The Verdict

[Teran Atrix]

Teran knew that this was a last ditch effort, and he wondered if he'd see another sunrise after today. He had no business being here and meeting with the leader of the Mandalorians. He was a Jedi Knight and a relative no one, but he'd managed to get this far.

The agreed upon meeting place was an open market in Iziz at a small cafe. Teran had spent the morning pacing nervously around the market, drinking exorbitant amounts of caf, and being extremely nervous. He'd left behind the heavy pistol that he often carried in order to appear less conspicuous. If this came down to a fight - which he really hoped it wouldn't - he had his lightsaber for a weapon still, but there would be no gun. Great, he can display my saber proudly on his belt if this goes south, he thought.

He took a seat and awaited the arrival of the Mand'alor, and by extension, the fate of the Jedi. It wouldn't be hard to pick the man out. Everyone knew what that armor looked like, and even on Onderon beskar drew looks. Add in the sigils of the Mand'alor, and oh yes, everyone would notice.

Teran's fingers tapped nervously on the table as he finished his third - no, fourth - cup of caf. It was making the young Knight all the more jumpy, but also provided something to keep his mind off of the coming meeting. No pressure, no pressure, no pressure, he thought to himself. @Painus

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros couldn’t believe his ears. For several minutes, he simply looked at the messenger who had told him a Jedi wanted to meet with him, torn between laughing in his face or punching him for being so stupid. Eventually, he settled on laughing, and his raucous uproar could be heard for miles – at least, that’s how loud it had been within his home. The man wanted to meet here, in Iziz, with the leader of the Mandalorians, who, not too long ago, declared open season on his people. Honestly, it was bold, and he had to wonder how this Jedi got out of bed every day with the massive pair of balls between his legs.

He decided to entertain this man’s invitation to parlay, but he would do it on his own time and make him wait. There were other things he had to attend to first, like buffing out scorch marks in his home. He knew Teran would be waiting on him for a bit after their scheduled time, but he did not have enough respect for the Jedi to show up when asked.

Eventually, he made his way towards the small café he had selected. With a dismissive wave of his hand, his retinue fell out and went their own ways; he was not concerned about an attack in public like this, for it’d only reinforce the galaxy’s belief in the Jedi as nothing better than Sith. Most of the people in the market steered clear out of his way. Like Teran believed, everybody knew what the Mand’alor looked like, and the ancient mask he wore stood out like a sore thumb among the few helmeted Mandalorians milling about. Hanging from his armor was his bandolier of lightsabers, on full display for the Jedi as an intimidation tactic (or maybe a flex), as well as a holstered blaster and his personal beskad.

The nervous Jedi was seen having a small drum solo on the table by the time Leandros arrived, and the Mand’alor simply looked at him, his brow raising beneath his mask with idle curiosity. This… didn’t seem like a Jedi Knight. He just looked like a normal man. Appearances, though, were often deceiving, and he knew to be wary of his wiles. Without a word, Leandros pulled out a chair and sat down in it, staring at the Jedi. For a few moments, he said nothing, but eventually spoke up, his tone calm, yet clearly irked.

”Jedi.”

@Phoenix

 

[Teran Atrix]

Teran could hear the hustle and bustle before he actually saw the Mand'alor arrive, and as the armored man - no, the large armored man - came closer it finally settled in that he had actually just gotten himself a meeting with the Mand'alor. Kriff, how had he managed that? And more importantly how was he not going to mess this up?

The mask was of course different than any of the other Mandalorians and carried with it great symbolism and history. The armor had nick and dings that told of a man who had led his army from the front, and the trophies on his belt... well, if this went sideways maybe he'd get another one. Hopefully that wouldn't happen.

He forced his caf-infused-limbs to all sit still when he saw the Mand'alor approach, and felt like he was fighting every instinct just to sit there as the warrior took a seat and said nothing for a moment. He was probably just testing Teran to see if he'd break... or not.

He broke the silence, which was a relief even if the address... really said nothing. At least his existence was acknowledged with something other than a blaster bolt.

Now was the moment of truth because Teran knew nothing about diplomacy, but he figured that 1) the Mand'alor didn't want his time wasted and 2) he didn't give a flying kriff about formalities or patronization.

Mand'alor, he said with a respectful nod, trying to keep his voice steady. The stakes of this were higher than Tython, and that made it much more terrifying than any battle he'd been in.

Your last meeting with the Grandmaster didn't go well. I don't know what happened, but I want to know what it would take for you to call off your Jedi-hunt, he said. There was no beating around the bush, which was - Teran assumed - the only way he was going to get any sort of a response other than a gunshot to the face. Either there was a way to resolve this and call a cease-fire or there wasn't. If there wasn't, then the negotiations would be short.

It was out in the open, though, and the ball was in Leandros's court. There was always the possibility that he would simply say "nothing" which would have made this very short, but that didn't seem to fit with what he thought he knew of the man. The way he felt in the Force was nothing like the Sith Lord that Teran had met. There was certainly grief, emotion, and even hatred mixed in with the desire for revenge, but it was red streaks on a black canvas: concentrated anger directed at a cause, not the pure red that represented the directionless hatred of a Sith. He only hoped that it meant there was still reasoning with him.

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros might have been dead to the Force, but even he could tell this man seemed nervous. At least, that was the baseless claim he had decided to make, judging by the circumstances of their meeting today. If he wasn’t nervous, then that just gave him more credibility; it was just more amusing to think otherwise. Still, this man would need to tread carefully to not have this meeting declared a waste of his time. His patience was limited and his authority was absolute, and diplomacy with the very people he’d declared an open season on seemed like the least of his concerns.

Still, he was here now, so he might as well entertain the man’s desires.

He nodded in response to Teran’s acknowledgment, then leaned back in his seat as the man got straight to the point. Mandalorians were very forward people, and it humored him that he seemed to emulate that. His meeting with the Grandmaster had indeed not gone well, and there was certainly no love for the Jedi in his heart. Raz would probably have beat on him for meeting with the Grandmaster then, and he didn’t doubt that she’d do the same now.

Leandros was quiet for a bit, mulling over his words after the Jedi has asked for what it would take to call off the hunt on all of his Order. After a bit, he spoke up with a curt, ”Prove you’re not worthless.” It was a simple demand, but meant so much when directed at a Jedi. ”Your Order breeds Sith when it should fight them. Instead, the mando’ade have done your job for you. My home was destroyed, and we responded with fire and fury. Your Order was destroyed and all it’s done is skulk in the shadows.” He was bitter, remembering how the Mandalorians had sacrificed their own lives just because some Jedi coward had revealed the location of every rebel base. Dan died as a direct result of their ineptitude, and he never forgave them for that fact.

”I killed a Sith Lord mere minutes ago. Earlier, another of my men killed the Dark Lord and brought her head to my home. The Sith are nothing and it is because of us.” He leaned forward, scowling beneath his mask as he looked Teran up and down. ”What proof do you have of your Order doing anything for this galaxy? What value do you have that we could not get on our own?” Everything he said held a kernel of truth to it.

For eight years, the Mandalorians had fought tooth and nail against their former overlords, beating them back time and time again. The Jedi fought alongside them on Corellia when they first revealed themselves to the galaxy, but he heard little of their Order since that one rogue element. Sure, the rebels might have liberated a world or two, but what Empires had they toppled? What Republic did they plant the seeds for the formation of?

The Mandalorians initially broke off their alliance because they gained nothing from it. With the Sith on the decline, opening hunting to their counterparts seemed every bit as rational as fighting the Sith. This was an Order both dedicated to fighting and known for leading to the rise of the Sith, yet rather than do their duty, they lurked in the darkness, biding their time. It seemed suspicious, and he did not want to wait for another one such as Andraste to rise to prominence and subject his people to tyranny once more. It was better to get rid of the whole stock and have the galaxy figure itself out later than to allow the chance of even one Jedi falling to the Dark Side and creating a new Empire.

 

[Teran Atrix]

Teran couldn't say that he was shocked by most of the arguments, but that was a good thing in his mind. If they were arguments he could anticipate, then they were arguments he could more actively refute. But he didn't just directly into arguing. It wouldn't do much good, and on top of that there was a great deal of truth in much of what he said.

The first thing he did was nod.

The Jedi were silent for too long, I agree, he said. There was no arguing it, and doing so would only rob him of his credibility. The Jedi didn't have a stellar history in the last decade, but they didn't deserve to be hunted, nor were they worthless.

We were driven from our home, too, and a week before you announced your war on us we drove the Sith out. I defeated a Sith Lord, and I have no intention of stopping, he said. And it was the honest truth: every word of it.

He paused for a moment to consider two things about what the Mand'alor had said.

Wiping out the Jedi won't erase the Sith or prevent them from returning, he said. He wasn't going to sell the man that the Jedi and Mandalorian would automatically be friends, but if the Jedi were still being held responsible for the original Sith, then that meant that Leandros was still being held responsible for the days when the Mandalorians were lapdogs for the Sith.

But we can help you wipe them out, he said. He wasn't going to talk in abstract terms about what the Jedi could do. Leandros's armor was enough to show that he led from the front, so Teran would give him direct tactical plans.

You want to flush the Sith out of every hole, don't you? Nothing left to rebuild from? That's a thoroughness that only the Jedi can offer you. Finding and opening hidden doors sealed with the Force, tracking other Force users down, and finding caches of Sith teachings. Your warriors can beat the Sith in a fight, but Jedi can help you find them better than anyone else, he said. What he was proposing was frankly radical, but conventional thinking hadn't gotten them anywhere. What he was proposing was embedding Jedi warriors in Mandalorian units. Not a word of what he said was overstatement or bluff. The stakes were simply too high for a bluff. The Jedi could do things with the Force that the Mandalorians couldn't, and when it came to tracking a Force user, no one was better at it than another Force user.

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros listened to the Jedi’s excuses and explanations, cocking an eyebrow at his claim of defeating a Sith Lord. Given the current stock of Lords, hearing even this whelp claim he defeated one was not much of a stretch. If he had some way of proving that he’d done so, his claim would have had a bit more credibility. Still, he kept his mouth shut until Teran had given him a proper explanation of how his people weren’t wholly worthless.

Wiping out the Jedi wouldn’t erase the Sith? While true, he failed to see how losing both groups would be much of an issue. Andraste was once a Jedi, he remembered, as were her husbands, and that was a cautionary tale everyone knew. The Jedi were a breeding ground for some of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy, and their continued existence would always pose a threat. Still, he remained quiet, amused by Teran. This was a man desperate to not see everything he cherished driven to dust, and he knew some radical suggestion would come out of his mouth soon.

After Teran had explained his plan, Leandros leaned back in his chair again, his brows furrowing. He wanted to embed Jedi within his legions of warriors? Sure, they could use the Force to root out the sinister influence of the Sith, but so could a battery of turbolasers, and the Mandalorian way was far, far faster. He mulled over this idea for a while, simply staring at Teran in amused silence, wondering what the Jedi could have been thinking of while he proposed his plan to the most powerful man in the galaxy. While he thought, he scrutinized Teran, looking over his facial expressions and his body language. After about a minute of silence, Leandros spoke up.

”Your idea could work,” he accepted, pausing briefly to let him process his victory, ”But you're not the Grandmaster, and your current Grandmaster is as useless as a senator with a blaster. That's why you find yourself in this situation now.” He shrugged listlessly, not convinced by Teran’s argument. ”I would accept, were you someone with an ounce of authority. Until then, your words mean shit to me.”

He waited to hear what his explanation would be now, preparing himself to simply stand up and leave.

 

[Teran Atrix]

When Teran finished his proposal there was silence. There was a possibility that Leandros was actually thinking it over for that entire time, but Teran doubted it. No, he was fairly convinced that he just wanted the Jedi to sweat. But Teran didn't just sit there in silence when the Force was his ally. He could sense the feelings floating through the air around the man. There was... amusement? Well, that was an improvement over malice and hatred, so some might count that as a victory in and of itself. The one thing it assured was that he wasn't about to pull a blaster out here and now.

There was also curiosity, though. He wasn't sure if that was curiosity about the offer, the Jedi (unlikely it seemed), or Teran personally. The way his eyes flashed over him seemed to indicate the latter. Perhaps he'd captured the attention of the Mand'alor after all... for better or worse.

And then the silence finally broke. It could work. That was much better than a dozen other alternative answers he could have received. Even if it was followed up by what was probably supposed to be an insult, insults didn't feel nearly as sour on the heals of what amounted to a major victory he'd just won for the Jedi. Wait, don't get too ahead of yourself, he told himself.

On the contrary, I represent the entirety of the Jedi. I convinced them to let me be the liaison to the Mandalorians. I'm not a single rogue Jedi who's out to hunt Sith on my own, he said. If he managed to convince the entire Alliance and Jedi to listen to him and then convinced the Mand'alor to listen to him, he was going to begin to wonder if he actually was the galaxy's greatest diplomat.

Look, either we're effective and wipe out the Sith or we're ineffective and we die trying. Either way, you win, he pointed out. From Teran's point of view, working with the Mandalorians was a win as well. He was more than happy to have the fire support at his back to actually finish the Sith off, and he would wager there were plenty of other Jedi who would love to do the same.

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros squinted his eyes and furrowed his brows as Teran justified lacking any real authority. This man claimed to speak for his entire Jedi Order? Where was his Grandmaster, then? What use is a leader who does not lead? Teran’s words perplexed Leandros. Not because they didn’t make sense, but because he didn’t believe a single word he said. If meeting with the Grandmaster didn’t work the first time, what use was it sending some whelp in her stead? It made her seem fearful, afraid of what the Mand’alor would do, so she sent a lackey to take the brunt of his hate.

This time, rather than let Teran finish his sentence, Leandros raised a hand and cut him off right as he claimed they’d be effective. ”Liaison sounds like a fancy title you made up on your ship before coming here,” he asserted, ”You’ve no proof the entire Jedi Order will follow you. Not while your current Grandmaster lives and breathes.” He pulled his hand back and reached down into a small pouch on his hip, his eyes fixated on Teran the entire time. In one smooth motion, he unclasped the pouch, pulled out a small communicator, and tossed it on the table between them.

”Go ahead,” he ordered, motioning towards the communicator, ”Call your Grandmaster and have her pledge her life – and the lives of her Order – to serving beneath my banner.” He paused for a moment to let the command sink in before adding on at the end with, ”Or you become Grandmaster. Until that time, your words do not have the strength of actions behind them and there will never be peace. Not while the Jedi are under the slothful rule of Arda Breaux.” He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, eying Teran. The ball was in his court, now. Teran had a difficult decision to make if he wanted there to be peace. Either he forced the Grandmaster to submit to the rule of the Mand’alor, removed her from rule, or caused a schism within the very Order he swore to serve.

He was curious to see what Teran would do now.

 

[Teran Atrix]

Whether Leandros's comments were a test or not, Teran was put in a tense position. He had a proverbial gun to his head, but as he'd once been told: when you have a gun to your head the options aren't just to give in or die. You could take the gun or one of 142 other things. He'd been presented with a bad choice, but he wasn't going to just accept his position.

Actually, the insult that Leandros had paid him made his blood boil a bit. He knew that anger wasn't the way of the Jedi, but he also knew that he was only human. Furthermore, if he simply accepted the insult without contention the Mandalorian wouldn't respect him at all.

You're calling me a liar. Calling my honor into question, he said, hands withdrawing toward himself as his adrenaline spiked. His eyes narrowed and for once he seemed almost calm, the nerves faded away as everything came into focus around him. It was a glimpse of the same concentration that had defeated a Sith Lord.

If I'm going to be embedded in Mandalorian units, I might as well find out now what the cultural protocol is for an insult like that, he said. It was no small insult, and allowing it to pass would have only shown that he was as spineless as the Mand'alor thought he was.

He had no idea what the protocol was, but he had half an idea that it involved violence in one manner or another. He half expected to be told he was going to have to throw down in a battle circle. What could go wrong? Hopefully this wasn't going to get him killed, but if there was some form of surprise attack he was ready for it. It didn't seem fitting of a Mandalorian to strike in that manner, but it never hurt to be prepared, and sometimes it hurt not to be.

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros waited for Teran to make the move he wanted him to make. The ball was in his court now, and whatever decision he made would be wholly unacceptable if it did not involve the death or exile of his Grandmaster. However, rather than cave and buckle like he expected, Teran took offense to the Mand’alor’s words, and slowly withdrew his hands. Leandros moved one of his hands down to a blaster, fingers lightly brushing the grip of it as he prepared to defend against an attack of some sort. He knew the Jedi had some code of honor, but whether they followed it these days was a dubious proposition at best.

Leandros watched through narrow slits for eyes as Teran’s nerves seemed to fade away. Whatever he planned on doing, it was most certainly an attack of some kind, the Mandalorian figured. But that attack didn’t come, not yet, anyways. Instead, Teran demanded to know what one did when their honor was called into question by a Mandalorian. Leandros chuckled grimly to himself, then stood up, resting a hand on his beskad.

”You want to know how Mandalorians settle disputes?” he challenged, ”We fight until one person dominates the other. Not to kill for the sake of killing, but to redeem themselves.” He gestured to the small plaza the café was located beside, just on the edge of the market, his eyes not once leaving Teran. ”You want to prove yourself, Jedi? Then fight me here, before the people and Mandalorians of Onderon, to redeem what shred of honor your kind might still have.”

Seeing the Mand’alor rise and place his hand on his beskad, a few Mandalorians had gathered to see what was going on. He turned to them, barked out something in Mando’a, and began walking to the clearing. By now, a small circle was forming to watch.

Teran had just been challenged to a duel in a battle circle.

To anyone remotely familiar with Mandalorian culture, the rules of the battle circle were few and simple. First, no deathblows were permitted until the winner decides. Second, neither combatant was allowed to leave the battle circle. Third, the only weapons allowed were those permitted by the combatant who had the most honor. The Jedi was an outsider, and whatever he intended to use wouldn’t fly here. Leandros held out a hand and gave another command and a new beskad found its way into his hand, begrudgingly handed over by one of the marauders present. In exchange, Leandros took off every weapon he wore except his beskad, giving them to one of his retinue to hold for now.

He turned to Teran and tossed the spare beskad at his feet, were he to follow Leandros into the circle. ”This is how this works, aruetii. We fight like Mandalorians fight. No fancy magic, no glowing blade, and no mercy. You want to regain your honor? Then draw first blood.”

With that, he twirled the beskad in his left hand, flexing his right. He waited for Teran to make the first move.

 

[Teran Atrix]

Well he'd gotten into it now, but there wasn't any backing down. No death blows and fight to first blood. He worked to steady his breathing, standing to his feet and following the Mand'alor into the square where other helmeted warriors had gathered around. In some ways this was the safest Teran had been since the declaration of war had begun because none of the surrounding Mandalorians would interfere with the duel that was about to unfold, and by extension, none of them were going to be trying to kill him or take his saber.

The Jedi walked to the edge of the "arena" and began removing his equipment methodically. He set his satchel down and removed the knife from his hip. His pistol had been left behind already. Finally there was his lightsaber on the top of the pile. There was an immediate feeling of nakedness that came with setting the weapon aside, and it was almost a relief to have a short sword shoved - begrudgingly - into his hand. He could sense the animosity in the man who had handed it over, but they weren't going to openly refuse their Mand'alor no matter how much they disdained Jedi.

Breathe in, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. The cycle repeated in his mind. Everything slowed as he focused in on the man in front of him. He pressed aside the urge to use the Force, as it would cost him dearly if he did. This was a fight of blade, and nothing more.

His right hand clutched tightly around the hilt, and there was nothing left to do but fight. The crowd had grown silent, and without further warning, Teran lunged forward toward Leandros. The blade was shorter than he was accustomed to, and that was going to give Leandros an advantage, but Teran wasn't ready to cede the fight on something so small.

He closed in quickly and swiped the blade at Leandros's right side, aiming to strike him horizontally at the elbow.

OOC: As agreed, a spot of cPvP. Should be a fun fight

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros stood like a statue, observing Teran as he took up arms and put down the sacred weapon of his Order. It had to have been a difficult thing, stripping himself of the one truly identifiable symbol he carried, and the Mand’alor felt it probably was similar to if he were to remove his mask or his armor. Still, he accepted the challenge, and it appeared that this Jedi whelp would not back down from the fight. Around them, citizens and Mandalorians alike gathered to observe, backing off enough to give them room to fight, but sealing them in until one emerged a victor. He wanted to know how Mandalorians settled disputes; this was it.

His muscles tensed and his mind fell into the same rhythm it did whenever he entered battle. All distractions were purged from his mind; from the background noise of the market to the chanting of his warriors before the fight, the only thing his mind focused on was the man in front of him. Compared to the Jedi, Leandros had fought for three decades of his life. From the slightest muscle twitch to the most deliberate placement of his foot, everything he did was instinctual to him by now. The Jedi might have had the supernatural abilities of the Force to aid him, but the Mand’alor had sheer experience.

Teran closed the distance quickly, blade in his right hand, and swiped across his body towards Leandros’ right elbow. Before his blade could come across either of their bodies, Leandros’ left hand swung laterally with his beskad, blocking the strike and opening Teran’s guard up. The Jedi was quick, but the Mand’alor was stronger, taller, and heavier, and the short length of their weapons allowed for the two to get very close and personal.

At the same time as the block, he stepped forward with his right foot and planted it in front of Teran’s left side, putting the two less than a foot away. His right hand reached up and grabbed onto Teran’s left arm to prevent him from pushing away easily. When the blade was blocked and he had a firm grip on his opponent, Leandros slammed his head forward, aiming to headbutt Teran with his mask. Mandalorians had many uses for the headbutt: it could be a kiss, the equivalent of a hug, an acknowledgement, or an offensive weapon. Today, it was the latter, and if it landed, Teran would certainly be feeling it.

 

[Teran Atrix]

This was going to be another one of those fights where the person Teran was fighting was much larger and better armored. Maybe he needed to consider getting himself more armor for some of these fights in the future... a helmet, and maybe a chest piece. But that wasn't something he could worry about now.

Leandros had pulled him into grappling range, and he knew the man was larger and stronger than he was. Trying to out-brute strength him wasn't going to work. Their blades clanged together, and Teran felt that iron grip. He hated these tiny little blades. It was like fighting with a knife, not a sword.

He could see Leandros's head coming in fast, and there wasn't a way to evade it easily. He pulled his head back and cocked it down, which accomplished two things: first, it made him harder to reach, if only a little, to lessen the blow, and second it put the impact on the hardest part of his skull in order to decrease the chance of serious injury.

Make no mistake, it still hurt. His head immediately felt like it was swimming, but if he didn't hit back he was... dead? Well, maybe not dead, but still in for a world of hurt. Leandros had stepped to Teran's side and put his right foot out in a blocking position. Teran took advantage of it and brought his right knee up and slammed it into Leandros's right inner thigh where there was no armor. Hopefully it would induce muscle spasms and pain throughout the leg and give Teran an opportunity to give himself some space again. Hopefully it would at least loosen Leandros's grip on him and Teran would move back and out of striking range.

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros was certain that his gambit with the headbutt would pay off, given Teran’s lack of… any kind of armor at all, actually. The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom walking around without the comforting embrace of his armor, especially in a galaxy so unforgiving and dangerous. The number of times he’d buffed out and repaired his armor from scorch marks, sword gouges, or any other kind of damage was well beyond triple digits. If half the number of attacks his armor has protected him against had actually landed, he would’ve been dead a thousand times over.

His armored head slammed into the top of Teran’s. It might not have been the bone-crunching smack he wanted, but it still would jar him, and repeated hits like that were bound to slow him down despite his supernatural reflexes. It was an effective defense, to say the least, and it prevented the Jedi from having his face broken from the mythosaur bone mask Leandros wore.

Teran’s knee slammed upward into his inner thigh, striking the sensitive nerves that ran along the area. His leg spasmed momentarily and wobbled, weakened from the sudden blow. The pain quickly subsided thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his body now, and he was back to acting on instinct. Teran’s right arm was occupied with the blocked beskad swing and his right knee had come up for the strike, weakening his base.

Before he could firmly plant his foot on the ground and regain his base, Leandros pressed his beskad against Teran’s, preventing it from moving forward. With his blade layered atop Teran’s, he had the ability to exert greater downward force against it to force it back. Simultaneous to this, he pressed with his right hand against Teran’s left arm, pushing the Jedi in the same direction as he was with his beskad: to the right and away from Leandros.

While he pushed Teran aside, Leandros rotated his body to his left, keeping him squared up with the Jedi. This would serve the purpose of keeping his left side out of the Jedi’s blade’s reach in the event he slashed at his body, as well as increase the space between them as he disengaged from the grapple. He would rotate his wrist and slide his blade along Teran’s as it moved with the push, aiming to swipe it diagonally starting near his midsection while being pushed away to either draw blood or keep him from pressing forward. This also brought his beskad in closer to his body for a defensive maneuver, if necessary.

If his maneuver was successful, Leandros would maintain that right-foot-forward athletic stance, watching the Jedi warily for his next move, still remaining on the defensive for now. If it wasn’t, he would ensure his beskad remained layered on top of and blocking Teran’s beskad, preventing the man from easily slashing at him.

 

[Teran Atrix]

The exchange was over, and it had been approximately equal. Well, maybe not quite, but close. He was shoving Teran back, which only added to the momentum that the Jedi was already putting on himself. He wanted the distance. He wanted a moment to catch his footing again. Teran's blade was still between his own body and Leandros's blade, and it remained there.

The attempt to slash at Teran fell short with the combined momentum of Leandros's shove and Teran's leap backward, but even if it hadn't, his blade was still blocking Leandros's beskad from reaching Teran's body. The sound of metal grinding on metal rang out again, and the Jedi hit the ground with almost a full 4 meters between them.

He didn't let it show on his face, but his head was pounding. It cleared with every extra second, but he knew this was a precarious position. Even if Leandros looked like he was fine, he knew that his nerves would still be like lightning as well.

This time, it was his turn to wait. It was Leandros's turn to attack, and Teran - a practitioner of Form III when he had his beloved saber - was happy to play the defense. In fact, as his head cleared, time favored the young Jedi.

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros stood hunched forward, shifting his weight occasionally to ease the fire burning in his thigh from Teran’s swift knee. This moment of respite would allow them both to recover from the attacks they’ve suffered, but he was losing time to act. Teran would still be feeling his headbutt, and with every passing moment, he got better and could focus on their battle. The Mandalorians around them cheered him on and jeered the Jedi, eager to see the outcome of this duel. A significant amount of honor was riding on this fight for both sides, and everyone seemed to be at the edge of their metaphorical seats as they watched.

Teran did not press forward this time and instead allowed Leandros the opportunity to press the attack. There were about four meters between the two, but that ground could be covered quickly, and without use of a lightsaber or the Force, Teran was on a level playing field when it came to distance. Leandros rushed forward, beskad raised defensively across his chest in the event he did anything sneaky. If he were to do something, like, say throw his beskad at him, he’d do what he could to otherwise avoid it.

Clearing the distance in short order, Leandros swung his beskad from Teran’s left to right in a backhanded slash aiming for his midsection. His left foot was planted and his right prepared to pivot around if necessary. He wondered how the Jedi was faring without his special tools and magic, and what the Mandalorians around might begin to think of the Jedi if the fight ended up a truly honorable one. It had to have been going against his instinct to not use the Force, and the Mand’alor started to consider if it was the same as being without armor or a weapon for his people.

 

[Teran Atrix]

Teran's head was only starting clear when he felt something else cut him to the quick. It was a pain that had nothing to do with a head butt or a physical attack. It was pain that shot through his mind from death. Death of people he had known and cared for.

Raged boiled in his chest. It wasn't the Jedi way, but this was beyond anything he had anticipated. He knew what was going on. He could feel it in the Force, and suddenly he was acting on instinct. The world seemed as if it dropped into slow motion as Leandros drew closer. Teran sent his hand outward and Leandros would be flung backwards by an invisible Force before he even had time for his strike. Even the large Mandalorian was likely to be flung back and off his feet by the unsuspected attack.

He didn't even realize that the beskad had fallen from his hand and the lightsaber - practically an extension of his own body - was in his hand now.

You lack honor, he practically screeched. There was an anger he had never known in his eyes. He knew there were a dozen Mandalorians around who would be reaching for their blasters, but Teran didn't move forward. He didn't charge at Leandros. The Mand'alor was the only person with the speed to keep up with the young Jedi, and everything else seemed to be moving at half of its normal speed.

You set a parlay for peace and with your other hand you launch an attack. You're no better than a Sith, he said. He knew that just saying that he had a better than not chance of being gunned down here and now, but what other choices did he have? Everyone else had been right, Arda had been right, the Mandalorians weren't any better than a Sith. He had been a fool.

He didn't know what his plan was. If this was a fight, he wouldn't win it against this many people. He probably should have run, but that would have just seen him shot in the back. He wanted... answers. Or an explanation that he knew he wouldn't get. Each death rang out to his mind in the Force, cutting like another knife through his mind, warping it with each moment. His hands trembled, but this time not with nerves. It was anger and loss, fear and pain. Everything a Jedi shouldn't have experienced, but everything he had devoted his life to for years was being ripped to shreds on the other side of the galaxy.

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros had closed in to strike at the man, certain he was about to end the fight. Rather than bring his beskad up to block or strike out, however, Teran lashed out with the Force. His lightsaber flew into his hand and Leandros flew backwards, skidding his heels along the ground, accustomed to the sensation. For a brief moment, he saw only red, brought to a blind rage by the violation of the battle circle’s rules. Blind rage turned into a righteous fury, however, as the realization that Teran had not only broke the rules of their duel, but also lashed out with his Jedi magics and drew his own weapon. The Mandalorians in the circle would not fire at the man for fear of hitting their own clansmen, and so a hair’s breadth of a pause occurred.

Time slowed down for the two of them as their preternatural reflexes kicked in. He slid far enough back to reach out and grab his blaster without looking, the other Mandalorians around them recovering from the shock. Leandros would not sit idly by while this whelp insulted his honor and had the sheer audacity to compare him to the Sith. He wanted answers? The Mand’alor answered to no man. He certainly would not explain himself to a Jetii of all people. This galaxy belonged to his people, not to these cowards who hid in the shadows their whole lives.

He would handle the early strike from Koil before the man received the word at a later time. Perhaps he jumped the gun, perhaps Leandros had been unclear in his instructions. A multitude of factors could have gone into this, but that was neither here nor there. It would be handled in time. While his shots rang out towards the Jedi, he was moving forward again, purging his mind of all the thoughts that swam around it. His hatred for the Jedi had been renewed, and what was once idle curiosity now grew into a desire to see his head on a spike.

Before the Jedi could escape, a marauder reached out and grabbed him from behind, bringing him in as he raised his own beskad, ready to kill him in the name of the Mand’alor. Another stepped in front of Leandros as he brought up his blaster, blocking the shot. With a series of curses, the Mand’alor reached out and barely missed grabbing him by the collar as he rushed forward, hoping to claim some measure of glory. Leandros ran forward, pulling the marauder back and onto the ground as he brought up his weapon, aiming to get a shot on the Jedi.

 

[Teran Atrix]

His saber came up in a fluid motion to block the incoming shots from the Mand'alor, sending them streaking into the sky or into the ground. Teran was seeing red as well, and he wanted nothing except to avenge those he had lost. He was about ready to charge at Leandros and throw it all away when he felt that hand clamp down on his arm. Another Mandalorian, and there were a dozen more beyond him. If Teran stayed here, he died. It was plain and simple as that, and if he died he couldn't do anything for the rest of the galaxy.

The thoughts flashed through his mind in less than a fraction of a second. He ducked low as the beskad swung close enough to his head to nearly give him a shave. He turned to his left and under the grab as his saber came up across the marauder's belly, gutting him just a kick sent him stumbling and dying toward the Mand'alor and the glory-hungry marauder, obscuring their view.

People were in an uproar now as the organized duel had become a street brawl. Teran's saber flashed out and he plunged into the crowd. The Force was a powerful ally, and he summoned it to his hands once again, letting it wrap him like a cocoon as it transformed him into something else. A man ran past behind Teran and suddenly a human Jedi wasn't standing there any longer, but a green-skinned twi'lek in a flight suit. The illusion would be nearly impossible to see through, and it would afford Teran the time he needed to escape. After all, none of the Mandalorians were looking for a twi'lek.

He moved quickly, beginning to run as the rest of the crowd did, and scattering throughout the city. It didn't take long for him to be in a speeder and racing away from the scene of the crime. The droid in the driver's seat didn't care who it was carrying, so long as he paid, which he did. He knew he could get off world as long as he could escape the scene of the crime, but his mind quickly turned away from that. It was on the pain continuing to lance through his mind. Each death was an echo in the Force, and he wondered if he could bring himself to endure it. He would be a shell of a man when it was finished, and all for what? Blood thirst. He'd been a fool indeed.

//Exit

 

[Leandros Solus]

Teran acted quickly, taking advantage of the chaos erupting as he lashed out with the Force. His saber blocked his first shots, but the marauder who grabbed him from behind joined the Manda early. The corpse hit the Mand’alor with melted metal searing as it rapidly cooled. Leandros shoved the body aside, but it was too late. By the time he had moved the marauder in his way and the corpse aside, Teran had vanished into the throng of people, using his witchcraft and trickery to disguise himself. Mandalorians looked all around, weapons drawn, hunting for the Jedi, but none could see the twi’lek he had become.

Leandros screamed, a guttural noise coming from his depths, as Teran escaped with his life. The Mandalorians turned to look at their ruler, wondering what to do next. His mind raced and his blood boiled. He didn’t know what to do, so he simply looked at the one man who got in his way and allowed the Jedi to escape. ”You kriffing di’kut!” he shouted, placing his boot on the man’s throat. He protested, placing his hands on the boot, looking up at his ruler. For a brief moment, Leandros considered ending his life here and now for his idiocy, but he was not that kind of man. Instead, he brought his foot back and kicked the man in the side, leaving him breathless and wounded.

The others in the crowd looked upon the furious Mand’alor as he lost his temper. He looked up and swung his blaster around in the direction Teran had ran off to, panning his gaze across the crowd. ”Find him,” he growled, his heart still beating fast ”Now!” The crowd began to disperse, all on the hunt, but it would not find Teran. Not in time. Leandros looked down at the man he had beaten in his rage, scowling at his own actions, then looked at the man Teran had killed in his escape. Such a pointless waste of a life, and all because a glory hound wanted a piece of the action. The Jedi could run, but they could not hide. This galaxy feared Mand’alor the Crusader, and he would not allow it to grow complacent. The clans were united in their hatred, and he was their figurehead for revenge. More temples would burn before him, more worlds would submit to him, and more Force users would cower from him.

He holstered his weapon and marched off back to his home, seething with hatred. Negotiations were short, indeed.

//end thread