Private We Fight, Yes?

[Drane T'keen]

Aggressive action. This was yet just second nature to this Thyrsian. Drane could drink wine as quietly and merrily as he could fight quite violently. However, there he was, just another adventurer and explorer and treasure hunter with a very honest offer for a cup of tea in the corner of this library.

The response he got? How crude and rude. It was one thing to close the door in the face of a thief but, apparently, his counterpart was not willing to run away. One thing was for sure: Drane had shown Braze that he had a grasp on the Force. The latter? He hadn’t yet shown this to the former.

“Drink tea with me,” Drane pleaded, neither a grin nor a frown on his countenance. “That will show you my good faith, won’t it?” He shrugged. “If it doesn’t then…eh…let’s not stand on ceremony.” He still had his obnoxiously long-titled book in his hand as he tapped it. “You saw me close that door without even touching it. Surely what I am is obvious.” If not who. “Care to press my buttons?”

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

"There is no ignorance... only knowledge," Braze declared, his voice steady and resolute. In his hand, the tome he had sought after, sweated for, and longed to possess for months—a key to his quest for mastery—began to flicker. With a sudden, intense burst, vibrant, blue flames erupted from his hand, engulfing the book. The flames danced and crackled, casting an otherworldly glow as they consumed the pages, symbolizing both the sacrifice and the enlightenment that Braze sought.
​

Braze's eyes reflected the fiery blaze that burned with in himself as those eyes settle don the man.

"Better it be to turned it to ash than let it fall into the hands of a Sith. Knowledge is power; and you have none."

As the last of the tome turned to ash, the message was clear: knowledge, is better lost than corrupted tainted by darkness.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Blue flames. Okay. So he wants to play a different game. No simpleton could perform that maneuver if they didn’t have at least an inkling of the Force. Pyromancer? Sorcerer? Wizard? Jedi? Sith? Whatever Braze was didn’t much matter than what he just did.

Maybe Braze already retained in his brain whatever he had learned from those pages. Maybe it was an outright sacrifice and he really did lose what he came for to claim. Maybe that didn’t matter either because, at the end of the day, he just gave himself away.

Had Drane? Probably. But the Sith were only an instrument to him, an order he believed in, but only because they gave the warrior within this Thyrsian a means to exist to begin with.

“That was a mistake.” Drane slammed his book shut. You know, the one with the long title. It fell to the ground. He had no intention of picking it back up.

“I have no power? Or no knowledge?” He shrugged. “What I have, my good man, are two lightsabers.” He grinned. “And two good hands.” A silver hilt filled one hand, a black hilt filled the other, neither ignited just yet within his grip.

“And what do you have?”

-VWMMM!-

Never mind a -snap-hiss!- but, more importantly, crimson blades were just then ignited.

Braze

 

[Braze]

Drane T'keen
Braze drew his single blade, assuming a traditional Makashi stance. He flashed Drane a cocky smile. "Skill you can't match, for one," he purred, the chalcedony teal of his lightsaber coming to life. He began to circle to his right, the confidence in his movements evident. The air around him seemed to hum with energy, as if the very Force was readying itself for the clash. "Care to find out what else~?" he added, his voice dripping with challenge and amusement.

 

[Drane T'keen]

To say that two lightsabers automatically outmatched just one lightsaber was a severe fallacy. A warrior understood variety. A practitioner of Jar’Kai, Drane was yet familiar with the focus an opponent had with a hilt in one hand. That would also leave Braze’s other hand free for certain powers. Perhaps all this to emphasize they might just be evenly matched already.

Oh my, he’s a confident one. The Thyrsian’s opponent even had a bit of a purr to his quip. Grrrrr. Drane thought better about voicing that out loud, just having fun with the situation anyhow. Sure, he was ready to hurt and kill this man because Sith kind of did that but whatever.

He looked left and right at the question, as if in mock confusion. “Am I supposed to answer that?” He circled to his right, matching his opponent’s movement. “Or are you going to shut up and attack?” He flourished his left weapon.

But Drane didn’t wait. He didn’t expect his performance with that flourish to be much of a distraction yet, the next second, the Thyrsian advanced and began to attack in this dance.

When within range, Drane swung his right saber diagonally downward toward Braze to cut him from his left shoulder to his right hip.

Braze

 

[Braze]

Drane T'keen

Braze was practically drinking in every small muscle movement, studying and analyzing each motion. The half-Echani was well-versed in reading body language, picking up on the slightest hints and shifts that dictated his opponent's intentions. His footwork was careful, practiced, and almost coyly quiet, cross-stepping with the grace of a cat.

There was a thrill to sparring and an adrenaline high from fighting a real opponent that Braze relished, like an opiate. He thrived on this rush, craving the unpredictability of combat.

He wanted Drane to attack first; being reactionary worked better for him. Braze sought the advantageous position of his blade, cautious of Drane's second saber. Well aware of potential disarms, he used this awareness to spur his own actions, circling his blade in an attempt to disarm Drane of one saber.

With a calculated gaze, Braze's chalcedony teal lightsaber hummed through the air, ready to test Drane's resolve. The anticipation of the impending clash only fueled his excitement, making every movement sharp and precise.

"You are the sith, are you not? " He countered verbally, perhaps hinting that he was an agressor of the twoof them. It came accompannying a swift motion, countering physically with a moulinet attack.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Now there was a maneuver. First, Braze countered the attack to his shoulder with a movement intended to defend against it as much as disarm the weapon of his opponent. However, beautifully brazen as he was, Drane withdrew his saber from the connection before the circular motion could slip the hilt from his grip.

“I am that is,” the Thyrsian responded nonchalantly, if with a hint of taunting. During this, as the connection broke between his right saber and his opponent’s, and his opponent performed his little windmill counterattack maneuver with force and momentum, Drane stepped to his left while bringing his right foot backward, offering a slimmer target.

The moulinet was good for its forward aggression but Braze would find no Drane in its path at that moment. Meanwhile, the Thyrsian swung his left saber as he stepped in the same direction, his intention being to separate Braze’s sword-arm in half with a blow to the elbow section.

"And what are you?" Drane would beckon the question with a humored voice, unless interrupted, whether his attack was a success or not. "Besides short for a man behind that scarf and hat and more like a boy."

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

Braze's eyes blazed as he stepped forward, facing Drane's attack and parrying the strike, snapping quick towards a counter. The air was thick with tension, charged with the gravity of this moment as their blades clashed.

Despite his mere fourteen years and half-Echani heritage, Braze's presence exuded the pride and defiance of a full-fledged warrior. His mind and heart echoed with resolve: "I am Braze, an Echani warrior. I am the light that banishes the darkness, the sword that defends the innocent, and the shield that guards against evil."

He stood firm, his presence radiating purpose against the looming challenge that Drane represented. His stance conveyed a silent vow, embodying the virtues of his lineage and the voracious desire to confront the darkness before him.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Attack parried, Drane did not swing both blades at the same time, which left his other weapon free to intercept his opponent’s strike the next moment. Perhaps the Sith was holding back, knowing his foe was younger, less experienced, if more brazen, which did fit his name. Yet they were both brave.

Anyway, whatever the Thyrsian’s real intention, whether he was just testing his adversary or really wanting to kill him after toying with him, words were exchanged. Words were wind. Combatants did have a way of engaging in conversation as much as blades.

“I am Drane, the son of sunlight,” he returned in the same gesture as swinging his left sword downward toward Braze’s right shoulder. “The Black Swordsman.” It was just a feint, however.

Expecting Braze to counter with his blade, Drane’s real attack came with his right sword thrusting to penetrate Braze through his chest the next moment. “I AM THE DARKNESS!”

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

The first attack was parried, and the second strike that came close was locked into a much smaller blade that hummed to life. The blue-purple parrying dagger had a cross guard that caught Drane's sword and twisted it away. It seemed Braze wasn't the only one holding back secrets.

Braze genuinely seemed to be engaging in playful yet risky sword fighting. His movements were fluid and precise, each parry executed with skill. Despite the high stakes, there was a playful glint in his eyes, hinting at his enjoyment of the duel's intricate dance. The intensity of their exchange revealed Braze's hidden prowess, making it clear that he relished the challenge.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Some might have frowned in frustration in that split second, that instant of recognition, as his opponent lifted another weapon as if in a mirror image, just smaller to his own weapon. Instead, Drane grinned, wide-eyed, relishing the surprise movement.

“Impressive!”

He was no less pleased to find that his enemy was evidently enjoying this dance as much as he was. Truly, one could be Jedi or Sith to enjoy it. Generally speaking, it’s just violence was more suited for the Sith. But that was no judgment.

As soon as his right blade was intercepted and twisted away, Drane had already regained control of his left saber after his opponent’s parry to his feint. Therefore, the Thyrsian arced his left sword downward and toward his left to carve across his opponent’s chest.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

Braze was momentarily taken aback by the compliment from his enemy, a Sith and a Thyrsian no less, considering his own Echani heritage. He quickly recovered, sidestepping Drane's strike with a confident grin. "Enjoying yourself, aren't you?" he quipped, his tone light yet focused.

"A bit of an overreaction, don't you think? Kinda hard to miss something you barely know about." He continued, "Your enthusiasm however... is commendable," his voice calm. With a swift, precise maneuver, he aimed a disarming strike at Drane's left wrist, using the principles of Makashi to maintain control and precision.

 

[Drane T'keen]

“As is your finesse,” Drane responded with another compliment. He lived for this. He would die for this. That was the promise and the purpose of the fighting Thyrsian. With his left blade having missed Braze’s chest, the young man having sidestepped, momentum sent Drane's own weapon to his left with its intended direction, leaving his wrist open as a target.

“Perhaps I expected an infant as an opponent.” He maintained his grin, his tone no less composed, mimicking his opponent’s Makashi with his own, both sporting precision. Drane shifted his left foot backward, aligning his right side toward his foe, bringing his left wrist out of the path.

And, if he didn’t manage this, his right blade soared toward Braze’s sword just in case to knock it off course. Once that was accomplished, Drane yet again became a bit of a mirror, quickly curving his right sword toward Braze’s sword-arm to carve it apart around the forearm.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

​

Braze recognized the skill and precision in Drane's movements, realizing that a direct confrontation would be risky. Instead, he decided to focus on maintaining distance and defense, combining the fluidity of Soresu with the precise strikes of Makashi.

With careful footwork, Braze shifted backward, creating space between himself and Drane. The Soresu form allowed him to conserve energy and remain protected, while the Makashi techniques ensured his parries were precise and effective.

As Drane advanced, Braze's defensive maneuvers kept him marginally at bay. He sidestepped and pivoted, always keeping his blade between himself and Drane's attacks. With each step, Braze subtly called upon the Force, reaching out to the door behind him.

Braze knew he needed an opening to escape. He focused on the door, using the Force to try and open it once more. He kept his movements fluid, his blade a blur of defensive strikes and parries, ensuring Drane couldn't land a decisive blow.

"Underestimating your opponent is a dangerous game," Braze said calmly, his eyes never leaving Drane.

Just as the door behind him began to shift, Drane's blade managed to slip past Braze's defenses, grazing his arm. The pain was sharp but not debilitating.

Finally, with a surge of the Force, the door behind him opened. Braze quickly assessed the situation, then made his move. He used a quick burst of speed, enhanced by the Force, to dart toward the open door.

"Until next time,~!" Braze called out, slipping through the doorway and into the corridor beyond. He continued to use the Force to push the door shut behind him, hoping to delay Drane's pursuit. With a minor injury to tend to, Braze focused on making his escape, ready to defend himself if necessary but determined to avoid further confrontation.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Underestimation of his opponents was something that generally never happened. Drane was determined to enter any contest of strength and finesse with taunts as much as the haunting if rewarding reminder that his enemy could better him as often as not. Jedi. Sith. Knight. Padawan. It did not matter in the end. Winning was winning, as life was death.

The door opened. That meant his opponent was holding back in a way of his own. The lad, the young man, given the older gentleman’s assessment, had as many tricks up his sleeve as he did. Rather crafty, actually, to split his focus amid his defensive zone. Soresu. Makeshi. What have you. Results spoke louder than the forms of the Force ever told.

“Most impressive.”

The Sith flourished his weapons. But he didn’t need to grip either hilt with all four fingers and a thumb. His opponent’s hope was in vain because, amid his run, he had to focus on escape or the doorway. It wasn’t easy to do both. For Drane, it was another story. He used the Force to blast the door back open in an instant and darted forth toward his prey. It was no slow march.

“Oh, I have time!” The Thyrsian promised. “Though, look, I only want the book. Give it to me,” he called across the corridor. “And you can go free.” Seriousness, not sarcasm, in his voice. Drane would rather face this boy, not as a Padawan, but as a Knight, as a man, for that would be a challenge for the ages given this engagement.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

The book had been reduced to cinders as the old, dry pages caught flame with relative ease. Braze left the burning book behind, its fate sealed in the inferno. He laughed as he heard the doors blast open behind him while he ran. "Then you'd better find some water quick!" he taunted, leaving the man and the burning book in his wake. Even if it had been something he'd obsessively sought after, the sacrifice was worth it. He had learned about Stormforged Wrath from the little the jedi had on it but he would expand on his knowledge through practice. There was a gleeful tone in his cheery voice as he fled the scene. Until next time, perhaps.​

 

[Drane T'keen]

Only one thing could make Drane T'keen stop dead in his tracks. It was not da man. It was a book. Rather, a burnt book. It didn't matter how much water he might use to douse these sorry flames. Putting out the fire would just reduce it to ruin anyway due to the rain. Damn. That. Man. Boy. Lad. Whoever and whatever. He would pay.

Drane decided to waste no more time and continue his chase, going back the same way he came in. Only, when he got to the entrance that led to the surface, he found that it was shut. Blast! He did exactly that. A Force blast forward would surely do the trick. Only, when he cast his hand, the blast actually knocked him back down the staircase and he landed on his back.

The door didn't even open at that.

"I'm going to kill him." The Sith promised as he looked up at the ceiling and pulled a dead rat from underneath his back. "I'm going to kill that boy." He threw the rat at the door. It had no effect. "I'm going to kill that boy until he is dead."

[END THREAD]