the Son of the Sword
The sight of the Mandalorian climbing back to his feet set Kyric's blood ablaze. He hadn't felt the thrill of a good and honest fight in years; worn down not by the banners of nation or the flimsy philosophies employed by those too afraid to own a simple truth.
Fighting was fun.
He missed his earliest days on Denon, trading fists with his fellow gutter rats over perceived insults and disputes over who could beg on what corner. He yearned for his days on Concord Dawn, tilling the fields beside his uncle by day, while wrestling with his cousins in their run down bar late into the evening.
Adonis promised Kyric a return to simpler times.
And the Jedi wanted nothing more than to return the favor.
Kyric raised his sheathed blade high and drove it down several inches into the mud. He detached his poncho from around his neck and tossed it overtop the hilt of Resolute.
A myriad of scars hidden away beneath the poncho told a story of the Jedi Knight's resolve. Thin, meticulous, precise lines all along his left arm and up his neck detailed his nights spent beneath the Sith scalpel. While the uneven, canyon-like scarring across his entire right side could so easily be identified as the work of a powerful—near fatal—display of force destruction. Where once his right eye burned a bright vermilion, now he welcomed only blackness thanks to the crimson saber of his fated enemy.
His body was the canvas; pain the instrument by which the kiffar found clarity. Every struggle molded him into a stronger, more tenacious warrior, and now more than ever he wanted to push himself to the brink.
When Adonis charged forward, Kyric planted his feet and met the bigger man head-on. The force rolled over the Jedi like a wave; it breathed a warning of hidden danger.
The kick came in fast.
Kyric met it with his own check-kick; the bottom of his bandaged foot caught Adonis' leg right where his shin met his foot and blasted a small burst of telekinetic energy to keep the Mandalorian from battering right through him. The force of the exchange set Kyric off-balance. His kicking leg recoiled from the impact and it completely broke the foundation of his defense.
The elbow came in at the most opportune time.
Raising his arm up to eat the blow to the bicep, Kyric winced. His flesh began to darken where Adonis struck, a bruise forming around a thin line of blood torn into the kiffar's arm. The momentum sent the Jedi sliding through the dirt. He planted his left foot down and rotated his hips at Janous' approach. His single eye met the cyborg's ethereal gaze and Kyric felt... pain.
Not physical pain, no—something deeper, forged under the weight of loss, driven home each and every time the cyborg caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
"Don't look at me like that!" Kyric shouted and raised his fist. He drove it forward, enhanced in speed and strength by the force, directly into Janous' incoming punch. The flesh along the kiffar's knuckles tore beneath the metal might of the cybernetic Mandalorian, but the kiffar gritted his teeth and stepped forward. He sent a second, third, and four strike directly for the man's metal frame.
"You ain't dead yet! And if you don't realize it, I'll tech ye my damned self!"
Tags:
Adonis Angelis IV
|
Janous Ryss
Fighting was fun.
He missed his earliest days on Denon, trading fists with his fellow gutter rats over perceived insults and disputes over who could beg on what corner. He yearned for his days on Concord Dawn, tilling the fields beside his uncle by day, while wrestling with his cousins in their run down bar late into the evening.
Adonis promised Kyric a return to simpler times.
And the Jedi wanted nothing more than to return the favor.
Kyric raised his sheathed blade high and drove it down several inches into the mud. He detached his poncho from around his neck and tossed it overtop the hilt of Resolute.
A myriad of scars hidden away beneath the poncho told a story of the Jedi Knight's resolve. Thin, meticulous, precise lines all along his left arm and up his neck detailed his nights spent beneath the Sith scalpel. While the uneven, canyon-like scarring across his entire right side could so easily be identified as the work of a powerful—near fatal—display of force destruction. Where once his right eye burned a bright vermilion, now he welcomed only blackness thanks to the crimson saber of his fated enemy.
His body was the canvas; pain the instrument by which the kiffar found clarity. Every struggle molded him into a stronger, more tenacious warrior, and now more than ever he wanted to push himself to the brink.
When Adonis charged forward, Kyric planted his feet and met the bigger man head-on. The force rolled over the Jedi like a wave; it breathed a warning of hidden danger.
The kick came in fast.
Kyric met it with his own check-kick; the bottom of his bandaged foot caught Adonis' leg right where his shin met his foot and blasted a small burst of telekinetic energy to keep the Mandalorian from battering right through him. The force of the exchange set Kyric off-balance. His kicking leg recoiled from the impact and it completely broke the foundation of his defense.
The elbow came in at the most opportune time.
Raising his arm up to eat the blow to the bicep, Kyric winced. His flesh began to darken where Adonis struck, a bruise forming around a thin line of blood torn into the kiffar's arm. The momentum sent the Jedi sliding through the dirt. He planted his left foot down and rotated his hips at Janous' approach. His single eye met the cyborg's ethereal gaze and Kyric felt... pain.
Not physical pain, no—something deeper, forged under the weight of loss, driven home each and every time the cyborg caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
"Don't look at me like that!" Kyric shouted and raised his fist. He drove it forward, enhanced in speed and strength by the force, directly into Janous' incoming punch. The flesh along the kiffar's knuckles tore beneath the metal might of the cybernetic Mandalorian, but the kiffar gritted his teeth and stepped forward. He sent a second, third, and four strike directly for the man's metal frame.
"You ain't dead yet! And if you don't realize it, I'll tech ye my damned self!"
Tags:
Adonis Angelis IV
|
Janous Ryss
