I lounge at the very bottom level of seating that surrounds the arena, elbows propped atop the railing, fingers interlaced beneath my chin.
Watching.
The sun beats down on my exposed skin, bringing a flush to its normally pallid hue and glinting off the tattoos that cover my bare arms and torso. Sand, broken free from the arena floor by its occupants and born in my direction by a stifling breeze, pelt against me like razors. Even if I wasn't enthralled by the spectacle before me, I wouldn't feel any of it.
But I am. Before I was broken on Thyferra, I had been confident in the knowledge that I was quite possibly the most skilled fighter in the galaxy. I'd bested everyone who ever made the mistake of standing against me- Jedi, Sith, champions of foreign warrior cultures, duelists and assassins by the handfuls- and never even broke a sweat. But this was...something more.
Art.
Economy of motion at its peak. No movement wasted on elegance or a flair for the dramatic or flamboyant. Each strike a killing blow, masterfully executed and lightning fast. Each evasion a tactical maneuver to gain the upper hand. The Knight Commander's movements were erratic at first glance- you had to look closely with a skilled eye to see the deadly interwoven pattern, but it was there. A deadly web spun by a natural hunter. A spider luring in its prey, waiting for a misstep.
One that might never come, if I'm correct in my assessment of his opponent. A hulking titan of a man who fought in a much more direct manner than my benefactor. Like the Commander, you had to look closely to understand the genius- and I don't use that word lightly- of his movements. What at first appeared to be plodding, straight forward attacks were in reality a display of brutal cunning the likes of which I've never seen before. Each blow is struck with colossal force, but he retains strategic awareness, using each thundering movement to reposition himself, set up his next attack, and push forward. Severing each strand of the web just as fast as the spider could spin it.
I am in awe. Deaf to the chatter of those around me, insensate in more ways than one to all external stimuli save the scuff of boots on sand and the snarl of tangling lightsabers.
I make up my mind right then: I won't rest until I am their equal.
[member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]