Bring It, Ori'jagyc

[Ashin Varanin]

Continued from here.

[member="Nolan Detta"]

"They may not deserve sympathy, but they also don't deserve to be harassed by a clan of greedy chumps who've squandered their honor for the sake of some credits and a false sense of superiority. I don't respect any man or woman who is motivated by such low standards of existence. When you were actually a follower of the Resol'nar, before you sold your honor to the highest bidder and dragged your once proud clan into the pits of complacency, I may once have respected your need for money for your clan. But now all I see is a weak willed wannabe Jedi hidding in Beskar'gam."

"There's a line, boy, and you just crossed it and kept going. You've impugned the honor of my entire family, and that can't stand. You want to know what the resol'nare feels like? I was destroying Sith warfleets when you were stealing your daddy's beer. You'll fight me before this day's out, and you'll see the genuine article then, you worthless little snot. I guarantee it."

***​

​

Outside the council building where the Clan Fathers had been meeting, Ember waited in a cleared space. The spot had been used for duels before -- maybe fifteen metres across, circular, surrounded by a waist-high stone wall. Lots of scars on the flat stone underfoot. Sun high overhead -- no good direction, no way to get the sun in your eyes, not unless this fight dragged on. The stone was clean and rough; solid footing. As good a place as any.

Draco Vereen ([member="Darth Vulkan"]) had requested to be Ember's second. Ember knew Draco Vereen, and had faced many of the same pressures and tragedies. Trust didn't come easy, but he'd accepted the offer nonetheless.

A couple dozen Mandalorians stood outside the stone circle, behind the half-wall. Clan Father Detta's challenge had been fairly specific in its implications, so one of Ember's people was holding his lightsabre. Instead, all Ember had was his Brotherguard pistol, a beskad, and what his beskar'gam carried normally. He'd also requested a trio of ysalamiri around the circle, and the old familiar sensation of Forcelessness sank into his bones as he waited. He'd always known this day would come, the day a Mando would throw his Jedi past in his face. The day he'd be told he wasn't a true Mandalorian because he carried a lightsabre and had taken advantage of his Force sensitivity. In some ways, he'd been preparing for this ever since his verd'goten, long years back. Maybe Detta would show up and face the music; perhaps he'd turn out to be a coward. Ember found he actually didn't care which.

He'd sampled the young brewmaster's ale, including the old Circe Green. Maybe after today there'd be a Detta Yellow.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Dis Gonna Be Gud.

The thought buzzed through Draco's mind as he stood at the edge of the circle, holding the Clan Rekali insignia and a spare Beskad, as was the duty of a Second. He had a canteen, first aid kit, and the like for after the duel, if the participants requested a respite, or for whatever. Plus he had a flask with some good strong Abregado Moonshine to dull the pain if there should be any, or to begin the celebration of victory. Effectively Draco, a powerful Dark Jedi Master, and a potent warrior in his own right, was a cheerleader. And cheer he would. It was also his duty to pull Ember off the kid if he honorably backed out and took his shame lesson.

The lesson here would be simple. Don't say things you aren't prepared to back up with fists.

Draco liked Ember, and held deep respect for the old man. His clan had helped train and raise Draco's daughter, whether the old warrior was aware of that or not was questionable, but still. Draco held a tremendous amount of respect for the Old Warrior and this was the least he could do, show the old man he had his back for all Ember had done for his family, which was really just him and Abi.

Ember was waiting, standing quietly, getting in the zone, and Draco wondered how long Nolan would sit inside. Would he try and wait out the old man. Sure, eventually Ember would need to pee and have to find a refresher, but it could be hours.

[member="Nolan Detta"]
[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Olivia Dem'adas]

When [member="Ember Rekali"] had left the table, Olivia Dem'adas followed suit. Her brother might be leading the men and women of her Clan to war, but it was a war that he could win with or without her participation. No matter how much she wanted to be a part of that fight, Olivia knew that a duel between Alor was an event that demanded her attention, especially one that had been caused by such a grievous insult. That, and she was curious if she'd ever get the opportunity to attend the funeral of someone that would have the decency to stay dead.

As the Alor of Clan Rekali took his place in the dueling circle, patiently waiting for the young Mando'ad to appear, even Olivia could feel the man's simmering rage at the audacity of the young Alor. The subtlety of [member="Nolan Detta"]'s insult was not lost on Olivia, nor was Ember's choice to forgo his weapon of choice in this particular fight. The young man had accused him of not being a true Mandalorian. So the senior Alor would have to show the child the error of his ways.

Unstrapping the weapon of choice from her hip, Olivia removed the Dueling Saber that was common to the Larraq clan and held it towards the aged Alor.

"Clan Dem'adas knows your honor well." She said.

 

[Nolan Detta]

As it was the way of any salty old goat, a wound to ones honor was a wound to the soul. Nolan had plucked the heart strings of the Rekali Alor and the silver spoon of the Vareen Alor as well. Nolan had no friends amongst the Clans as his was by far the smallest and least known. He followed everyone outside after Ember and the others had surrounded the circle. Shoulders stuck out at him as he shoved his way through, as he'd just made some more enemies amongst clans, he was sure.

The little Force energy he held vanished as he walked the steps towards the 'ring'. Leaving his rifle, shotgun, and grenade belt at the opposing end of the circle to Ember, all that remained was the Beskad, Rhyno pistol and what his armor held. He held no fear in the face of his opponent(s). They were nothing to him. Their honor gone, if not, it hung well by a thread. He was here to verify his own honor, nothing more.

"Well, it seems as though I've struck home with some things I've said. I accept your challenge." No emotion behind his words, just contempt for having to actually fight because he may have been right.

Then there was the Sith in Mando clothing. Nolan didn't need to be Force Sensitive to know that. He'd heard rumors from mercy and merchants about a man wearing the very notable armor Draco was known for galavanting with the Sith and their pals. Nolan hated to see the Wolf among those he'd once called family. One day it would be righted that he was allowed to exist in the ranks of the Mandalorians.

Nolan moved to face Ember and rolled his joints, loosening up. Helmet on, he stood there, no true stance taken, arms by his side. Nolan nodded towards Ember, signaling his readiness. Whatever happened, Nolan stood by his words, nothing would change that without sufficient proof.

[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Darth Vulkan"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Nolan Detta"]

You know the deal with family. You're there for them. In times of peace and in times of war - Sam might not have been the best brother before, account of leaving Mando Space in his own youth while trying to find a measure of peace for himself, but that was a long time ago. He had returned, and in his return he had promised to be there for Clan Rekali and Ember. So Samael had been there in that hall, listened to the words spoken, heard the requirements set out by Ember and the young pup barking to try and get a measure of respect.

Folly. The Mando'ade did not grant honor or respect based on insulting their fellow brothers and sisters.

It was the acts they made that gave their names honor, nothing more and nothing less. Ember knew this, it was the only reason why he had made this challenge in the first place. To teach young Detta a lesson.

Somewhere at the edge of the circle Sam stood with Clan Rekali, leaning against the wooden palisade and a lit cigar in his hand. He wasn't particularly concerned about the outcome of this battle - mostly because he already knew who would win.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Darth Vulkan"] [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Nolan Detta"] [member="Samael Rekali"]

"Thank you," said Ember, accepting Aliit'buir Dem'adas' sabre-hilted beskad, and its beskar scabbard. The heavy Mando-iron guard swept down over his fist, much like the bulkier turadium guard of his own lightsabre. That would open up a whole host of his customary options again. That, and it was a dang good blade. Well-maintained, not too ornate, perfectly balanced for what it was. He stepped back and whipped it around himself, getting a quick feel for it, verifying that it fit his muscle memory.

"I'm just sorry to dishonor a blade like this with the blood of a child."

He shared a glance with Aliit'buir Vereen -- acknowledgement and thanks -- then turned toward the new arrival. Young Aliit'buir Detta had taken the loose, mobile stance of someone who expected to put his youth to work. Float like a butterfly, sting like a dinko, dodge everything. A fifteen-metre circle offered little room for that. In other warrior cultures, this would be the point when the circle of onlookers would raise their shields to form an interlocking barrier. Mandalorians, as a general rule, didn't carry shields around. They were the shields, and woe be unto whoever ran into them. Or, for that matter, the waist-high stone wall that kept the onlookers out.

Scabbard held backhand in his left, beskad in his right, Ember evaluated what Detta carried. His armour's capabilities were unknown, just as Ember's armour was to Detta, but that was a standard-issue Rhyno there, a forty-five revolver. Bad news, in more experienced hands. What mattered was to get Detta dancing around, throw off his aim, keep the pressure up.

Ember advanced, flickered his eyes and twisted his wrists just so, and both his wrist weapons fired past what he held. The right was a wide-angle stun gun, good to knock someone out at about five metres -- but also pretty darn good for creating a momentary obscuring cover. It made a big noise, too, as its expanding, glowing stun field roared toward Detta. It would be at reduced power but very diffuse when it blanketed his area, probably enough to give him a good shock through his armour. The left bracer's weapon, by contrast, was silent: a Verpine shattergun, dialed down to merely ridiculous muzzle velocities. Normally he handled its vicious recoil with the Force, hence the partial reduction in power. Still enough to pulp organs right through beskar plate.

But he wasn't aiming at organs. He was aiming to make Detta squirm; shock and awe, emphasis on the shock. So the mass-driver round slammed into the stone a couple of paces in front of Detta, spraying the younger man's area with hypervelocity rock shrapnel. A six-inch gouge opened in the floor, and the pieces that missed Detta slammed into the stone wall hard enough to crack it. A staggering sound, immediately behind Detta, also designed to rattle him. Ember rather hoped Detta was one of those people who believed he could shrug off this kind of chaos instead of losing his cool, getting a case of nerves, acquiring the shakes. 'Kid' was the term. 'Recruit' also came to mind.

 

[Nolan Detta]

The first move was made, Ember shot forth his arms and from them came the initial attack. First was an attack made to disorient, the stun blast was loud and cause Nolan to wince from the sound, but he was able to quick blink his armor to react. A burst of energy flashed over the vital areas of the Detta. The stun wave overloaded the shields but protected his head, chest and the round tables below. His arms and legs stung from the muscle contractions that accompanied being shot by stun weapons. Nolan's head turned slightly, shielding his eyes from the bright flash. Through the tinted visor, a slight blue ring appeared in his vision when the second attack struck the ground like Nolan usually struck the ground during orbital drops.

A slight shuffle to the side, and shrapnel pelting his calves, Nolan felt blood trickling into his boots. Verpine weapons were dangerous even when they missed. But Nolan was sure the miss was deliberate. At this distance, he'd have hardly stood a chance. The crowd was sure to catch some of the shrapnel too. Careless attacks that endangered others? Not something Nolan thought the Old Rekali would do.

In response, Nolan pulled the Rhyno in his off-hand and fired at the feet of the Warmonger. The .454 round would hit like a brick, though not nearly as explosive as the Verpine round. In the hands of the man who invented it, the Rhyno was a dangerous weapon indeed, armor piercing capabilities and a higher than average capacity compared to most slugthrower revolvers, and it's weight made it very accurate at this range. Nolan walked forwards, step by step, not rushing nor strolling. Pistol still raised, until Ember made a move, he'd get closer and closer.

[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Nolan Detta"]

Considering the crowd was Mandalorian, they not only wore armour in general, but knew the risks of being near a duel between people who carried all manner of weapons by default. Also, there was a wall. At this angle, the majority of the shrapnel that missed Detta's lower body had slammed into the wall.

Ember had already started moving forward under cover of the simultaneous stun blast and shrapnel assault. Nolan's off-hand draw took time, and Ember's weapons were already pointed in that direction, but rather than fire again he used that time to shuffle to the right. The .45 struck the stone near his left foot with far less momentum than the mass driver, but the ricochet glanced off the stone and grazed the side of Ember's armored calf with punishing force. The beskar'kandar blunted the impact, and he'd shifted weight off that leg to prevent an anchor-break, but Ember still fell to one knee. The tip of the beskad's scabbard struck the ground and held, a cane for the moment. A grunt escaped him. All that mattered at this exact moment was throwing off Detta's aim for a potential second shot.

It turned out that wide-angled stun shots were really good for that. His wrist stunner fired again, a concussive energy blast that ought to give him time and cover, the spare moment he needed to get to his feet. The goal was to get to melee range. Beskad to beskad, hand to hand. Fortunately, Detta seemed to have that in mind as well.

 

[Nolan Detta]

[member="Ember Rekali"]

A split second of reprieve as Ember fell to a knee. His shot had hit hard enough to dislodge his opponents footing. A good start. Then came another blast from the stun gun. In a split second decision, Nolan responded with a torrent of flame, bursting from the flamethrower on his wrist. He'd hoped it would give both fighters something to think about. It could do some damage, but mostly it would wreak havoc on the eyes and give Nolan time to move and recover from the intense stun round that hit him.

Nolan realized he had a counter to the stun round for at least the audible and visual side effects. His armor had auditory dampeners and a fully tinting visor. Made for extreme combat, the Hyperion armor he wore was made for fighting beings like Mandalorians. He shook his vision clear and fired again at the knees of the Rekali Alor.

Stepping in, Nolan reeled back his dominant had into a palm heel strike aimed for Ember's faceplate. Then he'd follow with a straight kick for the chest. A straightforward attack that was aimed to send out feelers for how Ember reacted.

 

[Satine Detta]

Satine stood at the edge of the circle watching none of the concern that churned inside her showed on her face, their children stood beside her watching on in interest and fear. But this was something that she knew her riduur needed to do.

This duel with [member="Ember Rekali"] she knew [member="Nolan Detta"] could do it, he needed to keep his wits about him and be mindful of Ember's movements. She held her breath at times watching.

Warrior clans often fought it was nothing new, nothing unexpected.

She clenched her teeth and silently urged her riddur on.

 

[Long Gone]

Mira watched beneath her brightened visor – a sigh escaping her lips as she pressed through what felt like crowded ranks of Clan Rekali. As she pushed through the final row – she came upon the eldest of the Clan, well for the most part they were elders. Mostly in age than anything else, the Elder himself was in the ring – fighting a youth who couldn’t quite keep his mouth shut apparently. It wasn’t like her jagyc ba’buir to just run off and fight like some wild bull rancor – no, apparently there was a reason. The whispers amongst the crowd were that he insulted the Clan, more specifically – the Rekali name. That was something she knew Ember wouldn’t take lightly.

If she had learned anything from her mother – never, ever, ever – insult her grandfather’s honor or namesake.

For Mira, it was really the first time she had seen him, this close anyways. She had heard stories, and tales of a legendary warrior. Granted, she was a bit older than she was when she heard those stories but she was still awestruck as a child – watching him behind the visor of her buy’ce. Her sensors picked up a familiar scent – something that registered to a specific leaf that only one person was known to smoke. She turned her attention to her right and quickly ran over to her great jagyc-bavodu [member="Samael Rekali"]. Mira took a moment to look up at him, and then to the circle before both gloved hands would find her buy’ce and gently pull it free from her head. She shook out her chin length hair as soon as the air of the arena hit her, her garnet eyes blinking a few times. This was a unique situation – get to see someone of legend in action and see someone potentially get a well-deserved lesson

That is, if others didn’t interfere before he got taught his lesson.

She had to wonder – to what lengths what Ember willing to go to get his point across…?

[member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] | [member="Darth Vulkan"] | [member="Satine D'ulin"] | [member="Nolan Detta"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Nolan Detta"]

If there was an iconic Mandalorian weapon, the wrist flamer was it, but few had the guts to use it this close. Ember turned the momentum of his rise into a roll, forward and to the left, as deadly heat washed over the lower extremities of his beskar'kandar. Rather than let the scabbard be trapped under him and drag down his left arm as he rolled, he released it and used the loop of his arms to cover his visor. That had been a good move on Detta's part: the polarizing visor would have been darkened for crucial seconds. As it was, it still dimmed somewhat on Ember's part. Detta had apparently counted on the Hyperion's polarizing visor being an asset, but when your vision went dim for a couple of seconds at close range, that pretty much wasn't. Standard problem with polarizing visors. Wouldn't do much for Detta's aim on that second blast, no matter how much he shook his head.

The ground-contact of the roll ran up from his left elbow to hand, right beskad-guard to elbow, right shoulder to left hip, and Ember evaded the second flamer blast in the process. A standard roll, but quick, very quick, for a man of his age wearing this much Mandalorian iron. He hadn't meant to reveal his Forceless physical capabilities this soon, in part because an advantage hidden was worth double, and in part because Detta was much younger and might be able to last longer.

As Ember whirled to his feet, roll transitioning into a back stance, left side toward Detta, in came a melee assault. Finally. Ember had left the Dem'adas scabbard off to his right, and his stance was backwards of how it should be, so his first order of business was to partially reverse his stance by stepping back. That diffused the impact of the palm-heel strike and brought Ember's beskad hand forward, right foot a bit ahead of the left. The straight kick came in immediately, and Ember committed some weight forward before stopping it abruptly at just the right moment. The kick struck the chest-plate of his beskar'kandar with a painful thud, but Ember didn't rock back more than a couple of inches. Wearing or kicking a beskar'kandar chest-plate was like wearing or kicking an ornery wall.

He brought up his right forearm in a rising, hooking block underneath the extended leg, right at the calf. Nothing easier. Some practitioners, even some very good ones, swore by high kicks, but most of the best said they were usually suicide. Ember tended to fall into the latter camp. His block shoved the armored leg a little farther up in an instant, until Detta's foot clacked against the heavy armor of Ember's lowered shoulder.

At which point, he unbent his right arm and torqued that way, blade hissing beneath Detta's high kick. If Detta had used his left leg to kick, the beskad would scythe into his junk. If the right leg, the beskad's natural course would take it toward his shebs. Two areas that the otherwise comprehensive Hyperion beskar'gam plates absolutely did not cover, especially not to attacks from this angle.

High kicks. Not even once™.

[member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Darth Vulkan"] @Mira Gyndar [member="Satine D'ulin"] [member="Samael Rekali"]

 

[Anija Betna]

[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Mira Rekali"] [member="Nolan Detta"] [member="Satine D'ulin"] [member="Samael Rekali"][member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Darth Vulkan"]

Honor duels. Not something Anija had seen much of. The last time anything had even come close was the duels for Mand'alor. But even then most knew who would probably win. Here, it was going to be interesting. The crowd was slowly growing by the minute, and Anija could see a rather clear division - at least in those present. She knew how some wouold side, or at least she thought she did. People sometimes had a way of surprising her. Taking a deep breath, she too reached up and removed her helmet as she stepped up close to [member="Samael Rekali"]. She didn't know him all that well, but Ember was part of those she considered part of her own extended family. And by extension that included the rest of his clan as well.

Leaning in close, she whispered, "I was in the meeting, but I was near the back..." She frowned. The whispers that were beginning to reach to them spoke of a grave insult to the Rekali name. That alone set Anija's blood boiling. It took all of her control to not draw a weapon and step into the ring herself. This was Ember's fight, and his alone. And, it looked like he had it rather well in hand. As she watched, she noticed a few other things as well. The blade he held in his grip was of a distinctive style. Dem'adas. Her lips quirked into a grin as she watched, and her gaze connected with Olivia's across the arena. She'd only met the woman a few times, and this only improved Anija's opinion of her.

As her gaze swept the rest of the gathered vode, her gaze came to rest one one person in particular. [member="Darth Vulkan"]. The armor she recognized, if only just. But the sense in the Force was him... and yet not. A frown crossed her face for a moment before she sighed and shook her head. Now wasn't the time for such things. What mattered was that she noticed that he seemed to be acting as Ember's second - for she saw him holding the rest of Ember's gear.

Taking another deep breath, she pulled her gaze back to the combatants in the center. As she did, she swore softly at what she saw unfolding before her. Ember's Beskar'kandar was distinctive, as it was a highly customized suit of armor. Though Nolan's bore some distinctions as well. But of a different sort. Hyperion Beskar'gam. She had helped to develop that armor base model personally. And she well knew it's weaknesses. As Ember obviously had discovered for himself, given his actions. Sucking in a breath, she held it as she waited to see what would happen next.

 

[Nolan Detta]

A quicker reaction than Nolan had thought. Speed he had not counted on. It was an honest mistake when fighting someone for the first time. One Nolan wouldn't make again. His palm strike hit with little effect and when his kick was caught, Nolan needed to act fast. His round tables were in danger as his right foot lay tucked into Ember's armpit. Blinking his system into action, the jet pack fired up and propelled Nolan upwards and over Ember.

In the midst of the impromptu flight, Nolan pulled his left knee up towards the inbound sword arm of the elder Mando. Nolan then fired the wrist mounted grappling gun into his own hand, creating an improvised garrote. At this distance, slipping around the Rekali Alor's neck would be a snap.

Nolan disengaged the jet pack and tucked himself over the top of Ember, letting gravity pull the garrote tight around the throat. With the near 300lbs mando falling down the backside of the old Vod, they were sure to tumble backwards to the ground and allow Nolan a chance to bridge his body against Ember's and choke him out. Nolan flexed his muscles a tight as he could, putting as much pressure on the windpipe as he could. He didn't want to kill the man, but he wasn't about to go easy when he had the chance to end this fight.

The Rhyno fell off to the side as the pair inevitably tumbled. At this position, if Ember was able to free himself, Nolan's flamethrower was at point blank range, as was another couple weapons he had available. He had moves to make, he just hoped Ember was unable to make any of his own.

[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Anija Betna"] [member="Satine D'ulin"] @Samuel Rekali [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Darth Vulkan"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Nolan Detta"]

With Detta's right foot trapped by Ember's right arm, the left knee strike accomplished nothing -- except to trigger the contact-activated vibroblade in Ember's elbow. The short beskar blade snapped out and back in within a moment. Maybe it struck a plate, or maybe the flexed position of the knee drastically increased its odds of finding vulnerable bodyglove and punching through. Either way, Ember wasn't letting go of the leg he'd got. That was simple enough, a tightening of his sword arm's recovery after it'd been made clear that the target wasn't going to be where he'd hoped. To fire a jetpack with one leg up at more than ninety degrees, though -- that had to put painful stress on the groin. Especially when Ember just...leaned forward a little with that shoulder, putting pressure on the right shin and knee. Detta's rise jolted him. For the moment, and only for the moment, he held. Keep this up more than a second or two, impeding Detta's maneuver through the conceded leg, and Ember would find himself flat on his back. For now, however, he remained on his feet.

The jetpack fired, the grappling cord settled around his neck, and he brought up his free hand. An eighteen-inch Thorn of Ryloth hookblade -- beskar, covered in a power field -- snapped into existence and sheared through the grapnel line before it could snug with Detta's weight or jerk Ember off his feet. That same motion continued, inward and upward, as Detta began to turn.

The younger man couldn't have known about the hidden blades, so he'd put a lot of hope into that throat grapnel, and a metric fethton of commitment. Either way, thought, Detta had aimed to go up and over, in armor that had no lower abdominal protection. So Ember just turned, releasing the foot, and continued bringing up his off hand. One mass driver shot, point blank, an instant before one eighteen-inch beskar blade projecting from the same gauntlet. Both aimed across the thigh plate of the recently-trapped leg, at Detta's groin.

No tumble. Just good footing, a moderately firm grip on the right foot, and a real good chance of ricocheting that mass driver round inside Detta's armor a few dozen times until he turned to jerking, twitching hamburger inside an intact suit of Hyperion Beskar'gam. Mass drivers weren't humane things. Then again, neither were flamethrowers. Ember had little doubt he was about to get a point-blank introduction to that particular weapon, though how well Detta could aim with a mass driver and a Thorn of Ryloth bound for his junk due to his own maneuver -- that was anyone's guess. If he kept triggering the jetpack to go up, the mostly-unarmored side of the recently trapped leg and knee would probably intercept the attack meant for the nuts.

 

[Long Gone]

Mira looked at [member="Anija Betna"] and then back to the center where her grandfather was fighting.

‘So this what about the Rekali name…’ She thought to herself as she found a place to lean against, much like [member="Samael Rekali"]. She didn’t know what was said but apparently it was bad enough for get Ember into a fighting mood. Part of Mira almost felt sorry for the person he was fighting – but the other part felt he deserved much more than what Ember would likely dish out. Of course, like everyone with Rekali blood in them – she could feel the emptiness surrounding the arena. The void of the Force that represented everything that was her life – that cold touch of the ysalamir bubble that sapped her warmth. She despised it – but it must be done in order to ensure a fair fight.

Had it not been there – this would have been done by the time the kid stepped into the ring…maybe. Ember had honor, even with the Force he probably would have kept it fair anyways.

It was the type of man she had heard he was – atleast when it came to these types of things.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

The old man cursed under his breath as the fight continued. He had fought many a duel in this circle, watched just as many too. It was a place where honor was put to the test. But this...? Compared to Ember Nolan was but a child. He wouldn't let the Detta win, no matter what he had to do.

Which was what he was afraid of.

 

[Nolan Detta]

When he'd least expected, Ember pulled another rabbit out of his hat in the form of the hooked Beskar blade. Severing the grappling cord before it could be fully utilized, the torque on Nolan's hip was welcomed by a slight *pop* and jolt of pain. A slight dislocation he guessed, but still painful as frak. Then his leg was released, unexpected, yet welcomed. This allowed more freedom of movement to do what he could to avoid the incoming scrotal attacks. Twisting in to grapple the right arm of his opponent, both crushgaunts aimed to hault the path of that arms weapon, hopefully it would throw off the aim and allow the future of clan Detta to remain permanently intact.

Pulling his legs with him, intending on flipping behind Ember, Nolan heard what sounded like metal on metal. After all these years, he'd forgotten his right foot wasn't real. As Ember's hook blade made contact with Nolan's foot, it cut into the metal, cutting a large gash into it. With the induction field around the blade, it was like a Lightsaber through...well anything. That damage would likely slow Nolan down a good deal, at least on his feet. The cheapness of the prosthetic had the advantage of not including any nerve endings, it actually functioned more like a retro type prosthetic, being only made of metal to withstand combat. When Nolan had lost his foot, he was but an Initiate in the rank and file. Not near enough funding for a good, high tech foot.

With a, hopefully, successful dismount of the Rekali Alor, Nolan decided to go for gold and loose another blast from the flamethrower. His crushgaunts, also hopefully, holding the right arm of Ember would put the blaze on a collision course with the elder vods face. With the damage to his foot, he wasn't going to be making any fancy footwork for the duration of the fight.

[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Nolan Detta"]

Micronized-beskar crushgaunts strained uselessly against class-ten beskar'kandar as Ember pivoted once more to keep facing Detta. Apparently Detta had thought the attach was coming from the right arm, and that was the one he'd grabbed. Sparks flew from the right gauntlet's wrist stunner, so the wide-angle weapon would be of no more use. Flame roared up along that arm, up over the shoulder, and uncomfortable heat penetrated the high-grade armourweave between the plates of his upper arm. It did very little against the solid beskar of his helmet -- he had more than enough vision modes to see through the fluting fire -- but even so, that was the definition of an untenable situation. His right hand still held the beskad, the flat of the blade now resting against Detta's chest. That, too, wasn't ideal. He could have dropped it into his free left hand and done a number on the boy, but instead he just fired his left bracer's mass driver again, point blank. It didn't take more than a flick of the eye and the wrist; his arm was already pointing that way, or near enough.

And Detta had just done him the immense favour of locking himself in position with two crushgaunts.

Dead silent, except for the mindboggling sound that would come from impact, Ember just kept firing the semi-automatic mass driver at Detta's torso point blank. He had a good bit of ammunition left -- the mag held twenty shots. Each one jarred Ember at elbow, shoulder, and spine. Even dialed down, the mass driver was a cannon that he normally handled with Force-based physical enhancement. A veteran of Myrkr and Dromund Kaas, the two known worlds boasting ysalamiri, he'd trained and fought without the Force more than once. That didn't make the strain any more comfortable. That said, the burn starting under portions of his body glove blotted out the lesser pain, eclipsing it.

 

[Satine Detta]

Satine could only watch as events unfolded, part of her made a step nearly entering the circle but she had to have faith that [member="Nolan Detta"] knew his craft and that his skill was equal to the Rekali Alor

She had no armor to hide behind, her children stood silent looking up at their mother asking questions that even Satine felt herself asking. She put a hand onto the top of their heads, she did not make them watch but she knew they would need to understand.

Between fire and rounds fired. Would her riduur live? She could only remain rigid, training took over, training that said do not show your emotions. She tried hard not to. but how do you watch someone you love endure so much.