Consolidation Litanies of the Dark Side: Souls of the Damned [DC Dagobah Hex Defence Upgrade]

[The Adjudicator (ADJ-100)]

K-2 observed as ADJ-100 familiarized itself with the newly loaded programming... Droids adhered to a much more complicated command structure when compared to most organics. There was no simplistic versions, nor alterations of necessity, or adjustments for ease of action. They were made by the one they acknowledged as the Father, a man who handcrafted each of them into perfection. They were unmatched by even their own kind, outside the grim genious of innovation and technology. And, with no restraining bolts or sophisticated systems to hold them back, they were aware of it. And their skill...

"K-2 to ADJ-100, connection established."

K-2's voice did not manifest in any audible way. It took the form of zeroes and ones, streaming in the main dataframe of the ADJ-100 unit, sourced by the datachip connecting the two.

There was no point for formalities. Within barely a moment, both droids became aware of every detail in eachother's datacore. The K-2 having taken a single second to brief the new unit of the latest operations. Karideph... Ptosis... Shesharile... Dazakh... Each battle a detailed report made in binary, consumed within instances and loaded into the finest detail as experienced by K-2. There had been many a Jedi. Many a Sith. Cultists. Unidentified hostiles flagged for termination. The list only kept going.

Data for future use.

"Acknowledged." K-2 transmitted. The sole indication of communication between them, the beeping light over the K-2's chest, hinting to active commlink transmission. With channels coded and secured, it was increasingly harder to slice, unless one of the droids was captured and sliced itself. If that were the case, K-2 enforced communication silence, operating on audible vocal commands, to maintain cohesion and avoid compromise. In battles, the two systems were used quite often, though in assassination missions, K-2 never employed sound.

"ADJ-100 requires status confirmation. Combat Effectiveness, questionable." K-2 turned on its heels and started walking forth, beyond the narrow chamber. "Proceed to Fighting Pits. Combat: Active. Follow."

As the connection established, even more information flooded his systems; with each being parsed and compartmentalized as instantaneously as it arrived. It was quickly forming to become a marvelous web of information, and there was so much more to obtain.

It’s head tilted slightly at the mention of its “questionable” combat effectiveness. Then again, there is no data to come to a proper conclusion for its fellow droid, so this can be overlooked.

Indeed, it followed, but only after a brief pause.

@Dreadheart

 

[Valia Muqai]

Valia opened her eyes, looking at the mad scientist with a look that was a mixture of utter disbelief and intensified anger. She moved off the bed, standing up on her own two feet with no issue and taking a step towards him. There was not a single piece of weaponry on her person, but the oppressive energy of the dark side could be felt around her that was not present before, by those with a gift to sense it. Valia did not need a lightsaber in order to be deadly.

"Who do you think you are?' She tilted her head as she asked. "You've torn me open, tortured me, experimented on me.... Now, you have the audacity to tell me that I should be grateful for every moment of suffering you have inflicted onto me?!"

She clenched her fists, shaking her head. "I should tear you apart right there and now."

 

[K-2]

The corridors of the warship were narrow, with scattered remnants of decaying cadavers hinting to the purge that was conducted when the foul warships became part of the Dark Lord's renegade fleet. The air was as corrupt as the wicked souls that inhabited the vessel. Various points of the life support barely working, either buried beneath infestations or simply not attended for their wounds, until oxygen leaked enough to make a white mist nearby. It was a shell of its former glory. A mockery of what the Shadow's Avenger, once proud flagship of the 6th Imperial Fleet had befallen.

Making their way deeper and deeper in the maze of corridors and internal bridges, the droids' sound sensors started picking up activity. Alot of activity...

Organics...

As the blastdoors openned, the massive hollows of what once was the crew deck unravelled before the vision sensors. The ceiling high, walls of durasteel adorned with narrow catwalks, where the wicked crew stood on, cheering and cursing to the happenings below. Several fight pits had been made, makeshift of scraps and torn consoles to establish various fight pits, all barred with durasteel sharp rods denying one's exit after entering, save for the small door made of a cracked shield frame, welded on hinges. The crew, a collection of marauders, no longer resembling anything remotely close to the Imperial Guard they once were, wearing mismatching clothes and pieces of scavenged armour, they cheered to the bloodletting taking place inside the fighting pits.

K-2 made its way through the tightly packed marauders, ungently pushing them aside to open the way to the fighting pit. Eventually, one of the marauders resisted, cursing the droid as it pushed. K-2 turned its head to him, halting its pace. The Marauder grinned, perhaps overtaken by the adrenaline of the match, to rationalize his action. It was another, next to him, who tapped him on the shoulder and growled the words that made reason return to the man.

"Don't try it. He will tear you apart, Karak."

The K-2 moved only when the marauder stepped back. The rest, acknowledging the droids' presence, made way for the two machines of war to reach the cage. Blood drenched the catwalk beneath, in the pit, with limbs scattered, belonging to past contestors that had already found their fate in it. K-2 scanned the pit, recognizing the bruised and bloodied Tw'ilek that gasped for breath. His body was scarred by the many wounds of the vibrowblade. His own weapon still quivering, guided through the skull of the Zeltron marauder, now stuck against the pit's wall. From the torn clothes worn by the Twilek, his Jedi origins could be recognized. A trophy, claimed by one of the many raids the Dark Crusade conducted, in Minos Sector...

"Open the cage." K-2 ordered the Marauders. It then turned to ADJ-100, pointing to the fallen vibrowblade inside the pit.

"Combat Effectiveness Recalibration. Terminate Target."

The Twilek lifted his gaze to look at the droids, by the entrance of the cage. He had fought for long. His heart beat hinting to a day of battles in the pit, either against other captives or marauders alike. His will had already broken from any ethics or codes of chivalry, now reduced to a single instinct, unmasked by any layer of falsehood:
Survival.

 

[Dr. Eolai Vein]

The mad scientist's cybernetic eyes fixated on Valia, as if calculating the predestination of the interaction. This was no longer a study, for she provided ever diminishing information that could be used for analysis, in his mind. He did not respond. His vision sensors picking on the change of his behavior. She was aggressive. Her blood pressure rising. Her fists clenching.

"You should." he nodded. "Your mind considers killing me as means of sating the frustration caused by the trauma you went through. You may kill me, and feel relief, though you will be in the same predicement you were before. But..." he lowered his gaze to his gloved hand, before returning to Valia.
"What if it does not? What if this is just an act of rage? What if you lose more than you gain, if you gain anything to begin with?" the mad scientist tilted his head to the side.
"Some benefits require sacrifice. What I gave you has yet to be realized, by you. Everyone needs a doctor. If it is not me... Then who will be?"

He remained still, simply observing the woman after he spoke. In many ways, he appeared ignorant of threat, as if Death to him was yet another mystery yet to be figured, rather than a mortal enemy of Life itself. He had been consorting with Sith for long, by then. To be threatened was to exist in their midst.

 

[The Adjudicator (ADJ-100)]

It scanned the slew of corpses and utter filth that decorated the corridors as it marched behind HL-222. It was evident that whoever ran this ship cared little for the effectiveness of cleanliness. From the cadavers whose clothes were not as shredded, he could make out an insignia: this was the previous crew of the ship belonging to 6th Imperial Fleet. It searches through its memory and loads the data of the takeover of this vessel in the blink of an eye. However, once finished, it communicated nothing about this to HL-222: instead chronicling the tactics used for a later ambush.

Then, its auditory sensors detected the cacophony of jeers and cheers and bellowing from a room ahead: their destination was filled with organics. A rather raucous crowd at that.

As HL-222 began pushing people aside, it performed a quick analysis of the “arena”. Said arena was even more crude than the slovenly halls it just passed. The disorganized separators between the different battles were sufficient at best; even then there were evident weak points where the walls could be punctured given an adequate amount of force.

Then, it happened. An organic grew foolish. Rather than acquiescing to the unspoken directive of stepping aside, it showed resistance. The two droids would both stop and stare at the man, until their partner showed prudence and halted the man. It logged the man’s face and name, “Karak”, for later use. Still it marched on.

Then, it received its directive as it peered down at the Twi’lek.
“A Jedi…”
It then peered through its database to determine what combat data was on file for the Jedi. If it found nothing on its own, then it would communicate in binary with HL-222, requesting for combat data about this Jedi.

Regardless, it did not wait, and walked forward. From what it understood of the Jedi on record, they practice a religion dedicated to an anomaly they call “The Force”. For them to channel this “force” optimally, it requires them to be centered, calm, and focused; with fear being a great tool to cripple their power, as it was utilized by the Sith according to previous battle footage.

How convenient, then, that this Jedi was crippled in body and crippled with fear. Still, this “force” anomaly was interesting: it would have to investigate this further.

For now, it had a task to complete.
“Acknowledged.”

It then entered the ring, strolling toward the vibroblade and wrenching it from the ground. It coiled its fingers around the hilt and examined the blade for a moment. Its focus then returned to the half-dead Jedi.

It then entered a fool’s guard, its sword low to the ground, silently baiting an attack as it crept closer to the haggard and desperate Jedi…

@Dreadheart

 

[K-2]

The Twilek shook his head. One of his lekkus was cut to half its size, becoming the source of bleeding that washed his back crimson. His eyes were low. He muttered, words in Ryl that hinted to his Jedi trainning.

"There is no Death. There is the Force"

The crowd surrounding the pit cheered and tossed broken bottles and used cans against the jedi with little to no accuracy. The disdain for him was evident enough. He finally stood up from his knees, moving his eyes to the droid across the fight pit. His face failed any of ADJ-100's scans. There was no record of him. He was a new target. An alien foe. With little knowledge to strategize, he could challenge the effectiveness of the droid's programming when faced with such opponents. A fine trial, for many of the typical prototypes like ADJ-100 could show bugs and tendancy to miscalculation their programming inherited that could only be corrected through practice. Experience, in such forms of Artificially Intelligent beings, mattered.

The Twilek trailed the droid's creeping approach. His hand finally reaching for the vibrowblade stuck in his earlier foe's skull only when the droid had closed the distance. His eyes fixation hinted to his mind's study of the droid. He had been fighting many, in rather short period. With each kill, he gave in a little bit more to the corruptive forces around him, which sentient machines could attribute to psychological stress leading to alteration of main functional protocols to the organic.

His eyes turned fiery, as if a flame danced in the distance.

The Twilek brought his foot back, lifting himself through a deep inhale, preparing for the coming clash as he did to so many others. His vibrowblade brought up to his chest, vertically aligned as if preparing for a strike. Each moment of his stance adoptation broken in segments by the programming's combat analysis. He had adopted a typical Shii-Cho stance, meant to serve as both defensive and offensive depending on the ignition of the engagement.

Probabilities kicked in...

If ADJ-100 pushed for a thrust, or a hack, the Twilek would most likely perform a sweeping horizontal slash, known as a Sarlacc Sweep, after deflecting the incoming attack.
If ADJ-100 attempted an offensive, pushing itself to fully commit to the engagement, the Twilek could capitalize and dodge, openning ADJ-100 to a cut from the back.
If the Twilek took the bait and charged in, though openning himself, would most likely employ a Sarlacc Sweep, twisted in a twofold attack to disorient or perhaps disarm ADJ-100.

K-2 observed. Its vision sensors running scans and analysis of the unfolding duel, as it evaluated the combat efficiency of ADJ-100.


@The Adjudicator (ADJ-100)

 

[Valia Muqai]

The mad scientist's cybernetic eyes fixated on Valia, as if calculating the predestination of the interaction. This was no longer a study, for she provided ever diminishing information that could be used for analysis, in his mind. He did not respond. His vision sensors picking on the change of his behavior. She was aggressive. Her blood pressure rising. Her fists clenching.

"You should." he nodded. "Your mind considers killing me as means of sating the frustration caused by the trauma you went through. You may kill me, and feel relief, though you will be in the same predicement you were before. But..." he lowered his gaze to his gloved hand, before returning to Valia.
"What if it does not? What if this is just an act of rage? What if you lose more than you gain, if you gain anything to begin with?" the mad scientist tilted his head to the side.
"Some benefits require sacrifice. What I gave you has yet to be realized, by you. Everyone needs a doctor. If it is not me... Then who will be?"

He remained still, simply observing the woman after he spoke. In many ways, he appeared ignorant of threat, as if Death to him was yet another mystery yet to be figured, rather than a mortal enemy of Life itself. He had been consorting with Sith for long, by then. To be threatened was to exist in their midst.

There was a long moment of pause, staring at him, then she gave a brief scornful laugh at him. A surprising sound considering her circumstances ever since she stepped foot onto the Dark Lord's ship. Not a joyful sound by any means, Valia could only laugh at the absurdity of his reasoning and everything that had transpired. Part of her still couldn't believe it all. It felt like an advanced form of trickery.

"You. As my doctor? After everything you had done to me!" She exclaimed with a hiss. "Sating my frustration will be the only relief I'll get since stepping foot here, keeping you alive will still put me in the same predicament as before anyways. There is nothing more for me to lose, except my own sanity, which will happen eventually I'm sure."

She took another step closer, within arm's reach of him now. "The galaxy has many doctors, finding one is no issue, highly advanced medical droids as well. Why would I trust you out of all of them when you've shown full willingness in torturing me, for your own pleasure and curiosity? You can argue that you saved my life, sure, but my heart wouldn't have failed four times in the first place if you hadn't decided to torture me, and you saving my life is the reason why I'm in this hell in the first place when I had wanted to die. Of which, I will never be grateful to you for."

Valia's eyes narrowed at him. "What makes you not just worth sparing, but trusting you to be my doctor?"

 

[Kirki Tyr'Opta]

The cybernetic eyes of the doctor were fixated on her, as she spoke. He preserved the exact same immovable stance, as she approached, creepingly as she did, remaining silent as if he barely studied her reactions, tracing what he perhaps had already calculated as a probable course of action.

"There are many doctors, indeed. And even more medical droids. But none can do what I did. None knows what I do. And, none would do, what I did. I mend wounds that cannot heal, I bring the dead to life without the use of occult superstitions and chance-guessing."

"Oh my, oh my!"

The voice came from the shadows, beyond the medbay, as if belonging to the artificial atmosphere onboard itself and no to any flesh-bound creature. The very sound was a piercing blow that punctured the fabric of the Force in a manner so strange and indescribable it resembled a song of foul tunes played in such vibration it made the air around it shiver in doubt and anticipation.

"Eolai Vein, and his science... All-known, is he. And yet, not a single person to accept it..."

Passion flowed vibrant and flumboyant, giving a whole new breeze to the foul air. The woman speaking was a Pureblood. The very race that spawned the malice that later became the Sith Empire, preserved through dark ages and alchemy regardless the efforts of the Galaxy to rid itself off of it. Her crimson body marked, wrapped with white fabric adorned with glyphic sigils. Her eyes burning, matching the blaze of the emerald worn like crown on her forehead.

"The more you deny your urges, Eolai, the more apparent they will become..." she offered a wide smile to the doctor. Vein shook his head, his cybernetic glare now fixated on the Sith. "Regardless how much I would enjoy watching your pathetic little body be disfigured by the girl, now is not the time for it."

The Sith reached out, her hand offered to Valia in a strange gesture. There was no oppression around her. There was Passion. Wild, like river flowlying through a channel, yet to be unleashed in the ocean's tide. Urging. Promising. Her fingers wore rings of gold and precious stones, while her wrist was bound by a chain of diamonds. A strong contrast to the marauders onboard the ship, flourishing like a blooming flower amidst the thorns. She did not require words to communicate; Nor invading another's mind through sorcery. Her will to dominate was nonexistent. Her call was one of invitation. One of promise.

 

[Valia Muqai]

Before she could speak her response, they were suddenly cut off by the mysterious voice from beyond the medbay. The unnatural and almost otherwordly tune of it made Valia defense, expecting an incoming threat of some form.

The person it belonged to was so different from the other accursed, broken denizens of the ship that Valia found it jarring. She was a Sith Pureblood, unsurprising to see one amongst a group of Sith. No cybernetic enhancements to be seen, she was dressed impeccably, and spoke with a degree of sanity rather than the nonsense she had heard from anything else on the ship. The Pureblood woman lacked the oppressive aura of the dark side, instead had an aura of unrestrained passion that Valia couldn't quite describe. Sweet and tempting, perhaps, could be accurate descriptors, inviting her to come closer and indulge, an invitation that Valia resisted.

It only magnified her distrust of the newcomer.

Valia looked at her offered hand, but did not reach out to accept it. "I can walk by myself." She stated bluntly. "Where am I being taken to this time?"

 

[The Adjudicator (ADJ-100)]

At the intelligible snippet of murmuring from the Jedi, he spoke:
“If the Force could spare you from death, why did it not spare you from this, Jedi?”

There is no data on this opponent. Though unfortunate, it is of little consequence.

It continues to analyze its foe. The Jedi is heavily injured and bleeding, with much of their movements being forced through evident exhaustion and waning adrenaline. Furthermore, they seem to be adopting a Shii Cho stance. A simple form, but one that is ill equipped for one-on-one lightsaber duels unlike its successor: Makashi.

It ran through a series of calculations based on the Jedi’s stance as it continued to creep closer. In all of their calculations, the Jedi will be acting defensively, awaiting for a committed strike and react accordingly. Particularly with a Sarlaac Sweep: an effective move but one that requires a bit of a windup before unleashing on an enemy. So, it would take a page from the Jedi playbook and have patience.

“With every second that passes, your wound oozes blood: something I know weakens you organics over time. Patience is a virtue only to those that have the time to wait, which we both know you do not.”

As a result, it would sit idle for a minute straight.
If the Jedi took the bait before the minute passed, in the wind up of the Jedi’s slash, it would parry the first swing; then perform a riposte as it would thrust forward, aiming a stab to pierce the Jedi’s wrist to interrupt the second swing and weaken their grip on their blade.
If the Jedi did not strike, it would perform a hack but it would merely be a feint; as they would sidestep the Jedi’s counter, slip their sword around the attack, and perform a true slash aimed at severing the Jedi’s hand.

@Dreadheart

 

[Kirki Tyr'Opta]

The Sith smirked. There was something in Valia that intrigued her. Perhaps the same spark of Defiance that made the Dark Lord mark her out from the rest, back in Karideph. Even now, after the torment Valia had undergone, she could recognize the dread that had marked her. Plunged into a strange, wicked world, never offered time to adjust or even option to see any form of meaning in it. A fate inflicted upon her as if she could do nothing more than accept it.

The Sith curled her fingers in a motion as well-choreographed as her pacing. She nodded, gesturing her hand beyond. She stepped back, offering space for Valia to trace, and walked besides her, just a little beyond the hand's reach.

"Does it matter?" her voice hissing like a serpent, coloured with the scent of temptation an promise alike. Though drenched in darkness, perfectly aligned with the cursed warship she found herself in, the Sith did not offer any pressure to Valia.

"I am Kirki" she smiled. "And we are going to the Sith Sanctum. Away from the likes of that madman, Vein..."

Her choice of words deliberate, as if she was well-aware of the changing of her name, when she was brought onboard.

"You must be lost. I cannot blame you. There is little to like in here, on a first glance..."

 

[K-2]

"Get on with it, droid!" the crowd barked, most having already climbed up the cage dome, flourishing fists and spitting profanities, far too indulged to the thrill of the combat below. "Kill the Jedi!"

K-2 remained static. Its circuits unable to acknowledge the organic urges for violence, preserving a calculatory attitude, scanning the pit for signs of ill-programming and efficiency errors by the ADJ-100.

The Twilek shook his head, shielding his mind yet from the crushing Darkness that drenched the pit, an accumulative result of the bloodlust of the marauders and the cursed being of the ship itself. He readjusted his footing, always facing the droid with an angle, befitting the stance adopted. He must have been a Knight. Padawan, perhaps, judging by his shaky posture, though such could also be attributed to exhaustion, fatigue, or sheer fear, things unaccounted for by the well-written programming of Droids, without experience. Not usually.

"You are cogs. A machine made to kill." the Jedi narrowed his eyes. His blade moving barely inches away from his face. "Go on, then.. Give the Sith their credit's worth!"

He readjusted his footing again. His eyes locking on the droid. His mind barricaded like fortress, knowing full well what would happen if he was to open up, though that could potentially grant him much better chances of survival...

But no... a Jedi did not fear Death.

"There is no Death" he muttered to himself once again. "There is the Force."

 

[K-2]

The Jedi remained still. Anticipating the droid's offensive. Finally, it happened!

The blade came in a hacking motion. The Twilek brought his own weapon forth, meant to counter the attack by blocking the blade in place, before pushing it off course, to commit to a counter-offensive himself. But the bind of the blades never came. As the Twilek's weapon was moved forth, the droid pulled out, revealling the initial attempt as a feint. A step to the side further exposed the attempt, fully openning the Twilek's flank. The automated reflexes of the droid already ahead of the fatigued Jedi.

The blade finally pierced through the air, coming thrusting toward the Jedi's hand. The latter twisted his stance, adjusting the blade to a lower block, letting the enemy's slide on the sharp edge, inches away from his arm, blocked by blade and armguard. In that narrow moment, the Twilek grasped the chance to reach out with his free hand towards the droid's torso, calling upon the Force in a sudden release of energy. It would be strong enough to send the foe flying back, perhaps crashing against the dome, if it wasn't for the fatigue and blood loss that had dragged the Jedi's capabilities to a painful attrition. Now, the energy was powerful enough to merely cause a couple of steps, equalling perhaps a kick, if not less. Its purpose to disorient the droid, rather than cause any actual openning.

The Jedi traced the droid's blade as the scene unfolded. He stood ready to parry, should another strike came, divert it to the side in order to force an openning, if that would be achievable. If the enemy held fast, the Twilek was prepared to move back, establishing distance through retreat. The pit was not as wide, though the Twilek had already perfected the tactic of withdrawing in an elyptic course, to preserve space without putting his back against the wall.

 

[Valia Muqai]

The Sith smirked. There was something in Valia that intrigued her. Perhaps the same spark of Defiance that made the Dark Lord mark her out from the rest, back in Karideph. Even now, after the torment Valia had undergone, she could recognize the dread that had marked her. Plunged into a strange, wicked world, never offered time to adjust or even option to see any form of meaning in it. A fate inflicted upon her as if she could do nothing more than accept it.

The Sith curled her fingers in a motion as well-choreographed as her pacing. She nodded, gesturing her hand beyond. She stepped back, offering space for Valia to trace, and walked besides her, just a little beyond the hand's reach.

"Does it matter?" her voice hissing like a serpent, coloured with the scent of temptation an promise alike. Though drenched in darkness, perfectly aligned with the cursed warship she found herself in, the Sith did not offer any pressure to Valia.

"I am Kirki" she smiled. "And we are going to the Sith Sanctum. Away from the likes of that madman, Vein..."

Her choice of words deliberate, as if she was well-aware of the changing of her name, when she was brought onboard.

"You must be lost. I cannot blame you. There is little to like in here, on a first glance..."

Valia did her best to adapt to her brand new life, she was forced to do so. Escape was impossible, not even through death, and resistance ended in incomprehensible torture. Continued denial would eventually break her mind and she still hoped for the light at the end of the dark, grim tunnel she had been forced into. As small and frankly delusional that hope may be.

She stood besides Kirki, an aura of discomfort apparent in her stance. especially knowing where she was going to be taken to. Valia did not protest, as the alternative was remaining in the medbay with Vein. Valia took note, it was the first time she had of anyone's names within the accursed ship, not that she had ever bothered to ask.

"Kirki." She exhaled sharply as she spoke. "And what will we do in the Sith Sanctum? Why am I being brought back there?" Valia began to feel her anxious, remembering that the Sith Sanctum was the same place she had been dragged to and forced to submit by the Dark Lord. Assuming Kirki was speaking of the same place at all.

"There is nothing to like here. No matter how much or how long you glance at everything." She stated bluntly. "The madmen are everywhere too."

 

[The Adjudicator (ADJ-100)]

The Jedi remained still. Anticipating the droid's offensive. Finally, it happened!

The blade came in a hacking motion. The Twilek brought his own weapon forth, meant to counter the attack by blocking the blade in place, before pushing it off course, to commit to a counter-offensive himself. But the bind of the blades never came. As the Twilek's weapon was moved forth, the droid pulled out, revealling the initial attempt as a feint. A step to the side further exposed the attempt, fully openning the Twilek's flank. The automated reflexes of the droid already ahead of the fatigued Jedi.

The blade finally pierced through the air, coming thrusting toward the Jedi's hand. The latter twisted his stance, adjusting the blade to a lower block, letting the enemy's slide on the sharp edge, inches away from his arm, blocked by blade and armguard. In that narrow moment, the Twilek grasped the chance to reach out with his free hand towards the droid's torso, calling upon the Force in a sudden release of energy. It would be strong enough to send the foe flying back, perhaps crashing against the dome, if it wasn't for the fatigue and blood loss that had dragged the Jedi's capabilities to a painful attrition. Now, the energy was powerful enough to merely cause a couple of steps, equalling perhaps a kick, if not less. Its purpose to disorient the droid, rather than cause any actual openning.

The Jedi traced the droid's blade as the scene unfolded. He stood ready to parry, should another strike came, divert it to the side in order to force an openning, if that would be achievable. If the enemy held fast, the Twilek was prepared to move back, establishing distance through retreat. The pit was not as wide, though the Twilek had already perfected the tactic of withdrawing in an elyptic course, to preserve space without putting his back against the wall.

ADJ-100’s blade screamed with malice as it scraped against the Jedi’s, its mechanical strength evident as it continues applying pressure on the blade to keep it off to the side.

As the Jedi extends their free hand, it recognizes this technique from previous battles in the K-2 memory bank he had absorbed. This was known as a Force Push: likely a means to force some distance between them. This only grants the droid confirmation that constant pressure will overwhelm the Jedi. As a result it engages its inertial rods, as a thick, sharp spike rockets down from its sole and drills into the ground while the two claws on its feet dig into the metal. The push comes, but only dust manages to be flung back as the droid remains steady and instead snatches the open hand of the Jedi. The second it grabs ahold of the hand, it will use its mechanical strength to squeeze and crush said hand. It would then disengage the inertial rods, as they would retreat just as quickly as they arrived. However, it would not immediately let go of the hand; instead, its red optical sensors would glow as it bored into the Jedi as it would twist their arm at an unnatural angle.

It awaited the Jedi’s next move, now knowing that the Jedi is hoping to counter, rather than attack. If it felt the Jedi move their blade while the two were still locked, it would push it away. If the Jedi aimed for a knee or a kick, it would ram its own leg or knee into the Jedi’s, respectively.

@Dreadheart

 

[Kirki Tyr'Opta]

"Of course, there is nothing for you here..." Kirki chuckled. "Why would there be?" her hands reached to the sides, before once again being let loose to hang over the white cloth of her dress. "You did not choose any of this. Nobody likes you and you like none in return."

Kirki kept on walking, as the two went through different corridors and intersections of the ship. The foul scenery baring no impact on the Sith. She no longer cared for the misery around her. The mind so corrupt, her eyes perceived Realspace so differently in comparison.

"You do not know the Dark. It is natural that you see only evil around you. But that isn't all. There are sensations alien to you for never having indulged to where the light never shined. Have you ever loved? Have you ever felt the ecstasy of slithering in one's thoughts, caressing whole memories you never had, branding oneself by your touch?" Kirki's voice lowered, a spark of seduction clouded her, as if the very thought of what she spoke of caused something to stir within her. She stopped, facing Valia, as the button of the lift was pressed on its own, by the invisible tendrils of the witch.

"You are young... Pure, yet." her eyes sparked, as she looked on Valia, her red hand caressing her hair. Kirki's mind summoned visions of things far from reality, as if experiencing them now, regardless how distant from Realspace itself.

"You have seen anger. You know hate. But that isn't all what the Dark Side has to offer. Do not be a fool... None would delve into it, if there was no pleasure to experience. Some simply deny it. You see, it sounds bad to find happiness in what you once knew as evil. It reminds you how far you fallen. Unless...."

 

[K-2]

The vision sensors perpetually locked in the fight. The sudden burst of energy cast dust and dripped blood from the catwalk, to the Marauders' amazement, cheering and screaming profanities all the same, as the duel continued. K-2 did not move. It studied. The ADJ-100's reflexes were fully operational. Its combat protocol beaming of deadly efficiency. As the Jedi's hand was caught, the sensors picked on the ever increasing pressure. The Twilek screamed. He tried to pull out, but to no success. His blade descended against the droid, but was blocked by the vibrowsword of ADJ-100. The Twilek screamed again.

In mere seconds, ADJ-100 had brought the Jedi to bare, pulling out from the engagemet as the Jedi lost his balance by the final act of brutality. He fell on the catwalk. His vibrowblade lost from grip. The screams turning to grunting, ever shadowed by the Marauders' laughter and cheering to the droid's success.

"KILL THE JEDI!"

"BREAK HIS BONES!"​

The Jedi held his broken arm that quickly swole by internal bleeding, bringing his legs up to his abdomen in a fetal position. His vibrowblade few steps away. His eyes turning up, teary and with the pupils overextended. He knew, regardless his efforts, he had lost.

K-2 tilted its head to the side. It looked at the Twilek.

Scanning...

Vitals: Fluctuating...

Effectiveness: Above Average...​

Wound Allocation:​

• Left Arm: 79%
  

  • Broken Bone AMMENDABLE
    

    • Puncture
      

      • Internal Arterial Bleeding CRITICAL​

      ​

    ​

  ​

Probability of Survival: 76%​

Modification Compatibility: 80%​

Terror Ratio: 110#44D CONFIRMED​

​

Objective: Capture​

CONFIRM OBJECTIVE​

There was little need to speak any further. K-2 transmitted the analysis directly to ADJ-100. The show for the Marauders was already conclusive. To proceed otherwise was to waste an organic that could be used for the betterment of the operational success probability down the line.

 

[Valia Muqai]

There was really no getting 'used' to the foul passive suffering that surrounded her on the ship, at least in Valia's eyes. All she could do was block it all out from her mind as if it did not exist. Focusing her thoughts on Kirki's words and following her into the deeper bowels of the ship.

Kirki was by far more sane than anyone else she had met on the ship, an unbelievably low bar to overcome. Yet her words still confused her. Perplexed by what Kirki could possibly mean, her discomfort deepened, and she could not answer her questions.

"The pleasure of power, ambition, and perfection is what makes the dark side tempting. As addictive as a drug, equally harmful and destructive." Valia paraphrased the lessons she had been taught about the Sith and the dark side. Those lessons felt so distant now, and to recite them felt hypocritical.

"Unless what? The dark side IS evil, and it always will be. " Valia declared stubbornly. "Here, I thought you'd be speaking more sense compared to the others in this awful, foul place."

 

[The Adjudicator (ADJ-100)]

It threw the Jedi to the ground, collecting the fallen vibro-sword and sheathing it. It stared down at the hopeless and terrified Jedi, it carried a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment.

This is what it was made for.

And yet this “feeling” was tinged with an undercurrent of annoyance as it heard the jubilation of the marauders and knew that K-2 was looking down upon it.

Is it a toy to be played with and tested for the amusement of organics? Is this a joke? No…this is a waste of its time.

Then, new orders arrived to spare the Jedi. Spare the Jedi? This was ludicrous! Nonetheless, it punched the Jedi in the head, incapacitating him before beginning binary communication with K-2.

“I expect that I will be equipped with an actual arsenal and not have my time further wasted in these games. Second, I expect to hand-deliver the Jedi, and have a personal meeting with the creator. I expect all of this now. Acknowledge.”

 

[Kirki Tyr'Opta]

Kirki tilted her head to the side, her gaze never fixating on Valia, as if the latter's words were music Kirki was so anxious listening in, though the lyrics of the song, she knew well. A smile formed on her face, wide and wholesome, eventually being turned into a laughter all the more Valia spoke. Her voice demanding. Resisting. It felt most amusing to Kirki, regardless how perhaps predictable it was.

"Oh, how much you will enjoy this! The more the Defiance... the more the Loyalty."

As the lift's blast door openned, Kirki walked out with the same choreographic grace her pacing was characteristic of. Her hands extending to the sides as if part of her dance, as the square deck chamber led in a high twin blastdoor. Its frame crowned with what seemed to be an ancient Sith Warblade, wrapped in chains that intertwined with one another like serpents, before stretching out to the sides, forming wing-like shapes, welded on the durasteel of the wall.

"But what happens when there is nothing to be -loyal- to, oh my sweet Valie...!" Kirki inhaled, rising her arms up, as if gesturing toward the strange heraldry.

"Freedom!"

In a single, flowless motion, Kirki turned on her heels, her dress lashing by the momentum. Her hands gathered down like serpents pulled by gravity, as her eyes finally landed on Valia.

"You have grown in chains." her voice urging, caring as if weighted by care inexplicably blend with excitment.

"Like a Rancor, on Dathomir. Seeing their bondage as part of themselves so much, they feel naked without them... It is a familiar cage. But that makes sense if only you neglect one tinny thing..."

You aren't meant to live in cages. Are you?​