A Squabble Amongst Brothers

[Caelia Lamora]

Tristan strode across a large, open room aboard the Errant Sojourn. For the first time in a long while on the sizable ship, he was not alone. It forced a smile to his lips. He felt complete, driven towards a purpose, acting not only for himself but for the rest of the family. It felt good. The room was a training room, or at least that's how Tristan had fashioned it. A quick look on the man's form told you that he worked out. He even lifted, bro. This became impossible to ignore, as he stood there topless, revealing all the toned shapes of his large, muscular frame. He wore black, slightly baggy pants, of a thin fabric. The reason he was down there now, was for a friendly spar with his younger brother, Lancem. It was about time to see what he had been up to.


In each hand he held a blade. They were training sabers, the likes normally used by Sith acolytes in training at their various academies. It seemed fitting, considering where they were going. The purpose of the blades were to mimic that of a lightsaber. They were balanced with the intent to get as close to the weight and feel of a real lightsaber. The blades themselves were blunt, and covered with millions of microscopic toxin-filled barbs, taken from pelko bugs that would cause burns to the skin on contact, and temporarily paralyze the surrounding area to mimic the effect of losing a limb. He didn't want to hurt his brother, much as he didn't think his brother wanted to hurt him. Yet holding back would do them little good. The weapon assured minimum injury, certainly nothing permanent, unless injury was the wielder's intent. It was certainly not Tristan's.

[member=Lancem Cuiléin]

 

[Lancem Cuiléin]

Lancem waited with a light yawn as he watched his brother prepare himself. It had been so long without family, and; though he may have seemed tired or perhaps even a little bored, he was looking forward to talking to them and getting to see what they had done over the past six years without eachother. In his hand he spun the saber, it was a little more awkward to spin a saber than it was a dagger or knife which was what Lancem was used to, but he would do with what he had. He was still wearing his usual jacket but he had neglected to bring the scarf as that could be used against him in a fight.

His brother definitely held a power advantage, the man was built like a stock horse and half as furry. Lancem had his past years as an ex-mercenary at his disposal, as well as his agility and fierceness to put to the table. That meant it would be up to him to try and dodge the blows powered by arms made of tree trunks. This surprisingly wasn't too unfamiliar, they had had little spars like this one back with the mercenary company, those had been good training and they had usually been good changes to get to know everyone and to have a good break from all the lethal fighting.

"So, we about ready to get started, Tristan? You know how I hate waiting, it's just not even close to as much fun as whacking you with a fancy stick. A stick saber, the ancient weapon of the Ewoks, passed down from generation to generation." He chuckled to himself with a slight shake of the head.
[member="Tristan Cuiléin"]

 

[Caelia Lamora]

To Tristan, the only thing that felt different about the sword was its weight. He was accustomed to using the vibrosword, although, he would need to become more familiar with this kind of weapon. After all, the lightsaber would likely become his weapon of choice. It was an elegant, less crude weapon. Yet, it 'caused death all the same.

It was true, Tristan was undoubtedly physically stronger. He wouldn't underestimate his brother because of that though. Had he been Human, Lancem would likely have been equally strong, if not stronger. He knew that Lancem was more than capable. His brother had his ways, and they were effective. Tristan gave the blade in his palm a swing, as he moved in a half circle.

"Ready when you are, brother" his booming voice announced. It felt good to say that last part. Brother. And have his actual brother be there to hear it. "You're 323 years old. You can wait another ten seconds." Tristan laughed with mirth, in part due to his comment, but mainly because of the Ewok joke his brother came up with. This was going to be fun. Not necessarily 'cause he was into trying to beat up his brother, or getting the same treatment back. It was one-on-one time alone with an old, and very close friend. The Echani believed that you didn't truly know someone, and their heart, until you fought them. While he wasn't Echani himself, or subscribed to their beliefs, certainly, this spar would be telling.

"Let's honour the ancient Ewoks then, brother!" Tristan said with a smirk, and he began his charge. He stopped, a mere second later. "Have you ever had Ewok?" He just had to know. Tristan wondered what they tasted like. Probably like dessert.

[member=Lancem Cuiléin]

 

[Lancem Cuiléin]

"Have I ever had Ewok?" He asked a bit incredulously. Tristan was a funny guy sometimes, trying to get information about one of the most insignificant races in the galaxy mid-charge. That was fine, it was good to see family again, even if he was going to be smacking Tristan with his stick saber several times in a very short span of time. "I don't think i've ever had Ewok. I've had lots of other things though."

He took a step backwards to make up for the movements that Tristan had been able to make, albeit they were not many. "Ready...set...go!" He shouted as he began a very slow inching circling movement, it was like watching a Bantha try to sidestep, though it was entirely falsified. In fact he was trying to draw his brother in, because if he charged he was going to end up on the ground in about one second. "So, how are things brother? Have you been happy? What have you been doing these past six years? Met any nice women?" He queried in rapid succession.

It had been too long, and even if the two were going to be smacking eachother with things that would most definitely cause slight amounts of pain, he needed to know what his brother had been up to all these years.
Then maybe he would admit what he had been up to as well.
[member="Tristan Cuiléin"]

 

[Caelia Lamora]

The carefree way through which he moved, striking up conversation about random topics as he charged, could just as much be proof of how comfortable he felt around his brother, as another sort of comfort, after not having received a proper challenge in a long time. The large man shrugged "Me neither. Can't be much up there, probably not any good" he said finally. He imagined he'd likely be disappointed when he tried. Better to not get your hopes up, he figured. Maybe he'd prefer Jawa Juice?

And then they began. Lancem moved, and Tristan mirrored his own steps, having the brothers circle each other, very slowly. His attempt to draw him in would be successful. Tristan didn't have the patience for this. "Happy?" he laughed dismissively. "Define the word, and I'll tell you." he danced around the question, though he realized he had nothing to hide from his brother. " I doubt it. Though I have a strong feeling that will come to me soon. Don't you?" he asked with a welcoming smirk. Together. Powerful. He found it hard to imagine how this situation could be any better. Oh right, the dead parents thing, how could he forget... "As for women... I imagine your stories will be more exciting. Tell me" he asked, with an expectant grin. Lancem had always been the great flirt of the family. Nakia as well, sort of, though in her case he'd use a different word than 'flirt'.

It had only been conversation that had kept him from charging, but now he had run out of words. Of course, he was curious to hear his brother's answer, but surely that would come after a quick exchange. Or even during. Tristan moved. After covering the distance, he'd rain down a series of overhead strikes, aiming for his arms and shoulders, both sides. He was also stepping forwards with each swing, provided Lancem stepped back in retreat - he was used to forcing his opponents down such a path.

[member=Lancem Cuiléin]

 

[Lancem Cuiléin]

Conversation with his brother was one of those things that Lancem had probably missed the most in their exile. He was able to tell his brother about what was going on, what needed to be done, they could comfort each other and joke around. It was nice having someone to talk to, someone you could really relate to. Tristan was that person for Lancem, he helped him to relax and to analyze what was going on through conversation.

His brother had not been the happiest during the exile according to his words, that was a bit upsetting. Lancem knew he was definitely not the happiest during that time either, especially not with the first couple of years. Perhaps one of the others would have been the happiest one, the one who enjoyed themselves instead of wallowing in boredom or denial.

Still, conversation did not stop the spar that was going on. He never expected it would, after all, that was what they were there for. To smack each other with fake weaponry and to learn from one another's mistakes and tactics. His brother was a large fellow, a powerful fellow. Lancem did not envy the opportunity to block the overhead blows he launched. Still, he had to, at least for the first one. His weapon clashed into the side of Tristan's battering it away though it hammered down Lancem's arm like a cannon. Continuing to block Tristan's blows like this would lead to exhaustion, instead he needed to do something more radical.

Tristan was doing powerful blows, but he was pulling away to ready for the next blow when he thought it would make contact with Lancem, he wouldn't likely follow the blow all the way to the ground, after all that would be a bit ridiculous. The next blow came down, and instead of just jumping away or deflecting it, Lancem sunk to the ground, hopefully out of Tristan's blow's range for just a moment. He lashed his own weapon towards the abdomen which he suspected would be fairly exposed thanks to the overhead blows.
"Indeed, my stories will most definitely be interesting." He spoke as the fight continued.
[member="Tristan Cuiléin"]

 

[Caelia Lamora]

The powerful swings usually had to be parried, or deflected. He had broken through many a defence that had tried to stand against him. Lancem quickly proved that he was not like the others. He was not like the countless that had fallen victim to his hunger, boredom or simply blind rage, over the past six years. He was a Cuiléin. Tristan couldn't help but smirk, even as the toxins of the pelko bugs hit him. Lancem was quick, not only in terms of his movements, but in terms of his quick thinking. He had analyzed the situation, and found a daring, but effective way to counter it.

As expected, when his blunt blade did not hit its mark, he retracted, readying it for another potentially devastating blow. That was when his brother moved. He could've dived the blade further down, had it not been for it already being pulled back on the way up. Clevrar. There was no way he could get a guard in place before Lancem's blade hit its mark.

Tristan grunted in pain as it hit, feeling a strong stinging sensation in his stomach-region. The effect of the venom was such that had it hit an arm, for example, that arm would be rendered useless for the duration of the fight, most likely. This one hit his core. The behemoth dropped to one knee. Maybe even putting him level to the height of Lancem, unless of course he'd pull back. Damn did that hurt. The pain... It made him feel... So alive. So real. He managed a booming laugh, which got interrupted halfway through by a loud cough. For most people, this would mean the end of the fight. Tristan was not most people. He was Anzat. But more importantly, he was a Cuiléin. He slapped one hand on his knee, as if to use it for support, as the large man slowly grew back to full size, getting back up on his feet. "I love... a good story" he said, through gritted teeth, though lips shaped into a grin. He was ready for more.

[member=Lancem Cuiléin]

 

[Lancem Cuiléin]

Tristan was a tough fellow. A very very tough fellow. In complete honesty, Lancem had sort of figured that the fight would be over almost as quickly as it had begun the instant that his weapon struck Tristan in the stomach. That had appeared to be the case for about three seconds before he broke out into a laugh and stood up again. That meant the fight was going on, it also meant that he really needed to get up or else he was going to get the absolute goodness kicked out of him.

Lancem grinned a bit as his brother rose before doing a backwards roll and popping up on his feet, hopping and ready for further combat with his brother. "You're a tough adversary, Tristan. I sort of expected you'd go down after one hit, it's good to know the past six years haven't made you a softy." He jested as pulled away a bit from his brother, twirling the blade around once and preparing for further combat. He arched the blade in a diagonal sort of motion so that it was ready to defend both vertical and horizontal blows, though it could only do one at a time.

The fight carried on, now it was Tristan's turn to strike. Lancem only hoped that his blow had perhaps weakened the maneuverability of his brother. If that were the case he may have a chance to parry his next blow and simply swing around him, slashing him in the back and sides. He would have to see, in combat it was best not to lay plans ahead, but to simply go with the flow.
[member="Tristan Cuiléin"]

 

[Caelia Lamora]

Tristan noted how his brother was considerably more bouncy than he was, as he rolled backwards, and hopped back into a ready position. "I try." Tristan said with a grin, trying to keep his sentences short. He still felt jolts pulsing through his abdomen, as muscles stretched and contracted uncontrollably, their own silent protest to what he was trying to do. "I'm not done yet." he said, twirling his own blade and putting it in a ready guard. He kind of felt nauseous, but tried to shake the feeling.

It took him a moment to try to analyze Lancem's form, as well of plot out his next move. He may have stalled a little bit, to give his body some time to recover from the blow. It would seem his brother preferred to stay on the offensive. Tristan's path was that of aggression, so he had no objection to pushing the attack once more. This time, after a few long steps in, instead of several overhead swings, there was but one - a stab to Lancem's gut. Revenge? It was unlikely to hit, but it served its purpose: to signal the start of round two. Hopefully this one wouldn't be equally short.

[member=Lancem Cuiléin]

 

[Lancem Cuiléin]

The combat would continue, that much was certain based on how Tristan spun about his blade. Lancem would be allowing him to make the first strike, it only seemed fair to allow the eldest the chance to begin any new conflicts, even if they were all for sport and training. They were brothers after all, and that sort of brotherly courtesy was the least he could extend after his six year absence from Tristan and the others.

He could see his brother watching him in much the same way that a predator watches an opponent, trying to find out where the best area to strike was and how they could pull away before a countering move struck them as well. It was a mental battle just as much as it was a physical one, up until Tristan lunged forward, his blade arching into a stab. Lancem would normally have expected a power blow, and if it were one he was confident he could have blocked it. However, this was a rapid and completely unexpected blow.

Lancem twirled his blade, making impact with his brother's as it cut across his hip and searing pain indicated it's presence. That was fine, he had been through worse pain. He couldn't use it like many people seemed to learn to do, but he could power through it much better than many as well. He lunged forward himself, his left hand catching at his brother's retreating hand and attempting to keep it out of the way before he slashed his own weapon downwards at his brother's left shoulder. "Ewok weaponry appears to cause a lot of pain, I wouldn't expect that from such furry animals." He spoke with a slight laugh as they fought.
Things were definitely heating up.
[member="Tristan Cuiléin"]

 

[Caelia Lamora]

Tristan's blade made contact. Now they both had been touched by battle, although in Tristan's case it was more severe. He had felt a jolt of pain as he lunged forward in the stab, but he gritted his teeth and endured, for now. Lancem didn't seem fazed, and it made Tristan grin. Like himself, he showed spirit. It didn't come as a surprise, they were brothers after all. Thank you parents, for the excellent genes.

Now his brother countered. This time, Tristan was determined not to become an equally easy target. He was starting to realize his years in exile had allowed him to grow rusty. As Lancem came at him with finesse and precision, Tristan fell back on his brute strength. While Lancem sought to catch Tristan's retreating hand, Tristan kept up the charge, pressing forwards. The idea was to close the distance between them before Lancem's blade had time to strike, getting close enough to make a swing ineffective. He'd charge in with a shoulder bash, pulling sword arm back hard, while attempting to ram into Lancem with his opposing shoulder. This would hopefully send Lancem flying backwards, maybe even fall over, while freeing up Tristan's weapon again.

[member=Lancem Cuiléin]