Fight or Fright

[Warchief Waddles]

Equipment: Lightsaber, Powergaunts

Taris, a planet said to rival the magnificence of Coruscant in some ways. Where one could go when they wished to make it or in search of employment. It was a shame that the city offered very few opportunities to one such as Aten. The Jedi hadn’t come to the city to become a known figure, strike it rich or even found some company. No, he was here working a run of the mill job, even Jedi still had to find ways to support themselves. This was just one-way Aten did so when he wasn’t out running missions or on quests with his master. Working in the somewhat seedy establishment kept enough credits pouring in for the Jedi to keep himself fed, and his ship running. Considering within the span of one galactic year he’d already lost two his savings were being eaten through at a rapid rate.

Sighing Aten stared down at the dirty glasses that lined the bar and began scooping them up an audible groan escaping. Why can't they just clean up after themselves?! For the past hour, he’d been left alone within the bar cleaning the mess the clientele had left in their wake. The best part about working in a seedy cantina was no one questioned why anyone ever wore what they did, for instance, the gauntlets Aten always wore or had made a habit of wearing. There’d been once or twice he’d been forced to use them to put a hostile individual in their place but it wasn’t often. Placing the glasses in the washer Aten closed it and set it.

Outside the glass front windows rain hammered against the windows, so dark it was difficult to stare through it. On Aten’s hip he wore a saber openly, the main give away to his position as a force user and unbeknownst to him had been spread about like wildfire even reaching off planet to those that wished death upon the padawan for his actions on Dubrillion. Scooping up a bottle of Corellian whiskey Aten eyed it twirling the bottle slightly before taking a swig. The burn singed the Morellian’s throat as it went down causing him to wince slightly a cough rising up. “How does anyone drink this?!” Aten shouted in disgust. Spitting into the nearby sink he corked the bottle before placing it on the shelf with the others.

@Darth Arabris

 

[Saris Aren]

[member="Aten Ramses"]

There was tell of a man who took no crap from nobody on the planet of Taris, he tended to a bar. Patrons said that sometimes he did things that a normal human shouldn't be able to do. To Arabris, this sounded like a Jedi to him, and that's what he was hunting for, why he at least gave attention to the rumors. Taris was not far from where he was, his shuttle could make it there in a few hours. Once his shuttle finally landed, he made his way to the area this bar could be found. Many people stared at him on his way there, clad in red armor and a helmet, the Red Knight held his weapon in his grip.

Before the door of this bar, Arabris took in a breath, called on the dark side, and walked in. If the red armor, and saber pike in his hand didn't give it away, his presence he presented in the Force would warn this man of his impending doom. The Sith was not used to socializing with others. With each step he noticed little details about the bar, the Jedi just cleaned up, the smell of cleaning chemicals did give a nice scent to the place. In the far reaches of his mind was the notion about why people gathered in such a small place to consume the drink of sin.

Arabris looked the man in the face, he was young, with long locks of what could have been blonde hair.

"Are you Jedi?" Arabris asked.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Equipment: Lightsaber, Powergaunts


Having started wiping down the serving area Aten felt a sudden chill descend upon the bar, a dark presence nearing. Steeling himself, hiding the concern he felt Aten continued cleaning his eyes never leaving the door. Despite the darkness, one individual nearing the building stood out, drabbed in crimson armor from head to toe, an obvious light pike within their hand. The only ones brazen enough to show up on such a planet with their weapons and armor on display were either Sith, Mandalorians, or those that fully intended on wreaking havoc. The surge of darkness outside the door answered who the person was allied with or was at least one who knew the darkside.

Dropping the rag, Aten’s fingers interlocked, elbows resting on the bar he leaned slightly forward eyeing the individual upon them entering. The helmet they wore blocked their appearance, the armor even looked quite heavy in comparison to what Aten had witnessed other Sith equipped with. No sudden moves were made for his saber, there was no point as of yet. The Sith wasn’t a threat directly yet… At least not enough for Aten to justify the action of attacking. This wasn’t like Dubrillion. This wasn’t war where he could get by with claiming how he needed to aid his master.

“I’ve been called that, yes. I’ve also been called Rebel Scum, filth, bantha poodoo, so many names… But what have you been called? You know what, never mind that. I’m sorry to say that the bar is closed so please see yourself out.” This was the only warning Aten was willing to give but he was certain that the Sith wouldn’t simply give up or turn his back. His muscles tensing lightly, knees bending Aten’s body prepared itself to act. There was a deep inhalation of air, as the exhale came Aten centered his presence in the force, opening himself to the flow and currents that now filled his form.

[member="Darth Arabris"]

 

[Saris Aren]

[member="Aten Ramses"]

The words echoed in Arabris ears, it was true, they were called many things, and most of them were what this man had listed. It was obvious what was going on here to the bar man, the Jedi. Fear, though, was absent from his face and presence in the Force. It was impressive, no many could be so brave in front of someone like Arabris, the armor usually did the trick. The Jedi was ready for him to leave, it was clear, Aten did not want the trouble that was about to come. What did they call the Sith? Honestly, it wasn't anything like the others, nothing the honored the death he caused, or the terrible acts he committed. Nothing like the Butcher King, or Horror Queen.

"They call me the Red Knight, but you may call me Darth Arabris."

With a simple movement, the staff ignited with a red blade of energy screeching at the top. The staff itself was two thirds Arabris' length, and he was little over six feet tall. There was no emotion in his voice, no hatred, or anger. The over the top theatrics were not apart of his training. He was a weapon, a tool, a means to an end. The Jedi was calling on the Force, and Arabris too called on it to help him.

"I can not leave. I must first finish my mission. Simply give me your lightsaber, and then I will leave you and your place of business in peace."

 

[Warchief Waddles]

The Sith’s denial to leave was apparent the lightpike coming to life the red plasmatic blade humming. Since the moment the Sith entered what was to follow was fated, a lock of blades, a clash of the force. The force certainly did have a will and in recent times seemed more than content on pitting followers of opposing sides against each other. “Oh you mean this saber?” Leaning back and straightening Aten’s right hand raised up palm opening. Extending out with his will the saber leapt from his belt where it had been clipped to the Jedi’s hand. A flick of his thumb and the dim interior of the bar was cast in an azure glow.

“Sorry this isn’t for sale, if you want it you’ll have to come get it big boy.” Aten wasn’t a fool, if he handed over his saber it would be far easier for the sith to simply end the Jedi, to do so was folly. Still behind the bar of the establishment Aten leapt on top of the bar his feet planting firmly on the wood. “I don’t often give two warnings but I’m making a special exception for you.” Feet spreading to near shoulder length apart the saber held vertical at his hip, both hands placed upon the hilt Aten prepared himself. Eyes hardening the playful tone and mannerisms were gone from the youths face. No longer was this a game. This was life or death.

“Now leave. You don’t want these problems. The last Sith I fought I took his arm.” This was a threat and warning on every level, a warning for the Sith to turn back now before Aten turned to combat. It wasn’t the way of the Jedi, at least not the path they often wished to take. From the sensations through the force he felt Aten could feel the Red Knight’s strength, his presence larger than the Morellians. Why is every one of them always stronger than me? Aten thought his eyes rolling, just once he’d love to be on even footing with his opponents.

[member="Darth Arabris"]

 

[Saris Aren]

[member="Aten Ramses"]

Taking one step forward as the man leaped on the bar itself, presenting his stance for battle after all his words of refusal to hand over the weapon, Arabris could only keep his watch on the man. This Jedi was much more agile than himself, and now he had the high ground. The bar was lit up purple from the two colors of sabers clashing against each other, much like how the two sides of the Force clashed. It was a beautiful presentation of events.

"So be it."

With a flick of his wrist the blade of the weapon extended an extra half foot. Now the blade was a good foot and a half long. The staff portion was a good five pounds, it provided a better swing, and thrust, which was the point of attack on Arabris' side. The Sith took a three quick jabs at the Jedi up on his bar, with a longer winded up fourth thrust that reached out further.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Offering a smile to the Red Knight, Aten held his stance in the face of the Sith’s words. The words had been the final ones that signaled the beginning of the battle. Eyes glancing to the blade of the pike Aten raised a brow as it extended. “Overcompensation much?” the jedi shot at the Sith the joke far too easy to make and hopefully unbalancing his opponent. Truthfully the new development was slightly concerning, Aten hadn’t fought any truly skilled opponents which wielded a lightpike. This would in fact, require him to examine his foe closely.

Hands tilting slightly clockwise his azure saber met the Sith’s in a shower of sparks the first thrust knocked wide narrowly missing the Jedi. Even still Aten’s face was cold as stone, not an ounce of worry showing on his face as though he wasn’t fearful of the narrow miss. There was adequate for that, the Jedi’s saber skills had been placed into Soresu, while both his Masters preferred the use of Ataru. Wrists tilting once more bring the saber back to its original position it knocked the pike off the weapon passing by on Aten’s left.

Every movement the Jedi made was calculated and made to ensure him staying fresh while exhausting his foe. This was the way of the mynock. In came the third thrust This time Aten’s body slightly shifted his footing changing as his right foot slide closer to his left, knees bending slightly. The windup on the fourth thrust was the que Aten needed, kicking off the bar the Jedi flipped through the air over the Sith. As he came to be above the Sith the saber would come down in a strike at the Red Knight’s shoulder. Landing in a crouch not even looking back Aten’s right arm swung back in a horizontal sweep to cut the knight off at the knees.

[member="Darth Arabris"]

 

[Saris Aren]

[member="Aten Ramses"]

The Jedi was good, real good. He was able to block all the thrusts batting them away as if they were just pats on the back. It wasn't till Arabris did his wind up that he realized his mistake. Jedi were agile critters, and for the style that Arabris used, it could be his bane. Flipping over him, the Jedi landed a strike on his shoulder, it dug into Arabris' shoulder plate and scraped into his flesh, the smell of burnt skin and muscle filled the air. Arabris grunted as he quickly darted forward to get away from the lightsaber.

"Give me your lightsaber, Jedi!" The Sith's voice boomed.

With a swift movement, Arabris swiveled with his staff reached out as far as it could. He was here for the weapon more so than blood, it was all he needed. It would be easier if he would just hand it over, but most Jedi quickly said no. It was why the galaxy was in turmoil, because the Jedi didn't want to just surrender. Less lives would have been lost.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Having scored the first hit Aten offered a slight smirk, this was only the beginning and the adrenaline was already filling the Jedi’s system. The thrill of combat in which Aten would almost never admit that he truly enjoyed. It was a surge of energy that the Jedi had felt since his days training under Kol and had yet to rid himself of. Legs straightening and kicking off the ground Aten threw himself into a roll forwards barely dodging the swipe of the Red Knights pike that could’ve easily bisected the Jedi. There was the faint vrmmm sound as Aten felt the fabric of his gold jacket become extremely light. That was my favorite jacket!

Completing the roll Aten used the momentum to rise to his feet spinning on his heels to face the Sith. His legs once more spreading and his saber lowering to enter the form he’d begun the duel in. Eyes meeting the blackened visor of his foe. His request seemed simple on the surface but it wasn’t. A Jedi’s saber was essentially a piece of themselves. They spent time hunting for the crystals or forming them, finding the key components, bonding with the crystals and crafting the saber. To simply hand that over would be like losing a limb. “Empty screams won’t ensure my cooperation. You knew the moment you entered those doors I wouldn’t hand over my saber. Tell me how many that approach has really worked on? Do your screams get all the Sith ladies?”

Slowly moving his feet barely leaving the ground Aten seemed to glide as he began to circle the Sith his eyes focused on every movement the Red Knight made. The helmeted figure was near impossible to read, couldn’t get facial twitches, or even expressions. Left palm pushing out Aten the air vibrated as an invisible pressure flew through the air to strike the Sith dead in his chest. The push would send the Sith into the bar if not over it as it impacted with the force of a raging wookies fist.

[member="Darth Arabris"]

 

[Saris Aren]

[member="Aten Ramses"]

The little Jedi talked, it was clear that it was some form of psychological warfare, but with Arabris' personality, he didn't really have one. The Sith didn't have much that could be exploited or mocked, but there was somethings. Yet none of the things the Jedi spat at him was enough to get him riled up and begin attacking without cause. Already, Arabris had noticed two things about the man; he was able to read Arabris' attacks with ease, and liked quick precise attacks. While the Jedi had found most of the Sith's weak points, Arbaris himself now needed to find one.

He did not reply to the mockery of Sith ladies, whatever that was intended to mean. Whoever these ladies were, though, the Red Knight would assure them he had no ill intentions with them if he ever met them. Arabris turned to face his opponent, but was a moment to late. Waves of energy rushed towards the Jedi as he struck his hand out, a blast of the Force coming at the Sith like a shockwave.

Arabris found himself lunged backwards with a extremely powerful push, though his armor took most of the blunt of the attack, he still crashed through the bar, and into the wall with a loud thud. Shaking, glasses tipped over, breaking as they landed on the ground only to spill their contents like a gutted coward. Now there was even more space between the two warriors, a mistake on the Jedi's behalf.

The Red Knight shrugged off the small bits of wall of his shoulders, noting the searing pain in the wounded one was beginning to throb now. It was time to use more Force, and less bronzes. Voices in the shadows whispered in the ears of the knight, beckoning to let loose the talons of lighting it would course through his fingers. Arabris' hand stretched forward, arcs of lighting in the color red raced forward at the Jedi like a fan.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Chit Aten thought only realizing his mistake after having blasted the Sith through the bar, he had to replace that and the bottles that were broken behind it! That would easily be a day or two worth of earnings down the drain. This… Now this was the true issue, shoulders sagging Aten sighed. He knew that this cantina didn’t have insurance, they always skimped out on it. If this were to continue to be a regular occurrence and they planned on keeping Aten employed it would be best for them to get some.

The Red Knight rising to his feet Aten straightened his shoulders once more and raised his saber, all around them the air hummed and began to heat up. Aten knew this trick as he watched the Red Knights hand cast out bolts of lightning streaking from the tips of the fingers across the cantina. Aten was more than aware of the ability, on Dubrillion he’d dueled a Sith that had shot two separate streams at the Jedi. Stance straightening and bracing himself Aten moved his saber to meet the barrage. The bolts drawn to it, the saber acting as a diverting rod. A few stray bolts continued past, one searing its way across Aten’s shoulder his eye twitching. The stray bolt had burned completely through what remained of the jacket and clothing beneath leaving a blackened mark on Aten’s shoulder. The other stray bolt scraped across the Jedi’s left ribs.

Teeth gritting Aten took one step forward, then another fighting the barrage his eyes staring through the stream of lightning to the Sith, they burned with a fierce determination. This was just a distraction as behind the Sith a large shard of glass would slowly creep up over the shoulder that had been injured. Aten didn’t know many force abilities, in fact he’d only studied the telekinetic arts and had learned to not only strike with force but be subtler than other force users. The shard of glass would drive down between the cracks in the shoulder piece where the saber had landed before. This wasn’t some random piece of glass, the glass of alcohol bottles were thick, difficult to break and very painful considering the substance they were covered in. Mentally Aten would drive that shard into the wound it cutting through muscle, sinew and the tendons to disable the Sith’s arm.

[member="Darth Arabris"]

 

[Saris Aren]

Something like that made Arabris see red pushed into his already wounded shoulder as lighting arced at the Jedi. At first, the Sith thought the Force had back fired on him, which for the most part was not something he would have figured to happen for what he was doing. Then he looked over to see a large shard of glass slicing into his flesh. A roar reached out from the back of his throat as his hand lowered and the lighting stopped. The knight fell to his knees as his wounded shoulder rendered his arm useless now.

Arabris looked back up at the Jedi with heavy breathes, really feeling the pain now as blood dripped from his shoulder to his arm then fingers. It was staining his floors and would take forever to get out without the proper cleaning agents. The Sith looked at the Jedi with gritted teeth, it had seemed the Sith had failed. Seemed was that key word.

What more was there to do now, though, but look at the winner of this battle in the eyes with what little honor he had left. Who would had thought glass would be the bane to this large Nagai? Honestly, it hurt more than anything Arabris had felt, glass was not the best sharp tool in the shed, it shredded more so than sliced. This was something Arabris had just learned.

"Jedi, you have won."

 

[Warchief Waddles]

The screams of the sith were slightly disturbing causing the young Jedi to actually feel an ounce of guilt for the grievous wound he’d dealt upon his foe. This was not the first time Aten had intentionally maimed a Sith, but instead the second. This one wasn’t as clean as the first. At least on Dubrillion, Aten had took the acolytes arm with the saber, clean to say the least. This time he’d buried a sharp blade of glass deep within his foes wound. It would take weeks of bacta treatments if not risk complete removal due to the wound being infected by the liquor coating the shard.

“I take no pleasure in what I’ve done, victory or defeat this is disgusting, repulsive. These fights, this war. There has been so much, and it weighs on my shoulders.” Looking to his saber still activated his eyes raising to the Sith, meeting the defeated foe. Aten sighed, he couldn’t take the Sith’s words as truth. They were a deceitful kind, more than willing to strike down a helpless foe. That was the difference, Aten wouldn’t kill a helpless foe but he wasn’t opposed to knocking them out.

Left fist lashing out in a straight jab Aten let his will form into an invisible fist, it flowed outwards and up into the sith’s chin with an explosive impact. Right on what people liked to call “the button” a technique for a near instant K.O. If the Sith was sent into unconsciousness by the blow Aten would carry him and his belongings to a nearby med center leaving the pike with him, even being so generous to leave credits for the fee. Along with it a message that read “Don’t return to my place of work.”

[member="Darth Arabris"]