Legacy of Power: Yavin

[Aran Finn]

YAVIN IV​

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[member="Darron Wraith"]​

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Two distinct presences lingered in the jungles of Yavin IV. The first was the equatorial humidity that hung in the air like warm soup. The second was the taint of the Dark Side, which radiated from the stone Fallanassi temples much like heat and light radiates from a sun. The temples were not quite as destructive as a giant ball of plasma, but they were close. Many had tried to discover the secrets that lay within them and fallen to the bogan ... Na'Varro had already fallen far enough. His legacy was a Sith legacy now ... the doting father and well-liked mover and shaker within the Fringe was known as a darksider for a reason. Darkness lingered in his heart ... not only that, it fueled him and gave him purpose. It was part of who he was ... for he had no choice in the matter. His past had shaped his present. His present could shape his future, though, and the possibility of redemption hang over him, elusively and tantalisingly out of reach. It was for that reason that he braved the dangers of the jungle and made camp here, rather than sleep in the temple he had been exploring recently. He had responsibilities to his people, Kitt, his daughter ... he couldn't slip into madness. Not again.

The temples were like icebergs ... most of their structure lay deep underground in vast, maze-like caverns. Occasionally they opened up into huge open spaces ... it was the bosom of Yavin IV itself. Magical, and tainted. But three days of searching had proven to be fruitless. All he found were stones and dead ends. No holocrons, no Force ghosts from which he could attain more knowledge to keep him and his safe from the terrors that lurked in the Unknown Regions, or the Sith bastards who lingered at the Fringe's very doorstep. It seemed fruitless ... but Na'Varro knew, he knew, that not all of Yavin's secrets had been discovered. The Force had brought him here, and here he would stay until he found what it was that he was supposed to find.

Resting now as he boiled sausages from a Fringe ration pack, Na'Varro thought of home. Home was where the heart was, and his heart was not here. The deep jungle, with its tangle of trees and underbrush and dangerous monsters, held nothing for him. The Unknown Regions was where he belonged.

 

[Darron Wraith]

Yavin IV​

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]​

This wasn't his first rodeo on the Jungle world, though the last time he had confidently strutted on the world he had been much different. All of twenty years old, he had quickly rocketed up the Knight ranks and stood as one of the premier Guardians in the galaxy. Confidence was one of the things he didn't lack in, and his hubris masked how close he was the darkside. Many a battle had been won by the fact that he was still filling out his lanky frame, so he had strength to go with his speed and leverage. Djem-So and some skirting with the darkside had been his calling card back then. Only a few Jedi had caught on to his secret, and how he was masking the fact that he was only falling further every day. Battling the Sith was what he wanted to do the most, for it was what had made him a slave as an adolescent and taken away his family. The path he was walking was even familiar, he had walked the very same trail nearly twenty seven years prior to the day. Carbonite had kept him away from the universe for two decades, but the intermittent seven years had helped change him into the man who was making his way through the jungle.

Life had been a ferocious teacher, and he bore the scars from it's lessons. Gone was his right forearm, replaced with durasteel that was gloved with leather. Marks covered his exposed, powerful arms. Each one told the story of battles won and lost, the same could be said for the straight line that marred his right eyeball. Underneath the golden durasteel breast plate and undershirt he wore were plenty more markers of wounds from his past. As he brushed a snake out of his way, he could only shake his head remembering the lanky boy who thought himself a man at the time. I didn't have a family then, granted I don't really have one now. No, the spiritual scars he bore proudly had changed him from raging child to protector of eveyrthing innocent. If there was one central lesson that he had learned, it was to just accept who he was and be the best he could be. So it was with confidence that the Jedi Master moved through the humid and darkside tainted world of Yavin IV searching for artifacts for the Order of The Selab. The Jedi Order had also heard similiar rumblings of others searching, and they finally smartened up to what the former GrandMaster was good at.

Fighting those who were darksiders. Wraith could fight fire with fire.

Smoked meat filled his nostrils, and he sensed another strong in the Force. His Field of Responsibility was abuzz with life and the darkside, most Jedi would frown at such taint. Darron simply recognized it for what it was, and pressed on. The distinct, electrum plated lightsaber hilt of Mace Windu at his belt. Finally pressing on through some more brush, he saw a man. Reaching out, he viewed him through the lense that was ShatterPoint. Fault lines appeared as the Force crystallized before him, and in that moment he saw the heart of the matter instantly. There he is, sometimes it's better to be lucky than good. A mental rebuke formed about how there was no luck, but he pushed it away as he cleared his mind. Coming out into the clearing, he stood calm and relaxed. Wraith even kept his tone friendly as he waved to the man, acting like he had seen an old friend. "Hello fellow traveler, seems I'm not the only one braving the jungle today." Blue eyes knew a warrior's posture when he saw one, and he saw a lightsaber hilt. Those defining features never wavered in their calm, his eyes the only thing showing the calm before the storm brewing in them. Darron took a few more steps forward, closing the distance to only a dozen meters.

"Anything I can help you with, I hear there are monsters who frequent these jungles."

 

[Aran Finn]

The Jedi's Force signature was like a beacon in the gloom of the jungle, and Na'Varro could feel him approaching. It was radiant light in a sea of darkness, not without its blemishes ... but it was the blemishes that made it stronger. The Sith Lord let his own signature radiate outwards ... it was like a photo negative of the Jedi's ... dark, with blemishes of light. And they weren't entirely different. In fact, they were extremely similar. These were two similar men who had each found much different paths to the top of the mountain. And now they finally met at its summit. Na'Varro felt the man's signature draw closer and he knew ... the Force spoke to him sometimes. He was not immune to its pull, and he could tell that the Force had brought him and the Jedi together for a reason. To fight? To get to know one another? Na'Varro had spent time with the Echani, and according to that culture, those two things were one and the same. The bearded Sith closed his eyes.

"Hello fellow traveler, seems I'm not the only one braving the jungle today." His eyes snapped open, and met the other man's eyes instantly. His were brown, tinged with the red of Dark Side corruption. "Anything I can help you with, I hear there are monsters who frequent these jungles."

Na'Varro stood easily, holding himself loose and ready to react at a moment's notice. His manner appeared calm and collected, but he was coiled and ready to spring. The Sith Lord was like a lion, much like his Master before him ... powerful, swift and prideful. The way he stood spoke volumes of what kind of man he was ... a man who would do anything for his people, and anything to any who stood to take from them.

"I am the only monster in these jungles.." His eyes locked with the Jedi, and a grin quickly followed. "Alen Na'Varro ... the man you are here to stop."

[member="Darron Wraith"]

 

[Darron Wraith]

Brown eyes snapped up at him, and in that instant Wraith could see the red lining. Well, guess I truly did find what was setting off my senses. The moment he stood, whatever charade they had going on between them instantly dropped. Whatever words left the Sith's mouth, Wraith knew exactly what he was dealing with. Their dichotomy was striking, and Darron could see his reverse image in the mirror before him. One had risen above the darkness, to elevate himself to be a defender. The other had simply thrown himself in the dark, yet his honor was still in place. Normally, predatory references for Sith were of the reptilian natures. Darron's own nickname had been the Lion, due to his fearless and distinct way of handling things. Both men stood erect, shoulders back and at ease. Two alphas had finally crossed paths, and the air between them was thundering with energy. Absolute opposites absolutely attracted, and they were now closing the distance as both fully revealed themselves.

A shining beacon of light only grew brighter, the shadow before him only grew darker.

"I am the only monster in these jungles, I am Alen Na'Varro. The man you are here to stop." Now it was Darron's turn for his clear blue eyes to fully snap open, and all of his senses instead focused on the sole being before him. Wraith's Sphere or Responsibility closed in to a hundred meter wide cirlce, and everything within it suddenly was magnified in his senses. A single breath was taken as he started to pace to the left, almost taking a circular track around and towads Alen. With that breath, Wraith breathed in everything that was him. All his pain, all his sadness, all his victories and defeats hung there, then he exhaled. The cup that was himself emptied, and the Force filled him to the brim with it's light. Focusing on Alen, Darron continued his proud march around and to Alen. "I don't see a monster," he kept his tone conversation as he gestured toward the Sith Master before him. "I merely see a man who thinks he's doing the right thing." All emotion left the Jedi's face, but the storm in his eyes only grew more furious as he started to focus on his own will to fight and his love for combat.

The two almost formed a circuit in reality, and now it was forming in the Force and in Darron's minds-eye. Pulling the single hilt from his waist, he rolled the electrum plating around his fingers. "We don't have to do this, there are other ways." Yet, in his heart he knew what would happen. Alen wasn't the only one to spend his life around warrior cultures, Darron hadn't become the Jedi's premier warrior on accident. His thumb fell onto the activation switch, and then a snap-hiss cut through the air. The amethyst blade sprung to life, and ozone flooded his nostrils. No stance was taken, and the blade was even pointed towards the ground. "I won't attack you, but if it's a fight you seek. I will defend myself."

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

Na'Varro's eyes were watchful. This was one of the moments where his mind refused to retreat from the galaxy and instead remained true and entirely present. For this moment was charged. With what? Destiny, legacy ... and the powerful mental electricity of two sides of the same coin meeting for the first time. The Jedi Master was Alpha, the Sith Lord became Omega ... together they were the beginning and the end. The Jedi represented life. The Sith represented death. One could not live without the other, as each required the presence of the other to exist in the first place. It was pure, utter symbiosis. Na'Varro and his opponent represented why there would always be Jedi and Sith in some form, and demonstrated that no matter how alike they were in personality or ideology ... there would always be blood between them. Jedi and Sith would never see eye to eye. So they would fight, delving into the realms of bloody constraint over their perceptions of the shades of grey.

Alen slowly circled to his left, slipping into a realm of thought that relied on quick, simple process. He fell into the root of his mind, understanding the key feelings that eventually snowball into thoughts or words. This was his sanctuary, and his saving grace. In this frame of mind, Na'Varro understood fighting as deeply as he understood breathing. It was a frame of mind where peace and war existed simultaneously next to each other ... a raging calm, if you will. His eyes roamed ... their appearance was lazy, but the contracted pupil's suggested they were anything but. Watchful, waiting ... meanwhile his mind slipped effortlessly into the Force, and vice versa. A raging torrent under a sheet of ice.

"Violence is regrettable, friend Jedi.." Na'Varro spoke softly as his hand went to the dragonsaber at his belt. The blade came into his hands with a snap-hiss, crimson shooting upwards towards the sky. He settled now, no longer circling, his displacement of weight lowering and evenly distributed. "But it is unavoidable."

Na'Varro strode forward now, not charging, merely walking at an even pace. As he drew closer, he attacked. It was a simple stroke. His weight naturally settling into a fifty-fifty distribution, his left foot forward in an orthodox stance, he stepped in with a diagonal cut at the Jedi's left shoulder blade. It was not a flashy opening move, but Na'Varro tossed those aside in favour of simple, effective strokeplay. His blade came down fast and hard, power generated by his intention to return the blade to guard as quickly as possible combined with the subtle rotation of his hips and firm planting of his feet. His form was Djem So, which was all about handling power and strength. Alen knew how to make his body do what he wanted it to, and he knew swordplay inside and out. His range of motion, from shoulders to feet, was short and sharp. His blade came down hard and fast. His weight was not compromised. He had no doubt that [member="Darron Wraith"] would be able to handle and intercept his first move, but it was only an opening move in a complex and deadly game.

There was no telling who would falter first.

 

[Darron Wraith]

[member="Alen Na'Varro"] was nearly seven inches shorter than Darron, that much was obvious when he stood up. Both men moved in their circle, and Wraith noticed something only a trained warrior would. He's quick, just like me. Darron could spot fast twitched individuals from a mile away, and Alen definitely fit the bill. The ease and fluidity that both moved was uncommon, and on the outside it looked as if they were two predators circling each other. Tension was filling the air, and an invisible counter seemed to be going off. As each second ticked off the pretend clock, the space between them began to rumble with more and more power. Opposites stood so close, and the fallout from their power building up would rend the jungle apart in mere moments. Wraith's dark secret was that he loved this feeling, he loved challenging those who were the true monsters of the galaxy. Every fiber of his being loved to be the one standing between innocent life and those who would take it away. More than anything, he just loved the clash of sabers, fists, and any type of combat that allowed him to unleash himself. It was the dark truth to him, and the very reason why he had set upon the long and dangerous road to make his greatest weakness his greatest strength.

It was why he was THE master of Vaapad.

The cup that was Darron Wraith was empty, but that love for combat started to pour out of him and towards Alen. Darkness emanated from the Sith Master, and it gravitated and flowed into Jedi Master. Connections were forming, and a super conducting loop was being formed through that darkness. Thunder raged in the Jedi Master's eyes as his face went completely emotionless. Detachment was necessary to prevent falling, Wraith knew this. A link had been made, and as the crimson blade ignited far and away from him, he stopped pacing as well. Weight was perfectly balanced, and the world had gone quiet. Only two lightsabers could be heard, their distinct humming sounds the only thing he could hear. Ozone flooded his nose, and his eyes were trained like a hawk on his opponent. Not a single movement didn't go unnoticed, and every step that his adversary took towards him gave Wraith more time to study his balance and how he moved.

Adrenaline began to pump through his veins, and his pupils dilated as the circuit began to form. Tendrils of energy were coalescing between the two of them The moment was nearing, and anticipation finally gave way to reality. Alen struck, and Wraith countered.

It all happened in an instant, the tenuous connection became solid. Energy crystallized as Alen walked forward and his blade came down in an efficient strike. It was so brutal, so powerful, that it could only be Djem-So. Darkness flowed into Darron and the superconducting loop that was Vaapad fully sprung to life. Ebony energy flowed through the empty cup, and Wraith's right foot stepped out to the side and up half a meter. Balanced perfectly, he brought the amethyst blade up in a two handed grip and the speed of Vaapad caught the powerful strike in time. Wraith's blade only made contact for but a moment before stepping forward with his left leg using the space he had created with his first step. In a blur of purple the blade came down in an diagonal strike from right to left aimed at the Sith's left calf muscle. True to form, he didn't hesitate to hope it was a connected strike, Darron spun to try and bring his blade down in an overhead strike on Alen's head.