The Lionheart
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2006
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Lush, beautiful Ossus. The rugged terrain of their alotted fighting area offered several points of interest. Plenty of hills, rocks and other obstacles. The flora and fauna would doubtless serve to hinder their progress. Some could poison skin just by touching it, others held berries or leaves that would do little for the cyber-man and his wretched adversary.
Lysander stood out on top of one of the larger hills, gazing out to the vast opening between this hill and another, the one where Volac was standing. First blood, or for Lysander first major blow (unless Volac managed to pierce his upper chest armor and cause what was left of his chest or neck to bleed). Ossus was serene library world of the Order, but it had not been without its bloodshed. The Sith had often come here, afterall, in search of the Order's lores and important holocrons. Always did they obsess over such things.
The sky above was a mix of white to the northeast and grey or black in the opposite direction. Rain was coming, maybe a storm. It might lower visibility, but this would not do much to hinder either man. Lysander's optical enhancements made his eyes capable of seeing many things and looking into many places another person's eyes could not. Even if they failed him, his father had long ago taught him how to feel his surroundings, and even to partly 'see' with his mind stretching out over the surroundings. His opponent didn't have eyes at all, he was told. He was a broken shell of a man, neither Jedi or Sith. He saw through the Force, allowing him some measure of leverage over those without it. This was his greatest strength and most visible weakness, however; for when he grew tired, when his energy waned, his vision would disappear. If he could not have the Force on his side to help him see, he would be useless. He might lash out in blind fear or rage, but he would be capable of no more real combat.
Lysander saw him now, and they were right about the 'broken shell' part. The man saw through the Force because he had no real eyes. His entire body was like a burned, crispy husk. It was as if he had seen the fires of hell itself and returned to tell his tale. Lysander saw with his mind's eye, as his father had taught him to see, the man's outer mind. He was a walking machine of destruction, of evil. Lysander popped his neck and ran a diagnosis on his systems.
Everything was green, everything was ready. Even his grapplers could finally use their shocking mechanism without risk of harm to him, thanks to Garduga's payment of a full repair job to Lysander's body. All his devices and tricks were ready, and his muscle-enhancer system was charged to last him through the fight. The blades in his forearms were ready to deploy. The high-output vibration cell in his vibrosword was at maximum charge, ready to cleave with ease. The vibroblades at his waist were ready to burn and cut as well. His blasters were fully-charged; indeed, everything was ready.
He felt a raindrop fall upon his shoulder. It was going to be a rainy match.
Lysander stood out on top of one of the larger hills, gazing out to the vast opening between this hill and another, the one where Volac was standing. First blood, or for Lysander first major blow (unless Volac managed to pierce his upper chest armor and cause what was left of his chest or neck to bleed). Ossus was serene library world of the Order, but it had not been without its bloodshed. The Sith had often come here, afterall, in search of the Order's lores and important holocrons. Always did they obsess over such things.
The sky above was a mix of white to the northeast and grey or black in the opposite direction. Rain was coming, maybe a storm. It might lower visibility, but this would not do much to hinder either man. Lysander's optical enhancements made his eyes capable of seeing many things and looking into many places another person's eyes could not. Even if they failed him, his father had long ago taught him how to feel his surroundings, and even to partly 'see' with his mind stretching out over the surroundings. His opponent didn't have eyes at all, he was told. He was a broken shell of a man, neither Jedi or Sith. He saw through the Force, allowing him some measure of leverage over those without it. This was his greatest strength and most visible weakness, however; for when he grew tired, when his energy waned, his vision would disappear. If he could not have the Force on his side to help him see, he would be useless. He might lash out in blind fear or rage, but he would be capable of no more real combat.
Lysander saw him now, and they were right about the 'broken shell' part. The man saw through the Force because he had no real eyes. His entire body was like a burned, crispy husk. It was as if he had seen the fires of hell itself and returned to tell his tale. Lysander saw with his mind's eye, as his father had taught him to see, the man's outer mind. He was a walking machine of destruction, of evil. Lysander popped his neck and ran a diagnosis on his systems.
Everything was green, everything was ready. Even his grapplers could finally use their shocking mechanism without risk of harm to him, thanks to Garduga's payment of a full repair job to Lysander's body. All his devices and tricks were ready, and his muscle-enhancer system was charged to last him through the fight. The blades in his forearms were ready to deploy. The high-output vibration cell in his vibrosword was at maximum charge, ready to cleave with ease. The vibroblades at his waist were ready to burn and cut as well. His blasters were fully-charged; indeed, everything was ready.
He felt a raindrop fall upon his shoulder. It was going to be a rainy match.