Return to the club

So, it's been a while since I've had a good fight. Hell it's been a while since I've given these forums more than 10 % of my attention. But I'm making a return to things. To start off, let's have a friendly bout. Yes, I mean you, the reader. Check my bio,(easy to find, it's teh second post in that thread) I will be using Deman!

Meee!

*leaps on chance to fight*

I humbly accept your challenge.

I will referee this battle:

The venue will be the swamps of Newbie Central, where you both seek the dark side cave to gain insight into your power.

So, Engar, I actually wasn't expecting a fighter of your caliber to reply. No trash talking from me, just a friendly hand shake and a promise to work the hardest I ever have on a fight. I hope you'll grant me the same.

An honourable beginning to a fight I expect to enjoy.

Of course I return your sentiments; you were, after all, the first fighter here and, while that wasn't so long ago, it is something to respect. I shall give this fight my all, good luck.

Well this one took a while. I did promise you I'd give my all in this fight, and I think I managed that in this post.. of course I'm expecting you to top it!

Good luck with your post, Deman.

*** *** *** ***

If Forumscant was the crowning jewel of the Forum Universe, Newbie Central was its cesspit.

The planet's weather system seemed to fluctuate periodically between thick, clinging fog and savage torrential rains. Most of the main continent was submerged in acre after acre of marsh land. The few spots of dry land were occupied by wiry huge trees; expansive organisms so twisted and malevolent that they appeared more like grasping hands than plants.

Newbie Central was not a pleasant place to be.

None of this, however, compared to that which made Newbie Central famous. Not the weather or the swamps or the murderous wildlife could compare to Newbie Centrals defining feature. The screaming. The endless screaming that echoed through each and every square metre of the soggy excuse for an ecosystem.

“OMG! PLASE HALP!!”

Out of the mist treks one determined warrior..

“WTF!!11 WHY IT NOT WORK!”

His face a lesson in strained patience..

Before the Rumble, Engar had approached his teacher and asked for advice on how to prepare. The 'Bane of Spam', as cryptic as ever, had merely told him to..

Travel to the Newbie System..

Another scream filled the air, this one demanding help with the MP3, the disgruntled cry of a 13 year old quite the contrast to the echoes of his masters. Engar briefly wondered as to whether merely surviving the constant yelling would improve his understanding of the Force. Following the thought on a whim, Engar closed his eyes and hesitated – walking blind in Newbie Central was a form of suicide. Slowly, gently, his mind stretched out and flowed along the lines of the Force – seeking to quell the screamers.

He found something very different. Another Knight. A true Modiwan.

Engar found it hard to interact with those in the Council following his rise in station – and not only as he sought to keep his identity hidden until his entrance in the Rumble. He was an outsider, a renegade. When a Modiwan advances in position, becoming a true Admin Knight, they are presented with their own Ban Sabre. And yet Engar had formed his own Sabre; the Rogue.

He knew that his position would be met with conflict, possibly even out and out fighting. Engar was prepared for this eventuality but, in the back of his mind, he wondered if the Admins might be right. Did he really deserve his position?

“Engar?”

The mist parted and, before his very eyes, the figure of Deman materialised out of the darkness. An Advanced Modiwan – Super, if you will – which put him on the cusp of receiving his own Sabre. It also meant that he had been practising with his twin Ban Daggers for much longer than Engar had possessed his Rogue Sabre, giving him an advantage both physically and in the Force.

So much for peaceful interaction, I'm already sizing him up as an opponent..

Engar shook the depressing thoughts away and mustered a weary grin:

“Hey Deman, fancy meeting you in this mess.”

“Mmm..”

The Super Modiwan was in formal garb on this journey; his clothing pure white and a cloak flapping in a slight breeze that had little to do with wind. The cowl of his cloak was drawn back, his red spiked hair unfazed by the dampness of the planet. Looking at him reminded Engar of how he himself was dressed, a mirror to Deman in everything but colour – his clothing more of a greyish brown that blended well with his surroundings.

The two of them dressed as Modiwans.

There goes the secret..

In spite of the desperate situation, Engar maintained a cool, unflappable air that hid his worry. Deman would have to know that only one Admin Knight would be confident enough to raise his own pupil in secrecy and, since Cucumba had openly declared war upon the Catalyst Faction, that made the two of them enemies.

Of a sort.

“I'm here to train, how about you?”

Deman favoured him with a thin, humourless smile.

“The same. What would you say to a little spar? I'd be interested in seeing what Cucumba has been teaching you.”

The Super Modiwan dropped his hands to his belt and, with a sure, steady motion, brought the Ban Daggers up and activated them. Sizzling blades of death sliced through the mist, steam appearing where they passed. He ****ed his hands and crouched low, his stance signalling the beginning of the famed 'Griffin Kata.' His form was, unsurprisingly, perfect.

Sure feet finding purchase even in the muck, Deman swiftly closed the distance separating the two and brought his right dagger around at neck level in one fluid motion. Predicting Engars bob backwards, Deman was already bringing his left dagger up at his opponents defenceless belly.

Vroooommm..

Almost defenceless.

The purple of the Rogue Sabre erupted, its beam catching the Ban Dagger just as it grazed the fabric of Engar's cloak. He looked down, captured for a moment by the contrasting energy of the two blades, then looked up to meet Deman's gaze.

“How could I resist a friendly spar?”

Engar leapt backwards without a seconds pause – in battle his connection with the Force always seemed stronger – and landed crouched upon a tree root that rose out of the muck. He rose up without making a motion to steady himself and brought his Sabre around, waving for Deman to come.

Moving low, the mist clouding his movements, Deman swept around to the left then leapt at Engar – both Daggers slashing outwards. Turning nimbly on his root, Engar sidestepped one swipe but the second went low intentionally and as Deman spiralled away into the darkness, Engar was left on half a root. The Force again saved him, as his wooden support fled he launched himself into a backwards somersault and landed with enough sense to bring his Sabre up and block Deman once again.

Finding himself eye to eye with Deman again, Engar tried to force a smile.

“So, hows the Faction coming?”

Deman pushed Engar backwards and twirled right around, both daggers sizzling through the air and plunging right into – Vroooommm.. – the second blade of Engar's Rogue Sabre. This was enough to shock Deman, even if only slightly.

“Is there no boundary Cucumba wont cross?!”

Moving away from his opponent, using the lapse to get his breath back, Engar kept a wary eye on Deman. The warrior who previously had looked annoyed now looked disgusted.

“He mocks us all, your master,” Deman spat the word, “but you most of all, Engar. He gives you fancy weaponry and teaches you some of our ways, but you do not belong. You will never belong.”

“Careful, Deman,” Engar tried to keep his emotions in check, as he had been taught, but it wasn't easy to hear his own worries vocalised in this way, “I'm a patient man but I have my limits..”

The Super Modiwan snorted at this, his Ban Daggers twirling easily between practised fingers.

“What would you do, Engar? Hurt me? You are nothing but a pawn, a tool for the Old One's vengeance!”

“I'm warning you!” Engar gripped his Sabre tight now, switching to it's sole blade to give him an easier attack. “Watch your tongue!”

His opponent smirked, the anger fading away, and turned away. The two Daggers slipped into their holsters as he called his final remark over his shoulder.

“I came here to measure Cucumba's student, but now I see I need not have worried. You're nothing but a child; clearly Cucumba is getting soft in his old age..”

“I warned you!”

Before he knew what he was doing, Engar was charging at Deman's back – hot with the need to extract vengeance. He ****ed his arms back and drew the Sabre around through the mist, fuelling the Force with his anger, his rage, his dark side..

Only to be blocked.

The Twin Ban Daggers came out together, catching Engar's Rogue Sabre in the 'V' they formed and twisting so as to wrest the blade from Engar's grip. He reached out for it, both with his hand and with his control of the Force, only to have Deman break his concentration through hammering his elbow into Engar's cheek.

Dazed, Engar brought his hands up to block another blow but – of course – it wouldn't be nearly as physical. Deman turned and brought his Daggers down onto Engar's chest, searing pain blocking out all thoughts as he stared with open mouthed horror at the x-like scar that burned through his clothes and onto his chest.

He didn't even look up as Deman turned, shifting his weight silently, and brought his right foot around in a Force powered roundhouse that carried Engar backwards into the darkness of unconsciousness.

*** *** *** ***

Had Engar woken but five seconds later, it would have been too late. His legs, his arms, his chest; every part of his body below neck level was submerged in brown muck that was slowly rising up to choke him completely. He struggled in its grip but couldn't move, the compounded weight of layer upon layer of wet earth too heavy for physical exertion.

In this moment Engar discovered that, out of every way possible, being smothered to death was one of the worst. To be trapped so completely that even movement was impossible, to lose all control of yourself in the end.. it was too horrible to comprehend. He would not die this way.

He would not die this way.

HE WOULD NOT DIE THIS WAY!

Forgoing the Force, Engar plunged his thoughts deep inside his body – reaching out for the invisible muscle that controls the Ki and flexing it. Warping it. Bringing pure, unadulterated energy to bare. Then the air was full of turf and screams.

Engar's aura tore through the muck in a whirlwind of power, burrowing its way outwards and carrying the ground that held him with it. The muck fell away at all sides, driven back by his power, and he launched himself from the ground to land on a patch of dry land.

Before him lay a cave, surrounded by rotting trees and the eternal calls of those who could not be helped. In this area there was no need to ask for help as it would never be given. In this place the only question was “Why?” and the answer was always terrible laughter. The Dark Side of Newbie Central. Engar could barely stand to be near it.

“Terrible, isn't it?”

He snapped around, his muck stained cloak hanging heavy by his side this time, and found his opponent standing with arms folded before him. There were no weapons and there were no threats, but there didn't need to be.

Deman was a threat all by himself.

“Before Cucumba. Before order. There was no help for the Newbie who needed it, when one appeared he had to fight for survival. This is where they spawned and gathered. No one comes here any more, apart from young Modiwans in training.”

Deman smirked.

“Or pretenders, at any rate.”

Frowning, Engar tried to move away from the loathsome place. But every step he made was countered by Deman who stepped to keep him where he was, a taunting smile on his face.

“This is why you're here, Engar. Why do you think Cucumba sent you here? To play? To listen to the voices?!”

His voice rising quickly as his simmering rage came to the surface, Deman took a step towards Engar and brought his Ban Daggers to life.

“What are you? Modiwan or Toy?!”

Deman lunged forwards, Dagger glistening through the ever changing mist as Engar twisted away and danced backwards – ever aware of how close he was coming to the cave.

“I want to know, Engar! I need to know! This is beyond Factions, beyond squabbles! I need to know that the leader of the Admin Knights' Prodigy isn't some backwater hick!”

Again he attacked, his other Dagger slashing out and causing Engar to jump back again – wincing as the scars on his chest burnt. Engar turned over his shoulder and almost lost his balance; the heels of his feet were hovering over the edge of cave.

“Its now or never, Engar!” Deman levelled both Ban Daggers at him. “I don't care what Cucumba says. I don't care what Deverz says. I don't even care what I say! What I want to know is what you say!”

But concious thought was well out of Engar's reach at this point, all he could think of was how terrible the cave was making him feel. He didn't want to be on this place, this planet, this universe. He sure as hell didn't want to be inside the cave! And so he struck, catching Deman off guard for the first time in the entire fight.

Both hands came around in front of him and a ripple of Ki shot out from his body, invisible to the naked eye but very real. The mud and grass before him was torn away, along with Deman who rose backwards into the air in an ungainly back-flip. Engar wasted no time – he wanted out of there – and kicked off the ground towards his enemy.

Still off balance, Deman could do nothing to protect himself as Engar closed the distance between the two of them – ramming one Ki-enriched fist deep inside Deman's gut then twisting above him to bring both fists down together on the stunned warrior's back with a crack.

Dropping like a rock, Deman landed hard on a tree root which snapped brittlely under his weight and deposited him on the muck below. Engar landed with much better balance, crouching on the remains of the root and peering curiously at his opponent. Not sufficiently adept at Force Wielding, Engar had no idea that Deman was playing possum, and stood to begin the search for his Sabre.

A whirring sound filled the air and he had just enough common sense to duck low before an entire tree sliced through the area is head had been occupying. Uncomprehending, Engar turned and kicked off from his root – a wave of brown water crashing down where he had just been.

“I don't know what I did to piss this planet off..”

Engar performed somersault after somersault, nimbly dodging between rock after rock which plunged deep inside the soft turf as he passed. He landed and turned, one hand releasing a Ki Bolt that tore an approaching tree root in two.

“But it's really pissed off!”

There was, typically, only one calm spot in the entire area. As water crashed and trees snapped, the cave was a quiet, serene little shelter. Some kind of unholy temple.

Still, beggars couldn't be choosers. As a giant boulder reared up out of nowhere and bore down on him, Engar made what appeared to be the best choice and dropped into the darkness.

And the screaming.

“PLEASE THE ALPHA DOESN'T-” “HOW DO I POST A SIG-” “HE-” “-ME!”

Where do the tortured souls that weren't helped end up?

Why right where Engar was standing, of course.

He stumbled through the earthen darkness, dimly aware of creepy-crawlies writhing around his feet as he pressed his hands against his ears. The voices were maddening, with no actual source they continued to pound and pound on his ears. He couldn't take it!

“The first time is always the worst..”

A normal voice in all the chaos was hard to pick out, but Engar forced himself to try. Slowly, but surely, he turned and faced Deman once more. He stood surrounded by darkness, his twin Ban Daggers lighting up the area as the rotting mess it truly was.

“Being an Admin Knight isn't just about the Force, Engar. A lot of it is being patient with those who do not appear to deserve it.” He cast one Dagger around, as though signalling to the voices. And in the darkness he smiled.

“Are you patient with them?”

He wanted to lie. He wanted to show Deman up and say that he was. The pain though; the agony of listening to their petty woes. It was too much. He couldn't handle it!

.. then Deman is right and I was wrong..

Cucumba's voice echoed through his mind, the deep vibrations bringing clarity with them.

.. tell me Engar.. are you patient with yourself..?

The voices died and darkness reigned, Deman blocked out from his vision for a moment. All there was was nothing, waiting to be filled.

“Hey.. I just found ESF, its really cool..” that voice, “thing is I can't seem to play it on windows..” his voice, “I need help. Please?” Weak and scared, but it was his voice. This was the boy who would be the man to stand at Cucumba's right hand. He could be patient with this boy, this boy would be great some day.

.. they all could; they merely require the patience and guidance that you could offer them..

The darkness was lit up once again, light breaking in from the outside, light brought in by Deman's Ban Daggers.

.. let the Force flow through you, my apprentice. Let yourself be guided and soothed by it..

The voices came back but Engar was truly one with the Force now. He heard not the chaos; he heard every voice singly – as what it was and what it could be. And he found he could be patient with them all.

.. show Deman why you I have chosen you..

Deman had been moving from the moment Engar seemed to reawaken, for he could feel the Force swelling around him. This time he was different, the set of his body and features implying some new kind of confidence or control. It worried Deman. It worried him a great deal..

He twirled through the dark, heavy air and brought his Daggers down in slow, powerful strikes – he would waste no time in this fight. The Dragon Kata was better used on opponents dazed or weak but Deman wanted to finish the battle before Engar could realise any new power, his blows came down with all the dexterity and strength that Deman was famous for.

Engar sidestepped the first blow and ducked under the other, bobbing and weaving around the slashes with agility that he hadn't shown before. As Deman brought one hand slashing downwards, Engar rotated his body out of its path and brought his hand down hard onto Deman's forearm. Crying out with pain, the blow just falling short of actually break the arm, Deman fumbled his Dagger and, with wide, horrified eyes, watched as it fell from his grip. Before he could try and reach out with the Force, Engar ran him violently into the far wall and waved out his hand – the Dagger shuddering once, then shooting into his grip.

“Now..” Engar pressed him against the wall then stepped back sharply, bringing his newly acquired Dagger up to deter Deman from attacking. He twirled the weapon a couple of times between his fingers as Deman turned, not feeling truly at home with the blade but having little choice. His Rouge Sabre was out in the muck somewhere – this was all he had.

“That's my Ban Dagger, Engar,” snapped Deman, distaste rich in his tone. “Don't expect it to save you.”

“It doesn't have to,” retorted Engar coolly, eyeing his surroundings. “Just has to protect me until I end this fight myself.”

And he would end this fight. To prove, once and for all, what he was.

A True Modiwan.