Duel Fortune Favors...

[Darth Dekaltis]

E P I C A
Tag: Paila Dalle ​

Dekaltis had grown bold in her being taken under the wing of Darth Carnifex

Some might even call her cocky.

But that was an inevitability with someone of her prowess. Someone who saw the way she saw. The jedi were the scourge of the galaxy, a plague of boredom that sought to make the galaxy bland. Simple. Peaceful.

She couldn't stand for that. She needed to make an example of one.

And she needed to give her adoring fans something to awe at. Her.

That's why she had crossed the Blackwall, and into High Republic territory. That's why she was hunting in the open. She was looking for someone strong to fight. She was trying to draw them out.

That's why she had a blade lodged into the back of a local militiaman, giggling like a maniac.

 

[Paila Dalle]

The Force shifted long before Paila reached the square. Not sharply. Not like battle....This felt uglier than that. Restless. Loud in the way unnecessary suffering was loud; a disruption that spread outward through fear, confusion, and gathering attention. Even from streets away she could feel it pulling people toward it like gravity. It was a spectacle.

By the time she arrived, a crowd had already begun forming at the edges of the square, uncertain whether to flee or to stare. Chandeliers of neon and market light reflected dimly against wet pavement while frightened voices moved in hushed fragments through the gathering haze. At the center of it stood a young woman laughing....And a dying man.

Paila’s gaze moved first to the militiaman crumpled against the stone, the blade lodged cruelly through his back while blood pooled slowly beneath him in dark ribbons. He was alive. For now.

Only then did her attention settle fully upon the Sith responsible. Young. Confident. Performing. The realization came quietly. Paila stepped forward through the uneasy crowd without hurry, the soft tap of her beskar staff against the pavement cutting gently through the surrounding noise. No lightsaber ignited. No declaration followed. Instead, she lowered herself beside the wounded man first. Her hand hovered briefly near his shoulder, the Force flowing carefully through him as she assessed the damage with practiced calm. Pain. Shock. Failing breath. He was not beyond saving.

The crowd watched silently now. Paila could feel their fear pressing against the edges of the square. Still, she did not look toward Dekaltis immediately as she spoke. “This is what you wished to draw attention to?” Her voice carried softly through the open air; calm enough that it almost seemed out of place beside the violence.

Only then did she lift her gaze toward the Sith girl at last. No anger waited there. Only steady disappointment. “And has it impressed you yet?”

Tag: Darth Dekaltis

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

E P I C A​

Tag: Paila Dalle​

Dekaltis's answer was immediate. Her lightsaber ignited, and cut the man's head off.

And then she smiled.

"Yes, actually. My viewers will love this."

With the raise of a hand, the wall that the man had been knelt against suddenly shuttered, before the metal was ripped apart, flying towards Paila, like the shrapnel of a bomb going off.

All the while, Delaktis leapt back, as the crowd gasped. Some ran. Some stayed.

It was like watching a car crash.

 

[Paila Dalle]

The square seemed to inhale all at once. Not in surprise alone, but in that collective, instinctive recoil of living things recognizing that something had just crossed a line it couldn’t uncross. The head fell before the body finished understanding it was no longer whole. The sound that followed wasn’t loud; but it landed heavily in the Force, like a stone dropped into still water.

Paila did not rise immediately. The man’s life had already slipped beyond reach in that instant of needless escalation. There was no saving him now. That truth settled cleanly, both unadorned, unarguable, and with it came something colder than anger. Grief without expression.

The Force surged outward a fraction later as metal tore free from the wall. Paila moved. Not backward. Not away from the crowd. But forward; just slightly, so the shrapnel met resistance that wasn’t there a heartbeat before. Her hand lifted, palm open. The world around her seemed to tighten. The flying debris slowed. It was not stopped, not frozen; but held, as if the air itself had thickened into something dense enough to argue with steel. Pieces of twisted durasteel shuddered mid-flight, their momentum bleeding away in uneven pulses as her focus locked them in place.

For a moment, the square became very quiet inside that pressure. Then she exhaled. The metal dropped harmlessly to the ground in scattered clatter.

Only then did she stand fully. Her gaze finally returned to Dekaltis. Not with shock. Not with outrage. But with something far more dangerous in it's simplicity: certainty. “You wanted a reaction,” Paila said softly, stepping away from the fallen man so the crowd could see him; so they could understand exactly what had been taken from them and how casually it had been done. Her staff tapped once against the ground. A grounding sound. It was not a threat; but an anchor. “You will receive one.”

The air around her shifted. It was not explosive, nor theatrical, but tightening in a way that made nearby breath feel suddenly more deliberate. The Force responded to restraint as much as it did to fury. Paila’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “And now,” she added, voice still even, “you will learn the difference between attention….and consequence.”

Tag: Darth Dekaltis

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

Tag: Paila Dalle​

Dekaltis's reaction was one of insane coy glee. A smile plastered across her face as she flourished her saber in place.

"Show me then. Show me what consequence looks like. Because I'm just so sure you're not as capable of as you think you are."

Dekaltis's lightsaber went from one blade, to two. Red and green, twirling in place, before she let go of the blade, it still twirling around her. She flexed her fingers, the digits sparking with electricity as she bent the Force to it's will.

She knew her opponent would wait rather than make the first move, as jedi did. So she would force it. The Force bent to her will, as she silently lifted the blaster rifle the militiaman had used against Dekaltis used against her only a few minutes earlier.

In a flash, the blaster came to life and fired wildly at Paila. At the same time, Dekaltis unleashed her lightning at the crowd. The jedi would have to make the choice. Defend herself, or the people.

 

[Paila Dalle]

The moment the rifle lifted, Paila understood. Not the attack. But the intention behind it. Divide the moment. Fracture attention. Force compassion to become hesitation.

The blaster barked to life first. Paila moved immediately. Not backward. But forward. The beskar staff spun sharply through the air as she stepped into the line of fire, redirecting the first bolt wide into the pavement while the second scorched harmlessly through the folds of her cloak. A third hissed past her shoulder close enough to burn heat across her skin before the staff reversed smoothly through her hands once more, knocking another blast aside in a spray of sparks.

Then the lightning came. The crowd screamed. Paila pivoted instantly toward them, one hand thrust outward as the Force surged from stillness into motion around her. Not violent. Not explosive. But protective. The air between Dekaltis and the fleeing civilians seemed to tighten abruptly, the descending arcs of Sith lightning striking against an invisible barrier that shuddered violently beneath the impact. Blue-white energy split and scattered wildly across the square, grounding itself against stone, metal, and neon-lit durasteel with deafening cracks. Too many people. Too much spread.

Paila felt the pressure immediately. Her jaw tightened slightly as she widened the barrier just enough for several terrified civilians to escape through the opening forming behind her. “Move!” she commanded sharply toward the crowd. It was not spoken loud. But in an absolute tone.

The hesitation broke instantly. Panic gave way to motion as civilians scattered deeper into the surrounding streets. Still the lightning pressed against her defense, forcing her boots half a step backward across the stone beneath the sheer violence of it. Only then did Paila finally look toward Dekaltis again through the storm of crackling light. There was no fear in her expression. “You confuse cruelty with strength,” she said evenly. The barrier rippled dangerously under another surge of lightning. “But all you’ve really learned is how to force others to suffer for your emptiness.”

Tag: Darth Dekaltis