Duel A War of Words | Vreegan Fett vs Lysander Von Ascania

[Vreegan Fett]

Vreegan checked the seals on his gauntlets one last time, working his fingers into fists to feel the tension in the leather before resting his hand on his rifle. The air inside the fitting room was less than comfortable, forcing the scrubbers within his helmet to work overtime to keep the foul mix of stale sweat and wet sand from his nose. That putrid stench leaked in directly from the arena floor outside, where the low murmur of an eager audience echoed off the stone walls.

The wealthy elite of the Senex-Juvex sector occupying those high seats had expected entertainment, but they were about to witness a bloodbath, plain and simple. Once the dust settled on the sand, he made a mental note to send his regards to Lady Corazona von Ascania for the loss.

Her noble family on Ukatis would probably build her fallen brother an ornamental shrine as soon as the body was shipped home, and Vreegan almost welcomed the thought of invading their world eventually, if only to watch that statue crumble beneath his boots just as the man was about to.

Lysander von Ascania had at least answered his challenge, which was commendable enough for a mere Sith emissary, but answering a call and surviving it were two entirely different things. A young nobleman playing at war with a lightsaber had no real chance against a veteran Mandalorian, a fact that would soon become clear.

The iron door groaned as the pit guard finally pulled the winch, raising the gate just high enough for Vreegan to pass into the light. Stepping out onto the sun-baked sand, the blinding glare hit his T-visor as he moved toward the center of the ring.

He didn't wave to the crowd or acknowledge the sudden roar from the stands, keeping his posture relaxed and his Commando rifle held casually across his chest. He came to a stop twenty paces short of the center mark, his visor fixed on the opposite archway as he waited for the noble to make his entrance.​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Vreegan Fett​

The arrangements took little time; Lysander kept waiting for some sort of catch, some delay or other demand that never came. Well, good to know the Mandalorian's performance on the live HoloNet transmission hadn't been pure theater. So, the man could deliver, whatever else he was.

He stood a while beneath the opposite archway; there, the light died against the stone. The noise came through anyway, voices smearing together somewhere above him. He let it pass through him; noise was just noise until you decided otherwise. Then he stepped out. Sunlight found the black armor first, dark plate from collar to boot, and above it the Helm of the Twin Suns crowned him. He turned his face toward the stands once, slowly, so they could see him do it.

His lightsaber remained clasped against the utility belt at his hip. Sand took the imprint of one boot, then another. Lysander chose his ground well before the middle. Armor tightened around a deep inhale drawn through the nose. The chest rose beneath it. Beneath the skin, winter moved instead of blood, mineral cold flowing through every vein; the Dark sharpened the edges of everything seen and heard.

Another roar tumbled from the stands above, the sound thick with wealth and spectacle. Tapani again, in all but name.. that same grandeur, same opulence that'd been clawed from bloodied fingers and left them with nothing.

Indifference sat heavier than anticipation, his shoulders rolling beneath. Let them bay, let them gorge themselves on this theater of blood. Within, an old familiar pressure swelled, that pre-battle silence..

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Vreegan offered his opponent Lysander von Ascania a simple nod as the man stepped into the arena light, flicking off the safety of his Commando Rifle to ensure it was lethal. There was no reason to waste time on speeches or pre-battle bravado, they had already settled that part of the confrontation on the Holonet. Now it was time to let the fight speak for itself as to who was the better warrior.

His HUD gave him readings on the noble's black armor and the distinctive helmet they wore, even offering a brief analysis of the lightsaber they carried. There was no obvious signs of hesitation or fear in the man's stance but Vreegan earlier assessment remained unchanged that they were little match for him though he was careful not to allow his own arrogance to blind him to the possibility however small of his defeat.

He raised the Commando Rifle and leveled it across his chest, setting the sights directly on center mass. Drawing on his Force Hunter experience, he made a series of small adjustments, in order to counteract a force user's natural precognition. He picked a series of firing angles that would force an awkward guard rather than an easy deflection.

Once his aim was true, he squeezed the trigger twice as two rounds came out of the barrel directly towards Lysander's chest to put the young Sith's composure to the test. He did not wait for the result, as his sights were readjusted again to counter any further movement by firing both left and right. No matter which direction the noble moved to, his shots would find them.​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Vreegan Fett​

The silence took an edge. Instinct reached Lysander before reason did. Nerves screamed their warning into muscle. The mind didn't need to search for a reason. At this distance, the conclusion hardly required prophecy. No matter what came next, the distance was not something he was keen on entertaining. Whatever followed, allowing the Mandalorian to dictate the range would be an invitation to lose.

His attention snapped to the rifle. The physical tells helped. But there was something alien about it. Years spent refining his training around sabers, fists, and bodies taught him to read danger better at arm's length. Hate was a poor compass in a fight; calm was better, and he'd spent years learning to be calm in places like this; that wasn't to say he lacked anger, but he'd learned how to examine it without becoming a prisoner to it.

Lysander dropped into the roll, his shoulder cutting through the sand at an angle, carrying him forward and off the line of fire rather than dropping out of sight. Before momentum faded, one hand struck toward the floor in a burst of telekinesis. Sand erupted, ripped upward and hurled ahead in a wave. Grit scattered across the space between them, meant to muddy the Mandalorian's sightline and give whatever systems lay behind that T-visor more to deal with. Let the warrior peer through the storm, if he could. Behind the veil, he continued advancing.

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Vreegan adjusted his sights again as his shots didn't find their mark, which told him that the Sith had greater movement than he first believed in that heavy armor. He tracked the roll as it occurred with his HUD to ensure he didn't miss any subtle movement of his opponent's hand, since Force powers were invisible after all. He didn't need to see the energy itself to know what it was affecting, watching the sand ripple an instant before the burst of telekinesis occurred.

He didn't bother responding to the amateurish tactic to obscure his vision, clicking a button on his Commando Rifle to switch to the sonic concussion function. A few presses on the trigger were enough to blow the wall of sand away without much difficulty, sending the heavy pressure waves tearing through the dust and targeting Lysander von Ascania directly behind the mass.

Not many beings in the galaxy could handle raw sonic energy, and most didn't bother installing protection against it on their personal gear. Vreegan would just have to see how the noble handled it, switching back to regular rounds in the same movement. He lined up his sights through the clearing and continued to fire pop shot after pop shot, keeping the pressure continuous to avoid giving the man the room to breath.​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Vreegan Fett​

Whether the veil of dust held for a second or collapsed under the concussion waves didn't matter much; this still offered a glimpse into the shooter's rhythm, how his aim adjusted, whether one's discipline held or instinct bled through.

Lysander's inner ear lurched. Dropping his center of gravity, he drove motion up through his legs, hips, and spine; not as some elegant display. More so a blunt reinforcement. Naturally, the current arrived a fraction ahead of intention, tightening the chain of movement from ankle to knee, knee to thigh, shoulder to wrist. For several bursts, his armor was nothing but plates with momentum guiding it.

That was, until a round clipped his shoulder. The impact spun Lysander half a step. Heat punched through the armor and then followed by an ache that spread deep beneath the collarbone. The wound was shallow enough to ignore, sharp enough not to forget.

Evasion was acceptable. Surrendering distance wasn't. As he so often reminded himself. Lysander's next advance refused a straight line. One step cut left, the following one snapped right, then his lithe frame angled forward again in an ugly zigzag. Sand kicked from the Sith's boots as the Force nudged the redirection. A dozen answers hummed at the fingertips, but he would not call upon them just yet.

The intention had been clear since that HoloNet message.. he wanted to see what the Mandalorian could do up close.

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Vreegan had no trouble tracking Lysander von Ascania as they moved in a zig-zag pattern across the sand, the erratic movement updating on his HUD in real time. The Sith was able to dodge the sonic energy without much difficulty which told him a lot about the combat capabilities of the man. He could dodge, move quickly and keep coming without being slowed down or inconvenienced, which Vreegan deduced was due to the armor he was wearing rather than normal Force usage.

It required concentration to use the Force, and the same principle would apply to the armor if that was indeed the source of his mobility. He wasn't stupid enough to keep using the same tactic when it clearly wasn't working. Without taking his eyes off the approaching target, Vreegan clipped his Commando rifle back to its holster near his jetpack. He reached down and unlatched his Rail Detonator instead, priming the rail charges with a flick of his thumb.

He brought the weapon up and pulled the trigger, firing explosive rounds from the barrel at high velocity. He wasn't relying on scoring a direct hit on the moving target; the plan was simply to turn the sand around Lysander into an area-of-denial zone, using the rapid detonations to shred his footing and cut off his forward momentum.​