An Expedition [ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ]

[Bal Kanu]

MUSIC: FOR YOUR IMMERSION:
[1]: [OUR OWN WAY]

--​

[1]* The masked man nodded at Bal Kanu affirmatively.

Bal Kanu unsheathed his arms from underneath his cloak, and lunged towards Alyosha Drutin with an animalistic tenacity. "There are no strings on me.." he announced, as his fingers prodded wildly in the Assassin's direction with some familiar, yet cheaply choreographed techniques. His form made a twisted mockery of traditional martial arts.

"I know what you are, jedi. The emblem on your shoulder isn't exactly the most discreet label". The man trudged slowly towards Aaran Tafo , safeguarding Bal Kanu's position with his own body. "Despite what the dark one may have in store; the boy's fate is to be decided by his own whim and perseverance." The stranger's arms moved erratically, like tentacles on a squid -- they were indecisive; more like a rhumba of snakes deciding to scatter.

"Our family exists betwixt many fronts. Spice distribution, prostitution.. Assassination.. We hold capital in many facets of crime, and our success attracts many eager inductions.." He strutted even closer: his presence calm, and his breathing undisrupted. "They are quick to die. Those that are admitted into our Inner Circle become... Acquainted with the philosophy of our martial art." His body was poised, with his arms holding up the heavens like an image of the bodhisattva. "Our methods are unpredictable, like our destinies. Our fists do not follow the steady current of a river, but instead burrow multiple paths in the dirt in order to broaden our horizons." The man punched at the air, and a wave of force energy had decapitated a billboard the next leap over. "What you segregate as the lightside and the darkside, are merely two halves of the same whole. We shan't shackle ourselves to one ultimate current. We will make our own river, filled with blood and sweat: carved out with our bare hands!"

His mask splintered into many tiny pieces. Pieces that would soon be forgotten by the darkness until the sun's rays guided its discovery. Much like the insignificant pieces of the man's past, the boy he had seen a little bit of himself in was merely in the infancy of his development, and was beginning to puzzle himself a new identity from his ruins. A grey, thundering knuckleduster manifested itself around one of the figure's many fists, bringing light to the jagged smile peeling open his lips.

"Allow me to teach you a lesson about balance."​

 

[Kai and Gerda]

Bal Kanu lunged at him like a feral animal released from a cage, his strikes frenzied and bestial. One of his jabs knocked the blaster from Alyosha's hand, sending it clattering to the floor out of the assassin's reach. And then there was that confident exclamation, so sure, so certain. There are no strings on me!

Sure there aren't, Alyosha thought, mindful of the Kaleesh advancing upon Aaran Tafo to his left. The Jedi could take care of himself; Alyosha only needed to stay out of the way.

He kept his eyes on the street urchin coming at him. Up close, he could see that the kid was actually roughly the same height as he was. The cloak had hid the presence of developed muscle on his otherwise scrawny body. His bizarre combat style was still weird, almost to the point of being distracting, but it was the product of experience rather than training. He relied on the element of surprise and the ignorance of the average street fighter to make up for the gaps in his technique.

Alyosha dropped to the ground, out of range of the kid's swipes, and swept his legs out from under him. He may have seen that move coming - it was an obvious enough target, given the circumstances - but Alyosha had no intention of giving him a chance to react. As the boy teetered off-balance, the assassin was already shooting forward, shoving the brunt of his body weight against him as he curled his arms around the boy at the elbows with his hands cupping toward the back of his head, intent on pinning him down in a headlock.

 

[Dracus Mor]

Dracus had kept pace behind Alyosha, watching as the Ren warrior attempted to thwart the Jedi and made his murderous intentions clear. His passion was inspiring and the strength he presented Dracus believed to be true. He was not someone Dracus wished to make an enemy.

When the four figures engaged in battle came into view Dracus took cover just out of sight. His blaster primed and in hand, focus on the dark figure and the Jedi currently engaged s in battle.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Inwardly. Aaran did his best to prevent a groan. Just what was his luck that he kept running into masked lunatics? For a moment he considered trying to rush past the elder martial artist in an attempt to stop his apprentice Bal Kanu and Alyosha Drutin from fighting. But it seemed that his aid was unneeded. He watched on curiously for a moment as the one person who seemingly did not have a stake in this showcased some impressive martial arts skills of his own.

Figuring that issue was being dealt with for the moment. He turned his attention back towards the Codru-Ji. The Padawan's hand simply drifting to his hip, hand placed there as he watched the Martial Artist give his lecture. Explaining his own view on the Force. Proclaiming that he was an agent of balance. And how he was attempting to guide the younger martial artist into forging his own fate.

"Bantha Poodoo." Aaran said simply in response to the Codru-Ji's proclaimation. "Seems to me you're trying to get him to follow the same path you did. Not choose his own. I wonder fi you ever gave him any other choice?" He tilted his head to the side. "Gotta say. Maybe the Jedi and SIth got their view of the Force wrong. I dunno really, I just follow my gut on the most part." He raised a finger and began to wiggle it from side to side. "But one thing they probably got right is that anyone who thinks they see the whole picture is an idiot. "

It seemed that for all his faults. Fr his lack of academic interest. There was a simple, base wisdom to Aaran. He was self-aware enough to admit that he knew very little. He simply acted in ways he felt was right. Ways he felt was good and would help others in the long run. Simplistic and childish certainly. But at his core, his intentions were only pure.

If the Codru-Ji's threat of impending violence and lesson bothered him. It certainly did not show on his face. If there was one thing Aaran was used to. It was many of his opponents dimissing him. "Sure. Expend energy fighting me. If you win, our other friend in the mask will come along and kill you for Druk and giggles. He takes our friend there and everyone loses." That, was simple fact. Because there was the possibility that the Martial artist was sincere. That he truly did intend to do what was best for his young apprentice.

But somehow Aaran doubted Kyrel Ren was as well-intentioned. That monster saw a tool and nothing more. A conflicted young man he could corrupt and twist into a weapon. And if one thing was certain, Aaran would do his best to ensure that did not happen.

Finally runing his attention towards the young thief. "Let's see what our buddy here has to say in all this eh?" Aaran said, pursing his lips together and letting out a shrill whistle aimed at Bal Kanu. Tugging sharply at the weakening empathetic link between the two in order to grab the martial artist's attention. "Hey buddy!" He called out, before focusing his will. Reaching out to touch Bal's mind.

But not in an attempt to compel or influence the young man. Through the last dreges of their link, Bal could feel that. Attempting to sway his mind in any direction was not currently on Aaran's mind. But a single question was burned into the martial artist's mind. Urging him to consider it and the implications it held. Giving him an opportunity to consider his place in the universe and what his next actions would be.

"What do you want? And does this get you it?"​

 

[Bal Kanu]

MUSIC: FOR YOUR IMMERSION:
[1]: [PAIN]
[2]: [PRESSURE]

--

"What do you want? And does this get you it?"
​

[1]* A child was abandonded on a rainy day. Not a sleeping baby, comfortably wrapped in a warm blanket by a concerned guardian, but was left dirty and limp: crying under the pressures of its injuries. Held in its loose grip was a wet, dilapidated lightsaber hilt. It glew miserably in the rain, and hummed a weak lullaby for the child as he cried for his parents over, and over again... Their faces plagued his young mind: a "gift" given to him by the force, which ended up cursing him, making him unable to sleep. All he could see was a better life, but he was only stuck in a dirty, lonely ditch.

Until he arrived. A man shrouded in black. Two sets of arms were tucked defensively in his shroud, as if he had been hiding them for weeks. Cramps riddled his frail body, and with battered hands, he cupped the child into a single set of his arms, while the other set provided shelter from the rain - blanketing his cape above him.

The two of them silently trudged to some dark corner - both bruised from their own stories: and sat. Staring at each other.

A man that only wanted friendship, was terribly beaten by a pair of hateful gangsters, merely for his species. The boy, was left alone, when he only wished to bestow love to his family, only to be thrown away like a broken toy.

--

"I just want the universe to stop hating me for being born.."
​

[2]* The boy calmed his body, and let the man punish his haste with the headlock. He retaliated by dropping his weight, leaving them both bare on the ground. He then seatbelted his arms around his torso, and attempted to roll his weight over Alyosha Drutin and keep his body on top of him. He'd plan to jab the man in his ribs, in hopes his grip would loosen, and he'd be able to seize one of his arms.

--
​

The martial artist soon lunged after the jedi with a ferocious right hook towards his face -- accompanied by a second fist aiming for his ribs. "We walk this path together! He followed me of his own will, just as he is deciding to depart with that other man's head!" The left set of arms had clasped together, tightly knitted together in a "hand-shake" together in order to deliver a stronger attack. The burning grey gauntled enveloping the dominant layer of his left fist attempted to flank the Jedi's left temple after the last consecutive attack. "So what if he comes for me? If it's my destiny to die, then I will die! But that prospect is not absolute. I should have more than enough energy to oppose him, right after I cleave you in half with my gauntlet!" He was clearly infuriated by Aaran Tafo 's aloof reactions. Instead of the unpredictably lethal ballet his apprentice flaunted, the martial artist instead bluntly launched his arms towards the padawan like overheated pistons. Every punch burrowed a hole in the roof due to the force energy he exerted, which gave the ignorant audience within the building a clearer look at the chaos above them.

As the combat was elevating, Dracus Mor had coincidentally found himself positioned near the box of weapons, which were procured by Bal Kanu, and soon forgotten..

 

[Kai and Gerda]

The headlock didn't go over as well as he'd hoped.

For one, it sent them both crashing to the ground, their bodies unprotected. Rather than fighting back with his usual chaotic flailing, Bal Kanu abruptly relaxed underneath him, then thrust his weight against Alyosha, trying to roll over on top of him. Alyosha resisted, albeit with great difficulty. The extra maneuvering required to keep him pinned down meant that there was an opening for the kid to get a knifing jab into his ribs.

"The universe doesn't care about anyone, you little emo prick," he hissed, his harsh words an attempt to distract himself from the pain. But his grip was loosening with every strike the thief managed to sneak in.

Meanwhile, Aaran Tafo and the Kaleesh were going at each other. Alyosha could've sworn he heard himself mentioned in the context of taking his head. The roof soon became full of holes, and the brothel below echoed with screams of terror as the occupants fled amid the falling rubble.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the kid took advantage of his pain, his slackening hold, and his fear of being hit by one of the Kaleesh's wild energy attacks. The brat would wear him down, weathering the situation just as he had done with the group of thugs who had beaten him mere minutes earlier.

So Alyosha did what he had to do. The next time Bal Kanu pushed against him, the assassin rolled into the blow, taking the kid with him.

Right through one of the massive holes blasted in the roof.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

"Did he choose this because he wanted it? Or because he felt he needed to do it?" Aaran asked the four armed martial artist as he raised one arm to block the initial blow. Grunting at the impact. A talented duelist he may be. Aaran unfortunately had little experience in hand-to-hand combat training. He certainly had enough to handle the average individual. Especially when aided by the Force. But as it was, against an more experienced brawler who could also tap into the same supernatural powers as the Padawan could. Aaran had a poor time at defending himself.

He was quick enough to block the first blow. But the sheer alien anatomy he faced right now was off-putting enough that the second blow to his ribs connected hard. Driving the air from his lungs. The third blow striking him in the side and driving the Padawan to his knees. But, as the final blow raced towards his head. Enough force behind it to cave a man's skull in. Time seemed to slow, inching by, moment by moment as the Padawan attempted to clear his rattling head.

"There is no Chaos. There is Harmony."​

Drawing his will up. Aaran did not raise a hand to defend himself. But instead allowed his body to become completely and utterly limp. His mind and spirit becoming....

Empty.

And instead of Aaran's head splitting over like overripe fruit. The Padawan was instead sent flying by the martial artist's blow. Ragdolling his way across the roof. Only to somehow spring up into a standing position mid-flight. Not dead, but clearly not unharmed. The burn mark from the shock gauntlet's impact not localised to one portion of his face. But seemingly spread out over his entire head. Covering it in a mild burn.

"Okay. Ow. Please do not do that again." He said, raising one hand to massage his face. Wondering just how he managed to survive that last attack. All he recalled was his entire body relaxing as he simply accepted the energy of the blow into him. Dispersing it over a much wider area as opposed to a concentrated blast.

Tutaminis. The Jedi art of absorbing and redirecting energy. In those last desperate moments, Aaran had managed to call upon the skill to save his own life.

But as the Codru-Ji continued his onslaught of brute power. Aaran knew that there was little point in attempting to battle him head on. A physical confrontation would win him nothing here. And attacking the mentor of Bal Kanu would only serve to alienate and enrage the young man. Because at the edge of his senses. Aaran could now feel it. There was a bond between the pair. A form of twisted affection between Master and Student.

No. Fighting would not win the day. "I wonder if you also thought you did not have a choice." He said, directing his question towards the Master of the pair as he began his assault. But instead of attempting to block or dodge. He instead let out a pulse of his own. Aimed at the roof beneath him. Collapsing it and allowing him to fall downwards towards where Bal and Alyosha Drutin continued their grappling.

Hopefully managing to act before the thief's master descended down to continue the fight. Aaran moved, calling upon the Force to lend him the celerity he needed. He attempted to engage the melee himself. One arm lashing out to wrap around Bal's waist. Hoping that Alyosha would take the hint and attempt to break away from the grapple himself.

Aaran would then attempt to use his superior weight and raw physical strength to his advantage. Doing his damndest and using the little hand-to-hand combat the order taught him in an attempt to hold the thief still without actually hurting them. "This wont end the cycle of hate. It only adds to it." He urged, doing his best to ignore his own pain. Both the physical kind from his wounds, and the sheer emotional pain of seeing such a pair. Only able to imagine the kind of events that shaped their lives to drive them to such a point.

"I'm begging you. Just talk to me. I can help."

 

[Lotip97]

Dracus saw the box slide to his side. Sometimes the universe seemed to favor him for whatever reason. Dracus holstered his blaster and picked up the box of weapons.

He looked over his shoulder at the group collapsing into the roof. The force was with him today indeed.

Dracus sensed no one paying him any attention and he took the opportunity to slip away into the crowds of the city.

No bounties had been claimed, no honorable combat. Dracus was no longer too concerned with the ideals of his tribe. He had a box full of loot and not a scratch on him.