The Fight had been quick and brutal. Somehow the robed man and sensed his slow and stealthy approach. The young man thought his skills while rusty were still good enough to get closer to the group. That however was not the case, somehow the robed man felt his presence. Turning to where the young man was hidden, sparks of what looked like green electricity danced on the robed mans fingers. Without waiting to see if the young man was friend or foe, without even trying to speak or inquire as to why he was here, the robed man Sith Lorded his green Lightning right at the young man.

The young now angry man, just managed to jump sideways into a combat roll taught to him years ago by his now dead Training Officer, and claiming a miss for Sith dude. Coming up, into a ready stance, the young man who had grasped one of his makeshift knives while moving, brought his arm around and released the knife in a throw. The blade while not balanced, did manage to stay on target right at the robed mans chest. Thinking he had this, the young man started to smile and relax his stance. Only to watch in horror and pain as the robed man, quicker than any person should be, grabbed the blade by the handle then hurled it back at the young man faster the he could blink. The young man tried to dodge, but his relaxed stance, and the sheer speed of the robed man, belayed this action. The blade, wickedly shape cut a long though thankfully shallow furl from wrist to elbow, on the back of the young man’s left arm.

Surprised by the speed and accuracy of the robed man, as well as the flash of pain from his now wounded arm, the young man slipped to one knee. The pain was quick then it just sort of drifted away to the back of his mind. Noted and registered, now put away its job done. It couldn’t really be called pain, not to him at least. He had lived an eternity as and with pain, this was just a “hey you were cut” message in his head. Then it just faded away, still there if he looked for it, but unneeded.

Shaking his head and trying to stand back up, the young man had been distracted by these thoughts. So mid attempt to stand, the robed man tried to light him up with his green Sith Lightning. His makeshift clothing started smoking, and the ground around the young man turned black and ashy. The young man however felt, nothing more than a slight tingle, like sticking the tip of your tongue, to a weak 9-volt battery, except all over. Not painful, just odd. Realization dawned on the young man, as he watched the robed man laugh and walk towards him, most likely to gloat. Thinking he was cooking the young man from the inside out, he was coming closer to examine his handywork.

It was Lightning, the young man snorted and reached for the other claw knife he had made. He started to shake and twitch as the Lightning was hurled, or shot? at him again. The robed man stopped about 5 feet from the young man, a wicked sneer across his face. The young man fell back to one knee, hunching over and hiding his face from the robed guy. He couldn’t quite keep the smile from his face. It was Lightning, his foe, was trying to kill him with Lightning! The young man had been forged and reforged by divine tribulation lighting, this green shadow of what lighting could be, was too lacking. The young man suspected any lighting except that which called in the tribulation of two worlds would always be lacking.

With a quick leap and slash forward, the over confident, robed man felt his own bite of the blade. The young man had indeed surprised him. So even though he was faster than the young man, he was too shocked to move seeing the young man with no cultivation shrug off his attack. Even then, he should have been fine. His body was stronger than normal steel. There should have been no way for this young man to hurt him. After all, where could a person with no cultivation get a weapon that could even scratch him. So it was with wonder, then shock, and anger the robed man watched the young peasant, leap from his Stormwing Lightning attack, and bring his blade across his neck. Anger turned to confusion, then fear, as he felt the knife part his flesh like soft cheese. The robed man, stared at the young man, blood soiling the front of his robe, as it ran down his body from his half-severed neck.

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Tacking a half step back, the robed man began to look for something in one of the pouches hanging from his belt. Not taking any chances, the young man pivoted toward the bleeding man then dashed in just as he pulled out some sort of small bottle. Not sure why this guy was still standing the young man attempted to shoulder check the robed man. It felt like hitting a wall, the robbed man, who should be mortally wounded, didn’t move at all, he just looked at the young man with contempt while breaking the small bottle by squeezing it. Several small pill-like things fell to the ground, as the remains of the bottle fell too. The robed man smiled and brought his hand up to his mouth, a single pill remaining between his fingers. The young man knew, that somehow the person who should be dead, would recover if he was able to swallow the pill.

How he knew he couldn’t say. A person just doesn’t waste what precious seconds left doing something useless. Add that to the fact that the man seemed to be more then human in the way he was still alive, no that pill meant trouble. The young man did the only thing he could think of. He was or rather used to be highly trained in personal combat. He remembered all his lessons and felt old muscle memory sluggish and unused, kick in. He wasn’t trained to fight people; in a fight he would lose just as often as not. He was trained to kill, there is a simple economy to this and unlike wining a fight, killing was much easier.

So as the robed man brough the pill to his mouth, the young man faked a punch with his wounded left arm, dropped to his knees and quickly slammed the claw knife into the man’s groin, twisting and pulling it down the man’s left inner left leg. Severing the femoral artery, and causing a much pain in the process has he could. The robed man screamed as the pill entered his mouth, but he managed to swallow it. The energy quickly healing his wounds even as he doubled over in pain. Or at least tried to. For as he bent forward in a knee jerk reaction to getting his privets mangled, the blade held by the young man, rammed itself up from below. Through the soft spot, under the chin, and strait into his brain. This still would have been healed by the pill even now working to fix him, but it did cause him to stagger and stall. Unfortunately for the robed man, the young man took this time to rise up and spin him around, then using the claw knife, he removed the robed mans head from behind.

Dropping the head and breathing like a bellows, the young man’s knife slipped from blood-soaked fingers as he once again hit his knees. Panting and in his own sense of disbelief, he tried to steady himself and hoped he didn’t get the post combat shakes, he used to. “I’m way to fucking old for this shit.” He mumbled to himself, then gave a harsh laugh. After a few minutes of calm and thankfully no shakes. The young man looked up to see the three not quite human women kneeling in front of him. When they noticed his attention, all three bowed to him three times and called him master with each bow. “Oh, hell no!” he cried.