Tempting Fate

[Dark child]

Mygeeto

The youth's hot breaths quickly turned to white vapor as they entered the frigid air. As he walked across one of the many suspended bridges for speeders and foot traffic, he began to wonder why he had decided to stay in a place like this. Overhead, the sky had been darkening with clouds threatening rain for some time now, casting the the small port into a state of constant gloom. Xanthier's arms were crossed struggling to maintain what little heat his unimpressively weak body frame could support. The holes on his armor still remained from when he had felt the burn of the mandalorian's blaster several months ago. Since then, the wounds had healed, but his flesh still bore scars which showed through the two burnt holes in the armor plates, one on his lower abdomen, the other on the side of his chest. Now, as he felt the chill of the wind against the exposed skin, he wished he would have replaced the armor long ago. The apparel felt as though it was a part of him. He slept in it, he ate in it, he lived in it. It had only been taken off several times since he had adorned it all those years ago, acquiring it at the same time that he had his saber. Back then he hadn't even known it's true purpose, he simply wished to look like the enemy he had slaughtered. He wanted to be feared. Years had past, and it was faded, scratched, and torn, just like the boy himself. The armor may have grown weaker, but he had grown harder.

Xanthier's grey irises gazed up into the sky as the first drops of rain began to fall. Chill set in and the youth began to shiver as the wind blew the icy droplets into his face. They picked up particles of dust as they streaked down his armor plates, revealing a dull black underneath the faded grey. He continued to walk across the dura-steel plates that made up the bridge, dead set on reaching his ship and leaving this forsaken place. As if in answer, more rain began to poor down upon him, the wind blowing it between the spaces linking his armor together, beginning to soak the undergarments beneath. It seemed as though the planet itself did not wish for him to leave.

It was there, in the driving rain, that he noticed the big brute of a man loading Empire cargo into a ship in the docking bay with the help of two masked Imperials.

Xanthier paused there in the middle of the walkway, which only had only a few straggling pedestrians scurrying about to try and reach the docks before they were soaked as well. He would have to make a decision..risk drawing unnecessary attention and harm the Imperial skum, or continue on his way.

Xanthier of course, was a being of opportunity, and he chose the former.

Taking a quick glance around to familiarize himself with all the surroundings, he formulated a plan.

Dashing through the driving rain, he closed the distance between him and the docking area at a fast pace, and then hopped in through a ship's landing hatch as it began to close. Xanthier stopped this from happening however, slamming the switch to reopen the door on his way towards the cockpit. Drops of water dripped from his body as he passed through the interior of the small freighter, his hair completely soaked.

The pilot immediately spoke out when he saw the youth approaching through the hallway of the ship, but Xanthier quickly silenced him by drawing the saber from the worn holster at his side, igniting it so that it would impale the man's body as he did so.

Xanthier then yanked the corpse out of the pilot seat, which still bore a smoking hole and sat down. His hands searched for the proper controls, Xanthier could not read, but he had grown familiar with the way most ships operated. He had commandeered more than just a few during his travels.

Yanking back the thrusters to engage full burn of the ships two engines, his fingers then flew across several switches to start the ignition sequence. This would only give him several seconds, but that was all he needed.

Xanthier booked it out of the cockpit, his boots clanking on the metal grates of the hallway as he ran as fast as he could towards the exit. Just as he was about to reach the doorway leading to the exterior ramp, he heard a loud *WOOSH* as the engines ignited with will power, his footing was yanked out from underneath him, and he was thrown out of the ramp and unto the cold metal of the wet dock. His face smacking against the surface.


A loud screech filled the air as the ship scraped across the dock at an incredibly fast speed. Sparks flew and the hull of the ship gouged the dock so badly in places the rain now passed through holes it left behind, falling unto the crystalline surface of the planet far below.

The ship did as it was intended. Xanthier had selected it for just this purpose. It had been facing exactly towards the smaller Empire vessel , which was nearly half the size. The freighter slammed into the Empire ship with all it's might, and even in the driving rain the core burst into flames as it was pushed over the edge into the abyss below. The freighter itself continuing onwards across the sky for some distance before it's angle of trajectory caused it to collide with a nearby mountainside, erupting in a ball of flames.

A bit shaken, the cold rain kept Xanthier focused as he lifted himself up off the ground, but even as he began to stand, he realized things had not gone to plan at all.

@thecrab​

 

[crab]

There was much to be said of the planet Mygeeto.

None of it was positive.

Kaarl had been standing for far too long under a dreary sky as the two stormtroopers shuffled about, loading boxes into the back of a ship. To many, the thought of the mighty Sith conjured up images of powerful and dangerous killers and conquerors. At that moment, Kaarl defied all stereotypes by acting as a glorified floor manager. “It’s all there, sir,” one of the troopers buzzed through her helmet.

“Get in, then, it’s starting to piss rain.” He snarled through his own helmet.

As the hulking man made his first steps onto the ramp of the ship, he heard a most troubling sound. What he initially thought was a crack of thunder was in fact a freighter’s thrusters. A freighter that was now barreling towards his own vessel. With eyes wide, Kaarl made a pathetic attempt at an evasive jump. In what amounted to little more than a belly-flop onto a cold durasteel plate, he just avoided the ramp being swept from under his feet. He raised his head for a moment to see the ships screech off the edge of the landing pad into the ripping seas below.

Shaken and bruised, he slowly made it to his feet. Igniting his blood-red lightsaber instinctively, he gazed around the platform for any signs of life. After taking a few steps further away from the edge of the platform and into the center, he spotted a figure through the misting rain. He gripped his saber in both hands with a defensive posture as he began to stomp towards it, seething with anger.

@Dark child

 

[Dark child]

The dura-steel plates of the dock vibrated under Xanthier's hands as he began to push himself up. So small were the tremors at first, that the youth barely even noticed, but as he lifted himself unto his knees he felt the vibration go up his legs, and upon finally standing it shook his very foundation to some degree. clankclankClankClank! Kaarl's boots caused the steel to reverberate as he ran across the wide dock, the sounds much louder than the steady noise of the driving rain. Xanthier almost stumbled, though it wasn't because the tremors had compromised his footing, but rather the shock of seeing just how big the man truly was. The hulking form was silhouetted in the rain as he charged through the falling droplets. Liquid hissing against the red hot energy of the Sith's blade. Xanthier could not normally feel other's emotions unless they were incredibly strong, and he felt Kaarl's anger surge towards him as he drew near.

The boy's eyes widened in panic, a stark contrast to his pale face. He did not fear the Sith, but he certainly did not want to be bulldozed off the edge by the approaching man. The heels of Xanthier's worn boots skitted on the wet metal underfoot as he took off running. The soles of the boots were so worn down that he had practically been walking around barefoot for the past few months, and now they provided little traction against the slick surface. He was still incredibly fast, managing to gain some distance between him and the Sith, he ducked behind a parked cruiser, hoping that in the least, the Sith would not be able to grab him directly and cast his body off the edge with the force. The environment itself put him at a serious disadvantage. Xanthier preferred the wilds. He was a hunter by nature, and when he did hunt Sith, it was usually on his own terms and turf. This could end badly.​

 

[crab]

“Running will only make it worse!” Kaarl yelled to Xanthier, “It would’ve been easier for both of us if you had just let me half you!”

He was caught in a standoff with the shadowy fellow. The tension grew as both men stood their ground, waiting on the other to make the first move. Looking to catch his breath after that sprint, the Sith Warrior took to taunting his opponent. His booming voice was able to carry over the constant patter of raindrops falling on the deck.

“You don’t look so good! You a spice junkie?” He shouted again, his saber raised in anticipation. “Hope you had a fun high, because you’re about to come down hard.” Searching for any manner of response, Kaarl steeled himself for his foe’s next move.

 

[Dark child]

"Oh I have lots of fun!!"
Xanthier chuckled, pressing his back against the small cruiser and glancing around the corner to see just how far his opponent was. He was high, but not on said spice. The youth craved death almost as much as a junkie. It brought him such great overwhelming joy. Perhaps because taking life gave him control of other things, other beings. No longer was he a helpless animal in a cage, he was free to to what he wished, take what he wanted.

Now, this was not to be mistaken for a Sith's greed. He never sought power. Never wished to have others serve him. Servitude itself was a form of enslavement, and he understood this. Death was something beautiful to Xanthier, a chance to feel no more pain. Every life he took was justified in his eyes. Those who had suffered unto him suffered no more. No mater what agony or strife he caused, death always came after, it was mercy in his twisted mind. Xanthier had known nothing but agony during his short existence, and he'd taken it upon himself to ensure that no others had to share that pain. In years past he would have attempted to slaughter as many in this small port as he could, chaos was wonderful. Yes as he began to understand how things worked in the outside world, he realized that he had one true enemy, and that was the newly forged Empire. The Sith had done unspeakable things to him, and he would make sure that they paid for it. No longer was he an aimless force of destruction, his focus had shifted to completed any tasks that would cripple Empire movements, no matter how small.

A faded boot stepped out from behind the cruiser, the straps that laced it up clinked, sound carried away by the fierce wind. Xanthier's slender frame came into view. Rain pelted his tattered armor, wind blowing his hair about towards the east, a few wet and matted strands of it entering his vision now and then.
"I don't suppose you're one who takes pity?"
Xanthier's lip lifted in a smile, exposing his canines. His voice was that of amusement.
He prepared himself for the blow he knew the Sith would deliver, yet did not draw his saber yet. In fact, through the driving rain, his total figure was difficult to make out. If the Sith really did wish to cut him in two he'd have to advance, something Xanthier greatly wished. Yet he knew that the man was just as capable of sending him flying across the dock with all that pent up hatred, of which Xanthier had little defense against.​

 

[crab]

This was odd. Kaarl had expected the man to be a sniveling knave, begging him for mercy. That’s how the spicers on Coruscant were, at least. But there was something...off about this fellow. He looked like a waterlogged corpse and had a smile that made even the Sith’s skin crawl. The rain kept battering the platform as the two faced each other, giving the coming execution something of a dramatic flair. With a huff, the brute advanced. He was annoyed that his opponent was making him work like this for a simple kill.

He had gone silent since he began his lumbering march. Soon he was about 6 meters away from where the man stood. Without a word, Karl’s left hand left his lightsaber as his arm extended towards Xanthier. A crack emitted from his wrist-launcher, letting fly a capsule. The projectile split apart mid-air, releasing a micro-filament net in his opponent’s direction. Kaarl didn’t waste this chance. Once again assuming a two-handed grip on his saber, he ran towards his ghoulish foe. His tree trunk legs pumped as hard as they could as he held his weapon up in a position to a deliver a strike when the two met.

 

[Dark child]

Yes, come. Come at me brute.

Thought the boy as he watched Kaarl's steadily advancing steps, his fingers trailing across the soaked leather of the lightsaber holster that hung from his belt, stroking it as though it were something living, a treasured pet. The Sith probably thought it was a pistol, the pitiful weapon of a spice junkie. How easy it was to predict the actions of the big man. Had the Sith known Xanthier would be more of a threat he likely would have chosen far more drastic measures. As it was, he almost seemed to be biding his time. So sure was he, that he hadn't bothered to reach outwards with the force and feel the presence of the dark side within the whelp that had killed his men and sent his ship over the edge. The Sith were always consumed by their own hatred, their own actions and thoughts. Only looking at others to discern weaknesses rather than strengths.

Xanthier counted on this.

As the crack emitted from Kaarl's wrist, Xanthier's eyes locked on to the small pellet which headed his way. His fingers instantly wrapping around the cold metal hilt of the saber within the leather holster just as the grid pattern of the net became visible in the pouring rain.

Another flash of red illuminated the face of the boy as he ignited his saber, the light from the blade reflecting in the water as he brought it up to slice cleanly through the net. Xanthier's eyes were not a dull grey as he looked towards the Sith, they were dark, cold, and equal to anything within Kaarl himself.

Stepping forward, a single splash emitted from beneath the tattered boot of the youth as he jumped into the air. Arching over the Sith in a long bound, deactivated his saber midair, boots slamming back down unto the dura-steel of the dock behind Kaarl. He wasted no time, recovering quickly from the jump Xanthier ducked behind the opposite side of the cruiser once more. Enjoying his little game of cat and mouse, hoping to aggravate the Sith even further. Xanther pressed his back against the cold metal, feeling the wet clothes beneath his armor.

"Perhaps I shouldn't show you any pity then either hm?" Xanthier chuckled. His voice just as amused as it had been.

​

 

[crab]

There were two distinct possibilities here. Either this was one acrobatic junkie or Kaarl was facing a bonafide force user. He figured it was the latter. Much to his lumbering displeasure, he was a slippery one to boot. He shook his head. More walking. The ship his foe had ducked behind was large, but seemingly abandoned. The civilians seemed to have scattered as the fight started, so he assumed they wouldn’t mind him using their ship as a stepping stone. Not that he would’ve cared if they had said no. With a slight running start, Kaarl activated the magplates in his boots as his feet made contact with the slight slope of the hull. The rain had picked up as thunder and lightning raged in the dark clouds above, masking the sound of Kaarl’s boots slowly clanking up the ship’s metal plating.

With his lightsaber in his left hand, the Sith drew a Supernova Grenade from his belt, setting it to its impact setting. Winding his arm up to prepare for the throw, he reached the top of the ship. With an underhanded toss, the grenade landed and detonated below, emitting an eardrum-rupturing screech. The screeching was going to last for several more seconds, so Kaarl decided to stay atop the vessel and wait for his foe to rear his ugly head. It was then that he would strike.

 

[Dark child]

Bewilderment overcame the mind of the youth, for Xanthier had not anticipated a strike from above.

The boy's thoughts had drifted to how he could overcome the massive Sith in single combat. The element of surprise was usually on his side, and the boy had no mercy for those that followed the Empire. Yes, he could try to escape, but where was the fun in that? The challenge. If he truly wished to lay waste to Sith, then he would have to face them at every given chance, push his own limits. Even if it ended up costing him as it had in the past. Xanthier's hearing was still incredibly sharp, but after loosing part of his ear to that Imperial on Correlia, it was slightly off, and this irked him greatly. For every battle won, he bore the scars. There were no true victories, no instances where he could consider himself a victor. Each and every one had cost him something. The Sith took and took from the boy, but only because he let them. It was his own fault for diving into the fray, yet he could never stop himself. It always felt right. The decision to fight was the only one he was capable of making, and Xanther would choose it again and again no matter what the odds were. The Empire deserved death, to choke on it's own hate. To be at the mercy of others and feel the pain of oppression just as Xanthier had for many years past.

His breath was low and steady as he waited for his opponent to make a move, braced against the metal of the hull as the rain pelted it's surface. Xanther was ready to counter should the Sith attempt to shove the ship of the edge, in fact, this is what he had predicted, but Xanthier had been wrong about the brute, very wrong. Kaarl was strong, his movements slow, but his wits were sharp. Just as sharp as the pale boy himself.

The rain and the thunder impeded Xanthier greatly. The youth had always relied on his physical senses to compensate for his lack of perceiving things with the force. All were greatly amplified by his paranoia. The fear that others were coming for him at any given time was not a foolish one. To hunt and be hunted was the life he lived, and as such he was always on alert.

The thunder masked Kaarl's footsteps against the plates of the ship, and the rain obscured Xanthier's vision and further added to the background noise as it pounded against the metal dock. It wasn't until Kaarl's last step, that Xanthier heard his rival. Backing away from the hull in response to the clank he had heard, Xanthier looked upwards, his expression changing to one of shock and anger, teeth becoming barred.

But it was far too late. Kaarl thrust the grenade over the ledge and Xanthier had just enough time to watch it's decent and impact with the ground just two or three meters if front of him.

Immediately there was a flash of light and a loud concussive blast that deafened his ears almost instantly. His vision reduced to nothing but blinding light.

Stumbling even further away from the ship Xanthier tripped over himself, his senses disoriented.

Flashes pulsed and even continued when he closed his eyes. His ears could hear nothing. He felt alone and abandoned, betrayed by his own senses. Within his hand he ignited the crimson blade of the saber, something which usually made him feel so secure now gave him no comfort. His eyes could not perceive it's glow, his ears could not hear it's hiss.

He shoved himself further away from where he thought the grenade had impacted, it's effects still continuing as it blared horrible noise and cast out light in every direction. No matter how far he crawled, Xanthier felt like he could not escape it.

The doctors at the facility that had raised him had only taught him galactic basic so that they could inquire about their tests, and now, in the blinding light, he recalled one conversation vividly.

------------------

"Now lift it."
The com system voiced a scientist's command. A simple task.

Xanthier's hand shook as he extended it outwards. Every vein that trailed up his arm he could see, with the utmost clarity, they extended outwards towards fingers that were much larger now then they had been then. He remembered how excruciating the serums in the IV had felt coursing through those veins. The very same IV that was connected to his arm at this moment.

Such great strain passed through the boy's body, so much so that his fingers tensed in a way that was utterly unnatural. The object failed to move. A nearly weightless disk designed to be lifted unto a cone. Something most force users would have no difficulty with. Xanthier's strength did not lie within typical boundaries and they failed to see this. Instead, they chose to put him up against tasks which he had not been able to achieve since the start in the hopes of one day breaking in his abilities.

Sweat dripped down from his shaven head unto his cheeks and neck, arm muscles burning from fatigue, yet he continued to try.

After several minutes of this, the observers finally grew tired of the failed attempts.

Even through the thick walls of the white cell he could hear them.

"If he lacks the concentration, then he will learn to block out any interruptions."

Xanthier's hand trembled even more. Desperation had began to set in.
Such horrible things happened when they were not pleased.

"A moment! Just a moment!"
Pleaded the boy as tears began to form, clouding his vision. The small droplets beginning to streak down his face as he still tried to lift the device.

His cries were unanswered, for shortly after the lights grew in intensity and sirens began to blare.
Sirens that would drone on and on for days till he no longer knew sleep nor sanity.

He had been eleven then.

-----------------

Now, as his vision slowly began to return, and his hearing remained nothing but static, Xanthier forced himself to his feet. The grenade had played out it's last burst of energy, fizzling out in a series of sparks.

Xanthier's knuckles tightened, fingers gripping the hilt of his saber with unnecessary force. Grey eyes looked upwards towards where he had last seen his opponent, as cold and unforgiving as the steel that surrounded them. Hatred burned within the boy, and it begged to be released.

There would be no more running now.
No more tricks.
Unbridled force would clash against focused strength.


​

 

[crab]

He waited for Xanthier to scramble away, but that time never came. He simply stood on top of the ship as the grenade sputtered off. He once again peaked his helmeted head over the side to inspect the scene below. He was met by the piercing gaze of his opponent, standing resolute in the face of the Sith with a red lightsaber burning to match his own. He wasn’t running. Kaarl cracked a smile underneath his visor before igniting his own saber. Disengaging the magplates in his boots, he took a short hop off the top of the cruiser and landed with a thud on the slick deck below. They were mere meters apart.

Rising from a braced crouch, he once again placed both hands on the hilt of the saber. Kaarl locked eyes with the rogue Force user, seeing nothing but they grey eyes of a corpse. Whatever this thing was, it needed to die. With that in mind, he charged it. His saber was raised up and to the right for a strong downwards strike through the collarbone. The game of cat and mouse was over. Now it was a fight.

 

[Dark child]

The massive being landed with a Clank in front of the cruiser. Physically denting the metal beneath his boots slightly before rising to his full height out of the position he had used distribute the force of the fall through his body.

Xanthier shook his dark unruly locks, which had became soaked in the driving rain. Water droplets were flung from the strands of hair. This was more of an attempt to regain his hearing than anything else. His ears picked up nothing. Not even the sound of the rain that poured down around them, not even the clank that Kaar's boots had made on impact. They felt as though they were full of water, water so deep that it blocked out all sound. A few strands of black hair stuck to his face as the icy wind blew them against the cold white surface of his cheeks. Kaarl's boots once again rang out in the noise of the storm, but Xanthier could only see the Sith moving in silence as the rain pelted against his armor.

Feigning the stance which he had seen many Jedi use in the past, he waited for Kaarl to close the distance. While he knew nothing about the form Soresu, he did know that the Jedi that used it were pathetically weak in offense and almost relied entirely on counters to maintain any chance of winning at all. Xanthier's style was quite the opposite of this. Vicious and fast paced. Based off of jabs and quick slices. So it was that in adopting this stance that he would throw the Sith off guard, and land a strike of his own while the Sith anticipated a vastly different reaction.

Kaarl brought his blade down on Xanthier's own, as the boy shifted into a parry. Yet Xanthier was foolish in that he lacked the training to pull off such a defensive measure. The angles in which the blades came together in an angry hiss were completely wrong. Instead of directing the force of Kaarl's blade towards the ground and away from his body, Xanthier took the brunt of the blow directly to the lower part of his short blade, pressing all that force against his hands and through his body. To compound the problem his footing was poor, not at all in a good stance to drive Kaarl's blade away.

The Sith's incredibly forceful angled slash slammed into Xanthier's lightsaber, immediately causing his feet to slip on the slick metal surface of the dock, the worn down soles of his boots doing little to stop this. Xanthier's own blade became pressed up against the shoulder plate of his armor as the momentum continued, melting some of the metal which then heated the entire armor plate, burning the flesh beneath with radiant heat even through his soaked undershirt beneath, which gave off steam. The force of the blow directed the youth's entire body downwards, his feet slipping out from under him. Xanthier's chest slammed into the plating of the dock first, followed by his chin. Kaarl's blade continued on it's path while it was still pressed against Xanthier's when he fell, but slipped off as the pressure was released. Causing the blade to slide off and miss Xanthier's body by several centimeters as he fell.

Far from defeated, Xanthier quickly lifted himself unto one knee and braced his foot against the ground, shifting his lightaber into his weaker left hand to compensate for what he was about to attempt. Launching himself off his primed foot and closing the short distance between him and his opponent, he pounced towards Kaarl's exposed abdomen. The Sith was already recovering from his missed swing however, and Xanthier could tell that even before the servant of the Empire had returned to a proper stance that he would have to block Kaarl's saber once more. Using his left hand to block Kaar's saber, Xanthier brought his right fist upwards in a uppercut aimed at Kaarl's throat. Xanthier knew many of the body's weaknesses, having been exposed to nearly all of them himself. Crushing in the Sith's windpipe would definitely hinder him. Hopefully enough to deliver a finishing blow...​

 

[crab]

The haze of the two red sabers clashing in the mist of rain was somewhat overwhelming to Kaarl. Overwhelming enough to miss the fist flying into his his bodyglove-covered neck. It was forceful and surprising enough that a gagging croak escaped the Sith’s lips. Stumbling back and losing ground on their current clash, his eyes became fiery underneath the cold, black visor of his helmet. Pushing all of his weight forward, he forced down his foe’s saber with his right hand as his left arm winded up for a punch. With a fury, his tree-trunk like bicep exploded forward, sending a brick-like fist towards Xanthier’s jaw.

****​

“Killer Kaarl! Killer Kaarl!” Their voices seemed to echo around him. It was dark in the lower level, the only light was the flickering of a ruined storefront’s sign. It was all he needed to see his handiwork. His fists rained down on the boy’s face in an almost mechanical rate. He was unfeeling and unmoving as the face turned into an unrecognizable red mass.

The massive boy stood, his knuckles dark with bruises and blood, looking down on his opponent like a bored art gallery patron. This was his life now. “Let’s see him cross the Hounds again after this!” “I think you killed him, Goon! Killer Kaarl got another one!” The voices cheering around him barely registered. He could only hear one thing in his mind.

“Never let this place change you, Kaarl. You are a good boy at heart. This galaxy needs more young men like you.”

Nan. Her name struck in his mind like a chord. Why didn’t I listen?

****​

Separated again, Kaarl glared at Xanthier, snarling like a wild beast. His saber was raised, ready to clash again.

“Try that again, boy. You have more teeth to lose.”

 

[Dark child]

With a sickening crunch Kaarl's fist slammed into Xanthier's lower jaw.

The boy's mouth had sill been partially open in a frenzied snarl as his own fist connected with Kaarl's throat. Xanthier felt the soft flesh of the man give way to his bony hand as he crushed in the thin layer of shock absorbent cloth of the bodyglove, but was ripped from the reality of a small victory by the massive fist which impacted his own person.

The blow sent Xanthier to the ground once more, his armor scraping against the surface of the wet metal. He did not travel a great distance, merely snapped backwards by the force of the punch he lay directly in front of Kaarl's feet.

Blood. The taste of it lined his mouth. Metallic and that of iron.

Shoving himself away in an almost pitiful attempt to gain some distance between his attacker, Xanthier now saw that the helmet had been removed, revealing a face that he had almost expected. Kaarl had a strong set jaw, which was now clenched out of fury, bulky cheek bones and a nose that looked like it had been broken before. The Sith spoke, but Xanthier did not hear his words. Overall the boy looked like a bewildered animal, out of it's element and stripped of everything that made it look dangerous.

Xanthier shifted his body weight, lifting himself up off the ground using only his leg muscles alone, his entire appearance raggedy.

Standing in a much more open stance, he held his saber outwards, inviting Kaarl to try and come finish him off. His grey eyes were dead set, but were more of a concentrated rage rather than deep set hatred, feet spread apart at a more even an believable distance than his more sloppy Soresu form from earlier. His jaw pained him, but it was nothing that he could not bear.
​

 

[crab]

In the midst of the struggle, Kaarl’s helmet came flying off his head, landing with a loud thunk on the deck. Immediately his bare skin was assaulted by the downpour of rain. He turned his amber eyes towards Xanthier, who had managed to scramble away after the hit. Kaarl was impressed. The waif could certainly take a beating. He only wished he would stand still long enough for him to test that pain threshold.

It was then that he saw his foe’s invitation to attack. Both hands once again clasped on the hilt of the lightsaber, he took a wide step forward. Sweeping upwards with all his might, he attempted to bat away the opposing crimson saber. If the attack succeeded, he would use the momentum of the sweep to transition into a horizontal strike aimed at Xanthier’s torso. It was a risky move to be sure, but decisive action was needed on his part if he was to keep the momentum. The last thing he needed was for the boy to slip through his fingers again.

 

[Dark child]

Blood pooled within Xanthier's mouth, stemming from deep gouges left by his own teeth. Kaarl's fist had connected with his jaw, clamping his teeth together against the soft flesh of his left cheek. This had dampened the blow to his teeth themselves yet Xanthier still felt an aching throb towards the back of his jaw.

The boy swallowed the warm liquid. Refusing to open his mouth and reveal any injuries that would deem him even weaker in the eyes of the Sith, his expression remained dead set. Jaws clamped tightly, eyes locked on his foe as Kaarl aimed to deliver another powerful strike with his saber.

Xanthier side stepped, using the worn soles of his boots to his advantage he slid a very short distance across the dock. His blade fizzed as it moved through the driving rain, connecting with Kaarl's as the brute recovered from his failed upward slash. Xanthier would continue to deliver ever increasing short counters for as long as the Sith would allow. Limiting Kaarl's movements, forcing his large body to compensate with smaller strikes which did not leave any room for him to use his full strength against the battered youth. Xanthier made no moves to jab at weaknesses. The boy had been careless, it was time to derive where the flaws lied within the Sith's form. Xanthier's spontaneous blows seemed to have no rhythm, but they were still incredibly fast. Fast enough to challenge any form of defense.
​