Duel Don't Shii-Cho Pants

[Vella Forte]

Bastion
Training Grounds
Welcome to the jungle, baby.
​

Leaving an indented trail from their heels, the groaning knight was dragged out by assistant droids, clutching their scorched and burning arm and legs. The red Twi'lek had put up a fair fight, and Vella bookmarked their use of the environment as something she'd try to carry forward. When the alien had kicked sand and grit into Vella's eyes, the opponent had bought enough time to prolong the inevitable. It hadn't been enough, though, evidenced by the robots dragging the crimson-skinned woman away and lofting her to a stretcher to address her wounds.

Which left Vella in the sand ring alone, a triumphant, crooked grin cracked along her tattooed face. This day had started out as a lesson for a handful of knights on advancing their sabre techniques, and it was wrapping up with seeing who was able to apply the lessons under duress.

Curls of golden dust clouded around her feet while she paced, looking up to the stands with predatory intent. There were a few other knights peppered here and there in the otherwise empty seats. When this facility wasn't used a spot to train, it was a full-style gladiatorial arena for defectors or rebels alike. It was an interesting juxtaposition, an arena of heat and history amidst Bastion's otherwise modern city-like architecture. These sands craved blood, and something about spectating made people equally malicious.

"Only a few of us left." She observed, giving her blade a twirl casually by her side. "Shall we reduce the numbers even more, show the masters who's ready?"

Zachary Ludwig

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Two generations of Sith blood and it had led him here. It was a fight between defectors and able-bodied fighters unfortunate enough to avoid a bloody end on the battlefield had been gathered in one place to prove that their final breath was to be a worthy one. He and a few other knights had simply been thrown into the Not that they quite shared the same sentiment. The weak fell at first, some of the survivors proving themselves to be far from who Zachary would have expected. The blood of men greater in size than him had poured with surprising ease, much like many of those that were expected to fall had fallen in a near instant.

For Zach it had always been a matter of outlasting. A fight was a fight, but only a fight that could be won was a fight worthy of his attention. The cost of engaging in direct confrontation with other members in the arena was far greater than the cost of letting them come to him. A few of the fighters had tried but none had succeeded. Tired and worn men and women of all shapes and colors had approached him, yet the blood of those that were weaker would prove to spill with the same ease as those that came before them. Unlike some of the knights around him he didn’t marvel at the chance to kill. Each life still held a value that was to be weighed against the value of others, his own being the one of the utmost priority.

Yet near the end of the battle it would seem that he was approached once more. This time by a fellow Sith as opposed to the rabble that would dare approach him. He’d almost admire her guts, albeit clearly at odds at the opportunity to strike at someone of his shared faith. Few things mattered to him more than the Sith, he’d happily kill for it and he’d happily die for it, but it wasn’t without its flaws.

Still, he also enjoyed the thrill of the fight. His arms opened wide in an invitation as he held his orange blade by his side like an invitation for the opponent to try her luck should she so desire.

“You may certainly try.” He added with a mocking grin aimed at Vella Forte .

 

[Vella Forte]

What baby wants, baby gets.
​

There was nothing more inviting than the growl of an untouched saber in the hands of a capable opponent. Vella's confidence was unparalleled today, having swat down former opponents like flies.

She tilted her head in his direction, and affirmative simper plastered across her alabaster face. T'was all in good fun, besting one opponent from the brotherhood to the next. It was what made them better.

Allowing a few seconds for the pair to get into their opening stance, Vella recognized it would be her duty to strike first. With a shrug, she leapt into action. Her singular crimson blade twisting in untraceable whirls of distracting, ruby light. It followed the pattern of an infinity symbol in front of her, to which she then gave a showwomanship twirl, used that momentum, and jabbed forward to Zachary Ludwig's chest. The jab would be the first detectable action, and break of the optical illusion of her wall of red light.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Vella Forte

The stands went wild at the sight of two Knights deciding to go at it. Part of Zachary had to admit that he relished in the attention that was put upon her, even if an abundance of attention generally didn’t lead anywhere desirable. As the woman made her intentions clear he would lower his saber and enter stance with one foot in front of him and his body twisted to make himself as small as possible. The orange saber rested in his hands as it pointed at the ground. Father had always had a soft spot this form that would focus on control and precise movement over the usual sheer power he would attempt to project onto his opponents.

And so with a breath to steel himself Zach would intercept his opponent’s twirl as if to taunt her into action. He caught the attack with his blade and with a circular motion began to divert it away from himself.

The was no need to dilly-dally. His left hand extended by his chest and with a push he would try to throw her off-balance and quickly follow the attack up with a quick jab of his own at her chest, almost reminiscent of her own attack. It was all about figuring out your opponent and giving them nothing back. After that, outlasting them.

Always outlast.

Always be the last to fall.

 

[Vella Forte]

Through some courses, and general activity on Bastion, Vella had seen this person once-or-twice around. Not enough to know his name, but enough to know (or assume) he was a considerable opponent in this field. The cheers from the stands confirmed this would be a worth it fight too. The first clash of orange and crimson was met with a hoo-hooooo from some other Sithlings in their seats, clapping excitedly at the lesson to unfold.

Her blade was an extension of thine own arm, and she followed the arc Zachary Ludwig forced her into. Then came his use of the Force, and she skidded backward a few feet. She hadn't recovered from the arc yet, and rolled with the momentum from that and the push he'd given her to angle herself to dodge the incoming jab he'd leapt into, bringing her own sword around in a horizontal swipe, about midriff level.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Meanwhile this woman had passed Zachary’s attention entirely, written off as just another member of the riff-raff-rabble that muddied the pool of people that the Sith could rely on. When the doors were open such as they were, the resources and means to train the perfect soldier was depleted much faster than if focus was put upon a select few. It had been the weakness of the Jedi for a long time, much like it over time seemed to have become a weakness for the Sith.

With time, maybe there would be a way to change this.

As the blade came came for his midriff Zach swapped stance once more to grasp his hilt by both hands and forcefully try to whack the woman’s saber out of her hand. It was followed up by a kick meant to send her away from him once more, like a statement that this fight was so far proving far too easy. His eyes gleamed with a spark of amusement as if to taunt her into yet another attack. She was beneath him in every conceivable way. The fact that he was even doing this was for him a measure meant to lower him to a level that seemed almost unprecedented.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

With a one-handed grip, Vella wasn't prepared for the momentum that came with the downward strike and double-handed prowess of Zachary Ludwig. A few options went through her head, and a helpful (yet nagging) preconception suggested she dip. She took a knee, following the hand that had been slapped down with the other blade. Her lowered centre meant the kick that had been meant for her body swooped over her head, and it was only a handful of seconds she had to wait out. By will of The Force, a smaller hilt snapped to her free hand (left). The shoto ignited from seemingly out of nowhere, and swiped where the thigh of his grounded leg remained.

From her semi-crouched position, she extended both her hands outwards, keeping her fingers curled around the hilts of both her blades. The metaphysical around her curling and contorting to a powerful build that would explode from the control of her palms in a ballooning blast toward her opponent to put more distance between them. She'd now bee the first to strike two times, and wanted the roles reversed, or at least see the reaction.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Vella Forte

Precognition, something was off. Zachary’s attacks had both missed and there was something coming for him. Yet everything seemed fine, the woman had swept for him but clearly missed. Something gave in as she tried to push him away. Zach went flying into the air, rolled on the dirt yet kicked himself up off the ground. A familiar scent of burnt fabric and flesh seemed to fill his nostrils and with a curious glance he looked down to see the small cut in his lower thigh.

A crooked smile spread on his lips as he looked back at his opponent.

“Impressive.” He said and began to approach his opponent once more. With almost a twitch he would throw his hands up to try and lock Vella in place through the force and paralyze her as with his other arm swung along his side to send his lightsaber spinning in an arch towards her.

And yet throughout all of it, he maintained a calm to him. The anger burned inside of him, but on the surface he seemed to be unaffected by everything. Oh, the leg would undoubtedly hurt, but nothing more than his pride was already burning like a hydrospanner left under the binary suns of Tatooine.

She was going to pay for that.

 

[Vella Forte]

A knowing, roguish smirk plastered on her lips at the hesitant compliment from her rival. Her expression quickly soured when the emblazoned energy around her constricted and compounded pressure against her figure. Gurk! Mental klaxons were blaring while Zachary Ludwig fired himself up across from her, quickly closing the distance.

Why couldn't she move!? Frustration replaced panic, and she became conscious of her presence within itself. The time for introspection was now, and she concentrated deeply on getting her defences up. The struggle felt elephantine in its nature, having to best her physical and metaphysical self with little time to result in the explosive drop. The burning ember within her smouldered, roaring into a fully banked heat inferno that stretched and licked it's metaphysical flames against the invisible chains that bound her.

She crumpled, having to give in to the machinations of her opponent before she could break free. As she dropped from her standing position to a limp heap, the other sith's orange sword connected with her shoulder, charring through her onyx plating. Her teeth slammed together at the touch of the burning blade, and she quickly gathered herself, rolling to her back and thrusting her weight forward with a twist of her legs. She carried this momentum forward to a lunging-run-sort of maneuver, twisting her longer blade around in a downward slash toward the opposing knight, her shoto coming in behind at an assisting shank-height.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

The blade hit her shoulder and Zach would let on a wicked grin at the sight, his teeth bared ever so slightly as his nearly arrogant stride carried him ever closer to this other fighter. Fortunate as it was that he had hit, Zach had also hoped to teach something that cut perhaps a little bit deeper. She could learn from him. The intention to kill a fellow faithful had never crossed his mind, but that did not mean he would spare her the sensation of a humiliating defeat. In this dance of death there was only the one thing that mattered, and only the one possible reality. With time she too would see this.

But this opponent was stubborn. She was one for throwing herself straight into combat which while admirable did very little for one’s own longevity. As she attacked he brought his saber up to catch it and as the shoto reached for his sides he would pull himself away.

And then, there was no follow up. Just a lingering grin, a raised brow and a stare that almost could have burned the skin off his nose clear off.

“Getting tired yet?” His lips parted with a taunt. “Shown your master what they needed to see? Gotten them to loosen your leash?”

All he needed to do was seed those doubts, those distractions of the mind. Though a technique he’d found more effective on opponents of a more self-righteous disposition, blind rage was just as dangerous to a Sith as it were to anyone else. The ability to temper it was, after all, what separated them from other beasts.

 

[Vella Forte]

While The Sith Empire was littered with Sith Masters, and Vella had been under some discreet instruction of Lassiter , her mind's eye equated one true Master that she actually cared to impress. The Goddess Vahl herself. And she highly doubted the divine had any interest in this petty practice.

The stalemate that gave Zachary Ludwig the podium for a handful of moments was irritating to Vella. She preferred to act, rather than chat. The opponents she had bested before him were focused on clashing blades together, not wagging their chins with dubious intentions.

The constant thrum of her blades was louder than his words, and she took few steps to begin encircling him, rather than just standing and listening. Her ruby gaze was transfixed on all that Zachary was. His presence in both the physical and metaphysical realm. His mortal vessel was average, but the shadow he cast in the empyrean was long and dark, and trying to reach out to influence her. With a heavy sigh, she sought to reject the attempted sway.

With a shake of her head, she made a final rejection of those pandering thoughts. "It's just you and me, friend."

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Shouldn’t have expected that to work. Maybe there was something to this one then. Zachary stood still as she began to pace, awaiting her strike that never came. It was a mind game in and of itself, yet he remained stationary, unmoving as the uncertainty should have begun to cloud his mind. She was allowed behind his back and he would do nothing. His trust in his own ability with the force would grant him the victory in this battle, it was all about outlasting her.

Always outlast, always be the last to fall. He repeated his father’s mantra with the total belief that they still rung true.

“I don’t know, I see some of the others that are still standing.” He continued his taunts. “Maybe you’d have an easier time impressing someone who couldn’t see right through you.”

 

[Vella Forte]

Her grip tightened and she rolled the leather of her hilts once or twice over, rotating it against her palms in frustration. By now, she'd walked a full orbit around Zachary Ludwig and he'd barely flinched. If she'd wanted to join the debate team, she wouldn't be standing in gladiatorial arena.

The seats were growing with discomfort. The frustrated mood could be sensed, and the discontented murmurs were starting to raise in volume. They wanted to see the excitement of clashing sabers!

She levelled her ruby glare at him, jaw clenched with frustration. She was ignoring the burning sensation on her shoulder and instead concentrated on how to turn this into something she wanted to participate in. Dare she open herself up to an appraisal from this stranger? Did she care?

"I'm not here to impress you." She said finally, seriously considering disengaging her blades. Or at least her shoto. "I've nothing to prove to you." Her long sword extended from the ground, held forward at chest level as if she were using it to point at him.

"But them," she gestured now with her little shoto "-They want to be impressed." The shoto made a circular gesture. "This isn't going to cut it, chatterbox."

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

That was where she was entirely wrong. They were all here to impress him, and so far there were none that had. A bunch of children pretending to be something they were not. The jeers of the crowd fell on his deaf ears as he kept a mocking glance on Vella. He was winning, he felt it.

“You are assuming that I am making this a show for them. Interesting.” He said and began to pace around Vella to mirror the move she had previously attempted on him. “Which naturally leads me to assume that it is in fact you who are trying to impress them.”

He came to a complete stop once he had come halfway around Vella. Whether her back was towards him or not was of little importance. Even still he used his words, kept his saber by his side. Ignited, but unused.

“Why do you seek the validation of your peers?”

“Are you afraid that in the end, you’re nothing special without them at your feet?”

“Are you truly that subservient?”

 

[Vella Forte]

This is where the delineation between mind games and merit in words was starting to blur. He was clearly trying to drag her down with self doubt, and it hadn't worked up until the point where he pointed out she intended to make a spectacle of herself. She craved reverence, this was true. She bit down on the inside of her cheek while keeping a wary eye on him.

This mental game was taxing. She just wanted to twirl around with excellent footwork and slice and dice a fellow warrior. Instead, she got a psychologist. A frustrated groan became audible, and she flicked her gaze skyward with an eyeroll before locking in on Zachary Ludwig again, ferocity twinkling in her red eyes.

"Why are you talking so much?"

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

She did it. She rolled her eyes, turned her attention skyward and in that very moment Zach would close the distance between them, place himself within a foot from her space as if to prove some kind of point.

“Because sometimes words are all you need.” He said and quickly beat his saber against the shoto’s to try and bat it out of her hand. Preferably somewhere far away where she would forget it.

With or without success he would back away again with a force push to get her mind spinning again. Either to forget the blade or make her think twice about what a mistake it was to let her eyes divert from her opponent.

 

[Vella Forte]

His words were indeed effective. The little blade abandoned her grip and fell to the sand. Her free hand snapped to his wrist, grabbing at it and yanking it downward with it's new freedom, hopefully to twist and negatively impact his flexibility. She released her hold though when he yanked backward, and gave an additional push to put more space between them. The telekinetic burst also spiralled her shoto further from their proximity.

With a flick of her index and middle finger, the shoto at a distance went spiralling through the air with a horizontal trajectory toward Zachary, while at the same time its mistress re-engaged to leap at her opponent, striking down at Zachary Ludwig and re-invigorated that they were once again using weapons to duel, versus words.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

She tried, and to some measure she would succeed. Though his wrist wasn't in any crippling pain, they had still been twisted which anyone but the limbless would suffer at least a temporary setback for. As he had backed off Zachary had found a moment to reassess the situation. They were back to the sabers again, and once more despite his wishes that shoto was becoming problematic. In some ways they were now in both of their fields as compared to solely in his. She had learned the blade, and so had he although he suspected not necessarily to the same extent.

The shoto came hurling, and so did its owner. A decision had to be made and Zachary went low, swept to his side while sweeping at the sky. Not to attack the owner but their possession, seeking to carve the hilt of the shoto in two and even the field to a single blade per combatant.

 

[Vella Forte]

The fate of the shoto had been decided the moment it's mistress had set its course. It would either cut through flesh, or not.

It was for naught.

The metal seared in two parts, releasing a cacophonous sizzle as it fell from orbit to the sand. Meanwhile, Vella's strike was dodged by Zachary Ludwig's drop maneuver, and she found herself forced to make a stabbing sweeping motion. With him so close to the ground, she quickly recalled what her previous opponent had done, and in lunging forward at him, kicked up a spray of gravel and dust to obstruct his vision while her crimson arc came down from the left side.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Success! At the very least there was a measure of it at first. The Shoto was destroyed and Zach felt a weight off his shoulder, same as he felt a whole measure of sand force its way into his eyes. With a hiss and a whole other measure of spit he rolled to avoid the woman’s attack. With a kick he got himself back up on the ground and entered a defensive stance as he let an indignant fury set upon him. It was a cheap trick, one he respected, but a cheap one nonetheless. Tears ran down his cheeks, caking the sand on his skin like a thin trail of mud.

“Almost impressive.” He said and remained on alert, his teeth barred as he focused on the woman and his surroundings. “I will give you that.”

His shoulder rose and sunk with each breath.

“It changes nothing.”