Duel Mourning in Moraband

[Ma'at Achlys]

​

K O R R I B A N | M O R A B A N D

There was no lingering star overhead, nothing more than pinpricks in the black quilt that blanketed the night sky. From violet eyes all she saw was shameless decadence, the carcass of an impressive past reanimated for the egos of people who decided it was the guise they fit best in to make plays at power that they'd never hold onto for long enough to feel satisfied. It was so different from the parallel world she'd been pulled from while simultaneously being more of the same - she didn't understand the intricacies of politics here, the needs or wants of the people, nor did she care about the subtle nuances that people used to legitimize their reasoning behind the choices they made. The only thing she understood was strength, that an iron-clad grip on society prevented it from coming apart at the seams, and that the smaller people that squirmed under whoever roosted at the top were always trying to worm themselves into a position of advantage to topple the uneasy tower into the dirt so they could find themselves the control they so desperately craved.

It could have been anyone, and in fact it was supposed to have been Darth Prazutis - but a matter of circumstance and coincidence changed fate. Perhaps it was timing, or maybe just luck, but the whispers that reached her ears told her he'd decided against the trip to Korriban at the eleventh hour. There was no reason to suspect he knew she had been lying in wait, she doubted he even remembered she existed, but she had already arrived on the graveyard planet when the news reached her. Misfortune alone was reason for why she'd set her sights on Darth Malum of House Marr . The wrong place at the wrong time, maybe, but whatever the cause the result was the same. She didn't know where he was coming from or where he'd been going to, the witch's concerns weren't about the significance of her prey's life or of the participation he had within the Sith - only that he was Sith. There was a complete misunderstanding she had in terms of what the consequences of this choice might have, all of them in relation to how they'd impact her counterpart from this more chaotic reality.

"What is your name?" She asked as they passed each other on the street - he going one way while her the other. A lightsaber, one she'd looted from the corpse of someone inconsequential to her aside from serving as a source for a weapon, slid down from her sleeve into her hand and activated. A dull red column of light hissed into existence as her stroll slowed.

"I want to put a name to the face I'll be leaving in the ground."

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

It seemed he could never visit Korriban without something of note occuring. His ears flicked to attention as the stranger's feminine voice passed his drums; it was not everyday that one stopped the masked Dark Councillor as he had walked the streets of the Sith temple world, most passed him by with only a glance, recognition providing them with the knowledge that it was best to walk in the opposite direction.

Others did stop to stare, but he passed them quickly enough, while others simply had far more important matters to undertake in their personal lives to spend any time upon the Dark Councillor. Indeed, if it was the Dark Councillor, the last time of his rumoured arrival, a whole warfleet had appeared over the planet's horizon.

More than likely, it was simply an agent of the Inquisitorious, a rare enough sight in Korriban, considering the near absolute control their King had achieved over the world, yet, even as autonomous as Darth Caedes was, a loyal servant of the Empire he still was, tithes passing the Hypergate of Florrum and reaching the imperial capital.

And eyes of the Imperial government, no matter how partisan, still watching with keen interest matters on this world.

Whatever their reasoning, Malum did not much mind, he had not come to make a splash, indeed, if he could avoid the governor of the world, then all the better, slipping in to pay his respects, to bask himself within the ancient home of their people, and leaving with none the wiser, that was the objective of the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar.

Alas, it seemed that was too optimistic, as immediately, his main hand found itself curling around the beskar hilt of the Sith Sword, as the hair stood upon his neck, his black plate and steel heavy on his form - suddenly - seeming entirely weightless, as through the replica mask of his great and most famous ancestor, red eyes peered through his peripherals, at the sudden appearance of the figure who had been so bold.

His grip tightening on the hilt, the Mo- Mandalorian metal icey to the touch, as the snap-hiss of a lightsabre almost immediately had the crowd around them scurrying away, even as some, some fools had instead frozen, turning to watch.

"Confident aren't you?" Malum mused, as he spun on the heel of his armoured feet, the swish of steel drawn from sheath echoing the ignition of the lightsabre, as he turned to face his foe, a snap-hiss joined the air, as the shortsword became a longsword, out from the tip of steel, a blade of red plasma extended out the weapon, as red eyes narrowed facing the back of this self-declared foe.

"As the old saying goes," The Force pulsed around him, pushing all those who stood close to safety, as he drew one leg forward - one back - leaning ever slightly forward - readying himself for a battle, "Ladies first."

Ma'at Achlys
Mentioned: Darth Caedes

 

[Ma'at Achlys]

​

It didn't matter if it was ten thousand years ago, fifty years ago, or today - there were always people who were uncontested, comfortable, in the strength they'd built for themselves. Like sheep the many who might've offered them a test that'd rip their pride from them were deterred by such superficial things as titles and honor, many an emperor had survived their reign simply by being known well enough not to be attacked. It was obvious by the choice of words that Darth Malum of House Marr was just more of the same in that regard. Whether his security was in her gender or in the role he had in his government the outcome was the same: he invited a would-be assassin to make the first move.

She was dressed in simple clothing, a light sleeved shirt and slightly loose pants that hugged her waist but gave her freedom to move, and though she'd forged blades of steel with her own hands a simple lightsaber - as he'd seen - was all she'd brought with her as she felt it'd suffice. Tribal warfare in the primitive age still gnawed at the back of her mind, sending tingles down her arm as the hand she held her lightsaber with clenched tightly around the weapon, but she resisted the urge to throw her full weight forwards in favor of a more pragmatic, and less barbaric, approach. The scent of ozone filled the air, her mastery over the elements forcing the area to divest itself of what little humidity had clung to it, and she stepped backwards to ride the sith's telekinetic nudge as a vehicle to put some distance between the two of them.

Not for her own safety, though, rather as a courtesy for the man that'd nearly bit off more than he could chew.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume my reflection has been much more passive in the last few decades than she ought to." She said, loath to criticize what she still saw as herself - subtle differences though they might have to one another - but mentally disgusted with her far more complacent variant all the same. While she steadily lifted her lightsaber towards her chest in a light guard the ground under her feet shifted and rose with the same pace as her hand, providing a platform for her to stand. "Otherwise you'd know what was coming." Ma'at quipped - her voice crackling in the air as if impacted by a lingering static charge.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He arched an eyebrow beneath the mask as her words brought forth a quandry, clearly he was meant to know who this woman was - or at the very least was meant to be somewhat familiar with them. That no name flickered in recognition in his mind, did not speak to the likelihood of that possibility; the fact this could all be a trick, was not entirely discounted either.

It would have been the running theory, all but for one detail.

She was familiar... he had seen her face before.

Just, not in the flesh, that much he was reasonably confident of. Yet, the answer was as much an annoyance as the lack of answers had been, the list of people that he could believe familiar, but did not recognise was by definition short, yet, it was by the natureness of the lack of stature that him drawing blanks.

Red eyes cascaded across her form, shorter than him, though that was hardly surprising, held in a form that could not be called petite, but neither... large, simply that of a warrior, who certainly one did not seek to duel unless they held the stones to risk it all. Alas, in Malum's case, he had not been given opportunity to avoid this fight.

So he might as well enjoy it, for as long as it lasted.

Her clothing provided no further clues, neither her weapon, if she was of status, then that status was common. So what exactly was so obvious that he was missing?

Alas, as his gaze found itself, following her, the air cracking in the telltale sign of a force power that of natural means, the moisture fading from the air, as if taken to the heavens. Quick calculus was decided, lacking armour, a simple lightsabre, and drawing distance between them. If she was a range fighter, then giving her what she wanted was hardly his bid at victory.

He allowed a breath through his nostrils, holding it in his lungs, as he reached out to the threads of Fate and Destiny that were the Force made manifest, tugging along their strings, pulling them towards him, demanding its obedience, commanding its allegiance, remembering what he had stolen from the Fallanassi all the way back then. As he exhaled.

And became a blur of darkness, flowing through the air like ball of black capes, as he crossed the distance between them in mere moments, appearing back into existence at the last second, as his blade sang, the red plasma crackling as it hissed through the air, as the black knight's figure sailed through the air.

And the blade sought to cut from hair to neck.

Ma'at Achlys

 

[Ma'at Achlys]

​

It wasn't uncommon for most would-be duelists to confuse the balance of Niman with a preference for fighting at a distance, and her lack of drive to close a distance once it was made did little, if anything at all, to help temper expectations that came with the image that painted. There was an art to combat that she'd found, over the years, many people lacked the patience to properly appreciate - not because it required slowing things down, but because they very clearly lacked the ability to think more than one immediate step into the future. Riding out Darth Malum of House Marr 's telekinetic push wasn't for her sake as he so clearly assumed, it was to give him the chance to reflect on his initial mistake and give him breathing room to correct before she moved in to bring him down while she set things up for much further down the line in case something like this ended up happening after all.

Disappearing was a quaint exercise in stealth, she'd seen quite a few people use it to a much more deadly effect, but she couldn't deny that his sudden appearance over head was somewhat wasted on her for it to be properly appreciated - her strength was quite firmly in actual physical combat, the force as a mere tool to assist her wherever it could serve to do so best, and while she certainly lacked the literal speed to have closed the gap between the two of them unaided in nearly a fraction of the time it took him to do so she was certainly the immovable object in the scenario he'd made for them. The blade of her lightsaber had already been raised to a half-guard prior to his show of stealth, if such an immediate dispensing of it could really be called that, and in the time his lightsaber-sword-concoction came down towards her neck she was already rising to meet it.

Practitioners of Niman might've found themselves relying most heavily on telekinesis to amplify their strikes or hamper their enemy's movements, it certainly wasn't out of the question for her, but fighting in nature - and often beneath the trees in rain forests and inside cramped ravines - meant learning to adapt her more deadly unpredictable skills instead. Whether he'd slink back away as he'd so suddenly approached before or not was of little concern for her, especially now that she knew what to expect from him, as the disappearing humidity had served its purpose of ensuring electricity as a static charge could properly build up in the air. Along the length of their blades, where they clashed, there was fewer places on the entire planet that could reach such temperatures and it very quickly began to spread through her own intervention. She could feel the hairs on the top of her head lift slightly as a weak static charge built up in the air while electricity played hungrily along the length of the tips of her fingers on her free hand.

"If you pay closer attention then this might just be a lesson for you."

Maybe it was misdirection, or perhaps she was just being a bit too cruel, but whatever the case it wasn't lightning or any other form of electricity that Ma'at used as her means of counter-attack. Instead what followed was a simple step back - one that anyone on the receiving end of an over-head strike might in order to maintain balance - which caused one of the small, raised, portions of ground she'd lifted for herself to be exposed. Anyone else might've simply forgotten they were there at worst, and at best even others she'd met that called themselves shapers weren't quite so quick-thinking as to use them for anything beyond their initial purpose, which would've been to assist her in moving quickly without expending so much stamina, however the witch drew on her own past and with a simple upward nod of her head she shifted the exposed ground into a literal pillar of earth that grew rapidly towards Malum in an effort to spear him on the planet of Moraband itself.