Hollow Halls and Hollow Hearts

[Dark child]

He could feel it. Even before the boots of the assassin collided with the pieces of glass which littered the sandy earth outside of the palace. This was not over. Ever present and unrelenting, hunters had sought to bring him down from the very moment he had begun distributing "mercy". There was no such thing as rest for the boy, there never had been and there never would be. No time for wounds to heal. No time for memories to fade. Each day was an endless chase of the hunter and the hunted. Roles were reversed so often that Xanthier no longer knew if he was on the tail of the Sith, or on the run from them and those he had wronged. A hypocritical circle of events. Seeking vengeance for all the strife the Empire had caused him, yet with each blow that they dealt against him he slipped further and further into their ways. Now, just as before, he had let himself become consumed by anger and agony. Pain fueled rage. Rage that could not be controlled. His cold calculating mind was now utterly devoted to eradicating the man who refused him the right to leave. In the deepest part of the youth's heart, he did crave peace. Yearned for it. His past prevented these feelings from ever surfacing. Frozen in endless torment as he both accepted pain and delt it to anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. He wanted nothing more than to kill the masked man and continue from there.
None on this miserable rock deserved life.

Crunch
Sounded the assassin's boots as they landed upon the broken glass. Followed by soft cracking as the man shifted his position to line up the shot, bringing his weapon up to his masked face while flipping up the sight on the rifle. The youth was not far, having traveled just enough distance to render his lightning almost useless at that range, but well within the perimeters of the rifle. It was almost as if the assassin had planned it that way, yet it was simply chance.

Xanthier turned as his ears picked up the unmistakable sound. His acute hearing missed little in the world around him. An unalert predator would never survive. Vigilant and paranoid the boy was on edge at the best of times. Now his senses were in overdrive.

As Kip released the first shot he dove into a leftward directed roll. Throwing his body upon the ground rather than face the full wrath of the blaster fire, deactivating the saber still held within his hand. The burst of blaster rounds sailed past where his body had been just a moment before. The assassin of course had no intention of giving up that easily, and as the boy moved, Kip pulled the trigger a second time. Unleashing a flurry of shots towards the youth as he began to evade, tearing up the dirt around Xanthier's body and severing the belt around his waist, leaving a singe mark where the bolt had slightly cut into the armor beneath as it did so. His belt and sash came off as his momentum carried him in the roll. Coming to a stop a body's length from where he had stood, now in a low crouch.
​

His leg pained him, refusing to lift him back unto his feet as fast as he wished. Having to rely on the strength of his right leg to bear the stress. Anger boiled within him. The very same aura that had polluted the inside of the palace at the very start of all this now spewed forth, emanating from his body. A radiating pulse that was far more obvious to those sensitive with the force than without, contagious anger.

Gripping the metal hilt of his saber in fury, he ignited the crimson blade which crackled to life with a loud fizz. As if it too could feel it's master's hatred.

Xanthier began to rush forward. Hindered by his leg and sustained injuries, he was far below the speed at which he could normally move, but pressed on despite the obvious signals his body sent him. Focusing only on the stream of enraged emotions which flooded his mind. The hunter had plenty of time to formulate a plan, as the boy charged forward at full sprint.

The blood on his left hand fizzled as electricity once again arched around the clenched fist. Drops of the dark liquid stained the sand with each step.

Though he was still too far away for the hunter to sustain any damage, Xanthier forced his left arm forward despite his shoulder's protest and lightning crackled within the open air between the two darksiders. Not close enough reach the masked man, it arched in unnatural directions, searching for something to latch on to. The blast was noticeably weaker than the last, lacking the intensity but certainly not the potential agony. It would not be long before the youth could close the distance. The rifle still remained an imminent threat, one that Xanthier hoped he had at least postponed by sending forth the flash of energy.​

 

[Lagota Desijilic]

Lagota, slightly distracted by the corpse lying beside him, reactivated the shield and watched as things unfolded. Eventually he turned to the monitor beside him and punched in a few commands. After a brief pause, a holo projection of his son appeared. Lagota smiled before saying, "My boy! I have good news, your cousin, B'alrok has been 'dealt with' and as a result I will be taking over his shares in the business." There was a slight delay in the audio, "I'm glad to hear it, maybe now we can start helping to supply the sith." This had always been part of the plan; build up a large and intricate business to help fund the Sith Empire. On top of that, in exchange for a few minor things the Desilijic family would allow the sith to use their trade routes and supplies.
(Will add more)

 

[Narsi]

Huh...well how bout that

Was Kip's only internal remark at the peculiar last minute dodging, seemed the man wasn't quite as drained as he thought. Even more surprising, Xanthier was now charging straight at him, as fast as he could anyway. Kip huffed heavily into his mask, why heck was the guy charging now? The man had finally gained a bit of distance, and if he wanted to escape he was still in prime position to do so. Even better position actually, as Kip theroetically wouldn't be able to shoot him in the back anymore. Worse, the man now had to cover all the distance he'd gained whilst KNOWING his opponent held a weapon capable of rapid repeated firing.

Still, Kip had to give him an A for effort, especially for the force lightning that once again thrashed through the air towards him. There was just a bit too much distance between them however, and instead it only wracked the ground and air a short distance in front of him. Grinning lightly, Kip returned his rifle to its place on his back and slipped his knife back onto his belt, pulling his own lightsaber free with his right hand. Then, left hand extended forward, Kip cautiously stepped forward into range of the lightning. Normally this wouldn't work, it really wasn't his area of expertise after all, and it wasn't exactly easy. Here though, the energy was clearly weaker than usual, and Kip didn't have to deal with a sudden unexpected burst of it.

Easing his left hand into the stream, Kip let the force flow though him and into the limb, convalescing as a energy field designed to contain energy in his palm. When the first arcing bolt struck his hand, it stayed there, quivering, hovering in space before his hand as a single spark. Red eyes flaring with satisfaction, Kip moved his hand and caught the next bolt, and the next, and the next, and in mere moments he had a ball of power thrashing in his palm. Slowly, carefully, Kip gathered more, keeping himself just within range of his abilities to catch the force lightning as his foe advanced.

He stayed alert and ready for a sudden change however, ready to jump back at a moments notice in case of an increase in intensity. He also kept a wary eye on his advancing opponent, clenching his own lightsaber unconsciously in his right palm.

 

[Dark child]

This Sith. This disgrace of a being which stood before the youth. The boy continued forward, blinded by his rage. His desire to bring suffering to the hunter who's red blade flared like a mockery of Xanthier's own. The youth's grey eyes locked on Kip's expressionless mask and the red glow of it's eye sockets which were dimmed by the outside sunlight. How dare the man challenge him, how dare he follow, how dare the Sith continue to exist. The boy's tattered boots pattered across the sand as he continued to rush forward. Pale fingers contorted outwards unnaturally, maintaining the stream of lightning. A manifestation of all the hatred which continued to build inside him. The one who had chased him was not only determined to bring back his corpse but was in fact a member of the Empire. Such were Xanthier's thoughts, and while they were untrue, he had no reason to believe that Kip wasn't some sniveling mutt who answered to Sith Lords and Moffs. The boy hated those in power above all else. They condoned suffering and chains and those who executed their will were no better.

Gaining some distance the youth believed he had been winning. Oblivious to the assassin's buildup of energy, his vision obscured by the arching bolts of lightning. Xanthier finally cast his hand aside, dispelling the voltage which still lingered in the air for half a second more. His right hand flourished the angry red blade held in his bleeding fist as he prepared to move in closer, but he was far from ready for what the assassin had in store.​

 

[Narsi]

As he continuously sucked up the lightning, Kip's confidence grew, and soon he too was managing to make headway. It was in this manner that he and his target gradually closed the distance, until they were nearly within blades reach of each other. It was then that Kip felt the lightning's intensity suddenly begin to die down, as if its source had been cut off.

Acting quickly, in the short amount of time that the lightning still clogged his vision, Kip sprang forward, activating his own saber with a tap of his thumb. As the final vestige of energy drifted away, revealing both combatants in all their glory, Kip attacked with a quick one two, counting on his initiative to see him through, that and the fact that his foe was currently flouring his blade about in a way that would at least lessen defensive response time. Stepping forward in a lunge with his right foot forward, Kip first unleashed the stored energy he'd collected. Keeping his left hand mostly tucked into his body, he gave it just a little jerk forward to direct the energy forward as he released it in a wide cluster shot at his enemies legs. As he loosed the energy, his right hand shot forward in conjunction with his right leg, bringing his own red blade forward in a sharp thrust at Xanthier's upper chest. His strike was delivered with the full length of his saber and arm extended, just barely enough to pierce the human's chest while still providing distance for Kip to work with should a counterattack come.

Hopefully the suddenness of two near simultaneous attacks along with his opponents injuries would be enough to prevent any real defense.

 

[Dark child]

Frailty was inexcusable and unimaginable. The realization that he indeed was weak is perhaps what pained the boy most...

Horror, shock, and disbelief manifested themselves on Xanthier's features. His grey eyes lost their narrowed appearance, widening as he came to the conclusion of what his adversary intended to do, with no means to counter the redirected energy. His teeth no longer clenched in anger, but instead revealed themselves out of fright as he opened his mouth in surprise. Distance gained was distance lost, as he tried desperately to slow himself down and evade the pulsing mass of electric light headed directly towards him, it's intensity almost blinding. His tattered boots scraped across the ground as he began to skid, seeing nothing but the tendrils of electricity and the two red glowing eye sockets of the stranger's mask.

It struck like a great wave. Intense searing pain spread throughout the youth's legs and up into his torso, never ceasing as it continued it's path upwards. Muscles tensed and contorted in agony as every nerve felt as though it had been consumed by fire. A fire which would never die, never end.

Xanthier did not notice that he had been swept off his feet by the blast. He did not feel the glass in his palms forced deeper into his skin and flesh as he skidded across the ground. He did not feel the heat of the assassin's blade quivering within the air a mere inch away from his face as he fell. A blow that had been directed at his chest but no longer held any promise of hitting it's mark as the repercussions of the re-directed lightning spread through the youth like vines that wrap around a tree and suffocate the life from it's branches.

The boy came to a stop several meters away. His body a ruinous heap at the end of a skid mark it had made in the sandy earth, muscles still contorting and twitching uncontrollably as the lightning began to dissipate, causing him to writhe in pain. This time he would have let go of his metal saber hilt, for it had conducted the energy through his body and up his arm to reach the dura-steel. The still ignited blade within his hand fizzled as it melted into the sand beside him. Smoke still rose from his body in many places but none were as present as his hand itself which had began to cook under the intense heat of the current which passed through it. The hilt had partially fused into his flesh in places, fingers remaining clamped around it tightly, unable to let go due to the nature of the current which tensed the muscles within his hand forcing them to clamp down.

His expression was not nearly as consumed by rage as it had been before, now, as the boy lifted his head to stare up at the assassin who had not had time enough to approach him as of yet, his grey eyes met the emotionless red sockets of the man as he stared outwards with a vengeful glare. Spit, which had leaked from his mouth during the skid, and was now covered in dirt leaked from the right corner of his mouth. His chin was badly scraped, slowly dripping blood. Willing his muscles to cooperate enough to remove himself from where he lay and regain defense before it would be too late. If he ever caught up to that hooded woman she would pay dearly for this. If only she hadn't spoke. If only his temper hadn't gotten the best of him once more...if only.

If only his blasted legs would move. The saber no longer fizzed in the dirt but had left behind a still glowing shallow trench of glass where it had laid. His hands felt numb along with the rest of him. Movements were sluggish. Although scarcely a moment had passed, he feared that it was already too late. The upper hand belonged to the assassin. Every muscle in his body burned with the aftershocks of of the lightning. He had tasted his own malice and anger and it was a difficult thing to swallow.

Rising up on one knee to recover, Xanthier nearly choked on the saliva which entered his parched throat as he inhaled a deep breath. His voice was more collected than one would expect, but still had a lingering rasp.
"You tracked me here didn't you."

It was not a question, but a statement. Somewhere along the line the youth had slipped up. The assassin had gone unnoticed, and only he was to blame for allowing such a thing to happen.
​

 

[Narsi]

Kip cursed as he watched his blade score the air harmlessly, his own force blast knocking the man to relative safety amidst thrashing spasms. Shame, now he'd lost the element of surprise, and while he had gained more of an upper hand, it still wasn't the ideal death he'd hoped for. Anyone with a lightsaber, no matter how injured, shouldn't ever be taken lightly, and now Kip would have to close into dangerous blade range one more time if he wanted the kill, and he did. Or maybe not.

Watching the man skid a few meters, Kip moved his now unoccupied left hand down to his waist and pulled out his B-8R blaster. As Xanthier came to a smoking stop amidst the dirt, Kip extended his right hand holding his saber and called on the force. Motioning with two fingers, Kip used the force to push heavily on his foe's arms and upper body, attempting to smash him down flat into the dirt once more as if a very heavy mat was on top of him. Hopefully the obviously drained and injured man would be unable to resist and block, at least not in time for what came next. Aiming his blaster with his left, Kip pulled the trigger three times, sending three separate bolts of plasma screaming forth towards the man's chest.

Die already