Duel Don't Shii-Cho Pants

[Vella Forte]

Empathy was not a strong suit of the Vahl, but she had just been in his shoes with the grit obstruction. It had been a confounding experience, but watching his pitiful reaction elicited a sense of satisfaction she'd yet to feel this round. She allowed herself a momentary twist of her thin lips into an amused line while she righted herself once again after missing the strike to his body.

Slippery little dust-covered worm.

And then, oh no! He was back to talking. At least this time his words could be interpreted as trying to make himself feel better, rather than solely focusing on making Vella feel worse. At least, that's how she chose to selectively hear what he had to say. He'd put himself in a position now, more than once, where he was doling out the credit and compliments -- if she hadn't clicked in earlier, she was now realizing he sought to loft himself so she'd seek validation. Validation in her triumph, for proving herself, or validation in her loss -- as it would be expected for someone as lowly as she in contrast to him to fail.

She remained tight lipped, frowning deeply at this new understanding. Another step forward was taken, and a gesture of her fingers once more. While the shoto was in two pieces, it wasn't entirely useless. Having being cleaved in two while it's kyber crystal was still active, it was still discharging desperate sparks into the sand. With the ethereal toss that lifted it once more, this tossed the fiery iotas as well, sputtering and spitting at the cloth that donned Zachary Ludwig's body. It was a lazy maneuver, but a final boast that she could continue to use the environment.

Meanwhile, another hand lifted above her head. Almost as if reaching backwards. Behind her, the central structure of stone and archways began to quiver and a handful of large bricks (dust and all) came rocketing from behind her silhouette and around, hurtling in Zachary's direction.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

There were two things on the agenda, clearing his eyes, and not dying. He wasn’t exactly helpless, but being blinded hardly helped with much of anything. His opponent would be picking up on his means of attack by now, at least they would if they were worth even a drop of salt in the ocean. It was something his father had imprinted upon him. All that truly mattered in a fight were the first two minutes of having the upper hand, everything after that became a hazard as the opponent learned from you. Needless to say, Vella should have learned by now.

She was doing something. The force warned him of the sparks, but that was little in comparison to the bigger, hurling rocks that Zach could see before him in the force as his mind attuned itself to the lack of vision. He threw up a barrier to catch the first volley that knocked him back into a brief stumble before he resigned to catching each stone with the force to build a wall before him, every brick and stone simply adding to the construct.

With a push of his own he sent the loose wall in the woman’s direction and made for a quick swipe at his eyes to allow himself vision again and entered a defensive stance.

 

[Vella Forte]

Keeping him fully engaged in the fight meant he couldn’t engage in the conversation. The empyrean around them fluctuated at the exertion to prevent her onslaught, and Vella latched on to that. His focus was aligned on self preservation, and splitting it to an offensive would surely bode well for her.

Oh, no matter - he did it himself. She felt the vague fluctuation of the dark side’s energies within their shared proximity while he stacked her offensive stones as a shield, and then rocketed that shield back to her. They could do this forever, building and tearing apart the same structure. She decided to cut through it, racing forward with powerful plunges and strikes of her blade, searing through the natural composition of the rocks-turned-bricks. Her momentum only served to build, and she came at Zachary Ludwig once again — he’d prepared to be on the defensive. Her strikes were many. They seemed erratic. If he parried one, there’d instantly be another - her movements were accelerated through augmentation and manipulation of her dark energies - the incessant battering of hit after hit serving to wear him down and keep his focus on the interactions between plasma sticks.

Meanwhile, she gathered her control internally, storing up for something more sinister between their shared space.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Vella Forte

But lightsabers were her field. Zach was naturally not bad at it, but as far as engaging in it went Vella would have some form of upper hand. She sped herself up, made the attacks hit a bit harder than they had before and Zach would amplify his own abilities accordingly, at least as far as speed was concerned. No doubt she meant to wear him down, get him to slip up and win accordingly. Only problem being that a lightsaber engagement was only an engagement if the saber struck anything.

She was good, he would grant her that, but few things ended these things like a good old dose of distance. As she continued her onslaught Zach made the one small decision. Either he could let her keep up, or he would afford himself a breather at the cost of a small amount of pain. Between feeding her ego at the cost of his own and keeping himself from letting something stupid happen, well, that choice made itself.

Zach lept backwards, his left shoulder taking a small hit as he continued to distance himself.

Though his teeth gritted with the wound’s pained cry, he pushed backwards still. His hand motioning towards the crowd behind him as if to weave something. It started with the one voice, followed by it’s friend, accompanied by a section.

“LAP. DOG. LAP. DOG. LAP. DOG.” The chants began to spread as Zach let on a devious smile at his opponent. One mind, one crowd, one reputation, and it wasn’t just his own. No doubt she would try to repeat what she had just done before and Zach prepared him for it this time around, kept himself flexible and able to use the whole field of the arena should he need to.

 

[Vella Forte]

An eye for an eye, a shoulder for a shoulder.

All too quickly for Vella to realize what was going on, a chorus began within the stands of observing Sith. It was...incredible. She held her blade at the ready, body tensed while she afforded herself the opportunity to look toward the stands. Last time she'd moved her eyes from him, he'd cut in far too close for her preference, this time, she maintained a prepared stance. But she couldn't resist seeing the synchronized mouths and pounding fists from the seats. Ruby gaze travelled back to Zachary Ludwig, assessing his absolution in the metaphysical.

This was lasting far longer than any of her other opponents. Their skills were entirely opposing - she was brute force and agility, and he, evidenced by the mastery of the crowds, was a mentalist and smooth talker.

Was he also clairvoyant?

"How does this end?" She challenged, having to raise her voice so as not to be drowned by the hive mind jeering.

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Oh, she wanted to know how it ended.

“Well, it doesn’t have to end in more violence.” Zach said and began to approach Vella again. Lightsaber at the ready, just in case. “You’ve fought well, I have seen who you are.”

The chants began to quiet down as they closed the gap again, the crowd looking on with anticipation as in the background of the arena the last of the captives were dragged out for the pyres that were built outside. In a show of initial trust, Zach would put his saber before him and then disengage it. Give a nearly regal bow and allowed Vella the opportunity to either drag this out, or concede a victory without either of them gaining or losing anything.

“We’ve proven our own worth. It’s just a matter of pride at this point.” Something Zachary was clearly not entirely without. And of course, much like with anything Zach did, the seeming surrender was not without a reason either. Though he kept those to himself, always did. “Do you accept this victory?”

The crowd seemed genuinely confused by the ordeal by this point.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

To strike now would be cheap.

Blood-red gaze remained fixed on the movements of Zachary Ludwig - appraising the details in his choices. Violent delights have violent ends, and while they'd been dancing dangerously for several minutes, there was no immediate end in sight that left them both standing. With everyone else, they'd fallen under her incessant parries with a few warning burns; nothing bacta couldn't heal.

The way the knight across from her spoke elevated his position, as if he were the orchestrator of this event. He spoke of proving worth, and pride being the ultimate decision. She waited a few moment's grace, feeling the weight of her lightsaber in her grip. It was apparent she was thinking about what the was saying, attempting to run through the plausibilities in her mind's eye while rotating the blade with her thumb as it hung by her hips.

He had seen who she was? IF that was the case, then he already knew her next move.

"Fine." She acquiesced with a bit of a scowl, and disengaged her blade. Do they shake hands now?

She stepped forward, giving him the option to do so if he wished. She'd not make the first move. "You did well. I've not fought against anyone quite so mentally attune before."

 

[Mahriah Metuna]

Vella Forte

She accepted the concession. Their hands clasped together and Zach gave it no more than one firm shake before he backed off, just in case she got any ideas. As far as combat went this one had proven far too tedious and risky to keep up with, if he withdrew now he could still keep her from learning too much. No doubt they would both check up on who exactly the other person was after this was done, or at least Zach would, but to read and experience were two different things. It was just a boon for Zach that most of the reading and interpretations had already been done by someone else.

“And I’ve met few as patient as you.” He said, giving praise where praise was due. With a bow to the crowd he began to back away, slowly, from the woman to grant her the crowd’s cheers and roars all to herself.

This was to some a defeat, at least on a surface level. For Zach it was a lot more. War was an ebb and a flow. A quick surrender here to guarantee his own well-being was always preferable to run the risk of serious injury that could hold him back for days, if not weeks. Should they meet again, as opponents, he would have had the time to learn and to adapt much like she had.

But until that day, there were the small wounds that needed attending to, the smaller trophies of a lifetime in war.