually seek to purify. Could he bring himself to destroy something he partly created? What came as first a direct challenge to a petty bargain the Dreadlord grew further and further in displeasurement of Blood’s mere existence aboard his ship, such hypocrisy. “First you insult me, then you offer me a gift? A true warrior would not slide his way through others to gain what they want. You think I claimed this fleet by talking my way through its former master? You think I defied the Dark Council who offered me a similar offer, by asking nicely? No… I took what I wanted through a rite that has been past down by civilizations for centuries. I won it by rite of combat. And -you- lack the honour I consider to be a worthy and acceptable opponent.”

The Dreadlord turns his back to Slade, his shadow slowly shrinking in size around Slade, slowly returning back to his throne finally concluding his business with such a petty squabble. He could still sense the same lust and desire within the young Sith, he knew of the countless possibilities he could potentially result to, but he came prepared for each one, who knows, maybe their was an honourable Sith beneath all the taint, he would soon find out in Slade’s next actions.

[Slade Xandir]

That was when he truly lost his cordial manner. He cackled as though Kroxata had fully invested himself as a comedian. Warrior? Honor!

"I didn't come here to fight you as an 'honorable warrior', Dreadlord. I came to take something that's not mine...And if it doesn't rightfully belong to me, then that makes the snatch all the sweeter to steal."

His fingers stroked the hilts again to his fanged sabers. The seconds passed however, and his image began to glow ominously in the shadow of the Dreadlord's Den, his armor illustrating a searing luminance of hot red within the deep folds of his armor. Just as the dragon who once wore it had show the very same cursed colors in its ebony scaled hide, Blood took such an image and made it his own as his temperature began to rise.
With it, his sabers also began to shine their own scarlet, both pairs releasing a wispy curl of smoke as Blood's hands began to heat up, as well.

"Kroxata, I apologize for your lack of intelligence...I wish you might have listened beforehand. No one smart rejects wisdom."

His words were accented with their own heat as smoke began to dance mesmerizingly from the helms nasal cavity. The alien didn't take his niceness properly...in fact, Blood was the one who felt properly insulted. To return the favor, the Dragon Tamer snickered almost innocently,

"Good thing it's just you; blessing it was for a planet of imbeciles to be destroyed. After I destroy your pride....I might just settle Tormentous' score with Neive. This time, properly. Then you won't have to worry about your filthy honor bind, anymore."

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The Dreadlord stops in his tracks to his throne, his head turned halfway with his amber glare setting on Slade once again his giant arched frame slowly turning to see the hostile actions the Sith Lord took. From Lord Blood, Kroxata’s two Magna Guards ignited their electrostaves, the purple sparks that erupted into a continuous coil, they sought to attack Slade but were momentarily stopped by Kroxata raising his hand in a clenched fist ordering them to stop.

Finally he turned back to face the defiling tratious ‘Sith’ that stood before. The words he spoke said everything, perhaps Tormentous praised this behaviour, but his demeanor was that of a pouty child throwing his toys from his cradle because he was told he could not have what he wanted. A lesson a parent should teach his child of a young age, of earning rewards, clearly this new persona Slade developed had been poorly raised, without any challenge that had him lose until today. “Its treason then….”

The Dreadlord gradually reaches to his Lightstaff, slowly gripping onto the metallic hilt, brushing his hand across the metallic grip before reaching the power surge. He removes the weapon from his waist taking it into his hand, a fiery red flame busts to life, sparking in a very hellish display, yet the other end seemed to remain deactivated, he awaits Blood to make the first move, to see to his first mistake into challenging a king in his halls.

[Slade Xandir]

Treason?
He considered this treason?

"Treason? Dearest Kroxata, this isn't treason, this isn't mutiny, this isn't guile. I've come to you honestly, told you how you deserved something better, and you refused. You clearly are delusional...If anything, you betrayed your own honor."

A step forward, but still he kept his sabers silent, garnet killers patiently awaiting their summons.

"We need not fight, but I choose to obliged your petty notion. You could have simply sent the girl my way without putting up a blow, but some mutts within us cannot be muzzled, it seems."

While Blood was busy running his mouth, his mind was analyzing the situation, completely independent of what he was saying. Blood tended to make a scratch more rash decisions than Slade, so he kept his mouth motoring away, riling the alien up as much as possible, while the Wolf sought every method of dismembering this situation with as little consequence as possible. It seemed Blood would be perfectly intact as long as he avoided both hammering blows and that second end.

But the grin broadened as he pulled each piece of the puzzle to view.
A double sided staff wasn't as unpredicatable as dual wield; where one end was with a double side, was where the other was not. The problem however, was getting to Kroxata's defense. The man was a massive thing, and if he could wittle away at the defense, he could force a cornered cat to scratch back. Tanks often did. He would go on offense, picking and prodding, poking at Kroxata until the reserved onslaught was released, and then would use the remaining agility he held to keep away from the Hammer's hammering.

But predictions could only get so far...
And his mind silenced itself.

"Take me down, run me around, and be done with me, Lord Kroxata...Show me your soul; I've got to know that you're beautiful inside." he cooed.

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The Dreadlord grew bored of his challenger, would he ever cease his pathetic attempts to claim dominance over him? It seemed Blood had never really had true battle, in any other case he would have already been struck down by those he faced. Overconfidence bridled to a point of such insolence that Kroxata could only see the various Dark Council members he had struck down with no real threat, all bark but no bite. Kroxata took this time however to be used against the speaker, he did not even need to provoke Blood before he went off on another speech of sorts, all the while the Dreadlord began calling the Dark Side, allowing it to fluster around him before pulling it all into his aura, building himself with great momentum, the flow of the Dark Side ran through his arm down to his own hands, flooding throughout his Lightstaff, the metal casing began vibrating to the unnatural being that coated itself over it. "Take me down, run me around, and be done with me, Lord Kroxata" "As you wish..."

Charging both of his hands to the breaking point of what he could muster, the moment Blood ceased his incompetence, the Dreadlord rushed forward with such intense speeds, a wave of wind passed in front of him. Igniting the other end of his Lightstaff, he span the blade around his body looking to the normal eye a swirling beam of red energy before reaching just inches away from Blood. The Lightstaff was far above his head, the Sith bringing it crashing down onto Lord Blood in hopes of locking blades with him, but that would merely be the tip of the iceberg, the Lightstaff had the Force condensed around it, awaiting his master to reach incontact with anything, upon contact the sheer Force would rebound off the other physical contact creating a shockwave of the Dark Side directed at Blood. If successful, he would follow this attack with a massive barrage of strikes to ensure he held the upper hand, ensuring Blood would only be able to react and not implement his own approach of attack.

[Xendiss Rayne]

That aura. It was growing, intensifying, throbbing away in her mind. This was no mere meeting between the two mighty Sith. Her danger senses were slamming with Force energies in the back of her mind, warning her of an impending catastrophe upon this very ship. Luckily, her fine attunement was on point.

Xendiss could not settle for standing by, wondering what was going on. It was as torturous as the Dark Force suffusing into her mind itself, teasing her with the tantalising scent of danger and the chance of unleashing a bloodlust. The chance to fight against her Dreadlord, or in the defence of him, ensuring no unworthy, lesser Siths were able to take his place. Instantaneously, she shot to her feet, darting to the exit of her dimly lit, red quarters, picking up her vibroblades upon the way. Each digit wrapped firmly around their hilt, one thumb pressing down on the buttons to ignite their red glow and powerful shimmering. Behind her, the black cascading cape, trimmed with the hues of blood followed, waving away in relentless flapping motions at the sudden birth of such sheer speed and momentum. What she lacked in physical strength, she most certainly picked up in unmatched celerity. The speed Xendiss could control and maintain was rampaging, domineering. In the blink of an eye, she was outside her personal quarters.

The automatic doors slid open as she dashed away, only to bring her into a hallway of rushing soldiers, aggravating her lust for the unleashing of her power. Xendiss didn't want to miss whatever was happening. She'd be very, very upset if that were the case... none were to get in her way. In a fluent, elegant pursuit, she immediately propelled herself down the corridors of the ship, where the Lair laid close by. Like a shrouded mist of black, she floated through the interior like a dark cloud, one blade held at the ready behind her back, prepared to strike, whilst the other laid across her chest in front of her in a wary defensive. Who knows what would await as soon as those sliding doors were to open. Perhaps this was some kind of test...

Though she doubted it.

The doors slid open at her command, entering the darkness of the Lair, not shifting her stance whatsoever upon arrival...

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus had also been on the ship, as a guest of the Dreadlord he certainly did not feel like a prisoner, he could feel the disturbance in the Force. He sensed Lord Blood on board (Sense Force User) and decided to investigate he too came into the throne room of the Dreadlord and stepped into the shadows observing the situation, he would see the Dreadlord in action and kinda liked the idea of Lord Blood giving it his all. He watched with a intense interest......

[Kroxata Akhoi]

*ignore this*

[Slade Xandir]

It was clear Kroxata had trained well under his Master, as Tormentous' style was indefinitely bled into each and every stroke the Zabrak had thrust at him. The heavy hitting encroach on personal focus, attempts to distract in order to unleash an even grander plan. This did not sit well within the Nighmare, and once their plasma swords rained flares across the floor between them, Blood expected the energy that came with it. This energy he chose to keep, the clash riveting the wave of Dark Side that Blood chose to absorb. However, instead of scattering it, the Hunter chose to savor it, and pocket it within him. He would need it for the excessive torture he planned to inflict on this Dreadlord.

Who said the speed of light could not be touched? The extreme flashes were from each bashing of blade upon blade, Blood being easily keyed into the coming attacks from the Zabrak's lightweapon, however this wave of attacks lacked wiggle room for him to retaliate with his own. A goodbye kiss from the tip of the staff glanced swiftly from the crest of his left saber as he swiftly batted it away before it left a gash both on and through his lower torso. This weapon gave Kroxata a tremendous amount of defense, Blood noted. However his attacks were nowhere near as pristine as his own could be, nor as graceful, and most especially, as unpredictable.

This intimate affair they shared, this exotic heat of battle fueled the lusty fire of controlled chaos in Blood, and before another locked blade could bear down between them, time slowed for the Dragon Tamer. A parry reversed the tides between them, and before their weapons could tangle once more, Blood sent a starving and heated burgundy blade low as he ducked the swivel of the brute's staff overhead. The offhand scoured the cool air over the floor just before it came attempt bisecting Kroxata's left leg, directed at thick shin. The main hand's saber was sent perpendicular, fully anticipating either the coming hit of the staff's end, or the impaling of the falling Dathomirian if he was successful in losing one of his most important limbs.

[Kroxata Akhoi]

The initial barrage of quick heavy strikes had sent the Dreadlord into a small burst of his enraged state, causing his perception to weaken greatly in his fury of rage. Long had he waited to finally put this disgraceful whelp back in his place, to send a message to all others that try to follow in this pathetic man’s footsteps. But he fell quickly to his naive mind, it had been long since the Zabrak had faced someone of even the equal skill level of him, usually his opponents barely fared a few seconds in the same vicinity as the charging monster of a man, but Slade had also undertook the same intense psychological and physical training he had. It reached a point where even Slade changed his name and his entire personality for the sake of attempting to survive.

His spree of strikes came to little success, Slade was crafty both in combat and general, witty would be an insult as his attempted to convince the Dreadlord which resulted in the two battling each other. His strikes were far quicker than Kroxata’s but felt much lighter in pressure and strength, preferring his speed to strength but able to hold his own, his footwork danced over the metallic floor but the unexpected slice came too short, although the majority of his leg was unscathed by the burning blade of energy, the intense heat could be felt scorching through his nerve system, the very still slicing through the plated armour leaving a small cut through the Zabraks shin, past the skin but not into any bone or organ.

He lets out no yelp of pain but keeps silent, backing away with one foot before he tries striking with the end behind him, only to be caught by the second blade meeting it. He could feel the struggle Slade had with dealing with that pressure but all he was doing was delaying the inevitable. Yes, his style was far more graceful and organised, but Kroxata’s was savage, primal and fuelled by a emotion that boiled through his mind and soul whenever he set his amber gaze to this annoyance that stood before him. With one arm occupied with Slade’s blade locked with one end, Kroxata decided to use the Sith’s own weapon against him, attempting to guide the blade with his over to the right, away from protecting his body, to then proceed to spin with it a full circle back around, having his blade laid low before quickly shooting in an upwards motion, almost a perfect vertical slice with the force as a perfect enhancer of his strength in attempt to rid him of at least one saber. Successful or not, he would then reach out his hand to unleash a telekinetic punch in the Force to knock back Slade, his shield may still be active but the distance it would create could prove to be very useful to conduct the next engaging of the two.