Duel Triple A Warm-Up

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

SUNDARI, MANDALORE

The heart of Sundari breathed with iron and heat, its training yards alive beneath the open sky where Mandalorians honed themselves against one another in ritual and rivalry. Rings of packed sand bore the marks of countless clashes, scuffed by boots and scorched by jet exhaust, while nearby yards echoed with the rhythm of fists meeting flesh, blades ringing sharp and honest, and armored figures carving arcs through the air on controlled bursts of flame. It was a place where tradition and innovation stood shoulder to shoulder, where the old ways were tested against the new, and where every scar earned had meaning.

It was here that the Mand'alor stood waiting within one of the dueling rings, his presence drawing the eye without effort or announcement. The sand crunched beneath his boots as he took a measured step forward, the sound deliberate, almost conversational in its promise. His hand reached to the beskad at his side, fingers closing around the familiar grip before tugging it free in a smooth, practiced motion. The blade caught the afternoon sun as it cleared the sheath, a clean gleam flashing along its edge as he leveled it forward, point steady, posture relaxed yet unmistakably ready.

Beneath his helm, a smile touched his voice as he addressed the challengers before him, the tone carrying that easy blend of confidence and challenge that marked him as both warrior and king.

“If you hold back, I'll know.” Aether said, the words rolling out warm and sharp all at once. “Give me everything you have, or I'll have you sweeping sunshine until I get tired.”

He angled the blade a fraction lower, an open invitation wrapped in threat and humor alike. “Now come on...” he added, voice settling into something richer and darker, “let us see what you're made of.”​

Aselia Verd | Adelle Bastiel

 

[Warpriest Prime]

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O B J E C T I V E | Spectate & Commentate
L O C A T I O N | The Training Fields
G E A R | Gjallerhorn

Aether Verd | Aselia Verd | Adelle Bastiel
O P E N​

The heart of Sundari breathed with iron and heat.

Training fields unfurled beneath the open sky like a living scripture, every line written in sweat and sparks. Rings of packed sand bore the memory of a thousand duels, scuffed by armored boots and cratered by careless jet bursts. The air rang with honest sounds. Fists into flesh. Beskads kissing beskar. The thunderclap roar of controlled flame carving arcs overhead. Here, tradition did not gather dust. It bled, adapted, and demanded proof.

At the center of one such ring stood Aether Verd.

The Mand'alor needed no herald. His presence settled the yard through gravity alone, a quiet tightening in the spine of every warrior nearby. Sand crunched beneath his boots as he stepped forward, the sound measured, intentional, almost conversational. His hand found the hilt of his beskad and drew it free in one smooth swing. Sunlight caught the blade as it cleared the sheath, a clean flash along its edge before he leveled it forward, posture loose and ready all the same.

Beneath the helm, a smile shaped his voice.

Adelle and Aselia faced him across the ring, armor dusted, shoulders squared. The air between them tightened like a drawn cable.

Beyond the circle, something far larger occupied the periphery.

Domina Prime knelt at the edge of the field, massive form folded with deliberate care. Her presence claimed space even in stillness, yet she made no effort to intrude. A kettle hissed softly beside her, steam curling upward as she stirred a cup of dark, spiced tea with a claw delicate enough to feel deliberate. She sipped, unhurried, eyes following Aether with priestly focus.

Curiosity gleamed there. Assessment. Reverence for motion and balance.

She shifted slightly, tail curling around herself as if settling before an altar, armored knees pressed into the sand. When the tension in the ring peaked, she lifted one massive hand and gave it a firm, encouraging shake.

"Give 'em hell girls!" she boomed, voice rich with approval. "Mama's rootin' for ya!"

Then she returned to her tea, steam fogging the lower edge of her mask as her gaze never left the duel. A low, amused rumble escaped her as she leaned forward just a touch.

"Try not to lose your heads~"

The bell was never needed.

Steel moved. Sand flew. And beneath Mandalore's open sky, gods and kings and students alike were measured by the only language that mattered.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Sundari, Mandalore
Tags: Aether Verd | Aselia Verd | Warpriest Prime

Where the Mand’alor seemed all stillness and disciplined movement, Adelle stood in stark contrast, never seeming to settle. She tilted her head side to side to stretch the muscles there and rolled her shoulders as she approached Aether. Inside her helm, her expression went flat when he told them not to hold back.

“Now you say something,” she said, hissing a sigh, “after I’m already here in full beskar.”

She had been training in full beskar’gam of course, but after most of her life being dedicated to fighting without wearing armor, it would be a long time before she could match her speed unarmored. But that was part of why she was here, to test herself against the Mand’alor himself.

Initially, she was tempted to reach for her own beskad, to train with it, but Aether had laid down a challenge for them to go all out. Adelle had been working on Jar’Kai with both beskad and lightsaber but it wasn’t something she was confident in. She pulled her saber from the magplate on the back of her belt and held it out to the side, igniting it with the signature snap-hiss. The blade’s cobalt glow seemed dim in the bright sunlight.

Beyond the training ring, she could hear the warpriest Domina Prime call out to them. “Give ‘im hell, girls! Mama’s rootin’ for ya!”

Adelle huffed a soft laugh, more breath than sound. Of course Prime was watching.

“I’m surprised he threatened you with sweeping sunshine,” she said to Aselia, her eyes never leaving the Mand’alor. With the saber in hand, her fidgeting stilled. She advanced in measured steps, away from Aselia as she circled in towards Aether. A two-on-one fight was, on flimisplast, fairly easy to win. An enemy couldn’t focus on two angles of attack at once. Granted a Force user was an entirely different beast.

Blue blade flashed as Adelle probed Aether’s defenses, testing. The Force still eddied and hadn’t yet opened into a flow of motion Adelle could follow.

 

[Aselia Verd]

Her beskar'gam caught the light as she stepped into the sand, plates worn matte by years of use rather than polish. The moment her boots crossed the boundary, her HUD bloomed to life across the inside of her visor soft amber lines sketching the geometry of the training yard in real time.

Range markers.
Wind drift.
Surface traction.

Targets resolved.

Aether's silhouette was immediately bracketed, motion vectors ghosting half a second ahead of his actual stance. Predictive overlays adjusted as he shifted his weight, recalculating angles of advance, likely counters, probable feints. Adelle's position locked in beside her green-tagged, friendly, movement synced. Peripheral motion in the stands registered and dismissed as non-combatants, Domina Prime's massive form flagged and deprioritized.

All systems came online.

Weapon safeties disengaged.
Gyro-stabilizers active.
Reaction assist warm.

She rolled one shoulder slowly, armor answering with a muted clink as servos adjusted micro-tensions for impact absorption. Her posture remained relaxed, but nothing about it was casual. This was preparation, not ceremony.

Aselia stopped beside Adelle, visor angling toward the Mand'alor as his beskad came free. Then her helm tipped just a fraction the closest thing she offered to a smile.

"Careful, vod'ika," she said evenly, letting the word land where it would. Little brother. "Telling us to not hold back, be careful what you wish for."

Her gauntleted hand flexed once as if testing resistance, HUD briefly flashing grip strength and torque readouts before settling again. No rush to mirror steel. No need.

Beskar against beskar meant mistakes didn't end fights but they did get remembered.

"You might regret that statement," she added, voice calm, almost conversational.

From the stands came Domina Prime's booming encouragement, rich with amusement. The audio spike registered across Aselia's HUD, filtered and logged. She heard it. Filed it away. Did not look away.

Her focus stayed forward.

She shifted her stance, boots biting into the sand as her HUD redrew lanes of movement offsetting her position just enough to shape the fight rather than rush it. A two-on-one wasn't chaos if you controlled the geometry. Adelle's projected advance synced cleanly with her own, their fields of fire overlapping without interference.

Aselia reached back and drew her lightsaber.

The crimson blade ignited with a controlled snap-hiss she though briefly about turning down the power, but beskar would be able to handle momentary clashes with the plasma.

The saber came up, angled off-line rather than center mass, her HUD already predicting the first exchange before it happened three likely openings, two counters, one adjustment she'd have to make on instinct. No more words were exchanged, she surged forward before stepping to the side the lightsaber going for his left side.

TAG: Aether Verd Adelle Bastiel Warpriest Prime
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