A Clash of the Mind and Blade

[Xevek Nekonis]

Coruscant. If there was one planet that Xavka could state with complete certainty and seriousness that he did not miss upon being forced to leave its surface, that he never wished to make a return to under any circumstance, it would be the City Planet. There was nothing fundamentally wrong with it, per se, but for Xavka, who had spent his childhood on Iridonia having his senses sharpened to as close to peak efficiency as possible for a Zabrak so as to be able to reliably hunt underneath the boiling sun of Iridonia and within the fierce sandstorms of the desert planet, the scents and sounds of the planet, especially in the lower levels where he conducted the majority of his business, were nearly unbearable for the Iridonian Assassin.

Still, no matter his personal feeling for the City Planet, Xavka was conducting business and he prided himself on pushing through whatever obstacles may stand in his way towards perfection and completion of all things, as was his way. Meaning no matter how much he may detest the planet, he would be stepping foot into the underbelly of Coruscant.

As such, he soon found himself prowling through the lower layers of Coruscant, down where sunlight could not pierce the shadows that lay so deep, instead, light being provided by miniature artificial suns that only served to lengthen and deepen the shadows. For someone such as he, someone who lived, fought and breathed within the Shadows of the Force, the situation was a perfect allegory for how he saw that very same ethereal energy field. No matter how much the Light may fight to beat back the Dark, it would always retreat deeper into the hearts of the populous of the Galaxy and even if the Light gave chase, its weakening form would only give birth to Shadows.

Slipping in between buildings and the shadows they cast, his form and any sound he made completely removed from anything that may have served to spot him, the Iridonian was more shadow that being at that moment. Leaping forwards and upwards, his invisible form quickly climbing up the sheer face of a metal building, one of many that tried to reach up towards the upper level that served as a ceiling for the population of that specific level, through the use of his carefully sharpened and Force imbued claws that adorned his sole biological arm and both feet; along with the fact that the hydraulic powered fingers of his cybernetic hand could pierce and crush the durasteel building beneath his grip.

Settling atop the building, Xavka crawled on all fours over to the edge and looked down, his lone orange eye landing on the ramshackle and makeshift town crafted out of hastily thrown and poorly cared for rags and lengths of cloths resting upon twisted and burnt, jagged pillars of metal girders and collapsed buildings. His sensitive eye sight could easily pick out the shifting and scurrying forms of refugees and survivors of whatever recent destruction had impact this sector of Coruscant. With the supposed refuge of society inhabiting the lower levels, it was unlikely that any helping and guiding hand had been offered to those that now lived in the cloth town, the effort too much for the esteemed members of society. Snorting slightly to himself as he slowly removed the rifle from his back and set it against the lip of the building, Xavka allowed a single, sardonic thought to cross his mind before focusing on the task before him. 'And we Sith are the "One True Evil" of the galaxy? I wonder how many of the so-called liberators of the planet actually care about the citizens that live in such conditions. That is why the Dark rules this galaxy, it festers within the so called Light.'

Despite the fact that Xavka did embrace the Darkness and the Shadows in his life, despite the fact that he could easily kill a man without batting an eyelid, that did not mean he did not possess a form of honour, as warped as it may be. One face of the honour was his attitude to the down trodden and the innocents, for he did not believe in ending the lives of those that fell into those categories unless they chose to attack him first, and, indeed, his time of once being a Slave Gladiator to a Hutt often made him sympathetic to those that lived like those in the makeshift settlement. Still, even so, he was Sith, that was indisputable and he did hate the Light.

Breathing slowing as he peered through the scope of the rifle, Xavka ran through the information he possessed on his target as he hunted for him. 'Name: Ryn'Dhal. Rank and Noted Affiliation: Master within the Silver Jedi. Race: Unknown Felinoid - further analysis required. Noted Combat Observations: Defensive, Agile. Mainly the usage of Force Speed, Force Jump, Telekinesis and the skill of Dual Wielding. Conclusion of Combat: Possible forms are Niman or Ataru, Force augmentation while fighting. Noticable Observations: Humanitarian, often providing healing and resources to the impoverished. Observations of prior interactions with James Justice and the Lady Kay of Commenor.' Sending a brief prayer of thanks to Amina for granting him the idea of forming his network of Shades across the galaxy so that he was even capable of knowing such information, the Assassin's gaze finally locked onto the form of Ryn'Dhal.

Smirking slightly, the Zabrak went through the motions of preparing the sniper rifle for firing, even as he reached out through the Force to probe the area surrounding Ryn'Dhal, thankful for the fact that it was a habit of his to keep a constant tight hold upon his Force Signature through a mix of Force Cloak, Art of the Small and Quey'tek Meditation; the final result being that he was as next to invisible within the Force as he was in the physical plane. Encountering the feeling of a Force Sensitive next to the Master, Xavka observed as the younger being scurried around, assisting the Felinoid in his efforts. Still, he put the fact out of his mind, he was here to kill the Master and since it was not war nor a battle he was fighting in, then he would follow his creed and only kill who needed to be killed.

Focusing the sight of the rifle on Ryn'Dhal, Xavka was just about to pull the trigger when he paused for a moment, keeping his gaze locked onto the head of the Jedi. Yes, the Jedi was his prey, yes he was a target as dictated by the contract he was undertaking. But, this Jedi had worked along side the Lady Kay, someone Xavka faintly recalled from his time just after leaving slavery, her efforts stuck in his mind.

Sighing and growling at once in annoyance, Xavka reached out with his mind to brush it against the Jedi's own, even as his finger pulled the trigger, aiming for the can of food held in Ryn'Dhal's hand. The message he sent was dripping with the Dark and with malice, yet would convey seriousness and truthfulness. "Come fine me Jedi. Come to where there will be no collateral."

Packing up the rifle as soon as it had fired in a series of movement that spoke of experience doing such actions, Xavka gathered himself and leapt off of the building, slowing his decent with the Force, before taking off towards where he knew an empty warehouse to be. For it was in that warehouse that he had lost his left arm in an explosion and he knew for a fact that the surrounding area had not been dealt with since that day years ago.



[member="Ryn'Dhal"]

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

They said his mask could be a shield. A protection. These thoughts were dismissed, as he now rarely wore his anymore outside of combat scenarios.

This day, in the Coruscanti underbelly, that the felinoid stood proudly, giving aid to those in need. A youngling he'd found, orphaned, was aiding him in distributing provisions to the needy. She was eager to assist, as the young Master Jedi had offered her the opportunity to go to the Jedi Academy on Voss, to learn to harness and use the gifts lying dormant within her.

She was enthusiastic, and eager to help. "Master Jedi, sir, I just finished getting the Hc'til family their provisions, where do you want me to head to next?" she almost chirped cheerfully.

As the felinoid prepared his response, a sudden pulse cut through his concentration. The Dark intent reached him moments before the can in his hand exploded. Shards of shrapnel buried in his flesh, though no cry of pain was given.

Fear. But only momentarily, and not for self, but for the innocents. Looking to the young woman, as he concentrated, the living Force coursing through him, rejecting the invasive metal, and stitching flesh together as the shards came free, clinking quietly on the ground. "Seek cover... make your way to my ship, and tell Emvee I sent you. If I don't arrive in two hours, tell him to take you 'Home'.... my brother will look after you." he ordered her quickly. She stood, frozen in fear for a few moments, before giving a fervent nod, followed by a swift retreat from the immediate vicinity.

Turning towards where the assassin had shot from, a soft sigh would be given. The Jedi wore his traditional Sasori armored robes, but the velocity of that projectile would have likely made the armor matter little.

Reaching with the Force, he would soon locate his challenger. It was only honorable to address one who issued a challenge, rather than cowardly eliminating you without pretence.

The robed Jedi eventually stepped into an open area, gloves now firmly upon his hands, though no visible weapons. Parlay was his hope, his intent. Perhaps that which sought to snuff his own Light out would be willing for verbal discourse, rather than a martial dance.

At least... one would hope....

"I have come, as requested.... shall I know the name, and possibly the why of this.... meeting.... from he who calls it?" Unfortunately for the Master Assassin, this Jedi's natural senses were like superior to most of his past quarry. Those keen ears pivoted and swiveled continuously, catching small sounds and filtering useless ones until the assailant would either speak, or go to move into visual range.

At the first audible sound the assassin made, the Jedi would turn fully to face him, gloved hands opened, palms visible to the Sith. The Jedi knew not how this would turn out.... he just only hoped whatever the following entailed, bloodshed could be avoided....

[member="Darth Lykos"]​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Cloak within the Force and within the Shadows, Xavka would watch in dark amusement as the feline Jedi Master entered the torn and sundered husk that was once a standing, and standard, warehouse in the lower levels. Where there had once been a roof was now none, the building open to the stale air that filled the underbelly of the City Planet, only a small and melted fraction was left at the very edges of the structure, where the blast had been weakest. Supporting beams and large crates were malformed from the heat, left to cool and solidify into the twisted structures they now were, fingers of metal reaching up from the ground in writhing formations that formed an odd terrain of sharp edges and alternating heights. The floor itself, in the center, was peeled back, sprays of molten metal frozen in midair, surrounding the twisted mass that had been the epicenter of the explosion. Rippling out from that point, the flooring was flat in some areas, simply scorched, and melted in others.

The grim amusement within the Zabrak would only increase when Ryn'Dhal would come to a stop and speak, for he had stopped in the one area of the former warehouse where the flooring was not, at the very least, blackened with the remnants of heat and soot, but instead pristine. The exact location that Xavka had stood in when calling upon his Barrier to save himself from the onslaught of flames, the very location that very same barrier had been pushed back enough that everything beneath his left shoulder had been incinerated. That pristine section of floor was precisely where the Assassin had lost his arm, causing him to have to forge and create the pitch black, cybernetic prosthetic he still wore.

​As the last syllable dropped from the Jedi's mouth, his voicing seemingly, impossibly, echoing within the heavy silence that followed, Xavka would shift, drawing the durasteel sabre at his waist from within the folds of his robes, his effort soundless thanks to his mastery of the ability commonly referred to as Force Cloak. Unlike the scores of other Force User's that lived within the Galaxy, Xavka did not wield a lightsaber, choosing instead to forgo the weapon that many treated with respect and reverence and carry a weapon forged by his own hand utilising the Iridonian techniques taught to him in his youth.

Striding forwards, on soundless footsteps, leaving no sign of his passage behind, for the ash itself had been seared into the metal work, the Zabrak would pace around the Felinoid. As he did so, the Force would begin to flow into the sword, the efforts hidden and suppressed from senses through Force Stealth, leaving in its wake the appearance, should Xavka be visible, of shadows trailing from the sword. Coming to a stop behind the Jedi, the Assassin's concealment would end, even as he would remain invisible within the Force itself, rendering his visible and audible once more just before he would speak up.

"You are lucky," as his words would ring out, the Jedi would whirl to face him, but only see the image of a cloaked form with their face obscured by the hood they wore, leaving only the lower face revealed, "that I bore witness to you assisting the improvised. Sith I may be. Bastard and uncaring to those that suffer as I did, I am not." Slowly, he would begin to pace, his burnt orange eye glaring from within the shadows of his hood and staring directly at the Jedi. "My name? You do not get to know my name, but call me," he would pause, head tilted in thought, "Blaidd. As for why?" A slow, deep and rasping chuckle would echo within the silence, the damage to his vocal folds from the scar that wound its way across his neck contributing to sound. "Can I not wish to see what you may do when confronted with a truth? A foe? Will you fight me, prejudiced like many a Jedi? Or will you stay your hands, stay your fighting instincts? Hm, what will you do when you stare at a Sith? What will you do, when you acknowledge that I was lead to you by contract of assassination?"

In his mini tirade, Xavka spoke, as was common for him, the partial truth. Yes, he had been lead to Ryn'Dhal by a contract. Yes, one of the key factors that had altered his shot was the fact that he was among the improvised. Yes he was intrigued to see what the Jedi would do. But, he did not speak of the fact that it was his connection to Kay that had been the initial factor to stay Xavka's actions, nor did he reveal his true intention behind the face to face meeting: one part to fight, to satisfy the baying of his animalistic instincts, one part to observe how the Jedi might react to words that were, as of yet, unspoken.


[member="Ryn'Dhal"]