Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)
Marić had removed his helmet, but only because he lost his Kukri and his rifle, resorting in these moments to beating his next opponent to death with the heavy trooper-helm he'd removed for the purpose, and all because a little rock decided to slip away from his grip instead of remaining still to aid grip-purchase. In something of a tantrum, the decision to use his helmet as a weapon had not came out of a sense of necessity, it had arisen out of sheer indignance over the fact he couldn't even pick up a jagged rock on the ground; and if Shazzeke had known, being preoccupied with foes of his own, the Mirialan would've laughed uncontrollably - and would in finding out in the moments after the smoke had cleared on the city. Silly, at least it was for someone like the Mantellian, but the fight continued around him regardless, so Marić continued using his helmet to bash through skull and brain-matter with very little consideration for the fact it revealed his face to his enemies.
*'Ko je sledeći?!'
**"Who's next?!"
A slightly youthful face, though with a strong jawline and heavy with thick stubble, seen with the light olive-skinned complexion that revealed young Branko's heritage more easily; a tad fair-haired for his kind, due to the light-brown hair of his mother's ancestry, Marić certainly possessed features that wouldn't be forgotten by his surviving enemies any time soon. Especially not with the nasty scar that paled the brown of the iris on the Lieutenant's right eye, stretching down from above his eyebrow, right down to his right cheek as if a singular eagle's talon had ripped at it with intent but failed at the pinnacle moment. Whatever horrors were expected by the factions of the Bastion Accords, none would ever expect the worst to appear in the eyes of an Imperial, and certainly not in the eyes of a Sabretooth-trooper, at least not until it was much too late to do anything about it.
However, the Mantellian's mood would lighten somewhat, especially when the Elite-trooper who was brawling to his right-hand side at the time, kicked Marić's rifle across the ground to land at the side of his right boot, ending the tantrum almost immediately as young Branko nodded his appreciation over to Annor, to which a quick, curt nod was given in reply.
*'Predviđen za TRACHTU, onu.... Drži se, mali.'
**"Destined for TRACHTA, that one.... Stay the course, kid."
Pulling his helmet back on, Branko chuckled and shook his head at how silly he was being before then, clipping and airtight-sealing it before picking up his rifle again as the slugfest continued on relentlessly around him. Beheadings, dismemberment, shotgun blasts at point-blank range, there was no doubt that both sides of this riot wished very much for the annihilation of the other, and were very much looking to finish whoever stood in their way to the last. Then, after bayonetting a short, stocky raider through the throat, the Mantellian was once more granted time to breathe, and to think on his situation as it developed. With the gurgling Mawite choking on his own blood at his feet, young Branko couldn't help but inwardly praise the Lord-General's sudden discovery of a wilder war-fighting method, pondering on the damage it was doing to the fighting Morale of their enemies as everyone else fought, bled, prevailed or perished around him.
*'Onda oslobođen sopstvenih okova? Dobro.... Gledaš li, Massoud?'
**"Freed of his own shackles then? Good.... Are you watching, Massoud?"
THE LAST DANCE: BARRAN'S FAREWELL TO THE SITH EMPIRE - PART 11
Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)
'It does.'
DUUUuuuummmm....
Utterly shocked for a moment, Lord Erskine had no choice but to draw back and briefly think on the ancestral implications it had for his family's older generations, and the implications it held for the rest of the Goidels in general - thought not half as much as the Woads in particular. If the Woad-Macushla had, as the sword's ornate smith-work was suggesting in that moment, had travelled the same stars Thrast dreamt about in years either just or long before the warrior-poet was born, then it most-certainly would've been a Barran that travelled the stars as the Stormchaser had as an exile. However, Blade didn't have time to allow for introspection, and in this moment, Erskine realised he didn't have any time for the likes either. However, in true Barran fashion, the Lord-General would still find something to pass comment on along the way, especially in seeing what trick the old Darth had up his sleeve, but sabre and claymore would have to clash a few more times in order to facilitate the right moment to implement it.
'Good, now try t'keep up.... AGAIN!!!!'
Attempted strike-interceptions, faked overreaching movements, low swipes, all would be attempted in their next engagement, with both duellists moving in a much more efficient fashion by then. Finding their rhythm with ease as the duel itself quickened and raised the overall intensity of their not-so-mismatched bout for survival. Kyber and composite alike would rush through the air with a speed that was almost too fast for the observing Mandalorians to follow, though fortunately for the tech and design of their helmets, the only ones who would be able to follow every little segment would be the warriors of the Enclave and 16th Company, and they were being given something of a truly-rare delight that day. To see two older warriors duelling with an explosiveness that would fool others into thinking they were younger, such that would surprise any younger warriors in general would have been quite an eye-opener for those lucky enough to see it for themselves - but Blade still wanted to try a trick or two to turn the tide anyway.
They were facing off against each other with one-handed grips, slashing out with no discernible use of their left hands in the melee, perfect conditions for what the Darth had in mind.
'Fuckin' quick, man-'
As fun as this bout would have been for Ice, he knew that his chances of victory would only remain for as long as he was making matters difficult for Barran, and he believed the recently-found Beskar knuckle-dusters were the key to achieving exactly that. Dropping under a probing lunge, Blade had found Erskine's left arm rolling forward in an effort to keep balance on the lateral escape he was starting to endeavour above, slipping one of the knuckledusters over the fingers of the left hand before driving upwards towards the engineered workings of the cybernetic left elbow. Deftly applied, but the resulting clunk had rung out to confirm something was yet to be fully realised on the matter, and before the Woad finished the last steps of his outward escape, the sound was loud enough to reach Barran's ears also - giving the Lord-General no choice but to turn around and see what exactly had caused the noise.
'Oh, I see.... Beskar, of course. But wrought by Mandalorians? No - Sabretooth-QMs. Primitive stuff, hence why there's nothing infused.'
Bringing out his own Beskar knuckledusters, the Lord-General smirked as he pointed out the simplistic, almost-blocky design of his favourite pocket-weapons, drawling,
'Against metal plate or trooper-armour, useless. Much better for smashing bones, tendons and flesh instead.... Old-school, but I figured we'd both accord in our appreciation for that sort o' stuff. You can keep yours if ye killed for 'em, if not - keep 'em anyway. Good knucks, y'know?', like he was giving a small presentation to his subordinates on Bastion all over again. But more of the unexpected awaited them, this time arriving in the form of the clearance code for the rigged explosives several levels beneath their feet, and in that moment, Lord Erskine sniggered before muttering,
'Best hold onto something if you want to keep this fight going.', as his index finger set all the charges to detonate with a wary eye to the northern walker-filled horizon.
'Without Chaos and Order locked in with each other, neither is seeing their full potential.... Watch this, Ice. When the smoke clears on this world - I want you watching for the Galaxy's reaction to this!'
Pressing down to confirm all charges to detonate at the same time, Barran's overkill wasn't there to scare his opponent, it was just the Darth's poor fortune to have wandered into the middle of a Lord-General's greatest gamble yet; and in the moment his thumb pressed down to set the chain-reaction into motion, everyone would know what sort of man Lord Erskine had become since Csaus, what sort of mind was guiding his actions after seven years of Imperial service. They'd either think him a complete madman, or a complete menace, but what the Woad knew, in the very moment the ground began to shake violently around and beneath their feet, was that all would look on his actions and wonder what state his mind was in at the time. Exactly what the old war-criminal was prepared to do, no matter how badly Erskine wished to be anywhere but Dromund Kaas that day, so there would be no issues or restraint for as long as the planet itself disgusted the Lord-General.
'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!'
Then, before Lucid could respond with any quips or insults, the ground would give out beneath them both and see them plummeting and making contact with almost every ledge on the way to their next fighting arena, tumbling from open-air civilisation - falling into the dust and gravel of what had been their first arena. Both would be roughed up, bruised and bloodied on their heads and faces, but all the damage would be superficial in the end, even if Blade and Erskine snapped out of their stupors in the worst of pain for a few moments.
But that mattered very little in the grand scheme of things,
Kaas City's Historical District was in complete, mildly-cratered ruin.
The civilian death-toll was clear to see at first glance, as the very rubble itself was lined with the bodied of the locals, falling from jaw-dropping heights to perish in the wasted remains of their homes below; even as the two duellists lay on the ground, just a few metres away from each other, the debris, gravel and corpses would continue to litter their arena with nothing but deadly threats to their existence. However, whether friendlies and enemies alike elsewhere survived was a different guess entirely, giving Erskine's gamble even more questions in the air in the moments after he came back to the conscious, waking world around him. But for the time being, as the entire district was falling to ruinous destruction, Ice and Barran would subconsciously continue attempting to wake up, working against previous knocks to the head that would keep most unconscious for hours after the fact.
Suck - on that.... Sith-scum. Fare thee well - in obscurity.
