Overdue

[Nyxie]

Kaggath; it was a funny tradition. The shaman queen had spent many a night now reading about it, studying upon it. Sith machinations were rarely simply and never reasonable. The concept was modest but the practice was lacking. Alachei had no care for fancy words or forlorn traditions; she had but one oath, one favor, but a single task to complete to uphold her honor and her word. In truth, she had no personal investment in what she was about to commit, but she promised the couple a single favor in return for a favor. An oath was all she needed... all one needed, to kill.

The enigmatic queen of purple hues sat humbly on a single large rock, legs crossed, that stood by the castle built for Circe's child. Her eyes behind the truncaded little visor remained shut, her mind deep in thought. In her meditations, she envisioned only one thing; the blood of her enemy, blood everywhere. Blood on the floor, and on the trees, on her armor and the hilts of her blades. Her imagination fixed solely on the sight of the blood of her opponent flowing endlessly like the greatest river. She knew she would never die this day, that the duel would thus never truly be completed until an iron price was paid; but she would never cease to pursue the goal until they both drew last breath.

Finally her eyes flew open, their deep amethyst bio-luminescence glowing against the back of her headpiece and piercing through the shadows like lances of superimposed light. Alachei slowly rose to a stand. Very few looked death in the eyes with perfect calm... but it wasn't her own that she was worried of.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]. I do not know you, but I see through you. I will not conceal the truth from you; I have come to kill you, and by Ri'ess I will not rest until your last breath escapes you. I know and care little of your Kaggath, but if you have any honor or love for life, you will come here and face your fate. I will humbly await....

The challenge was scribed in the annuls of time. All the Mnenchei need do now was patiently wait for her opponent to arrive. A pity yet another light would be snuffed out, a name removed from history, to rightfully take back that which was stolen; though justice was always paid in blood.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z97sXDStxX4​

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Alachei Mnemenos"],

Your letter contains the following contradictions.

Why would love for life bring me to die?

Why would you call yourself humble when disregarding the tradition that Circe Savan accepted when she took my challenge, in full knowledge that if she won she would claim all that is mine?

Why would you seek to kill someone in justice for a life spared? It was within my rights to kill Circe Savan when she lay helpless before me, and within my rights to wipe her name from history, to take her world, to make even her closest associates forget her -- and that was within my power.

What you see as foundation for a duel is the greatest example of mercy I've ever shown. You know nothing.

Allow me to further emphasize how little you comprehend. A leader of a Republic member world challenging a member of the Fringe Confederation High Council? That's as low and easily abused as, say, backing a private bounty to kidnap two foreign heads of state to a Republic world.

You speak of honor. I don't believe you understand the concept. You speak of kaggath, and I know you don't understand that concept. If you want to challenge me to a kaggath, I'll honor it. If you want the chance to spit in my face, entrap me, attempt some sort of physical humiliation -- humble me, dare I say -- all these are lesser things, worthless in the grand scheme.

If you challenge me, you challenge me under the terms of kaggath or not at all. I have a people to rule, and if you took your own similar responsibilities seriously, you wouldn't waste your time like this. I have better things to do than accommodate your ego with no more potential reward than eviscerating a creature of id and self-satisfaction, of endless justification and pointless claims to honor. That would satisfy me for a moment, no more.

Make it worth my while. Kaggath with me, or I see no point in satisfying what you call honor. Your friend knew what she was getting into. I don't care if you do or not.

Rave

 

[Nyxie]

Contradictory. That is what someone of a lesser mind would first see, who could not see the grander scheme of things. Rave was interesting, to say the least. Alachei did not hold ill opinions of her, though she felt the excess of words wasted in what could otherwise be interpreted or said in but a couple of sentences and an overall lack of wisdom from a similarly suited figure slightly disturbing and moderately disappointing; often those who spoke much did so to fill a void within themselves, an area they fell short in or a doubt they wished to veil. She made herself out to be almost unworthy of the shaman's time, which would be the one prime truth she spoke, but that was for her alone to decide. As for the queen herself, her people worked sufficiently like a well-oiled automaton. At least as she believed, a strong leader would guide and inspire so well that their people would compensate in their absence and be self-sufficient as a bi-product of their good leadership. Her time on such matters was not always better spent elsewhere.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]:
You drag your words far beyond their need. The challenge is set, and you have been called forth for your tradition. Everything else is irrelevant. You may accept or not. Once more, tied are the coordinates. I await your arrival patiently and hopefully.

Political alignment, friendships, social status and anything else completely fell short on the matter, whether Rave came to terms with it or not. A challenge was a challenge, and for value of her own traditions, everything else was largely irrelevant. It was nothing more that two individuals vying for martial dominance; everything else made little difference in the matter.

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Alachei Mnemenos"]

So be it.

***​

At the appointed place, at the appointed time, Rave appeared more or less out of nowhere. A Sekairo-class stealth transport, stygium-cloaked and gravitically modulated and thrust-trace-damped to within an inch of its life, was a wonderful thing. Her brother flew the vessel; she'd asked him to stay out of it. Still cloaked, hovering, and shielded beneath the cloak, it waited not too far away for whenever she was done. One could not assume honor on the part of one's adversary.

She wore no armor, except for the high-grade armorweave jumpsuit she loved -- sufficient to resist a lightsabre, but not for very long at all. Her last suit had taken a sustained thrust from Circe Savan's lightsabre, and that burn had required half a litre of kolcta. One sheathed Derriphan's Eye long knife strapped to each thigh, one short lightsabre on each hip. All she generally needed, regardless of what her opponent brought to the table.