Slaking One's Thirst

[Harren Skaalvarg]

Datar didn't have to happen for a day or two yet, Harren kept reminding himself as he shut the door on his cheap rented room and triple locked it. Down time was important, it stopped him from becoming just another fanatical cultist like the rest of his order... That and he needed a break from them all after Doz's death, a real break. And besides - real drink was so hard to come by on Korriban, or on a capital ship for that matter. He'd planned a somewhat circuitous route to the rendezvous with Arianna that would mark the beginning of their efforts in the bid to take Coruscant for the Old Empire, one that took far longer than he probably should, but also that was almost totally untraceable.

That was how he'd got intelligence to sign off on the ticket fares, at least. And the not entirely modest expenses account.

He left the dingy hotel and headed out into Ekkram City, jewel of Ejolus. Jewel was a strong word, the place was shabby and spoke of a world largely forgotten by the bigger players of the Inner Rim, but it still had the bars and the restaurants and the cantinas that Harren was looking for on his little jaunt away from the overseers and examiners.

Being one of the most decorated Acolytes in the Order had its perks.

Walking down the boulevard he spied one such establishment that looked like a fine place to drown his sorrows and brood over lost friends. Ducking under the door frame, for it was not built for people two metres tall, he nodded at the Ithorian barkeep and sat down at a booth towards the back of the room. The table was so greasy his hands stuck to it, but when the young waitress sashayed her way over to him with a drink in hand he soon stopped caring. He ordered two more with a gesture, sending her back behind the bar to uncap another pair of beers.

When she returned he paid her and bade her leave him to his thoughts. He lifted the first bottle to his lips - then hesitated. Something wasn't right with this scene. He could sense it.

@vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

Coruscant better live up to all the hype. It had to, so that this entire trip wouldn't have been a waste of time, as it was slowly beginning to feel. Dalo was unaccustomed to long-distance travel around the Galaxy. He usually was able to get from point A to point B by spending an hour in hyperspace, at most. The journey he'd embarked on had already lasted two weeks and showed no sign of speeding up, to his dismay. It had the potential to be fun, but no one really wanted to spend two weeks on detours to planets like Ejolus. He hadn't even known it existed until the captain pointed it out on the map, saying something about refueling and hitting a cantina. He'd advised that the Padawan take a break to stretch his legs before they left, first thing tomorrow morning. As impatient as he was, walking around for a bit didn't seem like such a bad idea. Hopefully.

Dalo strolled down the boulevard much as he had on Lothal, an uncomfortable feeling of being lost deep in his gut. It wasn't overbearing, but it was noticeable, tugging at him constantly. He was used to the sandy wastes of Tatooine; seeing so many people and such tall buildings was unsettling and overwhelming, as was the climate, which felt chilly to him but seemed normal for everyone else. Still, he couldn't deny that things were much more civilized here. Tatooine was, to be fair, a shithole.

A light breeze ruffled through him, and the Jedi pulled his gray coat closer to his body, shivering for a moment. He hurried his steps and looked up from underneath the hood, noticing the sign for a cantina just up ahead. At the promise of food and warmth, he made a beeline toward the establishment, only stopping right next to the door to make sure his lightsaber was hidden well enough on his belt. It was.

He ducked inside, taking his hood off as he gazed around the cantina. It was an average-looking place, aliens of various species scattered at the tables gambling, eating, or discussing different things. A few people were at the bar, though one specifically perked his interest. It was subtle, but the Jedi couldn't help but keep darting his eyes back to the man. He was hunched over the bar, seemingly drinking, but Dalo felt like there was more to him. Like there was something off.

Trying to shake the feeling, he took a seat at one of the tables near the wall of the cantina, a few meters away from the door. There was only one chair, the other having been snatched by someone from the neighboring table. It didn't bother Dalo, since he only needed one. He just hoped they wouldn't be too rowdy.

He sat down and a waitress approached quickly, barely giving him time to think about his order. He said "water" before she even stopped walking, and the woman turned on her heel with an exasperated sigh. Dalo just resumed people-watching, keeping tabs on the man at the bar occasionally, to prevent him from realizing he was being stared at.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

He knew what was wrong.

He held the bottle of beer out at arms length beside him, and thought of a fallen friend for just a moment. He tipped out about a third of the bottle on the floor in a silent mark of respect to the dead, before draining the rest of the bottle in a single long slug. The other patrons of the bar looked around at this behaviour, but none dared ask why he'd spilled his drink deliberately. One didn't challenge a 2 metre tall Deucalian warrior on the things he did, especially not one wearing a lightsaber.

Because Harren's was on show. He didn't care who saw it, as far as the authorities were concerned he was Sith - whether he was from the Republica or Korriban was well above the average law enforcement officer's pay grade, the only issue that would arise would be if an actual Sith from the Republica saw it and recognised him from intelligence reports, or something similar.

Unlikely, given his status as an acolyte - no matter how promising he might have been.

The spirits of the dead appeased, he set about his second bottle, glowering at anyone that dared meet his eye. The alcohol was thin and unsatisfying, but it at least was something more than water, like the newcomer that'd sat by the door ordered. Harren didn't know much about cantina and bars but he did know ordering something that was as close to free as it got was a good way to have your drink spat in.

Hell, it's what he'd do if he was behind the bar.

The waitress returned, smiling and with a food menu clutched hopefully in her hands - Harren realised she'd tied her hair up since she'd last disappeared and was blushing ever so slightly. She liked him... It was only natural. He was the biggest, strongest, most dangerous looking man in the room, clearly she had a thing for wicked men.

"Want something to eat, handsome?" Her voice was demure, not quite seductive but definitely enticing. Harren couldn't tell if this was an act to get him to buy something, or if she was genuinely interested.

It didn't matter, he wasn't hungry - he wouldn't turn his nose up at eating here, he'd eaten raw flesh after all, but his mind was lost in other things. He didn't have the time for dinner.

He smiled at her, though it never reached his eyes, and said "No, thankyou. I am here to drink." matter of fact, cold. She looked dejected and slunk back behind the bar, giving him narrowed eyes for his apparent curtness.

He'd not meant anything hurtful. He just wasn't hungry and didn't care for dressing things up. He finished the second bottle and started on the third.

The dark side twisted in his gut, just a little. It was warning him of something... But Harren didn't care. This was his time, his break. Tonight he wasn't a sith, or a deucalian, or a witch. He was just Harren.

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

The man attracted Dalo's attention once more when he took a bottle of whatever alcohol he'd chosen and poured a good amount of it on the floor, to the disgust of the patrons around him. He could see a waiter shooting the man daggers, though he didn't seem to care. The Jedi's eyes glanced down, settling on something. Ah.

No wonder this man was giving off so much strange energy. Dalo, unexperienced with dark siders as he was, hadn't realized that the "energy" was dark. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. He wasn't in the mood for a fight, and Sith were as common as weeds within the Inner Rim. Maybe he should leave the man alone. Unlikely.

Dalo closed his eyes and concentrated on covering what little of a presence he had within the Force—being an unseasoned Padawan and all—and then opened them again a few seconds later to find the waitress standing in front of him, hair no longer tied up. She set a menu down, although rather roughly, and looked at him expectantly. The Jedi leafed through its soggy pages as quick as he could, settling on the first appealing thing he saw. "I'll take a nerf steak and fries."

"Rare, medium, well done...?" The waitress had a surprisingly short temper. Maybe she was just upset at the rejection she suffered earlier. Dalo didn't really care—he'd be pissed too if he lived on a planet as random as Ejolus.

"Well done." He slipped a credit on the table toward her. "And another water," the Jedi added, eyes on the glass she'd brought him. It was obvious someone had spit into it, and the waitress flushed as she took the glass away.

It was boring on Ejolus, the most significant thing that had happened all day being his drink getting spit into, but Dalo liked it. Boring was good.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

It was boring on Ejolus.

Polishing off the last bottle, Harren looked down its neck to make sure he'd got the last of it. He wasn't drunk, he couldn't even feel the effects of the alcohol such was the poor quality of the stuff. The bar was a no go, clearly - he could drink this all night and still be able to speak without slurring given his rugged Deucalian constitution. Standing from his bar stool, scraping it back abruptly, Harren turned and left leaving his bottles where they stood.

He locked eyes with the newcomer as he did so, cradling a fresh glass of water and waiting for food, given the utensils on his greasy table. The darkside simmered in his belly once more when he looked at the younger man.

Why?

Shaking it from his mind, not wanting to care, Harren walked out the door and back into the street. Perhaps a walk would provide him with the time to think and meditate he so sorely needed. Heading in no direction in particular he wound his way through the dismal streets and grimy people, taking in whatever few sights he could find. A food stall selling juicy sweet fruit, one of which he palmed on his way past. A poster decrying Darth Vrael and his "terrifying" old ways... Harren grinned as he walked past it - no doubt he was everything the Imperial Republica feared about the Old Empire himself.

Then, walking past an alleyway he stopped in its mouth. A pair of kids, neither older than 18, were spraying something on the side wall of a dilapidated old shop. He recognised the symbol from somewhere as he peered into the gloom.

It was the symbol of the Jedi. The Alliance. The Rebellion.

Harren walked into the alleyway, drawing his knife. The boys looked up at the two metre tall warrior approaching, his face blank and expressionless. They saw the knife in his hand, and froze. Rabbits caught in the headlights. Harren's mind was on Doz, on the people that'd killed her. These kids idolised them, revered them - they would be taught not to.

The smaller of the two screamed.

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

He had a hunch. And when Dalo had a hunch, nothing could get between him and an answer. Vrael himself couldn't stop the Padawan from chasing his gut feeling into the ends of the universe. It had started taking root when he entered the bar and noticed the Sith, and by the time the man rose and made for the door, Dalo's hunch had bloomed, and he felt like the only thing that could truly bring him happiness would be to stand up, follow that man, and figure out what the hell was up to him. Sith didn't slink around bars, drinking themselves into oblivion. Sith didn't remain silent all throughout, acting like husbands who got kicked out of the house over an argument with their wife. The first thing the Jedi Order had taught Dalo a few years ago was that dark siders were evil. They were vile creatures, barely deserving of life, who were a plague to the Galaxy and spent their days terrorizing the innocent. That's not what the Padawan had seen today. He'd simply seen a man, sitting at a bar, drinking bottle after bottle and then peacefully leaving. Was this man an outlier? Or were Sith actually complex beings that believed in more than evil for the sake of evil? Dalo would find out, even if it would get him into a world of trouble.

A few beats after the Sith exited the cantina, the Jedi rose from his seat and followed. The waitress was on her way from the bar as he made for the door, and she shot him a confused look. "I'll be right back!" he assured her. "I have to meet with a friend outside," he added, throwing in a quick lie to keep her from getting pissed off. The Padawan dashed out the door, not bothering to put his hood back up.

He exited as the man turned the corner. Dalo followed at a leisurely pace, until he was overcome by an awful feeling. Something bad was about to happen, though he didn't know what. Then he heard screams, and broke into a sprint, hand grabbing his lightsaber, turning the alley in time to see the Sith stop before a group of children. Ah. That was more in line with what the Order had taught him.

He ignited the lightsaber with a snap and a hiss, bathing the alley around him in a blue glow. The Sith's back was turned, but he would see the reflection on the trash can in front of him. "Pick on someone your own size!" the Jedi called out, kids' eyes darting to him, looking around the Sith and at him. Their faces relaxed. When the man would turn, they would run as fast as their legs could carry them.

Maybe the Order was right.
@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

Oh.

Harren sighed, his massive back still turned. He noticed the blue glow, the telltale hum of a lightsaber behind him, but he didn't react immediately. He let the kids run, unsure even what he was planning to do to them - they were only children after all even if they were unknowingly supporting murdering terrorists. Deep down he'd not wanted to hurt them, just terrify them into never graffiti-ing again.

He'd never seen a blue lightsaber before. Sith had red, it was unavoidable due to the Lightsaber forging process - even his own was the deepest crimson. He figured out what that meant fairly quickly. This was a Jedi.

He'd nearly encountered one before, back on Naboo - but they'd retreated allowing Harren to complete his mission and blast their base to merry hell with the massive guns of the fleet hanging in orbit. He'd not even seen them, but he'd felt their presence, and it was similar to the one behind him. Nervous, but only a little. Brave, but not totally. Calm, but not unbreakable.

Of course back then Doz was still alive, too. He didn't hold the rage in his heart that he did now, anger that sorely needed excising if he was ever to get back to his old, jovial self. He didn't know how she'd affected him so profoundly, but there were certainly issues he had to work through... And now he had a willing volunteer to help.

"You know what that is?" He started, pointing at the rebel icon as he turned to take in his challenger. "What is that symbol to you, I wonder?"

The Jedi was younger, shorter and slighter than he was - but potentially quicker therefore. Harren was undoubtedly the more physically imposing of the two, but he was no so foolish as to think that made him the more dangerous. He'd not met a Jedi face to face much less shared words with one, he had no idea what to expect. However, his opponent was armed. Harren put away the knife and made a show of not taking out his saber - instead opening both hands, palms outwards. "You planning to kill a Sith in the heart of the Empire boy? In this alley? Not smart..."

The force whispered in his ear and writhed in his gut - a rage slowly taking shape that he was only half trying to suppress. He gathered the force to him, readying himself in case the Jedi decided to attack.

Harren hoped he did.

@vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

Okay, so maybe the Sith was bigger than him, but Dalo was certainly quicker. It was his forte, so to speak. He hadn't spent his entire life running around Tatooine, fleeing from angry shopkeepers and law enforcement to be a slow duelist. Dalo was quick as lightning. And somewhat confident, though he wasn't sure what to expect.

"That symbol?" he echoed. "That symbol represents the people that gave me a home when there was none. And it represents the people that defend the galaxy from people like you." The first part, he was certain of. As questionable as Jedi customs seemed sometimes, he was eternally grateful to them for providing him with a home. He may not have been a zealot desperate to enforce the will of the light, but Dalo was still a Jedi, keeper of the peace.

His lightsaber remained ignited, but Dalo didn't budge. He had taken on a defensive position, right arm curled around, the blue beam hovering above his head and to the right slightly, while his left remained free, held out. Dalo gathered the Force to the dumpster behind the Sith, slowly wrapping it around it. He prepared, but did not move an inch to engage the Sith. Not yet. If the man wanted a fight, he would have to start it.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

Harren took a step forwards, but only one. His hands were still out, palms open before the Jedi. He knew the stories, that they were vicious thugs the Sith had put down centuries ago - the ancient enemies of Andraste that she'd laid to waste and extinguished forever.

Only she clearly hadn't. So much for that saga.

And if that part weren't true, then the lot of it might as well be lies. Harren had no idea what to expect from this new enemy, no reference point from which to draw about how he might fight, or even how strong he might be - for all Harren knew the Jedi were immensely powerful, in fact the only one he'd ever attacked (the ghost on Tython) had appeared to be the single most powerful force presence Harren had ever encountered.

He therefore approached this living Jedi with care, just in case he was severely outgunned. The force continued to squirm in his belly, but he kept it in check for now.

"People like me? I've heard that sort of talk before, boy - who do you think the people like me are exactly?"

@vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

Not a very bold one. Dalo had learned that Sith were aggressive and brutal, but so far this guy had just stood around, squared up like a thug in a bar fight. That was no problem. In fact, it gave Wes an advantage.

"Your people," the Padawan spat, "Are killers!" As he spoke the final word, he finally did what he'd been planning. Having spent a decent amount of time gathering the Force around the dumpster without being hindered, Dalo now yanked his right hand back, toward his chest. The dumpster burst toward him, though it would find the Sith standing in its way. The man would be hit from behind and sent flying along with the trash, and when he was sure of the Sith being hit by the attack, Dalo would make his move.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

Harren heard the dumpster coming, having seen it in the alleyway beforehand it wasn't hard to figure out what smelly train was about to run him over. It wasn't a hard attack to avoid, and Harren's instincts took over. In one fluid motion he drew his blade and ignited it, while at the same time the force flowed into his legs, increasing his speed dramatically. He charged, going from a slow walk to faster than a professional sprinter in roughly the time it took to blink.

"IDIOT BOY!" Was all Harren shouted as he charged.

He outpaced the dumpster with force speed, charging right at the smaller man. His blade was held low and defensive in a one handed grip in his right hand - his left free to do with as he pleased. He aimed to shoulder barge the Jedi with his left, smashing him to the ground with all the force a hundred kilo wrecking ball moving at force enhanced speed would muster, which was a lot. Harren wasn't raging, not yet - we was fully ready to defend with his blade (for he'd used the opposite shoulder, giving his blade the room to move) when the Jedi inevitably countered.

@vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

Dalo saw the man dash toward him, and instantly dropped the dumpster, instead focusing on getting the hell out of his way. He waited until the last possible moment, then practically leaped out of the way, to his right, pivoting counter-clockwise on his right foot so he would be facing the Sith when he got there. As soon as the man was in range, he would slash out with his lightsaber at his left leg, which was the closest, in a right-left swipe—careful to avoid any attacks coming his way.

He knew the Sith would not go down so easily. The man would likely try to parry, in which case Dalo would lock their blades. Maybe the Sith would try to retaliate with a Force attack, in which case the Jedi would block it with his left. The one thing that was entirely out of the question, however, was the Sith trying to readjust his course. Dalo had been patient and waited before dodging, so he would force the man into the spot where he was a few seconds ago, like a matador with a charging bull.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

The boy was quick, good to know.

Harren stormed past where the Jedi had stood milliseconds before, and knew what was coming. As the inevitable lightsaber slash came he was already pivoting, parrying with his own blade and locking them together. Ordinarily this would have been to Harren's detriment, given his trajectory, but he knew just how to turn it to his advantage.

He didn't stop enhancing himself with the force. His speed remained lightning quick, faster than the boy would be able to follow given the lack of distance between them now. Using the magnetic pull of the lightsaber in his right hand as a fulcrum he swung his weight around from the charge, putting it behind a vicious punch from his force - enhanced left fist. He went right for the boy's chest, as with their blades locked that was the part of him the Jedi would be almost incapable of getting out of the way, if he even could in time, which was unlikely to say the least.

Their blades were locked, unable to move without contesting Harren's own superior strength. Harren was moving at force speed, and attacking from point blank range instead of from down an alleyway. The fist, should it connect with the boy's chest, would break bones.

The entire move took but a moment, there was no time for talk.

@vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

A few sparks flew as their blades locked, their humms turning to screeches. A crackling sound filled the otherwise empty alley, red and blue light bathing it and the two fighters. Dalo held his own for a moment, and the Sith tried to pivot around his blade, forgetting one crucial thing—his lightsaber was cross guarded.

As soon as their weapons met, Dalo instantly lifted the left guard up to shift the Sith's lightsaber so it was horizontal and pointing to the man's left side, the red saber slashing from the Sith's right to his left in an arc—at the same time as the Sith tried to punch him. If he wanted to punch the Padawan, he would have to stick his hand through the arc and have it cut off. Dalo was able to shift the man's blade because he was holding it with one hand, while he was holding it with two, putting his strength into the move. Whether or not the Sith got his arm cut off, the Padawan would also lift his left foot up and slam his heel into the man's right kneecap with Force-enhanced strength, hard enough to shatter it. A dirty trick that would cause him to be reprimanded by quite a few Masters, but effective nonetheless. Besides, none of them were watching now.

If the punch were to come, he would shift his upper body to the side, though likely still be hit in some way. If, which he doubted, unless the Sith was into prosthetics.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

Harren had forgotten nothing.

The speed at which Harren was moving was faster than the Jedi could possibly hope to match, given one of them was enhancing their speed with the force and the other was not. The skilled movement of the saber lock did indeed drive Harren's blade towards his arm, but not before the ribcage-shattering blow (duraplast or no duraplast, this was crushing impact damage not blaster fire) connected squarely with the boy's chest - he'd been trying to move out the way, but without using the force himself there was no defence, no time to move at all. As he withdrew his arm the red blade of his own lightsaber connected with the phrik gauntlets that were a part of his standard deucalian garb, the white-hot blade screeching down the length of the armour - ruining it in a wail of sparks, but not cutting through to Harren's flesh.

He'd made the trade in his head the moment he'd thrown the punch. He assumed the boy would use force speed himself to get out of the way somewhat, but in reality there just wasn't the time to react. Given the terrible impact of a punch from a man of Harren's strength and weight, further enhanced by force speed, it was doubtful the boy would even be standing - more than likely smashed onto his back by the sheer force of the hit.

Harren capitalised, for there was no reasonable way for his opponent to retain their focus in this moment, or to land their intended kick (and even if they did, he'd just move his leg slightly to catch it on his shin guard, taking some of the momentum out of the already unfocused, weakened blow). He flicked his right wrist in a circular motion, a textbook disarming manoeuvre that was designed to send the Jedi's lightsaber spinning off to their right, no doubt to get lost in the trash of the alley. As he did so, assuming his opponent was still standing, his left fist would come in again - a second force speed enhanced sledge-hammer punch that was almost certain to connect given the shock the boy was no doubt in from the first landing. This time Harren went for the head, for there was no real chance at getting out of the way.

The rage was in check, for now. A smouldering bed of coals lining the pit of Harren's stomach. He was surprised it hadn't taken over, but it was for the best. He was not in Old Empire territory, after all... @vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

Dalo felt like an idiot. He'd underestimated his opponent, forgetting that armor was a thing people wore, and hadn't realized the Sith would continue drawing from the Force for speed. The Jedi wasn't used to this; the Deucalian found aggressively, relying on raw power rather than the gentle, flowing movements that the Padawan had learned and grown accustomed to. Training in the temple seemed to have its downsides, now that he thought about it. People in the real world fought to survive.

He angled his body a little, but not enough to completely avoid the punch. It connected with his right shoulder, sending him flying backwards for a few meters and disengaging him from the duel before he could be disarmed. The Jedi hung onto his lightsaber with his left hand as he skidded among the cement, the initial contact having been the worst—he'd slammed the back of his head down on it, hard enough to hear a resounding bang that rocked his very skull. Anyone that had suffered from something similar would be familiar with the feeling, and the agitation that would then set in, his body trying to make sense of what just happened and rushing to see what was wrong. He would probably discover he had a concussion later. For now, he relied on pure adrenaline, even though he was in no position to fight.

Despite this, his inability to keep going, the Jedi stood his ground, trying to scramble back up after falling. His ears were ringing, an extreme pressure on the back of his head, but the Padawan held out his lightsaber—it was the only thing he could still do. The Sith had crippled him for the remainder of the duel; he was in no condition to use the Force with this pain throughout him. The back of his clothing had been torn up as he skidded, and he felt the breeze through the ripped slits in his cloak and shirt as he did his best to get into a defensive stance.

His opponent was a few meters away, so he could no longer punch him—Dalo's head was saved, for now. Another punch would likely be a knockout or even put him in a coma. His brain had suffered too much trauma today, enough for the next few months. He'd held his still-ignited blade out with both hands, using it to cover his body. The Jedi hoped he wouldn't meet his end here, on this back-alley, but the odds weren't looking good for him.

Perhaps the Sith really are savages.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

The impact was satisfyingly heavy, and Harren could feel the bones beneath the lad's armour crunching into eachother as the Jedi was slammed to the ground, skidding a good way and cracking his head open on the pavement. Somehow, perhaps thanks to an inborn warrior's instinct, he managed to keep a hold of his lightsaber - though it could just as well have been by chance, for as he was smashed to the ground the saberlock broke causing Harren's blade to jerk after the Jedi, bypassing the crossguard (passing down the flat plane of the weapon) and scraping white plasma hot down his left hand and wrist. The fact that his opponent didn't lose several fingers at least spoke of lightsaber resistant gauntlets, making both of them down one relatively expensive piece of gear.

The Jedi, however, stood to lose a lot more than a glove.

His opponent was still armed, so Harren didn't let go of his speed just yet - though it was starting to wear on him. It was idiotic to assume that just because one strike had landed an enemy still holding their blade was without the strength to pose a threat, even a man close to death could find some inner power deep within themselves at the moment of their ending. Moving faster than Dalo's concussed eyes could likely follow he closed the distance between them in two long strides, before bringing his blade down one handed, behind the Jedi's guard.

His arms were outstretched, meaning there was ample space for Harren to get his lightsaber between the blade and the jedi, and cut it down like a guillotine. Harren held his sword in his left, and was placed on Dalo's left - enabling him to make the move without placing his body in the way of the Jedi's sword. As his blade cut down Harren's right (still armoured) arm was waiting, poised to block or otherwise counter whatever his opponent might try and do to save his hand... Because lightsaber resistant armour or not, one of those gauntlets was ruined. The boy's left wrist was vulnerable, and a crimson blade was screeching towards it faster than his wounded mind could react.

There was only one outcome possible.

Somewhere, deep down in Harren's mind, his rage boiled. He continued to resist its seductive heat, opting to disarm rather than kill, to maim rather than behead. This Jedi was the aggressor, he'd attacked Harren - and yet he felt that to kill the boy would be to prove he was every bit the monster this Jedi claimed he was. Harren's feelings were complicated on the matter - he'd lost Doz, and in that moment something dark was awoken inside him, something that was yet to be resolved... And yet he couldn't use that hate to justify what he'd been moments from doing here on Ejolus. Hurting children? For drawing pictures?

That wasn't him. This Jedi had to see, that wasn't him. @vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

Dalo watched the man approach, his muscles tensing up despite his state. The Jedi was concussed, but still conscious, though he knew that any more trauma would change that. Therefore, his brain decided on a single objective: survive. Adrenaline burst through him and coursed through his veins, making the Jedi a force to be reckoned with. He would probably feel the concussion later, as was usually the case with such injuries, the pain in his head having subsided and a shadow of nausea threatening to set in.

Force aiding him, the Padawan took a step behind and to the right as the Sith tried to wedge his blade between his body and lightsaber, avoiding the attack, and swung his blade from his left at the man's right, aiming to hit him in the side. He would likely try to block with his armored arm, but Dalo accounted for that, and would run the lightsaber up along the gauntlet and into the Sith's upper arm if he tried to defend, flicking his wrist in a gesture that would take less than half a second. Because of this attack, there would be no way the stranger could still punch him.

Dalo may have been concussed, but the adrenaline coursing through him prevented his brain from shutting down yet, and his reflexes were decent enough to keep him from getting taken out easily.

@Denzein

 

[Harren Skaalvarg]

To Harren, even tiring of his use of the force, knowing he couldn't keep augmenting himself much longer, time still appeared a shade slower than normal. The Jedi took a step backwards, somehow reading his quick disarming strike and countering skilfully despite a nasty head injury - perhaps the force truly was with these Jedi... Or maybe this one was just a survivor. As Harren's blade came down on the wrong side of where his opponent's saber was, the boy swung in at Harren's side - going right for his midsection.

Given the boy was swinging for his right, and knew Harren still had another gauntlet ready to block with, he must have had a plan. Consequently, Harren didn't try and block with the arm guard again - not one to try the same trick twice. Instead he tried something he thought the boy would never dream of someone his size doing.

Harren ducked.

Using the last of the force energy he had in him for now to help, he hunched, lowering his centre of mass and bending his knees - not leaning back and limboing under the blade, but hunching low like a boxer, keeping himself tight and compact. It was a gamble, one based entirely on a few moments of combat and a handful of shared words, but it paid off. The Jedi's blade hummed overhead, he could feel the slight heat it gave off - heard it shear through the tip of the rope of dreads and braids that served as his hair - falling too slowly to completely escape the swinging blade. The boy thought Harren was going to block, instead he'd been taught a valuable lesson.

It's not always the smallest in the fight who was quickest, or the most nimble. Appearances could be deceiving.

As the blade passed by overhead, Harren was already taking his own in a two handed grip, for now the boy was committed to this swing and his blade was passing by over to Harren's left. Swaying right and bringing himself back up to his full height, Harren towered over the boy - well within his guard, saber still held low from the duck... Underneath Dalo's guard and well out of the way of the Jedi's blade. The following riposte was as simple as it was decisive.

Harren flicked his blade upwards, for it only had to travel a few inches to slice through Dalo's still outstretched wrists. Knowing one of those wrists was still armoured, Harren wouldn't follow through with the flick - instead once he'd severed the Jedi's left hand (the only one he could) he'd bring the saber back down and out the way it came - returning to a guarded pose held in a defensive double handed grip right up in the Jedi's personal space, not a metre between them. His pose was appropriate no matter what his opponent tried.

Though truthfully, he suspected (and hoped, given his extended use of force speed) the fight might finally be over. As spirited as the boy's comeback had been, as much as he'd forced the Deucalian to think outside the box, he was still concussed - his balance and spatial awareness off kilter, his reactions fuzzy and slowed - adrenaline burst or not. The ducking dodge had put Harren inside the Jedi's guard, and his following move had taken barely any movement at all on his lightsaber's part. The odds of a wounded, slower opponent evading a second disarm from even closer range with even less time to react and a blade in totally the wrong position, were slim.

Harren's rage fought with his rational mind, demanding this Jedi's blood in payment for the sins of his order. Harren was determined not to let it win.

@vamp

 

[Dalo Claxus]

.

The man had underestimated Dalo, whether it was due to his concussed state or his alignment as Jedi, but it would prove to be the nail in his coffin when it came to this fight. The Padawan's lightsaber reached the intended area a split second after the man began ducking, which resulted in the blue beam ending milimeters away from his head. One flick of the wrist, and he would be beheaded. Already, the blade was burning his shoulder on the surface, hard enough to prevent him from trying any other attack but not intensely enough for him to agonize.

Dalo felt somewhat conflicted, unaware of what the fate of this man—this Sith—should be. The Order had preached to him that all life is precious, and that they should always avoid taking it, but at the same time, they had taught him that Sith are evil, and that their very existences are plaguing the Galaxy. What would a Jedi Master do? Would he take the man's life? Did he even have the right to?

Dalo's conflict was visible on his face. He could feel two sides of him fighting within. The dark side beckoned, urging him to move the blade, just a little, but something prevented him. The Padawan growled, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber, his face contorted as if he were the one in pain. He didn't have the right to end a life. That's what he'd learned. That's the Jedi way.

He exclaimed, a nonsensical "ARGH!" and extinguished his blade, recoiling. He panted as he slowly came down from whatever state had overcame him, and hoped the Sith was too tired to mount another offensive. The stranger had been using the Force fervently for the past minute or so, his actions heavy and tiring. There was no logical way he could even move far enough to attack Dalo, let alone actually do it.

The Jedi turned slowly, the sweat running down his face. "I don't care... if you're a savage, or if the Sith really are a plague to the Galaxy." He chose his words slowly. "It's not my place to take a life, not even yours. Today, you walk away. Reconsider your path. Pray that I don't run into you when I'm less agreeable."

With that, he turned on his heel, suddenly feeling the cracking pain in his ribcage. The Jedi brought his right hand to it, feeling a gap where three of his ribs were meant to be. He limped, conserving energy as best as he could, slowly approaching the wall and supporting his weight on it as he walked away to the ship. If the Sith said something, he would turn, but Dalo was done here for today. Ejolus had changed him, hopefully for the better.

EXIT THREAD​

@Denzein