Private Beskar Woods, Dark and Deep

[Zlova Rue]

Kestri

The sound of air sliced by a metal pole spun freely between the Lethan's hands filled the void briefly. "Come on then. You're not going to kill me standing there looking embarrassed." Two warriors had already been dropped to the ground and dragged further off to the side. It was one of those days when the unmistakably red woman danced around an impromptu arena with a few hot-blooded Mandalorians eager to make a name by killing her.

There were rules to the sparring session of course. First, no energy weapons. Mandalorians needed to know how to fight with their bare hands and stay mobile on a battlefield. Second, participants had to set foot in the circle with the intention to kill the Totally-Not-Sith Twi'lek. Anyone that showed the smallest sign of holding back got an extra beating. Third, Zlova wouldn't kill anyone that didn't violate one of the rules.

Not that people died in her little training sessions. There had even been a few Mandalorians that came close to killing her, or pushed her to using Force abilities in order to survive -- those were good matches. Naturally, a nearly unarmored, and scarcely clothed Sith Tattoo covered woman dancing about and whacking people with various martial weapons stirred up emotions. Pretty much ensured new people would step up, and familiar ones would returned determined to plant her in the ground permanently.

Zlova never tried to hide what she was, even if officially she was Mandalorian by virtue of the Quartermaster's decree (which happened to be just prior to the Enclave's declaration of war on all Sith). Why hide it as though she were ashamed? Everyone knew what she was. It gave them an excuse to fight, and that was precisely what she wanted -- surrounded by people that wanted to fight but didn't have a galactic dominating stick up their asses.

"Alright. Break!" Zlova slammed the butt of the pole down on the ground signaling an end to that batch of fights. Time for people to rest, get patched up, and maybe even think about what it was they'd seen or experienced first hand. Unlike a real fight, these people got an opportunity to reflect and do better.

The red woman drifted off to the side and propped the pole up against the base of a statue. She reached down to lift a bottle of water up to her lips. Even a Force-wielding terror like her could use a good drink now and again.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

Valerian had watched from the side as the red skinned woman thrashed his fellow Mano'ade like it was nothing but a second thought. The way she twirled and danced around the makeshift field was impressive to say the least. She moved with a dancers easy grace, light on her feet and with a constant awareness of her surroundings, a smile on her face while she made his peers regret stepping in with her. When it all came to a head, the young man watched as the crowd broke up, some of them limping away, and others walking.

All at once the Mando'ade crowd blended together, a multicolored blob of armor and eating and nursing wounds, and laughing, but what stood out the most was the red woman sipping on water all by her lonesome. Valerian wondered why no one sought her company, after all she'd just spent however long beating the shit out of them, you'd have thought they'd be eager to learn a thing or two from her. But it appeared that she was something of a plague otherwise.

Without much else to do presently, Valerian approached the red skinned woman with a flat look on his face, at least hoping to gain some insight into the stranger. He was dressed as typically as a Mandalorian could be, armored and armed, though he'd forgone his jetpack and rifle and beskad, only his lightsaber hung from his side, and a pair of pistols sat on his waist. A gray cloak was wrapped around his shoulders, obscuring the top portion of his body from sight as the bottom moved with each step he took, his helmet hung from his waist clinking softly against his belt.

"You're quite the fighter." His voice was even, and his tone was filled something akin to light praise. "I'd have thought they'd be all over you for extra lessons, but it seems like you're not too popular." He pulled a canteen from his waist and took a sip before offering it her with a small smile. "Narcolethe, if you're wondering, I'd figured you'd want something besides water to wash down victory."

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova let the bottle drop back to her side, her chin tipped up as her golden eye beheld a man that drew near. A smirk sprouted when he opened with a compliment. "Flattery will get you everywhere but a meeting with the Jedi Council." You couldn't bribe those Jedi Masters with the secrets to the universe -- they'd think it was some kind of Sith ploy. Thing was, most of the time it was.

A bark of laughter accompanied the man's forthright observation about her 'popularity.' It was a trait Mandalorian were more wont to share than many others -- a measured, but unfiltered tongue. As someone that didn't bother mincing words, the openness was endearing.

"Nice." The Twi'lek reached out to accept the canteen. Pass up alcohol? Only if there was a reason to believe it poisoned -- and even then only if Zlova thought she couldn't still kick their ass even poisoned. Sometimes life threw you challenges, and that's when you learned how strong you really were. After a swig, she extended it back to the Mandalorian man.

"They'll be back. If not them, those like them. I am the best person in the entire Enclave that can teach Mandalorians how to fight Sith. Not Sith Troopers, but proper Sith. Holograms and dummies have nothing on the real thing. Especially holograms; their designers are always terrified of making the opponent too unrealistic. No practical exposure to the enemy." Not every dark power known to the Sith were spoken of in good company, and fewer still believed; consequentially, people thought Force Users only knew how to throw things, jump around like rabbits, and shoot lightning from their fingertips. "Underestimating a real Sith is a good way to get yourself killed."

"Is that why you're here? Extra lessons?" Zlova took a moment to look the man over from head to toe. "That lightsaber just a trophy?"

 

[Valerian Calore]

"I doubt they'd appreciate my company anyway, I hear that they're terrible drinking companions." He'd met only a few Jedi in his life, once on the battlefield, and the rest had been tense conversation over possession of bounties or mercenary work. Needless to say, he'd not been blessed with a very high opinion of the Jedi outside their middling capacity as warriors, and their pretentious notion of "peace and love above all".

Valerian smiled as she took the canteen, the first step to a fruitful friendship was always a shared drink. He'd hoped that the twi'lek would prove a good ally, and maybe a better teacher, he'd heard of some force-sensitive members of the Enclave, each of them with varying skill and ability, but to learn from someone versed in the Dark side; that would be invaluable going forward.

When she'd handed the canteen back, he offered a small nod and took another sip before returning it to his waist with a sigh. The man listened to her words and and nodded again, her logic was simple, and easy to follow, harsh training to prepare for harsh combat, it'd be a little pain now to save their lives later. Valerian couldn't help but gave her a sidelong look when she spoke of real and proper Sith, the enemy.

"Is that what you are? The enemy? A real Sith lord who's doing this out of the kindness of her black heart?" His tone was cool, but his green eyes twinkled as he waited to hear her answer. "But you're right at the very least, it's good training, and they'd be smart to fall in line and learn what they could."

Her inquiry about extra lessons brought forth a shrug. "I'm curious, you're a woman who beat up Mando'ade while wearing barely anything, and you've clearly got quite a colorful past." It was an honest answer, if an incomplete one, she was an anomaly as far as he knew, an aruetti woman who was out of place among his people.

The mention of the lightsaber was something he'd gotten used to, many had asked him where he'd gotten it, who he'd had to kill to get it, and his answer had always been less than satisfying to them. But to her, maybe she'd be able to give him more than a sour look. Valerian pulled the weapon from his waist and held it in his palm, letting the weight of the thing settle in his grip.

"It was once, to my father and grandfather, now it's a part of my training." He used the Force to raise the hilt a few inches above his hand, and twirl it around a bit before letting it drift over to the woman. "I'd never been able to practice with these...abilities, I'd hoped that you'd be able to teach me a thing or two."

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

"The worst," Zlova crowed in agreement. Invite a Jedi to a bar for a drink and you'd end up with some philosophical naval gazing and sermon about rethinking your life. Especially when you used the Dark Side of the Force; oh, the endless preaching about the Light.

Her smile grew and her golden eyes shone in the light cast about one of Kestri's livable, enclosed spaces when Valerian asked if she thought of herself as the enemy. "Kindness?" A toothy grin peeled her lips apart. "I'm exploiting the hatred, loathing, and general desire for martial mastery that consumes so many Mandalorian warriors. I wholeheartedly endorse everyone's insatiable bloodlust and zeal. Even if it results in their going out in a blaze of glory like some blind, foolish Sith Acolyte." If someone extended themselves too far how was that her problem? Runi was the one that taught restraint, not Zlova. Well, she did, but she never said it -- people needed to figure some of life's lessons out for themselves.

With a soft hum, the Twi'lek stepped a little closer and lowered her voice, "Very. Colorful." Her skin tone and head-to-toe Sith tattoos made as much apparent. She didn't need to say she hailed from the Sith for people to know, and she made no effort to disabus them of any notions -- except the belief she wasn't Mandalorian. She even had a delightful medallion recommended by the Quartermaster herself to prove her... membership.

Since Valerian moved to draw the saber, Zlova stood up straight again to give the man his space. Her hands hung at her sides without a single twitch. A woman that couldn't manage to dodge the opening swings of someone's blade didn't live half as long as she had.

As the tool floated out in her direction, Zlova didn't ask before she sought to snatch it out of the air. If she wasn't stopped, the Twi'lek would activate and give it a few wide arc swings off to their side. "Yellow." The color of blade was, naturally, the first thing one noticed besides the humble origins of the hilt. As quickly as it sprang into being, the blade vanished and Zlova gave it a light toss back in Valerian's direction.

Her other hand reached behind her back to retrieve one of the curved-hilt sabers, and ignited it to reveal the blazing, violet beam of her own saber. "Take a spot, Warrior. Let's see your potential." As a Mandalorian, Zlova expected the man had potential. Lightsabers required an extra mindfulness in their use, but they were still a sword -- and these beskar-fanatics knew how to use swords. Still, best to make sure the man hadn't fooled some milqutoast fool into adopting him or whatever.

 

[Valerian Calore]

Valerian quirked an eyebrow as he looked at her, a grim smile touching at the edge of his lips. "I see, not kindness, but personal gain while giving the people exactly what they wanted." He could respect it, and had no reason to raise an issue with her doings, free will was a gift of the universe, for every man and woman to do as they wished with the sparks of life that they'd been blessed with; if they wished to rush headlong into death like so many of his brothers and sisters, then he had little to say. At least they'd die the warriors death they all wished for.

The step forward she took gave him a chance to get a better look at her: shorter than him by a head, slender but not skinny, with lean muscle across her body that stood out with the black tattoos covering her figure. What stood out to the Mandalorian the most were here eyes, they shone like electrum, a vibrant gold unlike the yellow red that plagued many of her fellows that took to the Dark Side. Valerian didn't feel any sort of hostility, but he couldn't help but tense at the closing of the distance between them, as small as it was. "You'll have to tell me about it some day, we'll swap stories over a drink."

He didn't say anything when she took the lightsaber from the air and ignited the tool to reveal the bright yellow blade. "It wasn't my choice, but I think that it suits me pretty well." He wasn't a Jedi or a Sith, and held no allegiance to either Light or Dark, he was a warrior, simple as that, whatever he did would be in service to himself to add more to his vast arsenal.

When she returned the saber and ignited her own, Valerian wasted no time in following her instruction. He'd been seeking teachers, and maybe in the Twi'lek Sith he'd found one, or at the very least, he'd earned a lesson. The man gripped the hilt of his saber with two hands and ignited the weapon, keeping careful mind of the thing. He was one of the best in the use of a beskad, but a lightsaber was different, he was new to it's use, without much finesse and more reliance on his strength than anything. But at least he could swing the damn thing without worrying about losing a limb.

"Alright, don't hold back." He exhaled and advanced, watching for any twitch of movement from the red-skinned woman. Valerian opened with a quick slash aimed at her neck, poking at her defense to try and get a feel for how good she was. From there, he let instinct take over, trying to translate his beskad techniques into lightsaber combat as best he could. He struck at her with cold efficiency, putting all his effort into killing her as the first rule she'd laid out rang in his head.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

A mutually beneficial arrangement to be sure. It was the least amount of respect she could show the warriors considering her association with the Cathar Mandalorian Talohn. The Cat cared for these people -- misguided as worrying about others could be -- and so Zlova would extend them some benefits in return for their... tolerance.

That and she enjoyed a good fight, and Mandalorians didn't shy away from a good fight.

A golden ring regarded the young man as he expressed the color of his blade was through inheritance, not personal choice. Naive enough not to know the crystal of one's saber was a deeply personal choice. Those not properly trained didn't understand. Most Dark Siders never bothered to try. It was the difference between a mostly sharp blade, and a truly sharp blade. Humorous considering how some Sith sacrificed everything for the slightest advantage while ignoring the tool they threw about so freely.

The Twi'lek kept her blade angled precisely off to the side as she slowly strode away from the wall, her eyes never leaving Valerian's figure. A two-handed grip was an interesting choice, but not one she'd read too much into yet. Plenty of time to get to know the man.

A smirk drew back one corner of the Lethan's lips at Valerians confidence. He really was young in spirit if he thought someone like her would hold back. Shouldn't the rumors and tales of the sinister Sith instructors laying waste to entire classes of Sith Acolytes? Or how about simply one's Master throwing their young into a monster's den and expecting them to survive with nothing but their own hands, legs, and wits? Jedi held back out of a misguided belief that people needed to be saved, and that there was an intrinsic value to all life. Zlova was no Jedi.

Likely unknownst to the Mandalorian, unless he'd been watching her for some time and knew more about theory than practical, Zlova was a Master of the Second Lightsaber Form. Duels were her specialty. As such, Zlova brought her blade to bear between them and began to make subtle, graceful motions to deflect his strikes while ensuring the tip of her own saber always remain carefully positioned. Defensive gaps were the bane to a duelist -- openings were how you ended up dead. Some Forms favor wide, sweeping arcs, which many likely thought of when it came to a savage Sith warrior; Zlova, however, enjoyed dancing across a battlefield and 'playing' with her opponents to manuever them into revealing an opening in their own defense. A single, decisive blow to fell an enemy was true skill.

"Good. Passion. Drive. If you have any hope in surviving in this galaxy you need to commit to your cause. Know what you're willing to pay to achieve victory."

With that Zlova stepped into the exchange and began with a flurry of strikes that came in from different angles, but were kept tightly focused in the channel between them. It was far from the best techniques she knew, but the man had asked for her not to hold back. Using her best with that in mind might get him killed and end their session awfully short. So, full force at a basic level to see just what the man was capable of then. Long as he didn't do anything too reckless, Zlova should be able to avoid lopping his head off.

"At least I don't need to teach you how to face death. That's why I get along so well with Mandalorians. We understand one another when it comes to battle. And your armor begs for a woman to let loose."

 

[Valerian Calore]

Valerian grunted in response to her words, stepping back for a moment to recompose himself. Her words were true, but why tell him now of all times, he was Mandalorian by blood and choice, his life was war and his soul had been committed to the cause from the day he first drew breath. Was there some meaning to her words that he was missing out on, some taunt or jest that he was seeing while he swung his saber around? There was a second of hesitation, and then the young man stamped the thoughts into the back of his head, refocusing on the fight at hand.

He watched as Zlova approached, and steeled himself for her offensive. He'd seen her thrash men with a wooden stick as easily as one might've disciplined a child, and Valerian didn't want to be on the receiving end of her fury while she held a lightsaber in her hand. Her ability was evident, moving with ease and finding ways to slip away from his strikes without seeming to exert too much effort on her part. So far she'd defended, utilizing her superior skill to bat away his strikes, and keep him searching for a new angle of attack. But her offense was wildly different than her defense; she struck out with precision and confidence colored her movements, and as far as he could tell, the Sith was as cool as a dying star.

"You don't fear the Reaper, dance with her and let the song play 'til she gives you the kiss of death." The words left mouth while he did his best to counter the assault; Valerian barely blocked a slash aimed toward his arm, and smacked away a riposte that nearly clipped his armored chest. He could feel the intent behind every slash, he'd told her not to hold back and she was certainly holding to that notion, the flurry of blows forcing him to adapt to her on the fly, using every near miss to correct himself and improve.

Soon, he found his rhythm, and had worked his was into a messy but sturdy defense, warding off her blows without the finesse employed by the Sith, but with a technical skill that worked for the novice. Valerian had learned much during their bout, mainly that one didn't need to employ heavy handed blows as one had to with a traditional blade, and that for the most part, quick, concise slashes could do the job just as well.

"I hope that I'm not boring you, I know that you Sith have a low tolerance for wasted potenial." He smiled wickedly as he looked at her, holding his saber aloft as he prepared for the next flurry.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova grinned. She wasn't telepathic, but what Sith Lord didn't learn how to read the emotions of their opponents... or their victims. Even mere Knights of the Sith often tried their hand at the skill. A well-delivered taunt could break an enemy's guard just as surely as an unpracticed hand -- especially when you were up against a Jedi. There'd been a flicker of uncertainty in Valerian before it was pushed aside. What had caused it? Talk of costs? Perhaps she'd try broaching the topic again to see if it was an exploitable weakness.

Cheeky young man at that. More flattery. If he wasn't careful Zlova might think he was flirting with her. Now that would be social suicide. It was one thing to practice with a saber -- it was, after all, merely a weapon -- but quite another to be intimate with someone like her. Talohn always managed to conduct himself well enough to avoid most pitfalls and handled those he couldn't avoid.

As for the man's capabilities, Zlova was pleased to find Valerian had an understanding of battle as she'd hoped. His technique might have been rough, but his technique could improve in time. A little guidance and he could be quite lethal on the battlefield. There might just be an opportunity here.

"Doubt is for the weak. Restraint for fools. And fear leads only to death." Zlova circled Valerian as she spun the saber off to the side several times. "A Sith believes in strength. Independence. The ability to exceed all expectations, and cast aside all obstacles. It's only natural to become arrogant, overbearing, and self-absorbed as a result. But those too are weaknesses so many fail to overcome. Can you imagine what it's like living among them? Hearing the platitudes while watching them flounder in a mire of their own making?"

"But if it's boredom you're concerned about, let me show you... a trick." With that the red Twi'lek darted forward again to bring her saber down with blinding speed, faster than she'd delivered one before. If not this swing, then another, but once their blades connected Valerian would feel a pain in his wrist as a surprising amount of pressure or weight was translated through their blades. The muscles in her arm flexed, but did not strain, and the blow felt even as if there was as much pressure at the tip as the hilt of the swing. She stepped into the strike and sought to 'shove' Valerian back. Sometimes you needed to forcibly break the opponent's guard rather than wait for them to make a mistake.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

Valerian watched as she circled him, wary and tense, preparing for the inevitable attack that was sure to come. Her words rang out against his ears, and what she said resonated in him in more ways than he'd thought they would. Strength, independence, going above and beyond no matter what stood in your way, these were things he'd already practiced, a mentality that he'd had since he first set out on his own in the galaxy.

"I can't imagine what it's like, living among Sith, but I was raised among Mando'ade, I've seen unwarranted arrogance lead to the death of good warriors and bad. I swore a long time ago I'd never fall to my own hubris; whatever arrogance I've gained, all the confidence I have in my abilities, I've earned the right to hold such a mindset on the battlefield." He wasn't some half-cocked meathead who charged into battle with no reservation for anyone around him, he wasn't a butcher, he was a warrior, he knew how to conduct himself, how to be better than those that had come before.

"Whatever Sith you grew up around lacked the discipline to accompany their own arrogance. If you'd like a lesson in Mandalorian Discipline, I'd be happy to conduct a lesson of my own once we're done here." He grinned wickedly, letting himself fill with confidence as he brought his guard up once more, he was learning and he knew it, while he didn't doubt that she was holding back considerably, he'd take the small victories where he could.

When the last word left the Sith's mouth, he tensed, and barely got his blade up in time to block the slash that came down onto him. Pain lanced through his wrist as he felt a surprising amount of weight push against him, maybe not weight, but something more akin to raw strength. Valerian took a half step forward when she pressed into the strike, and used his own sheer mass to stand against her before he was shoved back more than a few steps.

He recovered quickly, keeping his balance well enough, and hold some semblance of a guard as he retreated backwards. "Some neat trick of yours." Valerian exhaled, and put his effort into a force push and advanced right afterward, taking a page from her book and attacking the Sith with a mix of sweeping, heavy blows, and short, brute chops that were meant to press her backward.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Valerian didn't pause long enough to ask, nor give Zlova a chance to explain if she had a mind to do so. What he did do, however, was precisely the reason why she had not. Her teeth bared, she let out a hiss as Force slammed into Force to counter the man's attempt to Push her directly. Force Push was an incredibly useful ability, but primarily against those that knew nothing about it or were too weak to counter. The Twi'lek had instead pushed the ability to apply 'pressure' to the tip of her own lightsaber; a similar technique one might use against a one-edge sword or the flat of a blade for leverage and stability. Added bonus of the Force applying at the instant of contact for more power to the swing. Not so easy to counter the first time you used it against an opponent when they didn't expect it.

The flurry of sweeps and strikes that followed had Zlova dance side to side to meet his changing direction and angles of attack. "Combat is no different than dancing," the Lethan declared as their sabers met, broke, and met again. "You must always keep your eye on your partner. Their stance. Their grip. The order, placement, and timing of their attacks. Move for move; letting them guide you until the beat changes." The speed with which Valerian was attacking was impressive for someone that sounded so inexperienced with the lightsaber. Obviously not so inexperienced, but lacked a consistent partner to truly hone his skills.

"The Force Push was good, but you need to use different Powers when you stand before another User. It is too common an ability; too easily countered. Many Sith like to use Lightning because it is visible and elicits pain. Some enjoy afflicting the mind directly." Zlova leaned in closer to their locked sabers. "I prefer grinning in their face." It wasn't flashy, but it aggravated many to think she wasn't taking them seriously.

"Where did you learn to fight with the saber?" she asked as their bout continued. A spin off to one side, lekku sailing in the air, before she would catch the next blow. "You do more than flailing it blindly." Its light weight did cause some to overcompensate -- as though by wielding it like a club you somehow conferred more strength through the blow.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

Valerian grunted as he attacked, searching for the opening in her defense that could be exploited for gain. "I get that much, but I've never been one to follow when I dance. I take the initiative, grabbing what openings I can, dominating them until I come out on top; it's just how I was taught to fight." He spoke between clashes, bringing his saber back around to attack as soon as they broke away. He still took her words to heart as best he could, trying to follow her lead, watching how she moved, how her body twisted and turned to meet his strikes, almost never meeting them head on, but directing them elsewhere.

The young Mandalorian looked the Sith in her eyes as she closed their distance, giving her a grin of his own as he stared into her golden eyes. "Lightning isn't my style." He wouldn't tell her that he couldn't, that his skill in Dark Side abilities was lacking when compared to those who'd full embraced it as their alignment. "I've never been one for mind games either." He pushed her away with another grunt, and followed it up with another slash; if he'd learned anything it's that if he was going to attack, he had to commit to it, deprive her of a chance to cut him to ribbons, keep her on the defensive.

He lashed out as she spun away, catching nothing but air and swinging toward her once more when she'd come to a stop. "I learned from fighting force-users. Jedi, Sith, I've met them in combat more than once before, some twirled around me, others tried to batter me into submission, all of them fell to my beskad." He'd employed his beskar forged blade to great effect, utilizing his vast armament to compensate for his untrained Force abilities. Now was different, Valerian felt as if he couldn't use his vambraces against the Sith woman, he had something to prove to her, that he was just as deadly without them as he was with them.

"If I've managed to garner some respect from you, then I learned well from those I've laid low." Valerian spun the blade in his hand, and without warning reached his hand out and launched another push at Zlova with the Force, throwing as much as he could into the attempt. But instead of advancing as he did last time, he instead turned his hand into a fist, and yanked it toward him, trying to bind the woman and bring her to him before she had any time to recover.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova snickered. "That's not dancing, my not-so-shy Mandalorian friend." Perhaps she'd show him what real dancing looked like when the opportunity presented itself. Most people did make the mistake of taking it as a mere metaphor, however, so she didn't think less of him for it. An allegory for being limber or graceful. But it really was more than that. Somewhat akin to if you tried describing yourself as a Drunken Master -- people thought that just meant fighting while drunk, but there was more to the Art.

The way Valerian sought to push her away, maintain some manner of distance to see her guard in its entirety and anticipate where to strike or block was commendable. Natural counter being not allowing your opponent to do just that. Oh, sure, you'd probably end up with some superficial wounds keeping so close, but what was a fight without a little pain? This was meant to be an introduction, however, so Zlova wasn't going to try grinding herself up against him just yet.

A golden eye peered at the blade the man put on display -- his beskad. Well, Mandalorians did have all manner of tricks and gadgets in order to survive standing up against monsters that could wield lightning and crack the planet. How else could Zlova have respected them if they were just like any other soldier that had their throat torn out at fifty paces? There were genuine reasons she liked hanging around them even if some of them hated her with every fiber of their being -- especially because of that, really.

The Twi'lek smirked at Valerian taking pride in his accomplishments. Why shouldn't he?

Having already spoken of Force Push being useless, Zlova figured the man was up to something when she pushed the attempt aside. What she couldn't say, but when she felt an attempt to constrain her limbs and be yanked toward him, she got the picture. Misdirection? Delightful.

As they said, one good turn deserved another.

Prepared to forcibly break free of the grasp, Zlova's first reaction had been to reach out with the Force as well. Only the Twi'lek's grasp was about the metal rod left propped up against the wall. She had the pole whip across the air at Valerian; whether it merely broke his concentration or actually struck would depend on a great many things. Either way, her blade would be eager to take advantage of the closed distance once she got free; or prepared to keep his from lopping off a large piece of her body at any rate.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

It was all coming together now, he thought, the push had her distracted and he'd been given a grand opening to capitalize on her mistep. He'd bring her close and put her down in the dirt, starting their record off with a win for him, and a loss for the red skinned Sith woman.

Valerian smiled savagely when he felt his grip take hold of her, and yanked her forward and begin his own offensive, but sight of Zlova reaching out hardly gave him pause as he followed her gaze, and realized all too late the mistake he'd made. He'd assumed that they were restricted in their choice of weaponry, that being lightsabers only, but she had nothing to prove to him, and he was the one who had to survive their bout. The young Mandalorian made a split second decision and let the woman go, and twisted his body to avoid the rod that she'd whipped toward him, too little, too late he'd moved, and the edge of one of the ends caught him across the brow, dropping him to a knee and opening up a jagged gash that leaked blood down his face.

A howl crawled up the mans throat, but was stopped with gritted teeth. There was no time for him to wallow in his pain, not while she'd be itching to capitalize on his overconfidence; he wasted no time in turning to meet her once more, one eye closed and indomitable fury in his heart. His first strike was meant to stop her attack, keep her blade from taking a chunk out of him, his second was a wicked slash that he hoped would ward her off while he regained his footing and took the chance to stand tall as he had before.

The man took a step back as he brought a covered hand up to his face, the touch of his crushgaunt stung something fierce, but the warrior knew that it was superficial, head wounds bled a lot, and the worst thing about this one was that it took half his vision and left him blind on one side. "You're just full of tricks aren't you." Despite the wound on his face he smiled fiercely at her; he'd learned a great deal from her, and he'd be sure to pay her back in the future.

He spat blood on the sand and gripped his saber once more, this time staying on the defensive, waiting for her to come to him, waiting for the song the start and for the beat to begin. "Come on now, don't tell me you feel bad that you've marked my pretty face. Least the first person to do it had some looks of their own."

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

There were many lessons a woman like Zlova had to teach Valerian -- and many other Mandalorians. Unlike the masses, however, someone actually desiring her insights got more than they bargained for. It was only fitting. She might not proudly proclaim being a Sith Lord amongst the beskar-clad warriors, but that did nothing to diminish just how dark and sinister her own education had been. Whatever she visited upon the Mandalorians was but a fraction of what they'd receive if they thought to become a formal student.

One of those important lessons was understanding that a Sith never -- never -- fought fairly, with honor, or by any presumed 'rules.' Nothing said the metal rod was out of bounds, nor that their skirmish was limited to a certain physical space and if he left it the woman would stop. In fact there was no guarantee whatsoever Zlova would stop before he was killed. The rules of the bought prior? All one needed to do was to remember the lessons about rules.

Zlova's feet touched back on the ground gracefully despite the abrupt release from the man's Force grasp. His howl did nothing to stir a dark heart that had heard far worse from conquering cities in her Master's name. For the Empire... that no longer existed.

"I'm here to disabuse you of any preconceptions you have about the Sith." There was no end to the tricks or lessons to be learnt if the man wanted to face Sith Warriors or Lords alike.

"Try not to earn too many scars. Some can make a man handsomer. Too many..." Well, it was somewhat akin to having too many tattoos. Not that Zlova had had much say in her Master 'giving them' to her in the traditional Sith manner. At least neither of them looked like living rock cobbled together.

"Stay light on your feet, Mandalorian." With that, Zlova spun her saber before she began to casually bound from one foot to another to close the distance. With Valerian having taken a stance to collect himself, it was time to demonstrate how to dance. An unhastened approach, clash, retreat, side step, and repeat began. Sometimes the Twi'lek moved to the right, other times to the left, and now and again she glided back and forth to avoid setting an easily guessed pattern. If Valerian dodged or side-stepped an attack sometimes his tutor would glid through the space he'd previously occupied instead of retreating. It was a sequence of giving and taking, probing the man's defenses and trying to get him to set and place his saber into specific positions. Her approach might not have a pattern, but the effort to get Valerian into a defensive pattern was quite deliberate.

Every now and again Valerian might even catch Zlova twirling or arching her back in the movements. She had spent quite some time as a professional dancer, after all, and didn't mind demonstrating that skill in public any more than her combat abilities. Opportunities like this in combining together for an audience that might appreciate them didn't come along often.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

The man had nothing to say to her words this time, seeking only to return to the furious combat that they'd settled into. Her words both taught and taunted, seeking to advance his skill and press him ever closer to the edge, he knew this, he'd seen similar methods before, but none so extreme. But in the back of his mind he wondered what edge she sought to push him toward, where she'd call herself satisfied with their session.

Valerian watched as the Sith woman approached him, preparing to ward off whatever flurry she sought to rain down atop of him. He'd expected another charge, a violent burst of movement that forced him against a wall, but what he got were a series of repeated blows with a degree of variation in the attacks. She moved methodically, reacting in what he something akin to a choreographed movement, making certain moves, moving a certain way, stepping around him with practiced steps, cleanly avoiding his blows as she danced about. Even so, Valerian did his best to follow the "dance" she'd spoken of, letting her lead their fight, following along, searching for the pattern in her attacks.

More than once Valerian found himself forced to make rapid turns and twists as Zlova moved around him, trying his best to keep her in his sight and out of his now enlarged blindspot. Their sabers clashed over and over again, with Valerian growing more confident each time, working himself into rhythm, keeping his good eye locked onto the Lethans as they dueled. His gaze flicked from her face to her hands, to her body and even down to her feet, watching her footwork for any sign of weakness.

"For the record, I have a name." Valerian spoke in between swings, hoping to distract the woman from the fight at hand with a bit of banter. "Valerian Calore, if you even care." He doubted she did, especially now, it wouldn't surprise him if she snapped back with an insult or jab, or a declaration that names didn't matter to Sith because they identified each other by smell and the sounds they made when they raged.

The young man wouldn't allow himself to follow for too long, taking a chance to break their dance after he'd felt it gone on for long enough. He stepped forward and raised his lightsaber and brought it down in a heavy two-handed swing, not that he'd expect it to land, he just wanted the Sith distracted while he kicked out at her knee, aiming to bring her down into the dirt where he could finally finish their bout before he laid him low.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova smiled as she continued to move in, strike, and withdrawal even as Valerian introduced himself. For the record? Was he concerned his opponent wouldn't remember him? Did he hoped to make a name for himself? Did he feel as though the Twi'lek looked down on him as some nameless Mandalorian, as if he were like any other? Whatever drove him to announce himself in the midst of battle, the most Sith thing to do wasn't to insult, belittle, or even acknowledge what Valerian had done. Had she heard it? What did she think? Better for a chance that these questions fester and distract -- to demoralize in her seeming disregard.

"Don't think. Do." Another lesson even if its pertinence might be in question. What prompted her to say that? A great deal behind why Zlova hadn't acknowledged his name; whether he understood that now or might in the future would be left to him to decipher.

And the man seemed to be quite taken with the thought of action, himself. Valerian soon sought to put an end to their dance number.

The Lethan's saber rose to block the oncoming heavy strike as Valerian expected. What he might not have expected was the sharp fwsh of a second saber whose violet beam swept around from her other side to block his kick. Fortunately, the man's beskar'gam was not in short supply of the lightsaber-resistant metal especially on the lower leg. Whether the less heavily armored crotch within range of the saber was as well protected...

Zlova shot back two strides' worth of distance without her feet touching the ground. Both blades flourished before her before they retreated back into their hilts. "Not bad, Mandalorian Valerian Calore. You might even have the makings of a warrior every equal to any Jedi or Sith you encounter... if you spent the time training in the Force and with a saber as much as you do any other tool at your command." More so, but Zlova wouldn't push her luck the man had been secretly lusting to go from being a dutiful Mandalorian to a Sith -- Dark Side user if he made him feel more comfortable.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

Don't think. Do.

Was she telling him to stop thinking so hard? Could she read his mind and see how the flurry of thoughts running through his head. Whether she could or didn't, Valerian could only follow her advice and forgo the action of thinking about his next move. Follow through, commit to the movement, and don't hesitate unless he was eager to lose a limb.

His saber made contact with hers and for a moment Valerian thought that he had her. The Mandalorian pushed down and kicked, expecting to feel the contact of his boot on her stomach; what he'd gotten instead was the sound of a saber igniting and resistance against his leg. "Karrabast!" He brought his foot back and was forced to throw his entire body away from her to avoid the blow aimed for his crotch. Valerian hit the ground with a dull thud and looked up at the woman as she spoke.

"Well, I hope that this won't be the only time spend time together." He picked himself up off the ground and returned his lightsaber to his waist with a small smile. "I'd like to do this again sometime, maybe some other stuff if you'd not mind, I've still got plenty to learn, and no teacher to do the job." He closed the distance between them and looked down at the woman as they spoke. The man was breathless and blood still covered half his face, but he spoke as if he'd not just gotten his ass kicked up and down the field.

"This was fun though, you're not half as scary as people think you are. You'd make more friends if you tried to be a bit more social." He teased lightly, holding his hand out for her to grip if she pleased. "A good bout." He waited to see what she'd do, whether she'd take the hand or brush him off.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova smirked as she slowly stowed the two hilts at the small of her back once more. Valerian wanted to do it again did he? She could appreciate someone with a backbone -- it was the only kind of person she could respect. "There is much you can learn. Not all of it quickly." The man could take the self-destructing Dark Side route, of course, to gain power instantly, but she'd only teach that technique to an enemy under the guise of helping them. "Understanding is as important as knowing." People overlooked the nuances of the Force in favor of immediate gratification.

Force Push, for example, could be used effectively against another Force User, if you knew more than simply how to throw things around.

The man stood five inches taller than her, which required her chin be lifted to regard him calmly as he stood before her. Zlova, however, looked no less comfortable than if she were the one looming over another. With the Force even a Rancor was not so intimidating -- but you did have to give them their due with their raw strength.

The Twi'lek laughed at Valerian's suggestion. "I am social. I just remind too many people about what others of my kind did, and largely still want to do. But if that's your way of asking if we should hit the local watering hole for a drink..." She reached out to take his hand. "Name's Zlova Rue." If he really wanted to meet again, it'd be best if he knew her name. Whether 'other stuff' meant what she thought it did... well, it would be quite interesting to see what Valerian had in mind.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

"I've got plenty of time. If you think you could do it, I'd be happy to understand the your ways as best I can." His words were honest and sincere, and his eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked at her. A Sith teacher would be the first step, someone to impart power and strength, the ability to dominate and manipulate his foes using his own raw power. From there he'd have to explore, branch out in his understanding of the Force, a journey that would no doubt take him far away from Enclave space.

The woman looked small standing next to him, cute in a way, not quite petite, but he knew well than to underestimate her, especially after she'd just kicked his ass up and down this field.

"Covering the tattoos would be a way to ease peoples minds for a start." He didn't mention that being perpetually half naked was also an issue to many, but hoped that the implication was there. "I mostly meant just smile more, maybe offer a helping hand, but a drink is much better than chores." His flask would be near empty by now, and his body ached for a drink to take the edge off.

"Zlova Rue, glad to know you." Her hand was small, but her grip was firm and strong, with a warriors feel.