Faction Scales and Sass (DIA)

[Zara Saga]

(On the heels of Inheritance)
(Open to all Diarchy and Friends)​

The dueling arena of the Crucible of Order was humming with tension. It was late afternoon, the golden sunlight filtering through the wide opening above like a spotlight designed specifically to make dramatic grudges look cinematic. Zara stood at the center of the arena floor, blonde, immaculate, and simmering like a lightsaber set to "vindictive."

Students, instructors, bored Brotherhood members, and more than a few members of the Diarchic military hierarchy were trickling in with popcorn-equivalents and betting chips. Zara had arrived early and made a show of warming up. Just in case anyone thought she wasn't taking this seriously. Oh, she was. She was going to humiliate an ancient, Force-saturated, winged pseudo-deity, and look good doing it.

Her coat was tossed dramatically to the side. Her hair was braided back with surgical precision. And her holotablet? Still glowing from the "Read" notification she kept staring at like it owed her rent.

The message she'd sent Laphisto an while ago was short, petty, and artfully composed.

To: Laphisto
Subject: Come get your L.

I'm at the arena. You're late. Don't worry, I already stretched.
Bring your dignity. You might lose it, but I figure it's polite to at least let you start with some.
See you soon, wings.

Zara sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically as another seat filled with one of the older Force instructors carrying a giant thermos and a smug grin. Wonderful. Now the entire upper class was showing up. She scrolled once more, checking to make sure Laphisto hadn't sent some ancient mystical excuse about moon alignments or "feeling the will of the Force through meditation."

Nope. Still just "Read."

She lowered the holotablet and turned slowly in place, letting her eyes sweep the crowd like a queen acknowledging her citizens. A few students waved awkwardly. One kid in the front row whispered, "She's gonna get fried," and earned a death glare and a quiet Force nudge that knocked over his snack cup.

She smiled, sweet and venomous.

Laphisto​

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto was in his office aboard Aurora Station when the message arrived from Zara Saga . The invitation was… strange. His name was unmistakably on the recipient list a name not so easily mistyped but the location? The Crucible Arena? He frowned, leaning over the holocomputer to skim the last few weeks of logs and messages. A graduation ceremony? did he promise to sponsor a student or train one? Some oversight on his part? But no nothing. Just Zara's message: petty, precise, and dripping with challenge.

It made no sense. Until the door slid open and Commander Tarain stepped in "Sir," the man said crisply, "word's begun to spread on Bastion that you and Archion Zara are fighting. I'm not sure who started it, but it's drawn a crowd to the arena." Laphisto's lone ear flicked up. The Force brushed across his sight only to recoil as he hit the quiet, unreadable void that was Tarain's presence. A wince. A blink. He shook the vision clear.

So that was it. The message finally clicked into place, each line of text taking on new weight. A challenge not hidden in metaphor or protocol. Just blatant, theatrical provocation. He exhaled slowly, rising to his full height. "It seems she's challenged me to some sort of duel. I can't say for what reason... but I suppose it's best not to keep the girl waiting." He turned toward the corridor without hesitation. "Prep my shuttle. I'll be heading to the Crucible."

---

The flight to the Crucible took just over half an hour. The walk from the landing pad to the inner chamber added another ten minutes ten minutes Laphisto imagined Zara pacing like a caged nexu, raving to the crowd about punctuality, cowardice, or whatever slight she'd cooked up to mask her own anticipation. He stifled a quiet chuckle at the thought, a low rumble escaping his throat as he shook his head. Whatever this was, she'd made it public and dramatic. Of course she had.

The wide doors to the Crucible's main chamber parted with a low hiss, spilling golden light across the stonework floor. The scent of scorched duracrete and old ozone clung to the air residue from countless past duels. A faint breeze drifted through the open dome above, stirring dust motes like drifting embers in the air.

Laphisto stepped through with Commander Tarain at his right and five Lilaste Order guards flanking behind. The guards peeled off as they entered, taking silent posts at the periphery without command. He continued forward alone, each footstep deliberate, echoing softly beneath the growing murmur of the assembled crowd.

At first, it had seemed like just students and a handful of instructors. But as he walked further in, he saw the unmistakable shapes of Lilaste Order soldiers filtering in from the upper tiers off-duty infantry, technicians, even a few armored officers. Word had traveled quickly. And now they were here. Not because he ordered them, but because they assumed he'd accepted the duel. he wandered how long untill Diarch Reign or Diarch Rellik got word of this

And perhaps... because they wanted to see how he handled it. He scanned the tiers with a practiced eye dark orange shoulder stripes of Tarain's Sword here and there, familiar unit patches across rows of armor. No one spoke above a whisper. But their presence lent the moment a weight it didn't have before.

He came to a halt a few paces from Zara, folding his arms slowly across his chest. His expression, as always, was calm still as stone beneath pressure. The Force moved quietly within him, stirred not to aggression, but awareness. "So," he said, voice low but unwavering, "what is this all about, Zara?"

His lone ear shifted backward slightly, a subtle tell. She was tense. Her stance was measured, controlled but the Force around her shimmered with heat and purpose. This wasn't a joke to her. Not a performance, either. Whatever spurred this challenge was rooted deep. He let his gaze drift across the crowd once more. The murmurs. The quiet tension. Instructors were sipping from oversized thermoses; soldiers whispered in the back rows, nudging one another as bets silently changed hands.

"You've gathered quite the audience," he added, dry as stone. "I assume you have a point beyond theater." He turned his eyes back to her and studied her in silence. Even without reaching through the Force, he could read it in her eyes this was personal. Not a political stunt. Not a temper tantrum. well maybe partially. But it was also something more. Though what he couldn't say

 

[Merion Oreno]

Suffering various well-earned professional consequences, exhausted from training his way through the local structures of discipline, Merion came to spectate for a break. He sipped from his canteen straw through the utility aperture of his cultic mask. He felt torn. He liked Laphisto and disliked Zara, but she'd be the underdog here and he'd never yet cheered for the odds' favorite.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The broadcast invitation was for anybody in the Diarchy to attend a dispute and duel at the Crucible. Zara had initiated it, and it would involve her master. There was no stated reason, and Iandre couldn't help but be curious. Now she needed to decide whether she would be there as a professional or off duty. She was torn and wanted to do both. In the end, she chose to be a spectator and watch what was happening.

Nodding to the others of the Lilaste Order, Ian slid into a spot close to the entrance and not in any line of fire. Wearing her new earrings, jacket, and boots, she felt like she was learning to fit in better. She still needed help, and when this debacle was over, she would take her shopping. If the two of them could agree on anything, it was shopping.

Something the Apprentice didn't do was mingle with the others of the Order and sat near Merion.

Merion Oreno

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara stood at the center of the Crucible's dueling circle, her sabers still unlit, her voice loud and commanding, echoing off the duracrete walls like a sermon dressed in venom.

"You know what I see when I look at this crowd?" she asked the arena, her eyes flashing as she slowly turned a full circle. "I see comfort. I see softness. I see half-trained warriors and quarter-hearted diplomats sipping caf and betting credits while pretending they still believe in the mission."

A murmur passed through the tiers, nervous, uncomfortable. She let it.

"Bastion has spoiled you!" she snapped. "You were soldiers once. Revolutionaries. You fought for a dream... our dream. A galaxy liberated from Jedi rot, from Sith decadence. From their endless, idiotic cycles of war and redemption like the Force is some soap opera with bad writing."

A pause for dramatic effect.

"But now?" Her voice dropped to a bitter, mocking drawl. "Now we hold talks. Now we build trade stations. And ever since the Lilaste Order rolled in with their ancient space temples and floating monasteries and politely offered us wisdom, every bold move, every strike against our enemies, has turned into another committee meeting."

A sharp breath. A snap in her tone.

"I don't say this to dishonor the men and women of the Lilaste Order. Some of you have bled with us. Some of you still know what the fight is for. But the moment they joined the High Council… the moment they started whispering to Reign, to our Diarchs...."

She stopped, a smile curling across her lips, too cold to be amused.

"Progress. Stopped."

A new hush fell over the arena. Heads turned. Because the doors had opened. And in walked Laphisto.

Zara tracked his approach like a predator. Her fingers tightened on the hilt of her sabers, not to ignite it. Not yet. But to let him know she was ready. Her grin spread as he stepped into the ring, that towering, winged figure always so composed, so wise, so maddeningly unreadable.

"Well, well," she purred, voice saccharine and full of bite. "Look who finally woke up from his thousand-year nap."

She tilted her head as if examining some mildly interesting antique.

"I heard you called me a fanatic, Laphisto," she said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "That you called for swift punishment." She laughed, not light and airy, but short and sharp like a blade unsheathing.

"Who do you think you are? You think because you flew in from some floating basilica with your half-mystic poetry and long, broody stares that you get to judge me? I was born into the Diarchy. I was molded by it. I bled for it. You joined us halfway through the story, thinking you could write the ending."

She stepped toward him, each stride measured but full of purpose.

"You speak of order. Balance. But when we stood on Taris, on the Diarchs' homeworld, when I stared down the barrel of a blaster held by some Mandalorian toddler with armor and anger issues, you told me to keep my mouth shut. You bowed to Mandalorian pride like a good boy while I stood for the Diarchy."

Her saber still wasn't lit. But the fire in her eyes could've burned stars.

"I'm not here for theater," she said. "And I'm not here for reconciliation."

She raised her saber hilt between them, tilting it like an invitation and a sentence all at once.

"I'm here for justice. Anyone who stands in the way of the Diarchy's destiny, who slows it down, stalls it, softens it.... answers for it."

A beat.

"And today, that's you."

Laphisto​

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto stood upright, hands clasped behind his back. With a pulse of teal-blue energy, the Force flowed over his eyes as it always did to sharpen his perception. But this time, something else stirred beneath it a flicker of deep red and gold, streaking through the blue like lightning through a stormfront. He peered into her, reading the currents of her Force presence. Her anger. Her certainty. Her recklessness. He rolled to a slow stop about ten meters from her. The air shifted. Soldiers straightened in their seats. Instructors stopped whispering. Even the breeze through the Crucible seemed to stall, as if the moment had coiled too tightly to breathe. His lone ear flicked at her words, and a low, steady rumble began in his chest as he spoke.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut to avoid starting a war. With our closest and most dangerous neighbors." His voice carried not loud, but weighted. Enough to press the air down in the space between them. "The Mandalorians have the longest history in this galaxy as some of the most elite fighters ever to be seen. They have thousands of years of experience in war, conquest, and survival. And when they are angered truly angered there is no negotiating. No quarter. No building a wall." His eyes scanned the crowd, tone shifting to address all of them as much as her.

"Many of you have seen the Order fight. You've seen our precision. Our discipline. But that is only a fraction of what the Mandalorians are capable of when they deem something worth killing and they made it clear they were coming to bastion untill the diarch and I stepped in to talk them down." He returned his gaze to Zara, wings partially spreading not as a threat, but a statement of presence. His hands remained at his back. eyes narrowing slightly

"You ran your mouth. You insulted the people of Mandalore and the afflicted on Taris. You disrespected their sacrifices. You nearly shattered a fragile accord with one of the most volatile forces in the galaxy." His voice hardened, but didn't rise. "And you did it for what? To prove yourself to the Diarchs? To spit venom in a powder field and call it bravery?" He shook his head slowly, the Force still crackling faintly behind his eyes.

"You didn't just provoke warriors. You spat on the dying. On the broken. On the civilians we were trying to help." He stepped forward calm, deliberate until the edge of the dueling circle lay just before him. "I've seen worlds burn because one voice couldn't hold its tongue. I've seen wars erupt from words, not weapons. And I've watched good people die because someone chose pride over peace. and ill be damned if i hold another ceremony for the dead over a war that shouldn't have come"

His wings extended to their full span not in aggression, but in declaration. His arms dropped to his sides as the Force coiled tighter around him, like the hush before a storm's first strike. Wind circled him in a widening gyre, tugging at dirt and ash, as the Force bled outward in all directions warm and cold, light and shadow. It was not rage that stirred. It was purpose ancient, patient, absolute.

Stones and pebbles lifted from the floor at his feet, caught in the gathering tempest. Sparks arced between them, blue and violet threads of raw power. The calm energy of the Light and the searing edge of the Dark twined around him in perfect tension. "You think you're standing for the Diarchy. That you're defending it. But right now?" His voice dropped low, heavy, and cold with a growl rolling over every word "You're swinging your saber at its spine. And if I must stand between you and that mistake…"

With a subtle gesture, his broadsaber tore free from his belt and into his hand. His tail flicked once, sharply, before the all-too-familiar snap-hiss echoed through the Crucible. "then I will remind you where the line is drawn. not as a warrior, not as your elder... but as the last wall between you and the ruin your fury invites .." The flat of his saber dragged across the duracrete with a low metallic snarl as he stepped into the dueling circle. His taloned feet scratched against the stone, each step deliberate. He held the broadsaber outward in one hand, steady and low, while the other hand brimmed with coalescing Force energy wild, focused, and waiting.

Zara Saga

 

[Diarch Rellik]

While Rellik and Xian Xiao were within the Library of the Crucible - going over any information they could find relating to Xian's abilities, Onyx arrived with an urgent message for the Diarch. Turning around to greet his droid he was interrupted un-commonly.

Onyx: "Lord Rellik, I believe you would like to see this." Within his hands was a holoprojector of small scale. Enough to fully show a single person in its view. As it turned on Rellik could see Zara, standing proudly and defiant. A small smile came over his face, one of the Diarch's most loyal and longest friends. It was only until he heard her words did the smile slowly fade to a more serious expression.

Her fiery speech to the crowd and than a direct call to action against Laphisto. The leader of the Lilaste. - It was hard to process, on one hand; everything she said was true. The Diarchy has gotten soft, Rellik has gotten soft. His yearning to care for everyone he met, to protect and give them a wonderful life has made him forget the burdens of war. Sorenno, Varis, these conflicts made him want to shelter... to spoil, everyone he could. Yet, he could not forget the best way to protect them. Defeat all who dared stand in the way of peace. Zara was right. Mandalorians of any code or creed would seek the next battle. If there were no more war they would fight to be Manda'lore and perpetuate this virus across the stars.

He always believed Laphisto to be different though. His separation as an independent, never once has he voiced wanting to become Manda'lore or asked us to aid in retaking Mandalorian home worlds. He has done nothing but stand by our side and defend our honor, our lives. Hell, Laph has saved Relliks life more than once. He was a good man in his eyes.

Turning to Xian he spoke softly. Hands clasped behind his back.

"It seems we have a political issue turned combat trial, involving two of my great friends. I must go to the arena immediately. I would like you to come to the viewing box with me, perhaps together we can figure out how to help both of them. Our brothers and sisters have lost their way."

At the last words Rellik put his hand on his head, closed his eyes, and shook it. Struggling to comprehend what could have happened on Taris to instigate this event.

Xian Xiao Laphisto Zara Saga

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara stared across the circle at Laphisto, her posture straight, chin high, sabers still unlit but her entire frame coiled like a pressure trigger. His words rolled through the arena like a storm front, measured, ancient, righteous. But as the dust swirled and his wings spread like a monument carved from myth, she didn't flinch. She didn't even blink.

She laughed. A low, disbelieving, very human sound.

"Oh, Laphisto," she said, her voice rich with mockery and disgust. "You make it sound so noble. As if I marched into Taris to burn their fields and salt their future."

She turned to the crowd, addressing them all now, eyes burning, mouth pulled into a bitter smile.

"I promised the people of Taris peace and prosperity. Not death. Not tyranny. I promised them a future. A better rule, one where they would be remembered. Where they would belong. Under our banner. Under the Diarchy!"

She stepped forward, slowly now, each word rolling like thunder down a mountain.

"And what did you do, 'Wall'? You groaned and flexed and puffed your wings at the Mandalorians like they were too precious to offend. Too dangerous to confront. Are you so terrified of these boys in helmets that you'd muzzle your own Archon?"

She turned back to him now, eyes narrowing, fire behind every syllable.

"Yes, wars will be waged. Yes, good people will be lost. That's the cost of something that matters. You think the Jedi were hugged into extinction? You think the Sith were shamed into silence? No."

Her voice crescendoed, riding the mounting wave of the crowd's growing awe, and maybe a little fear.

"But when it's over, when the Diarchy's banner flies over every world in the known galaxy. When the Jedi and Sith are both dust and memory, when order reigns and chaos is a bedtime story for children?"

She jabbed a finger toward him.

"No one will remember the fossil who folded to testosterone ridden war dogs and hid behind a peace accord. No one will praise the dragon who whimpered when warriors barked."

She paced now, eyes scanning the crowd, their faces riveted.

"They'll remember those who moved the galaxy. Those who dared to carve a future with fire and conviction. Not fear."

She turned back to him one last time, stepping forward until they were only a few paces apart. She grinned, wicked, beautiful, triumphant.

"And if you're so taken with the Mandalorians, perhaps you should join them. I hear they love old relics with pretty speeches."

Then she laughed again. Full-bodied this time. Mocking. Golden.

"You? The spine of the Diarchy though?" she scoffed, glancing toward the stands, giving the crowd her best "can you believe this guy?" look. "You're more like a stiff neck. Cracking, creaking, constantly in the way."

Gasps. Chuckles. A ripple of tension. And then her expression dropped like a guillotine. Serious. Deadly.

"But today? I'm going to clip your wings, Laphisto."

Without warning, she flung both arms outward. A plume of fire erupted at her back, crackling and blooming around her like a phoenix's scream. The heat pushed back the air in a blastwave, her coat snapping like a banner in a storm.

In a breath, her twin yellow sabers ignited with a hiss, two beams of searing gold light.

"Because you're not the wall."

She spun once, sabers flashing through the fire.

"You're just in my way."

And she moved.

Launching at him like a streak of molten lightning, her blades danced in the Jar'Kai form, one high, one low, relentless and angular. Her footwork slid across the dueling circle like liquid purpose, each strike laced with fury and flawless grace. One saber darted in for his midsection while the other arced toward his shoulder, feints layered on real attacks, quicksilver violence wrapped in elegance.

The Crucible roared as the first clash began.

Laphisto​

 

[Xian Xiao]

The short woman had been conducting additional practice and research to enhance her skills with the help of Rellik. In the month or so that had passed since Xian had joined the Diarchy, she had significantly progressed. She already had reasonable control of air and fire, but now she had much more control of water. Very soon, it would be a weapon in her hands.

Turning when the droid entered, she watched the display along with Rellik. Wondering where some people got the courage to talk like she was, the teen was quiet while she was riling up the crowd.

"No matter what the outcome is, this does not sound positive. What's got her dander riled up?"

Setting the tome down she had been looking at, she sighed and started to leave the library. She knew her master would be following momentarily.

Diarch Rellik

 

[Laphisto]

Zara's laughter cut through the Crucible like a flare scornful, bold, meant to provoke. Laphisto didn't move. He didn't flinch. Wings half-extended, broadsaber steady at his side, the Force coiled hot and ready in his palm, casting a faint shimmer of energy that pulsed with light and shadow alike. The air swirled tighter around him, tension twisting into silence. Then she moved.

Twin sabers hissed to life, gold and furious, her form a blur of Jar'Kai precision one blade high, one low, each layered with feints and momentum. But Laphisto didn't read her movements. He read her intent. It raced ahead of her, blazing through the Force like a flare across dark water. Anger. Conviction. Recklessness. He didn't hesitate. he watched her force signature as it moved

His hand thrust forward, unleashing a crack that split the air like lightning snapping from a clear sky. The Force blast didn't just strike it carved. Focused and narrow, it tore toward her center mass like a spear, fast and brutal. The stone floor detonated beneath its path, fracturing outward in jagged lines as a shockwave ripped through the arena. Shards of sharp duracrete splintered, whirling lifted into the air, caught in the rolling force like thrown knives, their trajectories wild but purposeful. A wall of dust surged in behind it.

Before the echo had even finished rebounding through the coliseum, Laphisto's second hand came up beside the first. Both taloned palms faced the floor now, eyes flashing with opposing hues teal blue rimmed in crimson gold. The earth obeyed. Stone groaned and rose. From the fractured circle burst a rolling wave of massive stone pillars, blunted but dense, each one erupting upward and outward like jagged surf. They weren't spikes designed to impale they were hammers meant to break rhythm. Some rose low, meant to catch her footing and stagger. Others arced higher, aiming for shoulders, chest, and legs not to kill, but to slam her off-course or send her tumbling . The timing was tight a calculated strike meant to catch her mid-lunge, just as momentum committed her body forward.

Dust choked the air. Shrapnel and pillars danced in deadly harmony. And at the heart of the chaos stood Laphisto, taloned feet rooted in fractured stone, wings outstretched like drawn blades. He hadn't moved to kill. He hadn't even drawn blood. But his power had already spoken. And it did not ask permission.

Zara Saga

 

[Damos Vakaro]

Objective 2

Tags: Diarch Rellik Xian Xiao
​

Damos was more than excited to see his colleagues become so unbecoming of each other -anything to get him out of the office. Granted there was probably a more material reason that affected the Diarchy as a whole. But Damos was nothing if not a leech for drama wherever he could find it. He arrived to the arena a bit too late as everyone was settling in. The layout of the Crucible was foreign to Damos, he was only ever there for formalities since he was a council member. He usually had to be guided by one of the Diarchs so he wouldn't get lost. Damos always made sure not to embarrass himself in front of his bosses. Granted he didn't know if they would feel offended at Damos's ignorance, but looking bad in front of his bosses was his main concern.

Navigating through the Crucible's arena eventually got him to stumble across Diarch Rellik and another woman whom Damos had yet to meet.

"Sir! I didn't expect to see you here." Damos said in surprise. "Is there money on this fight or...?"

 

[Merion Oreno]

"Sir! I didn't expect to see you here." Damos said in surprise. "Is there money on this fight or...?"

Seated nearby, slurping his drink through straw and helmet aperture, attention locked on the fight, Merion caught exactly the wrong half of that, and also missed, entirely, the proximity of a Diarch.

"You seen the cantina recording from Taris that's going around? Friend, there is absolutely money on this fight."

What he didn't mention was that he'd made the recording in question with the equipment built into his cultic mask, just as he was recording this now.

Damos Vakaro Diarch Rellik Xian Xiao

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags:

There was no way that Rokul wouldn't find himself here. Sat in the stands and staring down into the arena with an expressionless visage as he took all of this in. There were parts of this that he agreed with Zara over. They had bent over backwards for the Mandalorians. It wasn't something that Rokul enjoyed. He could be polite with them, he was polite with most people, but he truly believed in the Diarchy. So seeing them to have to bow down to some other Force was an affront to him. But what did his opinion matter in the grand scheme of things? He was just one man.

Either way, even Rokul could see that the fire burning inside of Zara threatened to scorch them all. The flames could be soothing, like when Zara healed him when they left Taris...But at the same time, he knew she could burn all of what they had. He wasn't sure what opinion to take of the entire situation. So instead he just rested his chin atop his hands and watched the duel. He always admired the way Lightsabers could swing through the air, and Zara had always been good at demonstrating that in his eyes.​

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara felt the Force split open around her like a scream, too late to dodge, too close to block outright.

Her reflexes flared.

She tucked low, sliding into a tight spiral under the worst of the first blast. The stone cracked beside her, a jagged bloom of pressure splitting the floor just inches from her ribs. The shockwave clipped her shoulder, spinning her further than intended. She twisted mid-roll, one saber lashing out behind her to carve through a chunk of airborne debris with a sizzle-pop while the other swept upward to ward off the rising dust cloud.

Then came the pillars.

Her boots slammed to the ruined ground, barely regaining purchase as the floor convulsed beneath her. One of the stone hammers erupted at her flank, too close. She ducked again, rolled forward, then vaulted over the next, flipping high and twisting, legs tight, sabers trailing golden arcs behind her like comet tails. She landed hard, one knee cracking down onto the battered duracrete, teeth clenched as the impact rattled up her spine.

"Still so gentle," she hissed under her breath, loud enough for the front rows to hear. "All this power and you still fight like you're worried I'll break."

She stood straight, fire coiling around her palms now, dancing, rippling, waiting. Not raw destruction. Controlled. Channeled. Purposeful.

She hurled the fire not at him, but at the broken floor beneath his feet, setting it alight with unnatural intensity. The flames crept like fingers, trailing behind him in a sudden ring, limiting his movement, bottlenecking him into a narrowed stance between stone and flame. A tactical squeeze.

And then she rushed.

From the right this time, her stance low, sabers twirling in a horizontal blur. One blade snapped out in a sweeping arc for his hip, a test of distance, a fake, while the other reversed in her grip and jabbed for the inside of his left thigh, aiming to unbalance, to move him, force him into action.

The Jar'Kai technique flowed like a symphony with her flames, fast and beautiful and vicious. She pivoted into a tight flourish, bringing both blades together again at shoulder height in a diagonal slash meant to push through whatever defense he offered.

She wasn't trying to end it yet.

She was trying to escalate it.

She wanted the wings. She wanted the storm. She wanted to prove that when she roared, the ancient had to roar back.

Spoiler

TLDR Actions: Zara avoids the direct blast with an acrobatic dodge, parries debris, and vaults through the erupting stone pillars. She then sets the floor around Laphisto on fire to limit his movement and follows up with a precise Jar'Kai assault: one saber feinting at his hip, the other thrusting at his thigh, before bringing both sabers into a powerful diagonal strike.

Laphisto​

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto stood tall, wings unfurled like a storm held in suspension. The fire coiled around him, drawn to every movement—each slow, deliberate flap of his wings fed it further, stoked it higher. He didn't retreat. He stepped deeper into the circle, letting her trap swell into something far more volatile.

She came through it like a blade loosed from a furnace, sabers flashing gold in mirrored arcs. The first swept low his palm met it, the Force surging through his arm in a focused current. The strike diverted, her momentum dragged off-line. The second caught his thigh, skidding across the rienforced armor. Sparks hissed. But his stance didn't shift. The blow landed, and meant nothing.

Then came the twin slash. Diagonal. Coordinated. Designed to break through him. He moved. His broadsaber rose in a clean motion, catching one blade on the flat of his saber the plasma flared. between the two blades while The other he caught bare-handed. His gauntlet closed around the golden saber, tutaminis blooming between his fingers. The Force siphoned the heat, drank in the energy. It did not burn him. It fueled him.

Their eyes locked. A low snarl rumbled from his chestnot bestial, not rageful. A warning. His wings flared wide and beat down, hard. Dust exploded into the air. The fire behind her surged to meet the oxygen, swelling with unnatural hunger. But he wasn't done. All around them, the shattered remnants of duracrete rose again. Shards of broken stone twisted into the air, caught in a slow spiral around him. At his subtle motion, the debris formed a ring tight, fast, and deliberate. Not chaos. Not noise. Control.

The maelstrom held at a fixed distance. Not close enough to touch him. Not far enough to ignore. It spun where she stood her perfect striking range. Razor-edged fragments whipped through the air, carving into anything that lingered within. Her arms. Her shoulders. Her stance. Every second she remained locked with him meant pain. Behind her, the fire rose into a wall. Before her, the storm screamed around the eye. And at its center, Laphisto remained unmoving. He had not stepped forward. He had not pursued. He had simply made the act of staying too costly.

Spoiler

TLDR Actions: Laphisto allows Zara to close in, blocking her first strike with a Force-assisted redirect and letting the second slide harmlessly off his reinforced armor. When she commits to a double-bladed diagonal slash, he counters—catching one saber with his broadsaber and the other with his gauntlet, using Tutaminis to absorb its energy. He then fans her fire trap into a blazing inferno with his wings and summons a maelstrom of stone shrapnel that spins precisely at her striking range. Caught between fire and shrapnel, Zara is forced to disengage or suffer continuous damage.

Zara Saga

 

[mooney]

The tall woman lingered at the edge of the crowd, her presence quiet but undeniable. life forms of all kinds streamed past her, drawn like insects to flame by the clash of warriors in the arena below. One she knew of in a way he helped her.

The noise grated against her senses—chaotic, wild, and strange . Conflict like this, performed for spectacle, was not of her understanding. She neither understood it nor cared to. The air pressed warm against her skin, a stark contrast to the biting cold of her home.It felt wrong. Too soft. Too alive. It’s Disgusting.

With slow, deliberate steps, she moved forward and took a seat, she studied the fighters below, not out of entertainment no but calculation

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara felt the wall of pain before she registered the movement, shards of stone whipping through the air, too fast, too close. The first bit her shoulder, slicing through the edge of her armor and singing skin beneath. Another kissed across her thigh, shallow but hot with the edge of kinetic fury. She cried out, more surprise than agony, stumbling back instinctively into the furnace wall of her own making.

The heat seared at her back.

Smoke filled her mouth. Her sabers hissed as she spun, catching two more fragments midair but the swarm was relentless. Every breath was a risk. Every blink cost her clarity. She dropped low again, this time rolling hard to her left through the edge of the ring, letting the storm slice a thin line across her ribs as payment. She came up hissing, one saber extinguished briefly to conserve strength, the other still flaring bright in her hand.

Her braid had come undone, strands of sweat-soaked blonde clinging to her face as she bared her teeth at the dragon at the center of the storm.

"Fine," she snarled. "You want stillness?"

She thrust her hand down, palm splayed against the fractured floor, and shoved.

The pit responded.

A shockwave cracked outward from her touch, an eruption of heat and kinetic energy, a deliberate pulse through the stone to fracture it even more, to send slabs of the broken floor upward, toward him in jagged, waist-high bursts. Some split the fire between them. Some lifted under his footing. She wasn't aiming to strike with precision, she was aiming to unstabilize, to bring the storm crashing down around him.

As the chunks rose, she flung herself forward in their shadow, blade spinning back into her left hand. Her free palm flared hot as she released a tight, controlled burst of fire into one of the lifted slabs, igniting it midair and hurling it like a molten disc toward his center mass.

Then she followed it.

Both sabers lit now. She passed through the fireball, gold blades spinning, her body low, one saber aimed toward his right side, fast and clean, the other arcing high in a fake meant to draw a block. She wanted to get under him. Wanted to press in, get close, make that towering figure have to react faster than his old instincts could track.

Make him feel young again, by making him bleed.

Spoiler

TLDR Actions: Zara takes multiple hits from Laphisto's debris storm, bleeding from her shoulder, thigh, and ribs. She responds by detonating the pit floor beneath him with a focused Force shockwave, sending stone slabs upward. She ignites one slab mid-air and hurls it like a flaming projectile at Laphisto, then rushes through it, striking with twin sabers in an aggressive low-high Jar'Kai combination to break his position.

Laphisto​

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto's gauntlet still seared red with lingering heat, wisps of smoke curling from scorched metal. As Zara rolled through the flames and away, he let out a low rumble, reaching into the Force. He pulled the fire inward, draining it of life. The inferno died down in an instant, the smoke retreating into stillness. But that focus cost him.

The ground lurched beneath his feet. Shattered slabs buckled and rose in jagged formations. Laphisto staggered not from pain, but from surprise. With a sharp exhale, he thrust both hands down, pushing through the Force to solidify the terrain beneath him. The stone responded, locking into place just as his gaze snapped upward.Too late.

The slab of flaming debris struck him square in the chest. It hit like a wrecking ram sending him skidding back across fractured stone. The Maelstrom shattered, shards of stone flung loose as he rolled with the impact. He hit hard, but rose harder. One knee down, then both feet beneath him in a single motion. His chestplate was scraped raw, paint scorched away. He gave a short, low snort.

Then came the next wave. Zara descended like a thunderclap, sabers angled and ready. Laphisto's eyes tracked both blades. He moved the instant she committed. His broadsaber flicked to intercept the low strike aimed at his hip. He dropped to one knee, using the motion to absorb the force his saber seering into the ground and allowing the hand guard to pin her blade between beskar and the ground. having hoped to hit the actual hilt but catching the plasma of her blade would hopefully have teh same ffect of throwing her over head attack off course at least a little. but he was ready for when The second blade came down from above his arm rose with it, reinforced gauntlet braced to catch the blow.

The clash rang out. And then he opened his mouth. A deep roar surged from his throat, primal and focused, followed by a stream of fire. It burst forward in a torrent, a jet of raw heat and fury, aimed directly at her chest to drive her back, to sear the air between them. hoping to catch her in the open flames locking eyes with her a deep crimson glow seemed to overtake the teal blue haze over his eyes if only for a moment before golden light broke through as if to pull it away as not long after the teal blue returned.

Zara Saga

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara's strike landed... almost.

She felt the hiss and resistance of her saber dragging against Laphisto's broadsaber and then his gauntlet locking it down against the ground. The sudden jarring halt sent tremors up her arm, nearly wrenching her shoulder from the socket. Her other saber collided with his reinforced gauntlet, sparks flying as the impact vibrated through her knuckles like a mallet on a bell.

Then came the sound. The roar. It hit her harder than the fire.

She reeled back, instinct shouting before thought could form, but not fast enough. The flame caught her mid-step, a column of white-hot fury slamming into her chest and shoulder, lifting her off her feet with a scream with barely any time to use the force to absorb it. She landed hard on her back, sliding along the scorched floor in a tumble of limbs and fire-wreathed hair.

Pain seared across her left side, armor half-melted, skin beneath blistering under the heat. Her breath came in ragged, shallow bursts, chest heaving. She blinked up at the mountain opening above, vision swimming.

But it wasn't the pain that made her freeze. It was the eyes.

Just for a heartbeat, his eyes had changed. Not shifted like a trick of the light. Not a reflection of flame. But truly changed. Teal overtaken by crimson… then gold, as if something ancient and other had pulled him back from the edge.

Zara sat up slowly, one saber extinguished, the other clutched tightly in her right hand. Her arm trembled. Her lip was bleeding. She stared at him, not with rage now, but with something else.

"…What are you?" she breathed, almost too quietly to hear.

But the fight wasn't over.

She forced herself to her feet. Her hair was in wild, singed disarray now, armor cracked and dirt-streaked. And still, her saber ignited again. Not with defiance now, but with resolve.

"No more fire," she muttered. "Fine."

She pivoted toward the broken edge of the dueling circle and ran. Not toward Laphisto... but away. She leapt high, landing on the rim of the destroyed pit wall with one hand bracing her weight. Her body twisted, dropping low again, not to dodge, to drag. Her saber slashed the floor in a precise arc, cutting a long, burning line across the underside of the arena structure.

Then she threw herself into the pit itself, letting gravity and the fractured platform carry her down, vanishing from sight for a second.

A beat. Then... Boom.

The section of floor she'd cut gave way above Laphisto, a blast of collapsing stone and support structure collapsing down toward him. She emerged mid-air from the lower pit wall, leaping back up in a wide arc. Her blade crackled back to life mid-spin, this time in a high windmill cut designed to drive him backward into the falling debris. She was striking from above, letting gravity and momentum lend her force.

"You're not the only one who knows how to use the ground," she snapped mid-air, voice breathless, raw, alive.

Spoiler

TLDR Actions: Zara is caught by Laphisto's fire breath and is badly burned across her chest and shoulder, sent flying and dazed. She notices the strange change in his eyes and hesitates, shaken. Then, adapting, she uses a structural weakness in the arena to collapse a section of the floor on top of him while launching herself into a high aerial counterattack to force him into it.

Laphisto​

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Leaving the library shortly behind Xian, Rellik was deep in thought. Searching his feelings in the force, he could feel the conflict growing within the arena. - It was only the voice of Damos Vakaro that pulled him out of a semi trance. It had been to long since he had seen the head of logistics.

"It is good to see you again... I am sure there are wagers, just ensure to bet under an alias or one of your sub servient. We do not need infighting on the high council - more than we already seem to be having."

At Merion Oreno words the Diarch simply shook his head. The recording Onyx showed him was making its way across the entire Diarchy. The situation has turning into something that not only effected an Archon and head of Military - it now affected the entire Diarchy. Its image across the galaxy that had been so purposefully curated.

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The now gathered group had made it to one of the suites meant for dignitaries when they come to mutual game events. Rellik walked to the window viewing and began watching the event unfold. The battle was not being fought with stun weapons. It was with their real tools of war. - He gave a quick glance around the arena. Lilaste order members were here in waves. Than Diarchy members and personnel filling in maxing out the remainder of the arena. - This could end worse than it had any reason to.

During his scan of the people he did notice Iandre Athlea , she seemed to have a nice new outfit. His mind ached at the idea of how the Lilaste order and the Diarchys relationship could be strained by this. There were many people within the order he had grown quite fond of.

"Xian, if any other fighting breaks out, I want you to seal this door and stay here. Keep yourself safe."

His tone was somber and serious. The battle was escalating and it appeared the two were not showing any signs of slowing down, Rellik used the mechanical operation of the viewing window to open it. Before this could turn into some form of Psuedo civil war - the Diarch would step into the arena and stop both combatants. For now he was giving them the chance to show a better side of themselves. These were not boots of the line, not even governors. These were High Councilors of the Diarchy, one level under the Diarchs themselves. The Archon of the brotherhood and head of the Lilaste order. They were threatening the peace all of them had made.

Rellik pulled out a communicator that linked Directly to Diarch Reign

"Nightfall. Crucible Arena."

He did not have to say anything else. Reign should understand the severity of the situation. If he could not make it in time though, Rellik would handle it one way or another.

Tags: Laphisto Zara Saga