[Duel] She Was Only Nineteen

[Lord Gaius]

BARC Speeder | Ascension | Knight Hasjo Hallu vs Master Alen Na'Vorro​

It was a long march from the landing zone. The sixth battalion was the next to tour, and it was Hasjo who drew the card. From Lau Tin, riding LAAT's, to the dust at Sui Tat. He'd been in and out of transports now for months. But he made his tent a home. And night-time's were just a jungle dark and a barking DC-17. A four week operation when each step could mean his last one on two legs. It was a war within himself. But he wouldn't let his troopers down until they had him dusted off. So he closed his eyes and thought about something else. Then someone yelled out "Contact!" and the trooper behind Hasjo swore. They hooked in there for hours, then a godalmighty roar. But the legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears. Hasjo received transmission from the council of Ala'hani Reya's death. He could still see Ala'hani, drinking spirits in the cantina on a thirty-six hour rec leave in Pao Fei.

Hasjo was transferred from Felucia to Ascension. The whining of the propulsion drives on the transport brought him chills down his spine. He wiped his brow, where the first initial beads of sweat began to pour. He recalled his thoughts, pushing aside his emotions. He remembered the young Twi'Lek Knight. She had been talented, a ferocious warrior and a member of the Kaadu Clan. She had been one of his own. Fearless, loyal and unwavering. He knew she wouldn't have given up, not even if it mean't her own life. He had been the same, but time had clouded his memory. He knew not whether he had always been like this, or that his military experience had forged him into the man he was today. Suddenly the ship was landing, and he found himself departing from the bowels of the LAAT as the bay doors slid aside. He planted his feet firmly on the soil, a trooper wheeling the BARC Speeder out. He gave his commander and salute and before he knew it, they were away once again. He was now alone. He climbed onto the back of his speeder, the engine roaring to life. He twisted the throttle and sped off towards his target.

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

She had been a fool ...​

​

A poor, young fool. An impetuous girl, barely more than a child, who had sought to challenge a darksider who had been fighting duels over the span of eight hundred years. It had probably been her first one on one fight of any real significance, and it had been her last. The young Twi'lek was fierce, skilled but inexperienced. She had all the moves, however she did not have the knowledge to put all of those moves together into a lasting combination of substance. And she had fallen. She had challenged a Dark Jedi Master far superior to her for the "sin" of being dark ... she had fought hard, but she had made the inevitable mistake that all novices make, and Alen Na'Varro had driven a crimson-hued lightsaber through her chest and out the other side of her back. A good girl, a skilled warrior ... but people like that died all the time in this galaxy. Few could stand against Na'Varro and live to tell the tale. Only a few. Only the strongest.

In the foothills, between the tundra and the mountains in the centre of the continent, Alen sat in contemplation. An untrained eye would call it meditation but it was not that ... instead, he was replaying the fight in his mind's eye. Perfect recollection, vivid and in slow motion ... every thought, every fast-twitching fibre of muscle, every instinctual reaction ... and he cut that poor Twi'lek girl down again and again and again ...

[member="Hasjo Hallu"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

The BARC Speeder shredded through the foliage of the forest. The Council had sent the aspirant Battlemaster out to combat with this man. It was believed that the Sith Lord in question was far more powerful than the Nautolan in the Force, but the amphibian was an incredibly versatile opponent. He was currently in question to be Exotic Weapons Master of the Silver Order. He knew his way around a variety of weapons, each one different from the last. Not only this, but he had great endurance. The Nautolan was an amphibious race, and thus their stamina surpassed those of land dwellers. Swimming was a much more rigorous task for humanoid forms, of which he had. And so the anatomy of the Nautolans allowed for greater endurance, capable of swimming all day long where others may only swim for a few hours before tiring. Though battle was altogether a different strenuous task - the rules of endurance applied. His body allowed him to work for longer.

He burst out of the forest and into the gentle, rolling foothills. He could feel the Sith Lords presence. It was.. powerful. He steeled himself, resolving his strength for the upcoming battle. To avenge the fallen. He spotted the man, [member="Alen Na'Varro"]. The BARC bike began to slow as he handled the brake. He would slowly pull up some way from him. Throwing his legs off the bike, he walked towards him. Draped in the silver cloak of his order. He wore a grey tunic with dark grey trousers and black boots. At his belt was clasped three different hilts, each as equally different as the last. One was clearly the double-bladed Lightsaber Pike, while the other two were foreign and vastly different in make and nature. He was no expert of those weapons, but if it called for it, he would utilise them. His voice cut through the silence, deep and demanding "You killed her. Ala'hani." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Hasjo was sure this was the man. He could feel it. He shrugged off his cloak and began to pace, watching the Sith Lord carefully with lidless, unblinking eyes.

 

[Aran Finn]

"She sought me out." Darth Strider said simply, not rising or even opening his eyes. It was a pure statement, with no inflections in his voice that gave away a trace of emotion. "Told me I was a Sith. Told me I was evil. Told me she was going to bring me in. I resisted. She chose to fight. She fell. Skilled. Brave. Dead."

The Sith Lord could remember the fight well, even as he conversed with the Jedi Knight. It had been furious but quick. She was aggressive, and she had paid the price for her aggression. The ultimate price. He could feel the cold wind blowing over his body from the mountains above, cooling his rising heat. Curbing his anger. This world, his homeworld, calmed him beyond comprehension. For he was part of it. The man known as Alen Na'Varro had been born in the bosom of Ascension, beneath its crust and amongst the warm stones below ground. From there, he had been taken to the surface, to his father's stronghold, and had been taught the ways of greatness. Those lessons hung over him like a cold and painful reminder. He knew the ramifications of making a mistake. His father had taught him that ... though his father was dead too. Darth Strider had learned from that ... his mistakes were few and far between.

"All of this strife, simply for the crime of existing as I am. I do not hide who I am." Na'Varro rose and dropped his cloak, simultaneously dropping the Force cloak he had held over his power. The Jedi Knight would feel its heat.

"Before you start, I will not surrender to you. I do not surrender, not ever. Take me in, if you think you're up to the task ... though your life is forfeit if you cannot. Just ask Ala'hani."

[member="Hasjo Hallu"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

"She sought me out. Told me I was a Sith. Told me I was evil. Told me she was going to bring me in. I resisted. She chose to fight. She fell. Skilled. Brave. Dead."
"And you were the one to kill her." He didn't believe this Sith would understand the workings of his mind, ideals and opinions. Yet, he tried to convey his message, regardless. "The Dark Side has only brought sorrow in it's path, no matter how much one tries to bring only good. Ultimately, the Dark Side is named thus for a reason." He continued his pacing. "I do not kill unless necessary, for all life is sacred. Was her life less than any other?" Life may be sacred, but he would still arrest Sith. It was a dangerous task set before him to do such. Many Force Users fought with the end game in mind of one of them dying. This was not how Hasjo thought. He believed it to be a sickly train of thought. He would arrest this man with as little bloodshed as possible. The Nautolan was not a vicious man.

"All of this strife, simply for the crime of existing as I am. I do not hide who I am."
"Bogan is not a way to live your life. It's power corrupts those that utilise it. I can help you, you need only surrender. Ple-" He was cut off by the man. Though Hasjo had made due note to call the Dark Side by it's true name.
"Before you start, I will not surrender to you. I do not surrender, not ever. Take me in, if you think you're up to the task ... though your life is forfeit if you cannot. Just ask Ala'hani."
"I will do as I must" was all Hasjo spoke. He never claimed himself to be better than anyone, and did not say he could bring this man in. There was always more lessons to be learnt, even from the Sith, as he had learnt. Experience with actual combatants had given him training no droids, dojo's and courtyards could have done. He felt the power permeate from the man. Hasjo prepared himself, his hand curling around the Lightwhip. He ignited the long cerulean plasma tail with a familiar hiss.

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

Whether dark meant evil was simply a matter of opinion. Though a Sith Lord, Darth Strider felt himself a man with a good heart. His form of loving his fellow sentient was just tougher that this Jedi Knight's. He did not expect the Jedi to understand. He expected him to fall, however.

"I do not kill unless necessary, for all life is sacred. Was her life less than any other?"

"You have the wrong of it, Jedi. Not all life is sacred. Life is full of peril and strife, no one has the right to life. A man must protect his life with his strength, his intelligence, his willingness to ignore Chaos and simply exist. Ala'hani died because she made a poor choice, an unintelligent decision. Maybe the soul that replaces hers on the wheel of life will not make the same mistake." He sighed. "She could have been a great Jedi Master, but she is not. The histories are full of figures like her."

Na'Varro stretched his back before igniting a crimson lightsaber with a familiar snap hiss. He noted the Jedi Knight's weapon of choice. A lightwhip. An oddity that was not used by many, and that was for a distinct reason. The Sith Lord would educate his younger Jedi opponent in its shortcoming shortly.

"In summary, if we protect the weak and the foolish, everyone survives but no one learns. Death is a part of the circle of life, Jedi. Embrace it."

Darth Strider settled in a deceptively Shii-Cho like starting position, his left leg standing slightly in front and to the left of his right one, knees bent. His blade, held two-handed for now, probed before him, ready to intercept any strike headed his way. His battle precognition, a manifest of his connection to the Force, began as he slipped into a state that was completely in tune with the raging torrent of the Dark Side. It was a composer, and he was the one man orchestra. Now they would make the music of battle.

[member="Hasjo Hallu"]

 

[Lord Gaius]

Hasjo had concluded his discussions with the Sith. There was no changing the mind of one, he had learnt that some time ago, nevertheless he would always try. He would always offer help, and when injured, he would do what he could to provide them medical aid. Perhaps this man would consider this Hasjo's greatest weakness, but the Nautolan thought of this as a powerful strength. Perhaps not of body, but of spirit. He began his approach, the Lightwhip would provide him with a great advantage of distance. It was several meters longer than any Lightsaber. When he was but five meters from the man, he began to twirl. With the lithe and grace of a twi'lek, he spun on the tip of his toes. It was a variation of the technique known as Su. The tail of the Lightwhip sizzled around him in a furious circular motion, the plasma whining loudly.

He became a martial hurricane, descending upon the Sith. As he spun, he only increased his speed and efforts. Cerulean plasma encircled the Jedi, he had become the eye of a deadly storm. He moved like the ice skaters and ballet dancers of theatre. He currently held the distance as he continued his twirl, he moved towards him. Meaning to catch him in his storm. Similar to many lightsabers, the lightwhip had a nozzle that controlled the power output. He had tuned it down, so that if hit the Sith would not be eviscerated, but rather stunned into paralysis by it's powerful shock. He kicked off the ground and leapt towards him, continuing his spin as he came into a low crouch. He could feel his muscles tense, his breathing remained checked.

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]