Duel Galactic Kaggath Semifinals: Kyric vs Antar

[Razmir Tezhyn]

x

The ruins of a city broke the surface of not-Manaan’s seas as the water drained away. A massive wall of duracrete ran down the middle, splitting it into two sections. On either side stood an identical layout of buildings. Unfinished, multi-story skycutters that were all sharp angles and depressing, grey duracrete. Pre-fab husks of proper homes, constructed in secret under the water’s surface during the quarterfinals. A large plaza served as the central starting location where the duelists would begin their battles, one for each side of the wall. The streets spread out from that plaza in all directions. Some were wide and open highways while others were labyrinthine and narrow alleyways. More walkways connected the skycutters above the ground floor level, like bridges between islands.

To truly sell the illusion of a city, the organizers released mock inhabitants into the city. Droids, scattered around the arena in small groups of six, stalked through the city’s guts. These weren’t ordinary inhabitants, however, but hunter-killer droids armed with blaster rifles and grenades. Their singular purpose was to find the living and put an end to their existence. They would slowly make their way toward the central plaza from the outer areas of the city.

The announcer's voice rang through the arena, echoing ominously through the brutalist structures of the city.

“This arena has been generously sponsored by the Du Couteau family. It commemorates the brutal city battles between the Sith and the Mandalorians on Empress Teta many decades ago.”

"THIS CITY WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE A HOME FOR THE LIVING. IT WAS BUILT TO HOUSE THE DEAD!"

"HUNTER DROIDS STALK THE CITY FOR OUR DUELISTS. THEY WILL HAVE TO CONTEND WITH EACH OTHER TO BRAVE."

On the holo-feed, the announcer could be seen casting a glance skyward, as though searching for something. After a moment, a wide grin spread across his visage and he continued with the announcements.

"AND THE BEST IS YET TO COME..."

The duelists were ushered into the central plaza. Small duracrete barricades provided minimal cover, but most of it was wide open. The hunter droids along the city's outskirts prowled the streets towards that central plaza. They'd be closing in soon.

"THIS BATTLE PITS THE KID PRODIGY OF THE JEDI, KYRIC KARIS, AGAINST ANTAR, THE WARRIOR WHO STANDS UNDEFEATED IN...DEFEAT!"

"LET THE SEMIFINALS BEGIN!"

Kyric Antar ​

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Yeza the Chiss slicer had been making good money this tournament. Being blessed with the skills to influence the mechanical helpers which the tournament relied on extensively in favour of the highest bidder meant her services were in high demand.

It didn't take long at all after the Semifinals commenced for the first bribe to come in. A simple job that needed her to rewrite the targeting parameters of a few droids. She typed away with panache on her holo-keyboard, cracking firewalls and taking over vital security routines until, finally, she had access to the hunter-killer droids' targeting parameters.

She switched out the previous parameter with a new one, then sent out the update. The droids' software was rewritten on the fly, and their new targeting parameters only included one being: Antar .

The droids would hunt only that man, and leave Kyric alone.

 

[Antar]

Kyric
​

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Antar arrives in the plaza as he did in the previous round; he is as fit as could be and once again clad in black. The only difference this time being he wore Fenn Stag's busted helmet lopsidedly on his head. It doesn't quite fit Antar right, and the visor sits crookedly in front of his eyes, like wearing glasses with a slightly bent frame.

A second dagger, a beskar blade acquired from Fenn, rests in the small of Antar's back with the Devaronian edged knife to make a pair.

Antar regrets his uneventful last two rounds. With the Hutt fleeing and Fenn taking an unfortunate slip and fall into the ocean set in the last stage, he laments being unable to squash the entire enduring champion label slapped onto him after his first round loss.

Antar squares his shoulders up and faces Kyric down in the plaza and in honor of the Mandalorian, glares through the cracked visor with a piercing, electric-blue eye at the Jedi.

"I am war," Antar seethes, but somehow the delivery falls flat. Or rather, the timing of it is off entirely. His shoulders drop slightly and he lets out a heavy sigh.

Antar pulls the over-sized helmet off after a painfully long silence and kneels to carefully place it down by his feet.

"Haha! Yeah, it's just not the same."

Standing up, Antar rests his hands on his hips.

"I watched some of your fights. Real nice stuff, man. And you're pretty young, too! I mean, that's just great." The corners of Antar's lips turn up in a cheshire cat grin and he brings a hand up to scratch his bearded chin, "Any chance you'll take it easy on this old man?"

 

[Kyric]

Graced with a surrender in the prior round, Kyric stood in serviceable condition. Bacta patches and quiet meditation left little in the way of injury from the legendary Bounty Hunter, Koda Fett. And from the earlier matches, it was evident the kiffar boasted a tenacity and pain tolerance not dissimilar to Antar's own. Unburdened by the mundane, Kyric's mind wandered away from the match in the final moments of preparation, while skycutters rose around the two fighters from the depths of the flooded arena.

Images of Coruscant superseded the artificial city.

Explosions ripped through the skyline as TIE-interceptors screeched overhead. Smoke filled the air. Screams cut through the night. A malignant grin etched across a nautolan's face leered out at him; mocking laughter issued in a brazen challenge. Two short years had passed since the Dark Empire's sudden attack on Galactic City. Though Darth Solipsis' assault failed to claim the Core, it succeeded in separating Kyric from his brother, Damien.

Now, whispered words and half-promises drew Kyric from hiding in a bid to find his missing kin. Nothing about the Kaggath made that easy, of course. His opponents thus far proved some of his most dangerous foes to date. When you factored in the lust for battle that permeated the young Jedi, well, trepidation flew out the window. At this point, Kyric wanted to keep climbing. To see how far this lethal game pushed him.

Antar's display shook Kyric from his pre-fight revere. The Enforcer's helmet didn't quite fit right, and he didn't seem all that committed to the bit even before the helmet came off.

"I watched some of your fights. Real nice stuff, man. And you're pretty young, too! I mean, that's just great." The corners of Antar's lips turn up in a cheshire cat grin and he brings a hand up to scratch his bearded chin, "Any chance you'll take it easy on this old man?"

Kyric snorted with laughter anyway.

"Yer a funny guy," he admitted with a lopsided smile. "Everyone else so far has been a bit uptight, really. I don't get it." He motioned to the cityscape with his offhand, a fresh roll of bandages wrapped tight around his arms. "I feel like you get what I'm sayin', Mister Antar. There ain't nothin' like bettin' life and limb on nothin' but raw grit and the strength of yer arm."

"THIS BATTLE PITS THE KID PRODIGY OF THE JEDI, KYRIC KARIS, AGAINST ANTAR, THE WARRIOR WHO STANDS UNDEFEATED IN...DEFEAT!"

The kiffar's single cerulean eye settled back on Antar as Razmir's voice echoed over the arena.

"Win or lose, I ain't gonna kill you. But this is gonna hurt. A lot."

Kyric marched forward with the same half-smile. His ruined armorweave body-glove looked more like a black t-shirt at this point around the torso, and the jacket he started the tournament with had long vanished beneath the lava of the second round. The Aspis gauntlet remained in the locker room for repair, as did the bandolier of grenades worn throughout the first three rounds. Not a single piece of equipment from any of his opponents adorned Kyric.

Merely a man and his blade strode toward the Black Sun's Enforcer.

Kyric broke into a light jog that quickly turned into a full-on sprint. He drew Resolute from the loop on his side and dashed out to Antar's left, staying a blades-length apart as he tested his foe with a quick swipe meant to carve a bloody-line across the enforcer's face just above his eyes. The intent was clear. Blind him with his own blood and overwhelm him in the confusion.

---

Tags: Antar | Razmir Tezhyn
Equipment: Resolute

 

[Antar]

Kyric
​

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"Yer a funny guy," he admitted with a lopsided smile. "Everyone else so far has been a bit uptight, really. I don't get it."

"That's what I'm saying!" Antar stops scratching at his beard to snap his finger and point at Kyric. Somebody else understands! It's not like the Kaggath is a life and death affair. Well, people can die. Some of the audience did. But the stakes weren't that high. The tournament is just that—a tournament. Competition. Sport. No reason to be so tense. No offense, Fenn.

"I feel like you get what I'm sayin', Mister Antar. There ain't nothin' like bettin' life and limb on nothin' but raw grit and the strength of yer arm."

And now Kyric is losing Antar. The enforcer frowns.

"I don't really want to lose either of those things," Antar contemplates aloud to himself.

As Kyric takes his first step forward, Antar takes a single step back and shifts his weight onto his back leg. The young Jedi breaks into a powerful stride, and Antar raises both of his hands in a cautionary gesture towards Kyric.

"Hey, brother, slow your roll. I appreciate your warning but I don't really want to get hurt either!" Antar calls out. His tone of concern is betrayed by his relaxed posture. There wasn't a single tense muscle in the enforcer's body, not even as Kyric's blade is drawn and swung in a single fluid motion.

However, the same moment that the idea to cut Antar above his eyes is birthed in Kyric's thoughts, it is also shared with the Black Sun's overly-fortunate champion and Antar begins to pivot on his back leg to avoid the slash. Resolute's razor edge misses Antar's brow by a hair, and he could hear the sword whistle by.

Antar grabs his lightsaber and draws it from where its clipped to his waist. He ignites its golden blade and lightly steps into a thrust aimed at Kyric's midsection.

 

[Kyric]

Resolute missed its mark as Antar pivoted away from the sharpened songsteel. Kyric narrowed his eye in recognition as a pre-cognitive image flickered within his own mind. The snap-hiss of a golden blade, driven through his abdomen in retaliation. He swept his back leg out and dropped beneath the blade; close enough for the saber to shear away a lock of his dark black hair in passing.

The force propelled Kyric a short distance. He rose to his full height quickly, the katana across his torso in a simple guard.

"What is it?" he asked. "Pre-cognition? A droid brain? Maybe just a lil' tickle at the back of your head?"

Kyric considered Antar as he had with his sponsor before the match.

The means by which Antar clawed his way up the brackets struck the Jedi as a matter of cosmic-grace. Some strange combination of luck and the Will of the Force guided Antar to stand before Kyric in the semi-finals. Unfortunately, that all translated poorly into strategy.

The sense of danger clawing at the back of the kiffar's head grew more incessant.

He stepped forward with a fluid grace, his blade soaring out into a pair of probing strikes. The first thrust toward Antar's lead shoulder, which then descended into a sweeping chop for the Enforcer's ribs. Kyric moved quicker than before, his speed and dexterity amplified by the Force at his back. If his opponent was gifted with foresight of any kind, the Jedi would ride the edge of realities on heightened winds. To test not only Antar's reflex, but speed and precision, too.

---

Tags: Antar | Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Antar]

Kyric
​

---

"Ha-ha! Wow!" Antar withdraws his thrust and skips back a step as Kyric bounces back upright. Must be nice having young, springy joints like that.

"What is it?" he asked. "Pre-cognition? A droid brain? Maybe just a lil' tickle at the back of your head?"

"Oh, well, you know..." Antar's vague response trails off. His eyebrows raise up as he flashes a knowing smile at the Jedi. His free hand gingerly brushes his forehead before coming to a rest in the small of his back. Antar takes an upright, sideways stance with his sword arm behind him and begins to step in a circle around Kyric.

The enforcer's relaxed features harden. As he focuses, his senses capture the space around and between himself and his opponent. He feels what is tangible and what is not. The temperature, the voices in the audience. The hum of the buzzing broadcast drones around the arena. The six empty spaces in the Force that approached from somewhere behind.

In the first round Antar chose to cope with Drystan's superior power by flowing with the martial artist, as that fluidity is what he knows best. His tactics would not change when facing off against Kyric's formidable speed. Antar is not fast when he pulls his shoulder away from the thrust. He simply follows the current of the Force and allows it to guide him along its flow. The point of Kyric's sword catches against the black fabric of Antar's shirt and tears it away, also leaving a shallow cut against his skin. Blood begins to seep from the cut, but it does not steadily flow. He ignores the pinch and burn from the fresh, superficial wound.

There is nothing remarkable about Antar's speed or reflexes as he parries the sweeping cut aimed at his ribs. His lightsaber just happens to be where it must to meet with Kyric's sword. With the grace of an artist's brush stroke, he guides the slash down and away from him and with a sudden flick of his wrist, whips the point of his lighsaber in a pinpoint riposte aimed at the same spot where Kyric was shot by Koda Fett.

 

[Kyric]

Antar's parry swept out precisely where it needed to catch Kyric's killing strike. The lightsaber slid down force-imbued steel and caught the unnaturally sturdy hilt. With an easy flick of the wrist, the Enforcer turned the Jedi Knight's blade out and to the side, exposing Kyric to further danger. He squinted at the oncoming weapon and sucked in a sudden breath.

The Force swelled anew around Kyric as he struck out with a rising elbow. Energy coalesced around it on impact with the superheated weapon. What should've been impalement at best, or self-dismemberment at worse, turned out to be a makeshift block made possibly by the ancient art of tutanamis—but it wasn't enough.

Antar's saber scored a glancing blow up Kyric's shoulder. Flesh sizzled and melted in an instant. The world went white; the pain no less unbearable than the first time he felt the sting of a lightsaber blade. He retreated again, circling out to Antar's right. Unlike before, Kyric lacked the telltale speed of Force enhancement. He opted instead to channel his focus into numbing the pain.

The smell of burned meat permeated the space between them.

Kyric exhaled a single, sharp breath. Speed wouldn't be the difference. And faced with such surety, he knew now Antar wouldn't stumble under the weight of the Jedi Knight's ferocity. This was an enemy comfortable tiptoeing the line between life and death.

Yet, something the Enforcer said kept coming back to mind.

"I don't really want to lose either of those things..."

"Huh," Kyric released a slower, steadier breath. He considered now his opponents style more thoroughly. Every one of Antar's attacks came in retaliation to Kyric's own. It wasn't much different when the Enforcer faced Drystan, either. Antar's dance was one that flowed like water—sweeping, constant, and formless. Where danger came, it went, often returned to sender to devastating effect.

A slow smile found its way upon Kyric's scarred visage. He stowed his blade in the makeshift loop at his side and raised his hands. His left foot slid forward, his right back, and the kiffar fell into an easy crouch. Silver-blue pulsed visibly around his fists.

Another memory came to mind, this one no more than a feeling. One earned in battle against the Hellion, Kesh Hevro.

Ryv Karis would've treated every criminal, dark sider, and bounty hunter no differently—fodder to be slaughtered. Those who preyed on the weak were no more than filth meant to be erased from the galaxy. It was something of a creed to Kyric's old man.

And while the Son may have inherited the sins of his Father, Kyric knew better. He felt the stain of death time and time again; delivered under both his and his Ryv's hand. If the young Jedi truly wished to rise above the legacy carved by his father before him, it would not be done with the strength of his sword arm, but that of his heart.

At some point in this competition Kyric had forgotten that simple truth. Ryv Karis was a killer, one forged in the fires of a decades long war. He sacrificed himself at Tython not to undo his many sins, but to provide his children a better path. One bound in his endless light.

Kyric tightened the energy around his fist into a second skin and dashed at Antar anew. When he drew closer, the kiffar thrust his hand out and sent a wave of spiraling telekinetic energy for the Enforcer's lead foot, then he ducked in low, swept out with a turning hook kick aimed to catch Antar's backfoot by the ankle. A roiling wave of telekinetic energy encircled the Jedi Knight and he rose quickly to deliver a two-handed palm strike for the man's sternum.

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Tags: Antar