Private Stolen Valor

[Adonis Angelis IV]

The Son of the Savanna

Tag: Lucaant Vaneric

The rains of the wet months pounded overhead. The last time Adonis had stepped foot on Vaal, he had been but a boy. By years, he was a man, but by experience he was still a pup. The images of his life over the last months flashed before him. The death of his father. The last goodbyes to a planet, to a life, that he had known before. The memories, and a few tears, welled up in his eyes.

That was history now, and Adonis Angelis IV had the rest of his life to live: as a Mandalorian, as himself. Choking back the aforementioned tears, deep brown eyes scanned the horizon.

It was now dusk on the savanna planet Vaal. Even with the storms rolling in, the last lights of day were still cascading over the grasses. In the distance, by the trees that lined the walkway to the estate, the glowmotes of Vaal were beginning their mating dance. In the coming thunderstorm, they would do their breeding, a sign of the burst of life that was about to overtake the planet, and Adonis was here to bear witness. It felt almost right for him to be returning during the storming season, because what he was about to do was symbolic of his own birth and rebirth, grounding himself in the mysticism of his homeworld.

Arriving back now, as a Mandalorian, was its own challenge. Vaal had always had a history with the Mandalorian Empire. Being on the fringes of Mandalorian space had caused its more Alliance-and-Republic-aligned citizens much stress over the years. Including, but not limited to, the death of Adonis's father, Adonis Angelis III. The entire Angelis estate was equipped with high-end sensors and an elite security system. Those systems would almost certainly be alerted if a Mandalorian signature was detected, so this time, Adonis decided to go without his helmet. He would still be able to bypass the biometric locks, he had seen to that personally. Before his father died, he made sure both their DNA profiles were saved in multiple sectors of the security grid, allowing them a sort of master key that the rest of the family didn't know about.

Adonis would be able to enter the compound without too much hassle, but what happened inside the estate would be much different. The Mandalorian knew his mission, to retrieve his family's ceremonial armor, would likely have been anticipated by the others. He assumed they had prepared defenses, maybe even hired extra protection. That was fine. He had been looking for a fight. With that in mind, the Mandalorian Knight set forward, the bulk of his armor swallowing him in its protection. Even without the helmet, anyone who looked at the armor long enough would know its Mandalorian make. The one thing helping him blend in, however, was the Angelis family crest shining brightly across the chestplate. Adonis, in an attempt to learn metalcraft, had grafted the sigil from his old armor onto this temporary frame. A trial run for what he planned to do with the armor he reclaimed today.

Adonis made his way into the compound using the methods he had available. It appeared he was in, and without issue. Little did he know, deeper within the estate, a trap waited to be sprung.

__________


The guards making their rounds in the vault room had grown tired of their post. They were never able to take breaks when they wanted, and their security footage was reviewed weekly for performance analysis. They never got any action, but they were the most heavily enforced. None of them understood why. Sure, the Angelis family had been a major player in Vaalian politics for generations, but their treasures weren't anything special. They were a prideful family, but not one known for material assets.

The guard on duty passed through the doors of the vault room, his hand resting against the shoulder of the man already stationed there. "Karen says you're good to go eat and rest. I know it's not your turn yet, but she's switching up the guard order. Says she has a feeling about tonight." They scoffed amongst themselves. She had a feeling like that at least once a week, that the prodigal son would return to Vaal in a blaze, killing everyone and pillaging like Mandalorians did. She had never been right before.

"I'll take it. The new guy is freaking me out," the second guard muttered under his breath, referring to the latest hire brought in to protect the vault. "Let me know if he says anything to you. He hasn't said a word to me." The guard shrugged as he walked out, heading off to clock out and rest.

That left only the old guard, Levi, in the vault room. He stood alone, still as a statue, staring at the old, dusty artifacts with the same keen eye he always did. By now, he could probably draw them from memory.

That's when the door opened, and in stepped the aforementioned hired hand.

"Hello, sir," the remaining guard said, putting his hand out to shake. "My name is Levi."

If there was one thing Levi hated, it was not introducing himself. He'd get the new guy to talk one way or another. Besides, he needed something to pass the time, he figured it was about to be another long, boring night shift.

 

[Lucaant Vaneric]

"Oh, my God will certainly forgive you... But unfortunately, I won't."



⏵ Play Theme



Location: Angelis Estate - Vaal



Objective: Protect | Get paid



People involved: Adonis Angelis IV



---​

The vault was quiet, save for the soft hiss of recycled air and the distant murmur of thunder echoing through the foundation of the estate. When the doors parted, they did so without fanfare. No grand entrance, just a hiss and a presence.

Lucaant stepped through them like a shadow rolling into a place it already belonged.

His armor was matte but clean, grey-on-grey with faint streaks of wear at the edges. Practical. Tactically sound. A hunter's wear. His helmet was clipped to his belt, letting the low light fall across the sharp angles of his face and the steel-grey eyes that scanned the room with unreadable focus.

He barely acknowledged the artifacts — not out of disrespect, but because his priorities were different.

The old guard spoke, extending a hand.

Lucaant’s eyes flicked to it for a breath. Then they returned to Levi’s face, unreadable.

“Keep your hands on your weapon, not me,” he said flatly, walking past him toward the long, low bench bolted into the wall beside the viewing monitors. He didn’t sit. He crouched beside it, unfastening the clasp on his gear pack.​

In smooth, deliberate movements, he pulled out his DC-17 sidearm, its frame blackened from use. He checked the charge, adjusted the power cell socket, and ran a cloth along the length of the barrel. No wasted motion.

Levi said nothing more. Neither did Lucaant — not for a while.

The DC-17 was reassembled and reholstered with a practiced snap.

Next came the Westar M5 carbine, pulled from the magnetic clip on his back. It made a subtle thunk as it settled across his lap. He field-stripped the weapon quickly, efficiently, like someone who had done it a thousand times in silence with worse company. Carbon scoring was cleaned, scope rechecked, the trigger assembly tested and cleaned with a cloth he'd folded with surgical precision.

Only after the rifle was reassembled did he finally speak again.

“This post is a glorified tomb if we let it be.”

He didn’t look at Levi when he said it. He just set the rifle aside and unsheathed the vibroblade, its dark alloy whispering against the sheath.

The blade didn’t gleam. It drank light. Small nicks near the tip, nothing serious. He drew a whetstone from his belt pouch and began running it down the length with slow, careful passes. The rasp of metal on stone echoed faintly.

“I do not know who the Angelis heir pissed off, but I was hired to keep this vault locked. Which means if someone tries to walk out with that armor,” a pause as he turned the blade in the light, “I put them down.”

The sharpening continued. Quiet. Steady. Centered.

“If you are half as competent as you are talkative, then we will not have a problem.”

Another breath. Another stroke of the whetstone.

“But if anything moves that should not be here — shoot first. Ask later.”

With that, he sheathed the vibroblade, slid his helmet back onto his head, and took position near the vault’s central terminal — unmoving, unreadable, and ready.​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Bloodline Breach​

Tag: Lucaant Vaneric​

Familiar halls now sat empty. The life that once flowed through the Angelis estate felt sterile. The joy that used to echo through the walls now sounded like the distant steps of soldiers moving in formation. It wasn't what Adonis remembered, but that didn't matter anymore. They could keep the estate. He didn't care about the walls, the rooms, the marble or glass. All he wanted was the armor, the pride of his family, the last piece that still felt like it belonged to him. This wasn't a mission. It was a line in the sand. A moment his life had been building toward.

The Mandalorian warrior slipped through the dark like he'd never left. Every blind spot, every maintenance hatch, every creaky step tucked behind a decorative vase, all still mapped in his head. The Angelis family had always put more money into appearances than real protection. The cameras were mostly for show, and Adonis had made sure to check the firmware on the estate before his departure years ago. He doubted they'd upgraded anything since.

Ahead, a hallway opened into a side chamber. Two guards stood near the window, backlit by flickering red-gold light from the storm outside. They were chatting in that lazy, end-of-shift kind of way that made them easy targets. Adonis scanned the room. His great-grandfather had insisted on wide windows and natural light, and now the shadows worked in his favor. No overhead lighting meant no silhouettes. No silhouettes meant no warning.

His armor was lighter than usual, deliberately chosen for this operation. He'd forgone the helmet and the heavier pieces in favor of stealth, sacrificing bulk for mobility. Footsteps fell soft against stone as he crept forward. No blade drawn. No saber lit. This would be fast, quiet enough not to draw attention, but hard enough to make sure it stayed quiet.

The two guards didn't see him coming.

He crossed the space in a burst of motion and slammed their heads together with a dull crack. One crumpled instantly; the other let out a half-choked sound before he was dragged into a nearby storage room. Adonis worked quickly, binding their limbs and forcing them into industrial trash bags used by estate staff. He didn't feel good about it, but he didn't hesitate either. A tight pull of the cord around the neck, a quick slit of the throat. It was cleaner this way.

The scent of blood didn't belong here. Not on these floors. He tied the bags shut and pressed them into a corner where no one would notice them for a while. He told himself this wasn't desecration. This was reclamation.

He poked his head from the closet, checked the hallway again, and kept moving.

The vault wasn't far. Just a few more turns, and he'd be there.

The biometric scanner blinked to life as he approached. He stepped up to it, his jaw clenched, his breathing tight, and let it scan his retina. He'd made sure, years ago, that both he and his father were hard-coded into the override systems: a failsafe for moments just like this.

But the light flashed red.

The machine blared in synthetic finality.

ACCESS DENIED – SECURITY EN ROUTE
DESIGNATED INTRUDER: ADONIS ANGELIS IV
​

The voice echoed through the hall. It was cold, mocking.

Damn it.

Adonis ducked into a side room, an old sitting lounge with a false maintenance door he remembered from his youth. He slipped through it without hesitation and vanished behind the wall, heart racing not from fear, but from the bitter sting of betrayal. They'd overwritten his access. They had known he was coming.

And they'd prepared a welcome.

______________________​

Levi shifted uncomfortably when Lucaant blew him off. He knew better than to mouth off to a hired gun, especially one with that kind of presence, but that didn't stop the irritation from flaring. Decades in this line of work had taught him restraint, but if Lucaant could read thoughts, he'd be hearing more than a few choice words right now. There was something about the guy, not loud, not aggressive, just still. Like a predator already at peace with what it was going to do.

When the mercenary started cleaning his weapons, Levi watched from the corner of his eye. The gear was immaculate, military-grade, well-worn but cared for, blackened edges and sharp lines. The kind of weapons that didn't see holsters much. Lucaant moved like each one mattered, like they had names or at least history. Levi wasn't superstitious, but there was a weight to it. Or maybe that was just the way the man carried himself.

He didn't interrupt. He just turned back toward the console and kept his mouth shut.

The monitors showed nothing unusual. Same quiet halls. Same static feeds. But something about it didn't sit right. He took a sip from his canteen and toggled the comms channel.

"North hall team, check in."

Static.

"Repeat, north hall, report."

Still nothing.

Levi frowned. He tapped over to the south wing. "South hall patrol, sound off."

Silence.

He glanced again at the merc across the room, but Lucaant hadn't moved. Not even a shift in stance. Just standing there like a statue that was waiting for permission to break.

Levi clicked one more toggle. "East guard, confirm."

Still nothing.

Then came the sound, not through the comms, but from the wall itself. A soft metallic ping, sharp and unnatural, followed immediately by the flicker of red across the vault lighting system. Every monitor lit up at once. The screen directly in front of him flashed in bold, unflinching font.

ACCESS DENIED – SECURITY EN ROUTE
DESIGNATED INTRUDER: ADONIS ANGELIS IV ​

Levi stared at the name.

His heart dropped. It wasn't just a break-in. It wasn't a raid. It was him.

He clicked into the channel, voice low but tight with urgency. "We've got a breach."

The words felt wrong coming out of his mouth, like they didn't match what he was looking at. This wasn't just some slicer or scavenger. This was Adonis Angelis The Fourth. The one the family whispered about behind locked doors. The one they said would come back for blood and bones, not inheritance.

"Oh, fuck," Levi breathed, leaning back in the chair as the red light pulsed overhead. "He's really back."

He looked toward Lucaant again. For once, he hoped the bastard would move.

Because Levi had just realized he wasn't guarding a vault anymore. He was sitting inside a war.

"Karen, come in, we need backup now!" He said into the comm, calling toward their head of security.

 

[Lucaant Vaneric]

"Oh, my God will certainly forgive you... But unfortunately, I won't."

⏵ Play Theme
Location: Angelis Estate - Vaal
Objective: Protect | Get paid
People involved: Adonis Angelis IV

---​

The vault was silent now, heavy with the kind of stillness that only followed preparation.

Lucaant sat in the chair nearest the vault’s internal blast door, posture relaxed but purposeful. The Westar carbine, the DC-17, and his vibroblade lay neatly across the table in front of him, each one had already been cleaned, calibrated, and set in perfect order. The weapons were reassembled. Sheathed. Loaded.

He was still, arms resting loosely on his thighs, helmet tilted forward just slightly. Listening.

"Levi, do me a favor. Stay put."

Outside, the storm rolled low across the Vaalan sky. Faint vibrations passed through the stone ceiling above. Not thunder. Not wind. Something else.

He rose slowly.

The motion was smooth, deliberate. Not the sudden jerk of someone startled, but the measured precision of a man who recognized the shift in the air.

His gloved hand drifted to the Westar, not to draw it, but to rest there. A silent reflex. Instinct older than the contract that brought him here.

Then came the alert chime.

Motion detected. Inner hall. Timestamp: two minutes past.

He turned to the terminal mounted beside the vault’s reinforced door and brought up the feed.

Static.

He toggled through the external cameras. North hall: clear. Courtyard: clear. South wing: obscured. Lights flickered. One of the backup lenses had been tampered with. Not broken. Just tilted enough to miss someone slipping past.

Someone who knew the angles.

“No breach at the vault.” His voice was quiet, low through the helmet.

That made it worse.

Adonis hadn’t come straight for the prize. That meant he was thinking. Measured. Intentional.

Lucaant stepped out from the vault room, movement quiet beneath the soft hum of his armor. He scanned the air in front of him, HUD flipping through filters: infrared, motion, low-light. No trace yet. No visible figure.

But the silence had changed.

Corridors that once hummed with energy now sat quiet. No footfalls from staff. No murmur of guards rotating posts. Just the low, slow hum of the estate’s internal generators.

He passed a side hallway and stopped. A narrow maintenance corridor stretched ahead, unlit and lined with dust.

Lucaant stepped in, slowly.

His boot brushed a faint trail across the floor. Not fresh, but recent enough. One set of prints. A slight misstep, like the person was walking slow, careful. It wasn’t part of any patrol route.

He knelt and ran a gloved finger along a scrape in the wall.

Too high for a cleaning droid. Too shallow for combat.

Intentional movement.

“Someone’s already inside.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He stood and started walking.

Toward the family quarters. The old wings. Not the direct route to the vault, but meaningful paths. Places someone might go first, before committing to the vault. Lucaant knew the type. Vengeance never took a straight line.

He didn’t rush.

There was no need to. The man who entered wasn’t here to steal and vanish. That would’ve already happened.

No, he was here for something deeper.

And Lucaant was here to stop him.

He tightened the strap on his Westar, his vibroblade secured at his back, and continued forward — silent, focused, and ready. The storm outside had picked up, but all Lucaant could hear was the faint pulse of his own breathing behind the visor.

Adonis was somewhere inside.

Lucaant just had to find him first.​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

In the Choke
Tag: Lucaant Vaneric

The house was breathing again, not in the way it used to, not warm or alive, but shallow and mechanical, like a dying thing trying to pretend it hadn't noticed the wound. Every creak in the walls sounded different now. Every echo meant something. It wasn't panic yet, but it was close.

Adonis moved low through the narrow back corridors, weight rolling quiet and precise over stone and dust, steps guided by memory and muscle. These weren't the clean marble walkways his family liked to show off to guests. These were the veins behind the ribs, tight and unlit, meant for staff who never spoke. Nobody patrolled back here anymore. Maybe they never had.

He'd heard the alert, heard the denial, the sterile voice calling him an intruder in the house that bore his name. That didn't matter. Let them know he was here. The only mistake would be thinking they knew where.

He slipped through a service panel near the old archives, cutting through a half-finished renovation wing that had been paused mid-construction. Dust clung to the floor like ash, and broken picture frames leaned in the corners like forgotten ghosts. One display pedestal, meant for an ornamental piece, still stood untouched, its glass cracked but intact. Resting within it, a finely-crafted vibrosword, ceremonial but functional. The kind a man like his great-grandfather would display but never wield.

Adonis removed the case with deft hands, taking the sword for himself, and pulled the sheath down from the mount. He strapped it across his back in a single motion and kept moving until he reached the western junction, the narrow funnel that ran adjacent to the vault corridor, where a single recessed alcove overlooked the bend in the hall.

It was a perfect choke point. No cameras, no overheads. Just the blind spot he'd used as a boy when skipping drills or trying to beat his father to the sparring room. That memory made his teeth clench. He pushed it aside.

He crouched, settling into the alcove with one knee down, cloak pulled tight around him. His left hand reached for the hilt at his back, not the saber, not yet, just the blade, and unsheathed it with slow, practiced control. The steel luckily didn't catch the light.

He let his breath slow, grounding himself against the rush of blood in his ears. Not because he was scared, that had left him years ago, but because this wasn't about impulse. He hadn't come to charge in and make a mess. That was how they expected him to move. That was how his cousins remembered him.

But they didn't know what the war had carved out of him. They didn't know who he was now.

Footsteps began to echo down the hall. Not the light shuffle of bored guards. They were heavier, bnalanced. Controlled. Armor moving with the kind of precision that said experience, not just training. Whoever it was, they weren't rushing. They were coming forward like they knew he was nearby, like they wanted him to hear.

Adonis didn't flinch. He shifted just enough to lower his profile, one elbow tucked in, the blade resting like a spring between his fingers. The storm outside cracked low and slow across the sky, lightning flashing once through the slatted window panes ahead. It cast a momentary silhouette, not clear enough to identify, but enough to know the figure had mass.

He tracked the footsteps as they neared the corner. His grip adjusted. The sword wasn't for slashing, not against armor like that. No, he went low, rising smoothly from the crouch and driving the first strike in a tight arc, not at the torso or helmet, but angled to slip beneath the arm, between the plates, where joints still needed room to move.

He didn't roar. He didn't scream.

Adonis just moved, the time for waiting was over, he'd already cut the line.

______________________​

Levi leaned forward in his chair, elbow pressed to the console, finger hovering over the comm switch like it might bite. The red flash across the top monitor hadn't stopped. Adonis Angelis IV. The name alone made the walls feel tighter.

He glanced toward the door, then back to the rows of screens, flipping between camera feeds that showed either empty halls or static. Nothing was moving, but he knew better than to trust silence. Adonis had been raised here. Trained here. Every meter of this house had once bent around him like a second skin.

"Karen," he said, voice low over the comm, "we've got a situation."

The response came fast, clipped but calm. "I'm aware. The alert tagged him. Confirmed identity?"

"Visual ID's been glitchy," Levi said, eyes tracking a faint flicker on the north wing cam. "But it's him. He's inside, and he's already past the second tier."

A pause. Then: "Who's down?"

"South patrol's not responding. North team either." Levi shifted, uncomfortable in the seat now. "Last ping put him near the old archive junction. That's too close to the vault for my taste."

Another pause.

Then Karen's voice returned, sharp now, all command.

"Sending reinforcements. Four-man strike unit on the way to your position. Additional units rerouting from the east hall and upper stair. Their orders are containment first. Lethal force authorized if engaged. No chances."

Levi exhaled through his nose and flicked off the internal mic. He hated this part. Not the breach, breaches happened, but the sense that the whole damn house had just shifted and no one had noticed until the floor started giving way.

He glanced again toward the door, where Lucaant had disappeared out of.

The merc hadn't said much, but Levi could tell, the man didn't rattle. Still, Adonis wasn't some street thug. He was an Angelis, and that name still meant something on this soil.

Levi pressed the comm again. "Strike team ETA?"

"Two minutes," Karen replied. "Hold tight. If you see him, mark and relay. Don't engage."

The room felt smaller now, boxed in by stormlight and red blinking alerts, but he didn't move. Just tightened his grip around the edge of the desk and muttered under his breath.

"Come on," he said, eyes flicking to the vault feed, "don't let him walk right through us."

And from somewhere deeper in the estate, the echo of boots began to multiply.

First four. Then eight. Then more, the strike team was coming in hard.

The hunt was on.

 

[Lucaant Vaneric]

"Oh, my God will certainly forgive you... But unfortunately, I won't."

⏵ Play Theme
Location: Angelis Estate - Vaal
Objective: Protect | Get paid
People involved: Adonis Angelis IV

---​

He should’ve seen it.

The boy didn’t move like a boy. The feint wasn't a desperate slash — it was bait. Lucaant felt it a second too late. The riposte was clean, brutal in its simplicity, and it shoved past his guard with a speed that made his teeth grit. The impact hit low, catching under the pauldron where the seal was weakest, and the force of it sent him back hard, boots skidding against the stone.

“Tch—” The air burst from his lungs, pain blooming sharp across his ribs.

He dropped low, staggered to one knee, vibroblade scraping as he caught himself. For a second, his vision narrowed. Breathing was tighter than it should’ve been. His carbine was too far to reach, knocked back near the alcove in the exchange, and his DC-17 was still holstered, but even if he reached for it, Adonis was already in range. Lucaant then took his vibroblade.

Lucaant’s gaze snapped up, sharp through the helmet. He didn’t speak yet. Not out of restraint, out of calculation.

Adonis hadn't pressed the advantage. That was a mistake.

He adjusted his grip on the blade, posture shifting slightly, not rising but not folding. Wounded, yes. Finished? No.

“You're fast,” he said finally, voice edged. “But you’re hesitating.”

He didn’t mean it as praise. He meant it as a warning.

Blood seeped at his side, nothing fatal, but enough to slow him. His stance was off. That blow had been clean. The heir knew what he was doing.

Good.

He rolled his shoulder once, testing. Sore. Breathing clipped.

Still usable.

“That sword is sharp,” he added, rising partway, the blade angled high now, defensive. “So. Show me if you know how to use it.”

His fingers flexed along the hilt of his vibroblade.

Not retreating. Not surrendering.​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Mercy, Measured
Tag: Lucaant Vaneric

​

Adonis didn't press the blade forward. He held it low, just off his hip, body still and breath controlled. The mercenary in front of him was hurt, not mortally, but enough that every inhale sounded clipped. There was a hitch in his stance, a drag in the left side that gave away the cracked rib or bruised organ. It would've been easy to end it, one step forward, a twist of the wrist, and the fight would be over, but Adonis didn't move.

"You're not my target," he said, voice even and quiet. "You don't have to die here."

He djusted his weight, not retreating but shifting his balance. It wasn't posturing, it was choice, a line he hadn't yet decided to cross. If the mercenary stepped aside, he would let him. If not, there would be no warning, he had already spilled blood in his ancestral home, there was no going back now.

"But I will kill you," he added, not louder, not harsher, just firm. "If you make me."

He meant it, there was no threat in his tone, no arrogance, just a plain, rooted certainty. The kind that came from fighting and surviving- the kind that didn't need explanation.

The silence stretched between them, long enough to feel final, until a voice cut in over the estate's internal comms.

"West wing breach confirmed, sightlines on the intruder."

Heavy footfalls pounded the tile. The far end of the corridor lit with movement. A squad of armored guards broke from the hall, weapons raised, visors reflecting the hallway's flickering light. Their formation was tight, practiced, and fast. Reinforcements had arrived, and they weren't there to ask questions.

Adonis reacted before they could lock aim. His left hand rose, palm angled toward the wreckage of a display case behind him. The Force surged outward, subtle but immediate, and the low-slung shelf tore from the stone wall with a metal shriek. He hurled it down the hall. It struck with brutal force, crashing into the front line of the formation and folding two guards like paper under its weight. A third tumbled backward, limbs splaying as his rifle skittered across the floor.

It wasn't a killing blow, but it would serve as a delay.

It would cost him, however, the throw opened his right side. Just for a second, but enough. His torso twisted. His sword arm dropped a fraction. His flank turned soft. He had focused too long on the squad, and now the mercenary, still armed, and still standing, had the window.

Adonis knew it the moment the shelf left his hand.

He had traded advantage for time.

And now Lucaant had his.

 

[Lucaant Vaneric]

"Oh, my God will certainly forgive you... But unfortunately, I won't."

⏵ Play Theme
Location: Angelis Estate - Vaal
Objective: Protect | Get paid
People involved: Adonis Angelis IV

---​

Lucaant didn’t hesitate.

The moment Adonis opened his side, Lucaant drove forward, the pain in his ribs flaring like fire through his torso. He bit it down. Muscles clenched. His boot hit stone and he launched off it, weight behind the motion, full commitment in every limb.

He didn’t feint. He didn’t bait.

He struck.

The vibroblade came down in a savage arc, shoulders twisting, hips turning, the edge humming as it carved through air toward the exposed gap. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t precise. It was raw.

He didn’t guard his flank. Didn’t hold his center. He gave up defense entirely to put everything into this one cut. Fast, brutal, and meant to shake.

Sorry, slight smaller post, a bit drained from the invasion​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

No Room to Bleed​

Tag: Lucaant Vaneric​

The blade hit.

It slammed into his side with the full weight of a man throwing everything he had, and for a second, the world narrowed to a point of impact just under his ribs. Cloth split, muscle tore. The vibroblade bit deep and fast. Pain roared through him like thunder in his lungs. He stumbled sideways with the momentum, shoulder clipping the wall, boots dragging a short arc through dust before he caught himself.

Blood ran down his side in a hot, sticky line, hitting the floor in rhythmic drops. He could feel the edge of it beginning to well under the armor, thick and warm where the fabric stuck to his skin. His breath hitched once, sharp and shallow.

Then something shifted.

The Force flared, not clean or meditative, but wild, primal. It surged through him unbidden, driven by pain, by instinct, by the animal part of him that refused to fall here. It roared outward in a wave, raw and violent, slamming against the stone walls and knocking debris loose as it shoved outward toward Lucaant.

He didn't wait to see if it landed clean. The sound of boots echoed down the hall, security was closing in. Too many. Too fast. He didn't have time for anything but forward. "You earned that blood. It will be the only time I bleed this evening."

Adonis turned his body into the pain, feeling the rib grind beneath the torn tissue as he clenched his jaw and focused. His free hand shot out in front of him. The Force responded fast, pulled toward the nearest object, a heavy sideboard that once held trophies and family records. It tore free from the wall with a burst of splinters and shrieked through the air toward Lucaant's blind side.

The second it moved, Adonis followed it. He charged low and fast, blade drawn back behind him in a reverse grip, cloak flaring around him like smoke. Every step pulled fire through his side, but he pressed harder, letting the agony sharpen him rather than slow him. The sword in his hand wasn't an elegant trophy now. It was a lever. A weapon. He brought it up in a rising cut meant to split past the templar's guard, even if it cost him another blow to land it.

Behind him, he could hear the guards shouting, fanning into the chamber with weapons raised. The circle was closing. If he didn't finish this quickly, he wasn't getting out.

 

[Lucaant Vaneric]

"Oh, my God will certainly forgive you... But unfortunately, I won't."

⏵ Play Theme
Location: Angelis Estate - Vaal
Objective: Protect | Get paid
People involved: Adonis Angelis IV

---​

The Force hit him like a fist.

It wasn’t clean or precise, it was brutal, a wave of raw pressure that caught him square in the chest and flung him backward. His boots slid. Shoulder slammed stone. Air burst from his lungs, and for a moment, his vision pinched at the edges. Pain rang from his ribs like a struck bell, where bruising layered atop older bruises.

He staggered, off-balance, jaw clenched hard enough to grind his teeth.

Then he saw the sideboard hurtling toward him.

No time to think.

Lucaant twisted, forcing movement through the pain. His body screamed in protest, but he ducked under the worst of it. Wood splinters raked across his armor, cut across his brow. He stumbled again, no longer fluid, just surviving.

He tried to raise the vibroblade in time, but it was too late.

Adonis was already there.

The flash of steel came in from below, too sharp, too fast. Lucaant parried low, barely catching the angle, but the power behind it cracked through his defense. The shock drove up his forearm. He reeled, weight slipping again, knees bending from the blow.

"We'll see if it's the last time." Lucaant barely managed to say, trying to destabilize his opponent.​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Thunderclap​

Tag: Lucaant Vaneric​

The battle was taking its toll on Lucaant, Adonis could tell. There were cracks forming in the foundation, he could tell by his stance. There was likely bleeding outside and the inside. If he were going to try to finish this duel, this would be his moment to do so. As the Mandalorian warrior brought his sword back around to build momentum to strike a finishing blow, the sound of blaster fire exploded in his ears. Four streaks of fire came barreling past him, the fifth and sixth making contact with his heavy armor. The mountain of a man lurched forward from the impact, the moment had passed.

The smell of singed walls and wood filled the air, and Adonis knew he was outnumbered. Another shot rang out and hit his helmet directly. It wasn't enough to kill him, but it felt like his brain was a magic 8 ball being shaken until cloudy. He gritted his teeth, realizing he would need to deal with that threat sooner than later. His eyes left Lucaant for the first time since the shots rang out, just long enough to detect their general presence. A new moment had shown itself.

The Mandalorian Knight took his free hand and lowered it down to the ground, his body shifting into a runner's position. Even in the heavy armor he wore, Adonis was nimble. The whole thing happened in the blink of an eye, and then he was rushing toward the group of guards like a battering ram. Within a second he had made contact, the Force warping the atmosphere around them, causing a thunderclap to crack through the empty halls of House Angelis. The impact of the attack blew chunks of the wall out and shattered the windows nearby. It did far worse to the guards he met. Helmets and blood flew from bodies like confetti. What the shockwave didn't kill, his sword hand did.

For the moment, Adonis was alone in the room again with Lucaant. Though injured, the templar was still deadly. And Adonis had left his back turned for far too long. Time to take a breath would have to come later. He was likely already in the path of an attack.