A Whole New World [Krest]

[Ayy Lmao]

Scenes of the past flashed in and out like the reel of an old movie. Only, instead of actual 'scenes' they were feelings. Like an empathic view of the past, with memorable moments felt through her senses returned. In truth, it might've been only a few minutes that these 'scenes' returned. To someone the likes of Ayla? It might as well have been an hour. As her conscious dipped into a muddled view, the antithesis to nostalgia emerged. As it is said, moderation in everything. So when it came to the famed love of combat as a past-time for the Alunrovaan, when fighting an older, much more experienced race with a technological edge and defense against the force no less, fun and desire turned to necessity and fatigue. For Ayla specifically, war was least favourable. Combat in itself? That still held true as something entertaining. But the feeling of loss beyond pride followed was new. There was death without honour and willingness. The desire to actually protect something worth more than oneself. It was a matter of fighting for a collective people. And the risks? They were deep. The rewards? Only bare survival--nothing more. Not even 'victory'.

Once again, Ayla only felt the battlefield. Felt through the force, that is. With her dimmed sense of touch as a result of past battles and her own deformities, and the lack of optical nerves connecting to her actual eyes and shattered ear-drums that would not regenerate, only the Force could be relied on. Given these lack of senses, Ayla simply required being so well connected to the Force--and that she was. Meaning, beyond an overly sensitive acquaintance with her surroundings to precise detail and combative edge, Ayla was also privy to the pain of her allies. Cries sent out, not only in pain but emotional suffering. The Alunrovaan might've been a species strong in logic, even having a biological deficiency in emotional understanding; despite that, they were still extremely emotional creatures. Lacking the ability to understand emotions well? Perhaps. Ability to convey emotions? A talent in itself. Even with Ayla's especially skilled lack of emotional understanding, it couldn't be helped that she practically felt the pain of her kin. The pain of watching a loved one perish at the hands of those who'd rather purge you than cohabitate with you was overwhelming, and anyone within range on the battlefield would feel it. Maybe it was the Force that helped them understand, forming bonds between everyone who fought in unison on the never-ending wasted battlefield that was their homeworld.

Even Ayla herself was suffering. As one of royal blood, on top of her antisociable personality, her relationships were scarce. However, to know the pain of one another, it was hard not to form something close. And to that effect, the fact that her people were falling like flies before her? It hurt. Not even the damaged nerves ridden throughout her body could protect this pain. Behind her shallow thoughts that could only focus on bringing death to those who stood before her people, "why?" The question rose up again and again. "Why? Why must we suffer? To fight was to live. So why is there so much death?" To Ayla and her people who thrived on fighting, even killing each other in some situations, the dark feelings that war rained down upon them were anything but expected. And with these reminscent thoughts, the pain of the past, Ayla returned to the present.

Her vision was blurry and breathing paced. As she inhaled what little carbon was left in the air and exhaled any other gas, the strong metal taste in the blood on her tongue was all she could focus on. It was either that, or recall the war, or remember what she had just done. At the feet of her chair, black-red streaks ran across the ground up to lifeless bodies, half of them gone with only bite marks remaining all over as their wounds. Around five other bodies, to be precise, and one could be sure that the number was counted. For at least a few days--maybe even weeks--Ayla had flown throughout space, unaware of what the term "Hyperdrive" could possibly refer to.

As consciousness was beginning to fade once more, a rumbling noise ran throughout the open space within the ship, and the glass at the front presented only a red tint to a blurry open sky. It felt like quite a while, when in truth the moment happened for only a minute. The spacecraft ran through the atmosphere of a planet, burning away as a result of an awkward entry to a dense atmosphere. The friction tore away with fragmented pieces of metal falling behind the descent of the small craft. Passing through the outer layers, while the red tint stayed Ayla could more clearly see through the glass--which just so happened to begin cracking. Through it, for once in a very long time colours appeared. Instead of a black abyss, something stable and tangible appeared. Granted, it seemed to be traveling towards her at incredible speeds (though the other way around, truthfully), what Ayla felt was not fear, but relief. The relative weightlessness of being in a ship which simulated a level of gravity far less than Negosvern was pleasantly unexpected, but the pain within her body was incredible. Relying on carbon from organic tissue was still a far less efficient than simply breathing it in. If this planet had an accomodating atmosphere--if she could prevent her death from an uncontrolled descent--life could be longer than she anticipated.

And so, buckling her safety belt and wishing for the best, Ayla began counting the seconds that passed. The moment the ship made contact with the speckled beige ground beneath her, a stable layer of telekinetic force was to coat her body, acting as a sort of cushion to lessen damage. And that it did. The spacecraft slammed into the ground as millions of sand particles flew around, letting the ship sink in while acting as a sort of cushion in itself. Without a doubt, the cracked glass before her finally shattered, allowing massive amounts of sand to flow in and bury the buckled girl. For the most part the telekinetic force actually acted as a shield and prevented the waves of mini-rocks from tearing away at her skin. With what little mental strength she had left, a slowly expanding bubble of telekinetic force pushed away the sand until the sky was revealed through the window. Or rather, the open area which previously held a window.

"Air......" Barely gasping out, Ayla's soft voice was muffled. Her lost concentration and fixation on the sky collapsed the telekinetic force, and the sand began to flow back towards her. Fortunately, in that split second, fresh air filled with carbon reached her lungs. Finally breathing a proper amount, strength returned to her muscles, and without a care in the worlds she reached through the sand, slowly pushing her way out until a Sun glinted off her abysmal black eyes.
[member='Krest'].

 

[Darth Ferus]

It had been a very, very long time since the Zabrak set foot on the dusty surface of Geonosis. The dry air filled his lungs, the once familiar thickness filling his lungs. Dressed in his light armor, he was coated with small amounts of leather to protect his skin from the blistering sands. His headdress was wrapped around his face, leaving just his eyes bare to see around him. And see he did. All across the surface he saw nothing but the Redstone pillars built by generations of the nations past. With a slight glimmer of admiration, he would turn his head to look to each.

He loved the dry arid planets. They were home to him. A place of refuge from the rest of the world. But this would not be what he had expected. No, something fell from the sky. Something burned through the air, and he could feel it long before he saw it. The site of something breaking through the atmosphere was not what he was use to. His eyes widened as he saw it tearing down not a distance away, but to him.

With wide eyes the man would turn to run away. Faster then he had ever run, his form would burst away, trying to get as much distance from the thing as he could. But he couldn't. It was faster then him, and it seemed to be chasing. After the loud crash, he would find himself soaring through the air, released from the confines of the ground as it dose below him. He would tumble and land a distance away, the Force being the only thing to save him from the pain.

The dust was thick around him as he pulled himself up to his feet. He would bring his arm up, palm extended to the dust, and with a light tug of the Force he would clear the dust. What he found next surprised him more then anything. There was a girl, [member="Ayy Lmao"] , laying there. In front of a wrecked ship. His form would rush to her side, a hand reaching out for her.

"Kid! Wake up!"

 

[Ayy Lmao]

Finally. At long last, a clear and vivid stream of air to fill her carbon-deprived body. Even if the rest of her body--neck down--was entirely buried under layers and layers of sand weighing likely dozens of kilograms, all she could focus on was the feeling of freedom. Contrary to her actual situation, Ayla felt unrestricted. She wasn't one to be claustrophobic, but who could blame her? For an indiscernible amount of time the Alua'an had only herself to keep company in total solitary confinement, effectively trapped within a flying box gliding through space. On top of that, the strong stench of blood coated the air that Ayla breathed in, and her nose just so happened to be a strong-suit. Her conscience wouldn't let the fact slide, even if her thoughts were momentarily focused on inhaling. Therefore, given these circumstances, it was understandable that her wary state of mind reacted violently to a sensed presence. As someone who possessed the uncannily precise talent for Force-Sense, anyone within eighty metres of range was privy to her knowledge; even their slightest movements were noticed--with this instance exempt.

With the events which preceded her sand-burial, it took an enigma of a person not to suffer some backlash, even to their connection to the Force. Granted, Ayla was rapidly regaining control over her abilities, it still did not help her from noticing the 'blurry' form of a person approaching her, and rather closely at that. Just before her isolation--in fact, only seconds before space-travel--the princess was fighting Yuuzhan Vong, a people she held only deep contempt for. Even with several weeks of time to think, her thoughts still revolved around war, and so were her instincts. Sending out a Force Repulse. Her regained access to gaseous carbon quickly empowered her and revitalised a focused mind, albeit still recovering. Regardless, it was enough to send a spherical wave of telekinetic force with herself as the epicentre, holding adequate power so that the dozens of kilograms surrounding her body practically exploded outward.

Technically, Ayla could simply pulled herself out through other, easier and more conservative methods. In reality, her Repulse served also as a defensive/offensive maneuver, in the hopes that the 'explosion' of sand could act not only as a shield, but a volley of projectiles that might harm whoever approached her. In Ayla's mind, practically instinctively they were already deemed an enemy... until her senses defined the person's shape. It was more human, and the two body-shapes the princess was most acquainted with were Alunrovaan and Yuuzhan Vong. Seeing as the person's body structure was closer to her own than a Vong, her hostility was quickly halted as her control of the Repulse instead came inward, drawing the sand back to her before dropping to the ground. Hopefully, none of the particles made contact with the person.

The whole ordeal occurred within the span of a second, the most being two or two and a half. Despite being--to most--split-second movements and decisions surpassing the likes of an Aleena for those who have met one, to Ayla it felt more like any number of moments. Possessing the capacity to process all this information at extreme speeds, she could in turn act upon her collected knowledge just as quickly. At the end of this series of actions, Ayla stood on the slipping pile of sand beginning to coat the outside--and inside--of the ship just behind her, like water filling a bowl.

Despite her hostilities retracted, Ayla was still wary of this figure. The more the seconds passed, the sharper her senses became, slowly mapping out and configuring every pore on the body of the figure before her. While doing so, she spoke a question with the tone in her voice reverberating, "Hii los?" Unaware of the languages the person spoke--and still recovering from confusion--Ayla stuck to what she knew well.
[member='Krest'].

 

[Darth Ferus]

A small girls head just casually sticking out of the ground. If bot for the immense signature Krest was getting from [member="Ayy Lmao"] , he may have thought her dead. Hesitantly the red man had reached down to begin digging her out, only to feel the ground shake. Well, not the ground. Force? Leaping back, Krest would end up on his rear end just as the ground exploded outwards. A hand was hastily brought up to shield his eyes from it, but he soon found the process unnecessary.

Cautiously, the Zabrak would lower his arm and peak down into the pit. What he saw he certainly didn't expect. A female, young by the height and build, standing after hurling into the ground. Needless to say this was new to him, baffling even. His blue eyes would stare blatantly, his jaw even slack in his surprise. What else was he to do? He quite literally just found a shooting star in the shape of a woman. He could make a story about it if he had the time.

And then she spoke. Words that Krest had never heard before seemed easy for Ayy to say. Snapping out of his confused funk, he would finally speak up again, motioning for her to get out of the sand pit. "Kid, are you alright?"

 

[Ayy Lmao]

Fortunately, Ayla could discern no wounds on the figure before her. With clarity forming, she could accurately judge his appearance. Male, very tall but a bit on the slimmer side. He seemed rather well-built, in fact, albeit a bit old looking for Ayla's taste. A bare shift of her thoughts occurred as she instead marveled at the rapid switch from 'impending doom and life-fighting scenario' to 'he looks nice' states of mind. Even that lasted only a brief moment, however; soon after, Ayla returned to judging the man and assessing the situation. His positioning and reaction gave the Alunrovaan the impression that he was not a threat, given the fact that he was sitting on his rear with a somewhat astonished expression. That in mind, still wary to some degree, the princess loosened her posture and let down her guard, keeping her wits and attention about her. Standing perfectly straight, careful not to move around too much or tilt her head to far down while facing the man--all of which were habitual remnants from her time on Negosvern, in which she had to endure gravity several times what she felt currently--Ayla quickly came to realise, his words were in Basic.

Her time on Negosvern was like any other Alua'an; isolated from the rest of the galaxy and its cultures--but not entirely. Ayla had learned Basic to some degree, though only retaining a rather primitive understanding. The majority of her knowledge consisted in verbal speech and understanding, both of which were taught to her by her late mentor, Lov Rahjin. The use of Basic momentarily brought her to think about him and what might have happened to him. Once more focusing on the situation at hand, with her right hand Ayla tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear while setting her other hand on her left knee. Bending forward while keeping her back and legs straight, the princess offered her right hand out to the man, gesturing that she would help him up.

Naturally, one would be surprised if someone who just recently exploded out of confinement was helping you up, correct? That in mind, Ayla tried her best to respond, her voice having a bit of an ethnic accent. "Yes. I'm am alright; are you?" Hoping her questioning concern might make things seem less tense, Ayla gave a soft smile.

 

[Darth Ferus]

The Zabrak's eyebrow twitched. His blue eyes went from the girls own to her hand, and back. Hesitantly, he'd reach for the hand, pulling himself up with it. It was at this point, however, the Zabrak looked over himself. His hands would pat against his waist, counting the sabers that rested there. The duel phase was there, good. As was it's twin. The shoto was also there, even better. And then there was his sword, patting on the hilt, he'd let out a sigh.

He was simply worried the toss from the ship crash would of caused him to loose his weaponry. Thankfully, he didn't. With a slight nod, he would finally answer her question, his eyes suddenly darting around the area. "Aye, I'm fine. Mind telling me what that was about?" The Zabrak's eyes seemed to be searching for something in the distance. With a slight squint, he would find it. True black stain on the orange red sand. The large mass was close to the ground, but upon the Zabrak seeing it, it took off on a run, right for the two.

Bar'reth, the black Bha'lir, tore through the desert sand with his massive paws. He had seen the explosion from a far, and it had worried him. Was his person harmed? Upon getting closer to the two, he could see that they weren't. And just like a kitten, more of a puppy actually, he would leap through the air and pounce upon Krest. There was an 'omph' to escape the Zabrak's mouth before he began to hug the big beast, grinning a bit.

"Ah good! You were spared the explosion too!"

[member="Ayy Lmao"]

 

[Ayy Lmao]

With her sentiments understood, the man reached for Ayla's hand, albeit hesitantly. Not aware of the difference in strength, Ayla used what she considered to be 'minimal strength' to speed up the process of his ascent. As it turns out, her version of minimal strength was the equivalent to picking up an entire boulder. Given that, unless he had expected it, would've been in for another surprise. But, regardless of how he got up, what interested Ayla was the presence of a second mobile entity, and the existence of the multiple weapons on his person. A warrior, perhaps? This sequence of thought ran through her mind for a moment, quickly shifting to processing his response. Inquiring about the whole situation wasn't the best of conversation starters this case--especially considering not only the language barrier, but the vast lack of knowledge Ayla had about planets and how they worked in general. As such, even she didn't completely understand what just happened.

Once again her thoughts were interrupted when a quadpedal creature leapt towards the man's position. Once again acting purely instinctively to the unknown pouncer, Ayla was quick to ready her first and turn around, ready to let out a powerful punch. If the man could feel killing intent, he would have felt it in an overwhelming wave. The wave was singular, however; it was only for an instant that Ayla let out this attack. Her intentions were immediately retracted when she noticed the man's lack of hostility to the pounce. The leaping creature was ever so obvious, even without having the level of force-sense Ayla possessed. On top of that, her speculation of his warrior status further gave reason to not be so hasty.

Making the correct choice, the creature continued on to land its large paws on the man's chest before her returned what seemed to be a loving emotion. Hugging the large beast, he exclaimed relief through his words, clear enough for Ayla to understand. Still a little confused about what had just occurred, Ayla asked another question, this time a bit more relevant to the situation at hand. That, and an answer. "Not sure I am of what happened," She said, in broken basic, "but do know you where are we?" Considering Ayla's primitive understanding of the Galaxy outside Negosvern, even through her sorrow deep within some curiosity began to flourish.

 

[Darth Ferus]

Krest, upon finding himself pulled up, would once more see what it was like to be off the ground. Stumbling forward, it was at this point that the Bha'lir would get close. And her anger would be felt. His eyes would snap to her form the same instant her hand would come up, and his own hand would fly out to knock her away. But there was the hesitation. The pull back, if you will. Krest's own hand fell, and he was pounced upon.

Getting himself up after his reunion with his tiger, he would turn his head to the girl, blinking once. Sue didn't know where they were? How odd. "Geonosis, home of the geonosian. Do you know of the planet?" Her basic was odd to him, and it was showing something else. She wasn't use to the galaxy.

 

[Ayy Lmao]

As the man regained his composure and answered, Ayla responded to his question, "No... I do not." Feeling informatively vulnerable, the girl recounted her metaphorical steps and recalled anything she could remember that happened since her leave of Negosvern. Nothing seemed to provide much solace, and her disappointment briefly showed on her in the form of a solemn expression. Brushing aside this feeling, Ayla returned her attention towards the man, entirely confused as to what she could or would do. Finally, it hit her. Despite the ever so narcissistic person she was, the fact that she had literally lost everything came to surface.

As someone who gave her all for her people, the resulting futility impacted, and quite hard. Ayla's face turned to the ground and her eyes stared lifeless. "Uhh... uhm... excuse me.." In that instance, her emotions welled up inside and overwhelmed her. All the girl could do is lose strength in her legs and collapse to the floor. Her back hit the floor with a puff of dust and sand. A sniffle could be heard as the dark-brown irises grew distorted and water flowed from her eyes. Ayla panted out and exhaled deep and loudly, as if an enormous pressure was placed on her chest.

 

[Darth Ferus]

Krest was silent, pondering what he should say go her. That was until she fell down. He took a step, ready to catch her, but.. He could only smile. Ber'reth had chosen to be the one to catch her, using his large body as more of a soft black pillow. He would curl up just behind her as she fell, letting out a soft purr. He had always enjoyed comforting those around him, and she was no exception.

The Zabrak would only shake his head before he turned, crouching down amongst the sand. A quick shuffle of the force, and the ground would clear enough for him to get to work. A spark would form in his hand as he would make a fire out of nothing, the bright red flame seeming to float on the air. And that's when he started to make tea. Setting the pot he carried with him on the flame, he'd wait for it to boil over. When she was fit, it might do some good to have a warm drink after all.

 

[Ayy Lmao]

At least half an hour passed, which in Ayla-time was closer to a couple hours. Up to that point, Ayla simply stared off into the sky, flushing her thoughts and feelings down with time to herself. Actually, Ayla didn't have time to herself. Beneath her, acting as a sort of pillow was a massive feline-esque beast she had once been on the verge of attack just prior. The girl periodically brushed her hand through its coat of fur, further comforting her albeit the inability to properly feel its softness. She appreciated the gesture nonetheless. The other being near her was a slim but tall man, simply sitting there drinking tea boiled from a magically conjured fire, to which she did not argue the logic. In fact, she appreciated what the man had done as well, which was pretty much nothing. He only sat there, not saying much if anything at all--and if he did, Ayla wouldn't have payed any attention anyways. The silence was helpful. It really did feel like she had a bit of time to herself, to which she processed everything until a state of stability was reached.

Perching her back up to be straight and perpendicular to the ground, no longer leaning upon the tetrapedal beast that offered consolation with its body, Ayla wiped the tears the silently flowed from her eyes, coating her cheeks and chin. She rubbed the long-sleeve shirt she wore to soak up all the liquid and 'clean herself up', but her eyes were left red and slightly swollen. "... May I have some?"

 

[Darth Ferus]

During thus half hour Krest had focused more on keeping the fire alive then anything else. The flame fed off of the force itself, and long ago he had used this sort of flame to immolate and kill thousands. That's what he was before. A murderer, a Sith Lord bent on killing all of those who disobeyed him or his master. A dog.

A heavy sigh would escape his red lips as he thought about his past, his crimes. He had destroyed countless families all for the sake of another, and here he was. Free of the corruption, but never free of the memories. And what was he doing now? Helping a total stranger. She wasn't the first, though. Perhaps they were his way of trying to make amends. Tears slid down his face as he poured himself a cup of tea. But it wasn't that he was sad. Long after meeting one of the other Seven Swords he had changed his tear ducts to produce a solvent more potent then bacta. It was a solution he would mix with his herbal tea to help his headaches.

But then she spoke. He'd glance over his shoulder, his teary eyes focusing onto her form. Whiping the tears away, he would nod, motioning for her to come over. "Yeah, help yourself. I'm sure you could use some, aye?" He formed a smile on his face for the stranger from the stars. He would help her, no matter what.

 

[Ayy Lmao]

After drinking the offered cup, Ayla briefly thought of what she was to do next. Her original life had already ended. What was there next to be done? Either way, it wouldn't have mattered. There was no ambition to be held. Nothing to do for herself. The princess would have given her life to her people. In the end, it was the other way around. At the most, all she could do was carry on her culture before the inevitable end of a short life lived. "... Culture, huh?" Her words were spoken aloud, not aware of this fact as she fell into deep thought. Ayla thought of the Alunrovaan and how they could live on through other means. The Galaxy was clearly a vast place. Perhaps there were more out there? Or maybe, she could birth children and try to restart the species from bottom up. The latter seemed more plausible.

"Uhm... Sir? Would you mind... fighting me?" There were two foremost purposes for her words. A part of the Alunrovaan culture was combat. Fighting kept them entertained, social, and even served as a way of thinking for some. Ayla's battle-centred life inherently induced such an effect, and with that in mind perhaps a bit of a spar could aid her in any number of ways. To be honest, she was a bit tired of fighting, but only the type that risked lives aside from her own. It wasn't Ayla's aim to kill the man before her, and at this point she cared little for what was left of the now meaningless life that was her own. The second purpose revolved around assessment of the man. A while ago she had already determined him to be a warrior in some shape or form. Despite a pureblooded Alunrovaan child being unattainable, it was one of the only possible ways for the species to survive. Besides, according to her late mentor, the crossbreeding of species was how the Alua'an came to be to begin with. This historical account made it all the more easy for her to accept a diluted bloodline.

If she were to bear children, however, they would have to be strong. Strong enough to bear the abilities and costs of being an Alua'an. As such, the father of her children needed to be strong, if at the least as strong as her in any number of ways. Considering the man before her was the only one she even knew now, there really wasn't many options. Thus, a challenge of combat was to be had, if only to assess the abilities of the man before her. His response determined what she would do for the rest of her life henceforth.

 

[Darth Ferus]

There were many ways to answer the question. The most logical given she had just been in a crash and had just gotten back up on her feet was.. No. But the Zabrak wouldn't say no. He too grew up in a culture built around war, if much more violent. The iridonian warrior cast, a group dedicated to spilling blood. Once, they rivaled the Mandalorians and Echani cultures. Till they destroyed themselves that was.

Krest did not know her reason behind it, but he would set down his tea. "Very well." Of course, if he knew her reason behind it, his answer would of been very, very different. Standing up, he would dust clean his shirt. Ber'reth would move away at this point, knowing full well what was to happen next.

"Any rules?"

 

[Ayy Lmao]

"Likely just avoid a killing blow?" With confirmation on a bit of a 'spar', despite showing it not even subtly, Ayla became quite excited. It was a chance to clear her mind, find stability within herself and even pass what always seemed to be a long time. "I suppose I can make the first move," she said, assuming a low stance after moving back twenty paces. Ayla spread her legs wide and kept her knees bent at an angle around 150 degrees, loosely calculated. Her body faced the man vertically, with her left shoulder forward and right shoulder nearly completely covered from behind. The girl rose her left forearm to assume vertical position as well, leaving the right elbow to bend with her hand resting on her stomach. Most of the placing in her position suggested a defensive stance, widely contradicting her previous comment. Of course, Alunrovaan martial arts were generally deceptive forms; given that, Ayla could be regarded as in optimal form according to Alua'an judge.

Normally Ayla would go immediately for a sword, but she knew too well that her own blade would be lost beneath the sands. Perhaps it was a sentimental bond between herself and the inanimate object that told her this fact. Despite that, for the time being the thought would be put behind her. Unless aiding, in accordance with her teachings one shouldn't utilise interfering emotions. Instead, Ayla threw a slight jab with her left hand rolled into a fist. It seemed relatively powerless, but the attack that would never connect between the two from such a distance moved at blinding speed. Following it was a slight distortion of light following a path from Ayla to the man she challenged. Already assuming he could dodge or react in some manner given his status as a warrior in her eyes, the girl promptly threw a second fist, this time with her right fist. Not as fast as her other attack, this one presented power that was hard to ignore. Following the second strike was a large distortion of light, more akin to a road connecting the two as opposed to a simple 'path'.

Both were in fact extensions of her attacks completed through the Force. The first, made with her left, would present power akin to three-hundred psi. With the 'path' exerted being relatively wide with admiral, the extension could be assumed as over one small ton of force total. The second punch held more of Ayla's legitimate power, with the former being only a light and speedy 'jab'. The second strike sent out a large, practically ghastly blast with a near small ton in psi. With a larger surface area than her jab, the total force of power could translate as near ten-thousand pounds of force. Naturally, such exerted power strained Ayla's right arm, enough so that she recognised some of her muscles over-stretching, even tearing. Given this to be a basic attack to 'test' the opponent, it was easily understandable--by Alunrovaan standards--that Ayla was unflinching to this move, even without her disposition to tolerating pain. Additionally, this was a move generally used on fellow Alunrovaan; completely accustomed to fighting beings of uncanny physical aptitude beyond all norms, it failed to even occur to her that there were species' who generally were not adapted to the force of a speeder going slightly over twenty miles per hour impacting them as the 'usual' punch.

 

[Darth Ferus]

Krest's own stance remained neutral. Non lethal, good. However, as she went for no weapon, he too would find himself with only his hands. With both hands up, he would simply spread his feet apart, sliding his dominant forward and giving himself a slight bend at the knees. He seemed ready for anything, but uncommitted to what ever action he would do. However, as she would throw the punch, Krest eyes would flash. Force Boxing, something he enjoyed doing himself, wasn't something he had expected.

His form would move to the right and under, his body twisting to get himself out of the way of the incoming attack. His head would tilt to the right, letting the powerful blow soar past him. It was at this point that he could feel the force behind the attack itself, and with wide eyes he would realize the raw power behind the blow. And the second stronger one coming towards him. Both of his hands would shoot outwards, and in front of him the air itself seemed to shimmer.

Quickly he would find himself sliding backwards, both of his feet dug into the ground to brace himself. The barrier he had form caught the blast, but he couldn't keep himself in place as it hit. But he would drop the barrier after the push would stop. Man she was strong. His form would suddenly dart forward however, far faster than a normal person and he would move to close the distance as quick as possible. His form darted left to right, seeming to weave as if he was trying to avoid sniper fire. As he would get close however, he would reach out and yank her dominant leg as he leaped for her. Hopefully with her off balance, his own right hand would come down, the force brimming. It would be an all out push, enough to blow the loose sand away and form a small crater whose diameter would be as long as Krest is tall. If she wasn't holding back, neither would he.