Ranger Badaash recognized the surprise attack too late to heft his shield in his comrade’s defense. Thankfully, the Master Jedi was no slouch when it came to unique tactics. With detached indifference, Kenobi batted the first blast bolt harmless into the ground, his blade arching up across his right shoulder to deflect two subsequent shots up toward the clouds above. As his defense measures naturally brought his gaze up and ahead, the aged warrior quickly registered Kyr’s tactical position, but furrowed his brow at the Sovereign’s apparent lack of weaponry. Kenobi knew Karn’s prowess with a blade all too well: if he did not draw his sword from the start, something had to be amiss.
Whether this would be a repeat of Nal Hutta remained to be seen. Nodding curtly at Varn, the Jedi Master broke off into a sprint. Summoning the Force to his beleaguered legs, Kenobi leapt high into the air and began to free fall toward the Zabrak’s rooftop perch. This child of Iridonia would not be intimidated by such feats however. He had fought many a Force user before, and though his mind remained half-caught in a haze, his muscles required no further intel. Rolling up onto one knee, Null narrowed luminous eyes at the airborne Jedi and sent another two volleys his way, aiming carefully at his right shin and left shoulder to draw the golden blade to Kenobi’s outer guard.
The ploy worked beautifully. The Jedi’s weapon arced out from his torso, leaving his core all but exposed as he landed awkwardly on the upper parapet. Grinning at the fruits of his patience, Kyr’amur depressed the trigger of his crude weapon and sent a fresh blast at the older mystic from point blank. Kenobi’s gaze was quickly overcome with panic, and in the fraction of a second it took the red plasma to pulse toward him, he just barely turned his body to evade the cunning maneuver. Growling in pain, the cruel discharge did not strike the Jedi directly, burned through the front of his tunic and seared the flesh at the base of his stomach.
Though he had avoided an all-but-lethal wound, the Jedi now had a problem on his hands. His quick evasion had cost precious footwork. He was falling, and he knew it. Though he would land roughly on the synthplaster awning on which the Zabrak stood, it would prove another perilous opening. Grimacing as he looked up at attacker, Kenobi drew the Force to himself once again, drawing an open hand back for a precious second before thrusting it forward a mere foot and a half from the hulking Imperial. With a cry of anguish, Commander Null found it was now his time to fly. Deftly knocked off his feet, the trained warrior rocketed up and back through the air before thudding painfully onto the upper roof of the squat building.
Groaning with anger at his momentary undoing, the Zabrak wasted no time in rolling behind a sizable communications dish and temporarily from view. Slowly righting himself after their initial exchange, Master Kenobi slowly stood up and carefully walked up onto the slick tile that covered the homestead. Though he kept his lightsaber extended outward to parry any incoming attacks, the veteran of many duels was not wholly prepared for what came next. Fighting to parse out rain and howling winds from his field of vision, the Jedi was too late to react as the barrel of an E-11 rifle crunched painfully onto his right wrist. Whether bone was sullied was yet to be seen. But as the Jedi’s chosen weapon clattered pitifully off to the side, he could only gasp as the Zabrak brought the butt of his blaster smashing into the base of the human’s beard.
Back on the ground, Varn eyed the outspoken Echani curiously while Silas returned his gaze with overpowering disgust. The Sovereign felt that this would be a waste of time, and though he’d rather cross swords with the Jedi, the circumstances demanded he dealt with this lower life form. With a goading sweep of his hand, the cloaked warrior bid the Dashade to engage: a request that the ranger happily obliged. As his battle cry was lost amidst none-too-distant thunder, Varn charged forward with his shield held firmly against his chitinous chest. All the same, the scion of House Karn had no intention of making the advance an easy one.
Extending a gloved hand, the High Priest sent three threads of lightning crackling toward the ranger. Varn’s dark eyes widened in light of the unnatural assault, and was only barely able to angle his shield to each time to repel an otherwise grizzly fate. Likewise, the intense, unnatural force of each concussive strike cost the Dashade greatly in terms of stamina by the time he came in arms-length of the Echani. As Ranger Badaash moved to swing his shield into the pale assailant’s torso, the Lord of the Sith smiled with wicked intent and caught the top of the reinforced plating with both hands. Growling and hissing as his muscles reached equilibrium with a presently fatigued Varn, Silas worked to channel the Dark Side into his arms and chest before forcing the pointed base of the shield down onto the Dashade’s foot.
Howling in pain as layered durasteel crushed down onto his robust toes, Varn was in no position to block or evade as the dastardly Darth jabbed his left stungaunt straight into the middle of the Ranger’s chest. Crying out once more, the imposing companion to the Jedi Master quickly found himself on the backfoot as Silas sought to weather his guard further. A dance unto itself, the Echani warlord’s motions were swift and precise, a flurry of blows and kicks spinning inward and striking at Varn’s sole defensive respite like a murderous gyro. It was only the pained cry of Kyr’amur Null that presented enough of a distraction for the battlemaster to offer Badaash a moment’s reprieve. Taking advantage of those precious seconds, the Ranger reconstituted his battle stance, and extended a single stun gauntlet out past his shield like a spear of hoplites long past.
Stepping forth on the offensive, the Dashade recalled his strength and began to lance and prod at the nimble Echani with calculated technique, spading and intercepting would-be-attacks whilst working to strike low and unbalance his foe. And yet, where Varn had sturdy alloys to support his defense, Silas had a lifetime of rigorous training. Snorting at the Ranger’s pitiful attempts to gain ground, the Priest made ample use of his martial arts to block or redirect the bulbous hand of his opponent, weaving back from side to side at times to step out of range entirely. Badaash was hard-pressed for an advantage, and he knew it. A feint was required, but not one that a tried and tested warrior like the Sovereign would expect.
Offering a duo of safer, less-committed attempts to hit the Echani in the arm, an answer eventually alighted in the Dashade’s mind. Grimacing at the task that lay ahead, the intrepid ranger sprinted toward his opponent, and held his shield off to the side in a bid for a further-reaching lunge. The act itself exposed his neck and shoulders to greater abuse, and the combat-wired mind of Silas Karn wasn’t about to waste such an opportunity to finish this beast and move on to the greater prize. Caught up in a wave of violent enthusiasm, the High Priest launched both hands forward with intent to throttle and electrocute the Dashade’s beefy neck. However, as the exiled lord executed his attack, he found naught but empty air. Shooting both feet forward, Varn landed a drop kick in the dead center of Silas’s torso. Hollering with surprise, the Echani hurtled back through the rain before colliding through the door of a wooden shack. A sickening splash followed as the assassin finally hit the ground. To his greater rage and dismay, the Sith found this was no mere shed, but a freshly-used outhouse!
Back on the roof, the revitalized Kyr’amur Null was seeing better success. Having disarmed the Jedi Master and imparted him with a catching blow on the chin, the imposing Zabrak loomed over a dazed Kenobi and scowled as he leveled the barrel of his rifle at the nomad’s chest. Ben Kenobi was swift, and with the Force, swifter still. Alas, in rolling to avoid an otherwise life-ending blast, his left shoulder became instantly flash-fried as the glancing shot managed to hit some fraction of its mark. A lesser man would have cried out from the searing pain. But one did not claim the mantle of Master so lightly.
Calling on the Light Side to diffuse the agony of the wound, the wandering warrior narrowed his eyes in concentration. With a harsh exhale, the Jedi threw his left leg up with blinding speed and rammed the point of his boot into the Imperial’s waist. It was not enough to down the primal titan, but it did buy Old Ben enough time to spin onto his elbows. Indeed, it was the mischievous right foot that hooked round the temporarily-bewildered Commander’s shin and pulled his stance out of order. And just like that, both men were on the ground. Ben stood first, and threw all of his concentration into summoning his weapon back to his side.
As the pommel of his newer lightsaber connected reassuringly into the palm of his hand, Kenobi was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the wind was succinctly knocked from his lungs. Commander Null was no wild beast, but in the heat of the moment the subconscious reflexes of his cruder ancestors often appeared without intention. With a feral charge stoked by adrenaline, the Zabrak rammed head-first into the older human’s midsection, the chitinous tips of his horns rapidly rending flesh and lancing viciously into an unlucky kidney. Unfortunately for both men, the lack of foresight on the Imperial’s part saw the duo roll forward straight off the roof before detonating roughly against a frigid puddle in the muddy road below.
Concurrently, a cry of rage and the complete annihilation of one worn wooden stall told Ranger Badaash that his fight was only beginning. The murderous Sovereign strode out of his unsavory landing sight with eyes ablaze. Igniting his violet blade, he took up his weapon in both hands and drew it parallel to his left shoulder as proper stance would demand. Of the myriad lightsaber forms, Silas found Form V to be garish and less elegant than his normal preference. But this dogged mutt had insulted him one too many times, and Silas meant to illustrate just how dramatic the divide in their respective strengths were.
Sallying forth without a word, the High Priest stormed brusquely toward the Dashade, and while Varn had ample time to raise his shield, he was not prepared for the inhumane strength that came crashing down on his sole means of defense like a mountainous tide. Like a lumberman hewing the strongest bluewood, the Hand of the Dark Lord chopped away at the Ranger’s laughable protection, with molten gashes bubbling to life across its surface with each successive swing. Though the behemoth of a lifeform was growing obviously weary, the wayward lord frowned at his lack of progressive. Channeling his frustration throughout his body, the Sith jumped up with a height rivaling Kenobi’s previous feat, and brought a slice of purple plasma hammering down onto Varn’s shield.
Like before, Badaash was able to block the brunt of the attack, though only through sheer force of will. Much to his dismay, the dreaded slaver grabbed onto the top of the barrier with his free hand and locked the soles of his feet against the lower rim. Smiling with devious enthusiasm, the Echani reversed his grip and sent his lightsaber puncturing down through the center of the shield. Varn howled in agony and threw off his now-sundered instrument, pawing feverishly at his left breast and the fresh burn mark that sizzled a good inch-deep. And yet, the Disgraced Regent would offer no quarter. As the Sovereign drew forth to take the Dashade’s head for his master’s collection, it was all Varn could do to lift a gauntlet-clad hand in his defense. And though the gesture spared his robust neck, Ranger Badaash nearly doubled-over in shock as the Dark Sider cleaved the index claw from his right hand.
At that very moment, the Dashade’s fate would be sealed- though not as the Sith assumed. In a blur of brilliant white light, an airborne saber zoomed out from left field and robbed the Echani of his left forearm just below the elbow. Ben had arrived just in the nick of time! Growling at yet another inconvenience, Silas sneered at his order’s hated foe, and allowed his smaller but no less potent shoto to hover up beside him before it activated seemingly of its own volition. Jetting to the side to meet his preferred opponent, the Sovereign assumed a more natural duelist’s stance. Thrust after thrust, the Lord of the Sith worked to drive his thorn of an opponent back, and bit by bit Ben had no choice but to give ground owing to his injuries.
This issue was only magnified by the repeated telekinetic assault of flying shoto, which darted in and out of Kenobi’s guard with needlelike precision. The Former Lord of Eshan would not stoop so low as to stab a man in the back- but no one said he had to follow every convention of etiquette. Despite his impeccable defenses, it was clear the Jedi was losing, and would be dispatched if he did not open up other avenues for counterattack. Gritting his teeth, the rain-soaked mystic allowed a near miss to blaze dangerous close to his cheek. In that same instant Ben channeled his connection to the Physical Force and shot a hand down toward the slurry of muck and weeds.
A veritable quake of mud and rainwater gushed out between the two men. Kenobi, as the architect of this unnatural disaster, was able to just barely stick the landing. Silas was less fortunate, and sent skidding along the road as nature sullied his robes in full. Snapping up and panting with fatigue, the wayward lord suddenly came to a standstill. Expelling heated breaths from his nostrils, the Echani snapped a hand to the sky as thunder boomed overhead. This time, in a much closer proximity. Jedi and Ranger proceeded to watch in horrified awe as the Sith Sorcerer called a virulent bolt of lightning down from the heavens themselves, his entire frame crackling and glowing with overwhelming energy as he leveled his hand toward his foes. With a flick of the wrist, the full force of the writhing storm barreled toward the duo in a bliding column of orange light.
Jedi Kenobi howled with duress as he attempted to catch the blast with his hands, the skin on his fingertips blackening within moments as the tips of his nails liquified. He wanted to quit, deep down. Wanted so desperately, however brief, to succumb to the void and the oblivion mere inches from his face. But though all had such doubts, the Light Side appeared to douse the Master’s anguish, and becoming its vessel, Ben threw his arms open wide and repulsed the vortex of electricity.
Silas hissed with annoyance as the vaporizing beam, though weakened, zig-zagged back his way. What happened next however, he did not expect. “Lord Silas!”, the cry of Kyr’amur Null boomed through the stormy din. Before either party could react, the Zabrak threw himself into the path of the errant bolt, hollering loudly enough to burst eardrums as the blast boomed and erupted in the middle of his chest. Overcome with emotion, Silas extended a manic hand to pull his wounded comrade to safety. But in that instant, his droid companion, only now within firing range, sent a series of crude bolts into a nearby generator. The explosion and subsequent shockwave sent Ben, Varn, and the comatose Kyr’amur back several yards, while the Sovereign was launched toward his escape route.
As he ground and sat up, he observed a wall of flame and debris blocking his way. His prize- more than that, his trusted ally, had been literally thrown out of his reach…
Victorious
Ben Kenobi and Varn Badaash
20 EXP
Defeated
Silas Karn and Kyr’amur Null
5 EXP
