Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Faction [NJO] Momentum and Mastery



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Unpredictable was how he was taught to fight by his friend Azzie. The normal routine of strike, parry, strike that was common among fencing just wasn't practical in lightsaber combat against Sith. They were too aggressive and unpredictable in their combat. It wasn't as if it was a structured battle, or a simple competition. Being predictable was a surefire way to lose. Unless you used that against them. You could be predictable for a while, and then suddenly become unpredictable to catch them off guard, for example.

Kaelos came in slow at first. As soon as he had moved, Caelan sped himself up, readying for the strike, but this opponents movements were off, and then suddenly his blade sped up in real time and Caelan was forced to parry away a low strike at his knees at the last second, where he'd expected the strike to come at his middle.

Caelan immediately responded by stepping forward towards Kaelos, his saber sliding along he parried blade and snapping upwards towards the other Padawan's chin at speed. Only after that did he stop using the Force to speed himself up so as to catch a breather, as it were. Sparring was fun, and good practice, and he was happy that Kaelos had taken his advice about doing something outside of the norm. It might save his life to be more off the wall in combat.

"Nice attack. I liked that."


ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Kaelos Vryn Kaelos Vryn
 
Spitfire Soul, Heart of Gold
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Breaks? What Breaks?
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 | Lightsaber 2 | Hook Swords

Azzie had started off strong. The moment Eve shouted Go, she launched herself forward, her legs pumping, the thrill of competition igniting a fire in her chest. She felt the wind whip against her horns, the ground a blur beneath her feet. For a few glorious seconds, she had the lead, her endurance and reflexes carrying her ahead. Then she heard it—Eve's footsteps closing in fast.

Azzie pushed harder, teeth clenched, but Eve was gaining. No, not just gaining—matching her stride for stride. A thrill shot through Azzie's veins, a grin splitting her face. This wasn't just a race anymore; it was a battle.

Neck and neck, they tore across the landscape, neither willing to yield. Her one remaining heart pounded, her lungs burned because of it—her lack of a second heart had cut her ability to maintain an energy output by more than she would have liked even if it was still stronger than others—but the exhilaration drowned out the exhaustion. She risked a sideways glance, catching Everest's determined expression practically mirroring her own—and then, suddenly, Eve wasn't beside her anymore.

Azzie barely had time to register the absence before her foot caught something unexpected. Her momentum betrayed her. Her boots skidded wildly against the grass, desperately trying to find her brakes, and in the heat of the moment, she managed to figure it out.

Too bad it came a split second too late. With all the grace of a falling starfighter, she tumbled forward. Straight over Eve. For a brief, weightless moment, she was airborne. And then—

WHAM.

Azzie hit the ground hard, dirt and grass cushioning her impact but doing nothing to save her dignity. She lay there, stunned, blinking up at the sky.

What... just happened?

Almost as quickly as it had come, the shock melted away, and a bubbling, uncontrollable laughter erupted from her. She clutched her stomach, rolling onto her side, gasping between fits of cackling.

"Oh—" She wheezed, barely able to breathe. "Oh, that was graceful. I really stuck the landing! What a way to figure out how to get the brakes working, huh?" Through her tears of laughter, she turned her head and met Eve's gaze, and the grass that was sticking out of her hair as well as glued to her face. That was it; she lost it all over again. "Stars, I hope someone got that on holo," she choked out, her entire body shaking with mirth. "Because I am never letting either of us live this down."

Eve's laughter was just as uncontrollable, rolling around in the grass with absolute joy. Azzie propped herself up on her elbows, wiping at her eyes, still catching her breath. Pulling pieces of grass out of her clothing, she gave a teasing grin. "In case of a tie, seniority will cover the lunch, so I guess that would be me. Nice job, little scurrier!"

A commotion off to the side soon drew her attention more so than she would have liked. Maybe it was the way she could feel Aadihr's aura shift before she even saw it, or the name that was uttered: Falcado.

Anger flared through her chest, cutting her laughter short as abruptly as a dagger strike, a smoky blaze going through her amethyst eyes as she locked them on the brown haired man across the field. She'd seen him come in, but he looked nothing like the woman she'd gotten a visual for (though unintentionally, so she was told). Someone else she didn't recognize had already seemed to step in—as well as Braze Braze who seemed to try to diffuse things, beating her to the punch, but she didn't seem to care. She'd pulled herself to her feet and took a step, "Give me a minute; I need to go handle something." She practically spat through gritted teeth.

And that was when the air around them shifted. A blur of motion, an odd smell. Azzie barely had time to register Aadihr's approach before the dust cloud kicked up around them. His heels dug into the dirt, trying desperately to slow down, but—

Oh, frick.

Azzie's instincts screamed at her to move, but her muscles were still a bit sluggish from the earlier tumble, and before she could scramble out of the way, he'd collided with her. She was sent sprawling right back to the ground—and right on top of Eve once again. "Son of a—! Sorry." She said, rolling to the side and hoping that the other padawan hadn't taken too much of a hit from that collision.

"I said it before, I'll say it again, we really need to stop meeting like this..." She joked, attention then on Aadihr hoping to relieve some of the distress that hung heavily in the air, though the look in her eyes held a warm concern.




 
And then there was nothing

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"Weapons, or just our bodies?"

"I'll stick with fists, though if you want to test out those bone things you've been crafting, I won't take it personally."

Jo'Han hopped backed and bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, arms raised, one closer the other further, partially side-stance.

"I haven't been hurting for practice, but I'm eager to see what kinda trouble you cause these days - bring it."

Despite the uneasiness of the earlier encounter, Jo'Han's mood returned to a playful competitiveness, what he thought Aadihr would rise to; not, well, whatever that was.

He guided the force into himself, hardening his body, speeding his movements, and empowering his stance.

For all his and his sister's faults, if there was one thing they could do right, it was put up a fight.

"Take your shot, Drys"

Drystan Creed Drystan Creed
 
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Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike


"I said it before, I'll say it again, we really need to stop meeting like this..."

While Aadihr would normally smile at the cracked joke, his face was currently buried in the grass, upper torso skidding to a stop as his heels lifted up and over, rolling him several times to a stop.

That and the sizzling of his arm. And the runaway anger he couldn't seem to drop, even as he rationalized that he shouldn't carry it with him.

"I'm sorry I-" he couldn't really find words, instead thrusting his arm for Azzie to see as he climbed from the dirt.

Only then did he notice the third collided party - Everest Vale Everest Vale - a Padawan that was vaguely familiar to Aadihr, but he was unable to focus. "I'm very sorry, I didn't see you there; I need to just speak with Azzie for a mo-" he winced again as the burn flared. He hadn't even intended the usual joke greeting, merely habit as he turned back to Azzie, "I can't make it stop, and I'm saying and thinking terrible things."

Yet, even as he spoke to Azurine Varek Azurine Varek , the pain of it lessened - though she herself seemed to harbor anger at Jo'Han Felcado Jo'Han Felcado .

Was she taking sharing the emotion somehow?

"I can't make it stop" he repeated, unable to think clearly.


 
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Cora observed Aris' movement. He'd always been fast - impressively so. Her head slowly tilted to the side as he blinked forward, then stumbled. Then, again.

"We're working on control right now," she said, gesturing over to where the Wookiee was practicing. Her hand cupped her chin.

"You already seem rather proficient. This is not your first time using the Force to enhance your speed?" It would make sense, given the breadth of experience that his parents had between them. They were named the Sword and Shield of the Order for a reason.

Aris Noble Aris Noble | Kuhbee Kuhbee
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Location: New Cov
Tags: Valery Noble Valery Noble | Caelan Valoren Caelan Valoren | Others
Equipment: None

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The duo's spar continued.

He'd managed to impress Caelan Valoren Caelan Valoren with his move. The more experienced Padawan responded however, his own blade snapping up towards the chin of the Kiffar. Kaelos only just met the blade of his sparring opponent, however the force of the connection knocked the training saber clean out of his hand.


"I guess in an actual fight, you'd win" he said with a smirk, taking a second to catch his breath. He was already forumlating in his head however, already had an idea for a move that he could make which would definitely be unpredictable.

Within seconds, he'd closed the gap between him and Caelan. His left hand closed around the hilt of Caelan's blade, whilst his left left attempted to sweep his opponents leg. Whilst he was doing all of that, his right hand had shot out to summon his training saber back into his grasp.


"How was that for unpredictable?" he asked with a laugh.

 






NEW COV

"I only use this to hunt, not to fight." Drystan's grip tightened slightly, his gaze sharpening like a honed blade.

"Figured I'd need something to block a saber if you wanted to go with weapons."


His eyes locked onto Jo'Han, unwavering.

"I'm glad I ran into you. There's only a handful of people I trust to handle me testing this new move I've been working on."

Drystan had spent his life refining imitation—but now, after long-overdue soul-searching, he had begun to push beyond it. To forge something truly his own.

And this—this—was something entirely new.

He centered himself, inhaling deeply. Jo'Han, to his credit, gave him the time to prepare.

Drystan took it.

His calves flexed, tightening like wound springs—ready to snap loose.

Then—

He dropped.

In an instant, he was crouched low, weight balanced on the balls of his feet and his clenched fists.

This stance was not of humanoid origin.

During his time surviving the jungles of New Cov, he had come to a realization about his gift. Imitation wasn't limited to just humanoids.

He had stalked, studied, hunted the super-predators of that world for his survival. Now, their movement was his.

But he had done more than copy. He had adapted.

A beast's body had different strengths—different limitations. Drystan had adjusted, modifying what he could not replicate naturally.

This attack was something built, refined.

It was instinct and intellect. Imitation and innovation.

And unlike the predators he had learned from—he could enhance it with the Force.

Here I go.

The ground shattered beneath him as he launched forward—

A crack split the air, like a bolt of thunder.

His body blurred—feline, primal, predatory.

He pounced.

The speed he gained wasn't just from raw augmentation—it was from precision.

Rather than distributing the Force across his entire body or general parts of the body, he targeted only the muscles relevant to the movement.

No waste. No excess.

Pure efficiency.

The result—maximum power for minimum expenditure.

And he would be upon Jo'Han within the instant.

Jo'Han Felcado Jo'Han Felcado
 


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New Cov
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Tag: Ben Khal Ben Khal
Vera dusted off her robes, shifting awkwardly on her feet as the tension still hung in the air. Ben muttered a quick "Good spar," and she nodded quickly, a little too quickly. "Yeah! Good spar," she echoed, giving a small, stiff bow in return. A beat of silence followed. Her fingers fidgeted at her sides, and without thinking, she stole a quick glance toward her mother, half-expecting to find Valery already striding over to tell her what she did wrong.

But… nothing.

Mom was already focused on the other students, offering guidance, watching another pair of Padawans as they worked through a drill. If she had noticed Vera's humiliating fall, she wasn't showing it.

Vera exhaled. Okay. Maybe she wasn't going to die of embarrassment, after all.

She turned back to Ben, rubbing the back of her neck. "Uh, anyway. We should, uh, practice again sometime," she said, her voice still a little awkward. But her interest in training was genuine.


"See you in the next class?"

 
Garric let out another chuckle at the Grandmaster's words. He took another glance back at all the students.

"Perhaps, but at least the issues any of them have aren't issues there haven't been before. They're all standard improvements. For example, I remember I had this one student who kept tripping over her own feet, like that girl there. Thankfully, she was also my most determined student which meant I got to watch her progress, while being entertained at the same time."

He saw how the girl that had fallen into her partner took a quick glance towards the Grandmaster. He was amused when she seemed relieved that she wasn't noticed, as far as she knew.

___________________________

Valery Noble Valery Noble
 


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Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery chuckled at Garric's comment, her gaze briefly flicking back to Vera as she very subtly glanced over her shoulder — probably checking to see if her mother had seen her fall. Oh, she saw it. With a smirk, Valery turned her attention back to Garric. "That girl you're talking about?" she said, amusement threading through her voice. "She's my daughter."

There was no mistaking the fondness in her tone. Vera was as stubborn as they came — determined, feisty, and sometimes a little too eager to throw herself headfirst into things. A trait that, unfortunately, ran in the family.

"She's always been like that," Valery continued, shaking her head with a warm smile. "Trips, stumbles, makes a mess of things — then gets up and does it all over again until she gets it right." She exhaled softly, pride clear in her fiery gaze. "And she always does."




 
Spitfire Soul, Heart of Gold
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Breaks? What Breaks?
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 | Lightsaber 2 | Hook Swords

Azzie's playful smile immediately dropped. She didn't hesitate. Before Aadihr could say another word, she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug. His chest hit her shoulders, arms pinned to his sides as she held him firmly against her. It wasn't just to comfort him—it was instinct, a protective urge slamming through her veins like a lightning strike.

"It's alright, focus on me, okay?" She murmured, voice steady despite the storm rolling through him. She kept his back to Jo'Han Felcado Jo'Han Felcado , shielding him from view. Whether it was for his sake or hers, she wasn't sure, but it felt right.

His muscles were tight beneath her grip, his breath ragged, the anger still latching onto him like a vice. Damn it. This isn't fading fast enough. Azzie could see it in his aura—his frustration, his pain, the way his thoughts spiraled too fast for him to catch them. She'd seen battle rage before. Hell, she had felt it herself enough times to be able to identify it. But this wasn't just residual aggression. This was something deeper, rawer.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, keeping her hands firm on his shoulders. "Aadihr. I need you to focus on my voice, alright?" But she knew words wouldn't be enough. Not for this.

Azzie turned her head slightly toward Eve, catching her gaze. "Can you help me here?" Her voice was quiet. "Do you know how to put a cap on someone's emotions, guide them back to a more neutral place?" A pause. "I'll try to handle the pain, but I can't do both."

Her own heart was still hammering, but she pushed the feeling aside. If Eve could stabilize his emotions, Azzie could do everything else. She shifted one hand to hover just behind Aadihr's head, exhaling slowly as she reached for the Force. The nerves were screaming at him. She could feel it—sharp, hot bursts of pain radiating up to his shoulder, demanding his attention, feeding the anger already brewing in his chest. No wonder he can't think straight.

"Breathe with me, in and out."

Azzie couldn't heal; that much had been established clearly, and this wasn't something one could just heal anyway. She could, however, apply her mental techniques to block the pulse of the nerves—well, in theory. She had yet to fully attempt to use it in this way, but she let the Force flow through her, a practiced effort of seeking out the worst of the pain. Pressing against it, dulling it, cutting it off where it would do the most damage. It wasn't a perfect solution, and she certainly couldn't erase the injury itself, but she hoped it would be enough to give him room to breathe.

She didn't let go of him yet. Didn't step back. Aadihr wasn't just hurting—he was unraveling. She knew what that felt like, knew how easy it was to lose yourself in pain and fury. I won't let him go through that alone. She turned her gaze to Eve again, "Just use your own energy to manipulate his, kind of like a lullaby. I trust you; you've got this." She said, hoping to help guide just in case she hadn't attempted that before and watching for any sign that her influence was working.




 




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Everything escalated so suddenly, the laughter and lightheartedness of the moment melting almost immediately, replaced with a slowly bubbling panic. Pulling herself together from the fall, Eve watched as Azzie hurried to the Miralukan in a desperate attempt to calm whatever was going on. She knew the Knight. His face was etched forever in her mind from Jedha. She could never forget that moment she seized up trying to help with the savage wounds that nearly took him, and the memory still haunted her to this day.

But maybe this was the time to finally make that right.

Azzie called to her, her voice measured but desperate, stirring her from that dark memory. Immediately, she obeyed Azzie, stepping closer to them, her focus honing into the moment.

Right, calm.

She was familiar with the practice, had used it more than once on those in need, and animals, but mostly on herself. But she had never used it to quell what seemed like... anger? The prospect was intimidating, and yet this was important. She had to do this.

She took measured, slow breaths as she opened her consciousness towards Aadihr's aura. In the silence spaces that sat between awareness, a gentle song came from her mind, pulling from the profound recesses of her childhood. At first it was a melody, a melody only the Knight could hear, and then there came words.


~Sleep, little Aadihr,~
~May all your fears be gone.~
~Thy love hath cleared a thousand storms~
~With all the Light you've shone.~


The song repeated again and again, as Eve stood with eyes closed, her hand extended towards the Knight to accentuate her intention. She wasn't sure if she was doing it right, or if it was working, but something in her persisted, her focus wholly tuned into the moment. Inside, she knew she couldn't let either of them down.

Not now.




 


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"Control is the difficult part."

Aris glanced to Kuhbee for a moment, humming in thought. Of all the people here, did Kuhbee understand that? Wookies were known for their wild strength compared to the average species. It was dangerous if either of them let their control slip. Just a bit too much pressure in a hand shake would shatter a hand, and so on. It'd be good to learn with him. Though, he blinked, glancing to Cora before he tilted his head.

"I don't use Force Speed. I'm just slowing myself down so I don't trip over my own momentum."

Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania
 
And then there was nothing

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"I'm glad I ran into you. There's only a handful of people I trust to handle me testing this new move I've been working on."

Drystan had dropped to the ground and bolted like a Nexu, giving Jo'Han little time to adjust his center of gravity for impact.

And impact there was.

As Drystan's predatory pounce there was contact, but lighter than expected, fleeting, flighty, just out of reach.

In the last instant before contact, Jo'Han had jumped and leaned forward, letting the bone-crushing speed of the Shadow's rush add the last bit of momentum to his legs.

The end result was an exchange too fast for an outsider's eyes to track — Jo'Han flipped from the collision into a controlled double-somersault over Drystan, landing with a flourish on the other side — behind the foliage-covered knight.

Jo'Han feigned an indifference, ignoring the obvious pain in his legs. Internally, of his nerves could speak, they would say something along the lines of:
Dank Farik, my shins karking hurt

Knight Felcado returned with an offensive of his own, speeding into a second blur of motion that violently kicked up dirt, dust, and grass in his wake, throwing a lower uppercut - a classic of martial artists across the galaxy.

The gut-punch was a tried and true method of stunning a humanoid opponent by delivering force to the diaphragm, causing involuntary spasms and a delay in drawing in breath.

As Jo'Han's fist drew closer, milliseconds seemed like minutes with the force- quickened mental faculties of both fighters fighters. Would it connect and knock the breath from the Shadow's lungs? Or was the apex predator fresh from the jungles of New Cov preparing a counter of their own?

Drystan Creed Drystan Creed
 
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Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike


"It's alright, focus on me, okay?"
"Breathe with me, in and out."

Azzie didn't hesitate, shielding him from the world around him. Instead of the force signatures of all those he may have caused a scene in front of, the only thing surrounding him was... Purple. The only color he ever bothered to learn - the color that Azzie had said her eyes were. The color he associated with her aura.

A soft melody in his soul soothed hilthe flames in his mind, like waves washing ashore, a gentle calm washed over him in waves, suffocating the flames of vitriolic emotion. His left arm stopped scorching.

Then a harmony appeared, like a cool breeze on a sweltering day, working in tandem with the waves to rock his mind to peace - letting the flames float off and dissipate in the sky above.

~Sleep, little Aadihr,~
~May all your fears be gone.~
~Thy love hath cleared a thousand storms~
~With all the Light you've shone.~

Amidst the swirling sounds soothing his spirit, new colors formed - a nostalgic hue that carried a presence, kind and gentle, reminiscent of the one who had bestowed a parting blindfold on Alpheridies - now nothing but a cloth tossed in the windswept crags of Iridonia.

Aadihr felt the pain subside, unaware that he had been clutching at Azzie's cloak like a lifeline. Suddenly embarrassed that the other presence had seem him in such a moment of vulnerability.

Overwhelmingly though, he felt relief - safe in the arms of the Zabrak before him. He wanted nothing more than to remain in that purple light longer, but he knew he had intruded on their lesson.

When he could manage a steady voice once more he finally croaked out: "thank you... I'm sorry." He fought his instinct to run once more and flee from his shame.

 


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"Not necessarily," Caelan said. "Anything can happen at any given time, and in a real fight there are no rules."

The lack of rules in a real fight was both a blessing and a curse. It meant he could do whatever he needed to do in order to survive, but it also meant that his opponent could do the same. Real combat was far more difficult than sparring, as he'd come to find. Real combat was extremely dangerous, and rarely anything less than lethal. The work of a Jedi was not without its perils, and they had to be willing to accept those risks or they would be unable to do their job.

Just how in an instant Kaelos had closed the gap on him, gripped his arm, swept his leg, and brought him to the ground whilst also calling his blade back into his hand. Take a moment to discuss, get caught off guard.

"Suppose I earned that one."

He smirked and propelled himself back to his feet before dusting himself off. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was beside Kaelos, gazing at him out of the corner of his eye. But where was his saber? At his midsection? His legs? His face?! No. It was around behind the other boy, moving towards his neck with the intention of giving him a little zippy zap to the back of the neck.


ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Kaelos Vryn Kaelos Vryn
 
"Uh, anyway. We should, uh, practice again sometime. See you in the next class?"

"Sure," Ben murmured. "See you."

The boy walked across the field to where the other Padawans no longer sparring had gathered to watch the duels and chat amongst themselves. Now that this task was complete, he felt the cloud of Hapes settle over him again. Weighed down by his actions and the consequences he would soon be facing, he kept to himself for the rest of the lesson.

/exit Vera Noble Vera Noble
 






NEW COV

In today's era, nearly all civilized societies operate under laws—rules codified by governing bodies, whether elected by the people or enforced through sheer power. These laws are written, upheld, and made available for all to observe.

Before this, in tribal eras, governance was far more fluid. Leadership rested in the hands of chieftains or spiritual guides, their decisions carried out through oral tradition. Laws shifted as leadership changed, evolving as often as those in power.

As societies grew, certain ideals became essential for maintaining order—respect, compliance, cooperation. These traits became the backbone of civilization, guiding societies toward stability.

But before all of this—before civilization, before governance—there was the oldest law of all.

The law of nature.

Survival of the fittest.

This simple, primal rule had governed life since its very dawn—and despite the rise of law-bound societies, its influence remained unshaken.

Resilience. Strength. Adaptability.

Traits that transcended written codes.

And as Jo'Han's fist came crashing toward his gut—Drystan would remind him of this law.

The punch landed.

But instead of sinking into flesh, it collided with something far more unyielding.

Drystan's core—braced, flexed, forged through relentless conditioning—absorbed the impact. The sensation would be like striking plasteel, reinforced both by his physical limits and the subtle, unseen aid of the Force.

It hurt.

It did damage.

But not as much as it should have.

Perhaps not as much as Jo'Han would have expected.

And not nearly enough to stop what came next.

As the punch connected, Drystan exhaled—not just to absorb the force, but to control it.

Breath was just as vital as footwork or striking. Controlled breathing meant controlled energy. Focus. Power. Precision.

And Drystan wasn't just exhaling to weather the hit.

He was preparing to strike.

His right hand, once loose at his side, shifted upward.

The moment before impact, before the exhale, before Jo'Han's punch had reached its peak—

Drystan's fist snapped upward.

Aiming straight for Jo'Han's jaw.

At the last possible moment—just before contact—his fingers clenched into a tight fist, delivering the full force of the counter.

Whether it landed or not, one thing was certain.

Drystan fought by many laws.

And this was one that Jo'Han would feel.

Jo'Han Felcado Jo'Han Felcado
 
And then there was nothing

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Jo'Han's fist met the sweet spot just under Drystan's solar plexus with a crunching sound. A victorious smirk stretched across Jo'Han's face.

And then a shocked look of horror as he barely had time to register the pain of his own fist smashing against a surface harder than ferrocrete.

The average human brain has a reaction speed of 200 to 250 milliseconds, or a quarter of a second. This reaction speed is increased hundredfold with an experienced practitioner of Force Speed, meaning a reaction speed of 2.5 milliseconds, about the time a blaster bolt takes to travel 4 meters.

It was with this reaction speed that Jo'Han was preparing for a counterattack, thinking faster than the speed of sound.

Every milisecond of his perception, however, led him to the only one itevitable conclusion - an unstoppable counter of momentum and power as Drystan's fist shot upward with the speed of a jungle predator. The force of the punch lifted Jo'Han's jaw over half of his own face, carrying the Nabooite into the air from the sheer might of nature's Law.

Yet just as the laws of civilization grew more complicated so too did the civilized fighter incorporate the straightforward deceit of a convoluted legal system into their technique.

Thinking through the pain of a tooth-shattering uppercut at a reaction speed even faster than the average trained Jedi could manage, Jo'Han's retaliation came from the plotting of nanoseconds!

As his body flew upwards from the blow, so too did his knee, driven forward at the precise time to strike at the nose and upper lip of Drystan Creed Drystan Creed - a blow once more aimed to stun but with blinding pain in lieu of breathtaking accuracy.

Drystan Creed Drystan Creed

 
Spitfire Soul, Heart of Gold
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Breaks? What Breaks?
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Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 | Lightsaber 2 | Hook Swords

Azzie felt the change in him before he even spoke. The tension in his body loosened, the darkness in his aura dimming from a raging pain to something quieter, something manageable. The moment stretched, the melody still lingering in the Force like the last echoes of a song carried by the wind.

Then, she felt it—a light tug at her cloak.

Her breath hitched. He had been holding on. Not out of force, not out of anger, but out of something else entirely. Trust. When he finally spoke, his voice was steadier but edged with shame. "Thank you… I'm sorry."

Azzie let out a slow breath, her hands still steady on his shoulders. No. None of that. She had seen this too many times before, in others and in herself—the instinct to pull away, to turn the wound inward and let it fester alone. She wasn't about to let him do that.

Her grip tightened rather than let up, allowing herself to be an anchor point in whatever he was fighting within. "Don't apologize for struggling, Aadihr." Her voice was firm but gentle, like steel wrapped in silk. "You're still standing. That's what matters, right?"

Azzie felt Everest's presence beside them, the warmth of her aura still humming with all the effort she'd just put in. She turned her head slightly, meeting the other girl's gaze. "You did good," she murmured, quiet enough that it was just for them. A warm flicker of gratitude passed through her—Eve had stepped up, even with hesitation, and she had done what was needed. "Thank you."

Then, she turned back to Aadihr, her expression softening just a bit. "You're not alone in this, and I still really think you need to talk to Iris Arani Iris Arani or Master Valery Noble Valery Noble about this... they might be able to do something, you know?" She said, her tone dropping into something quieter. She tilted her head slightly, letting a lopsided smirk tug at her lips. "And if you ever try to apologize for needing help again, I can—and will—kick your ass. Got it?" She meant it, every word. Not just the teasing part, but the core of it. He didn't have to go through this alone. She wouldn't let him.

Her gaze lingered on him, watching, waiting to see how he took her words. She didn't push, didn't demand. She simply was, steady and present, a shield against whatever storm might come next.




 

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