Hunting the Rancor (Jade)

[Kyramur Null]

Kyr nodded to her, then drew his knife and began to work, carving out a few sizeable chunks of meat for cooking and preparing.

"That was good. You are very...impressive." He said-it had been some time since he'd been so impressed by someone, so...intrigued.

He observed her as he worked-lithe, slim, but powerful, and giving off an aura of danger.

"Who taught you this?" He asked, by way of making conversation.

[Jade Rancorfang]

-Of course I'm the greatest hunter, what did you think?- said Jade, bowing.- But don't be silly, you don't eat rancor meat. You just don't. Would you eat wolf or wildcat? No, it's bad luck. There's something wrong about eating a fellow hunter. Trophies are fine, though.

Sitting on the ground and starting to care her blades again, the dathomiri sighed. Another hunt that ends victoriously. I wonder if some beast will end the show one of these days. I guess it's yet another fang for the collar, uh? The smell of blood in the air and the ache in her muscles reminded her of long past days, of hunts and trials. Blood and sweat and pain and victory, truly the smell of home. It had been a while since the last time she visited the tomb, maybe it was time to pay her respect to the dead...

-Uh? Oh, you know I'm dathomiri, right? I was being trained to be a Nightsister. Hunting rancors is just something we do. Or did. Not much of an "us" to talk about, nowadays. How did you think I earned my surname? We are not into inherited surnames. Having a title means nothing if you don't earn it, am I right?

All the talking about the past had made her homesick. The memories of her training came to her, fresh as always. Too much was lost. No clan, no family, nowhere to come back. Inwardly cursing, she approached the dead beast to harvest the hard earned trophy, the change in mood visible in her stance.

[Kyramur Null]

Kyr shrugged. "I've eaten many things as needed. I once had to hide in a jungle for two months after escaping a slaver group."

"And I know something about growing up hunting. Before Zabrak on Iridonia learn to walk, we start learning to kill. But...my people don't care much for formal titles. They believe a name is enough, that your name alone should bring fear to your enemies."

He looked over the kill.

"Though we don't have anything quite this large...although my mother would give Rancors a run for their money in terms of fierceness." He added. "Do you stay in touch with family?"

[Jade Rancorfang]

Under the alien stars, Jade felt the eyes of her ancestors watch her while she honored her prey. The traditions were clear, all fallen foes were to be respected. Taking the most recently sharpened knife on her collection, she approached the fallen titan. Then, his statement hit her and everything went red. Steel flied in his direction, the dathomiri uncaring of his safety. The scent of the hunt was soon eclipsed by the smell of fresh blood.

-You think it's funny?! You thought I'd laugh at that, brute?!- she was furious, libid-You think that just because I tolerate the Empire I'll laugh at jokes about the systematic murder of my people? Uh? Why did you think I'd laugh at my family being space debris?!

Gasping in search for air, wide eyed and red faced, she looked at the Zabrak, waiting, daring him to respond.

[Kyramur Null]

Kyr narrowed his eyes, then realized what he had said.

Keeping one hand on his blade in case of need, he bowed slightly.

"I apologize. I had forgotten to whom I was speaking. That event took place long before I joined the Empire."

He weighed his knife in his hand. "If you feel my apology is unsatisfactory, you may attempt to take satisfaction in blood. But I warn you-as difficult as the Rancor was, I am far worse."

In his statement, there was no boasting or false arrogance, not even pride-it was a statement of fact.

His eyes blazed as his blade shone, his stance still, waiting for her response.

[Jade Rancorfang]

Rage and confusion danced together in her head. His words were vaguely insulting, yet she couldn't make sense of his train of thought. Did he really think that was an appropiate way of apologizing? Her anger made thinking hard, every breath polluting the air with more red mist, until the whole world was tainted with blood. She could almost hear her people screaming for satisfaction after his affront.

The ambient felt oppresive, the air heavy. She could see his disregard for her fighting skills in his casual posture, in his almost obvious sneer. Feeling her pulse drumming in her temples, the huntress breathed once more, preparing to answer. Then, a subtle shift in his posture made something inside her go on full alert, the reflexes of a life in the most unwelcoming parts of the galaxy kicking in and taking control.

Moving swiftly, the dathomiri stepped back, tenseing her bow and released an arrow, surprised. When had she grabbed the shaft?
The mist thickened, and she got lost in the drums.

[Kyramur Null]

The reaction was instinctive as he turned just enough to let the arrow fly by his face.

His body at once reverted back to fighting stance-his pupils dilated and his veins throbbed as adrenaline shot through them, his twin hearts cycling blood through his muscles, and into his brain.

He had a bow, but had seen enough to know he probably couldn't match her at range with that weapon, so he thrust it aside, closing the distance, stopping just short-he was close enough that, if she moved to draw and fire again, he'd be able to dart in and gut her before she could, but not so close that he was within range of her knives.

Close quarters it would be.

He drew his machete and held it out wide, an open invitation to strike at his middle, while his other hand rested open, ready to grab at an offered limb, or slam with bone-crunching force into a jaw or a rib.

His stance was spread like a wrestler, a disarming maneuver meant to draw the enemy into a trap of fists and bloody steel.

But his face was relaxed and calm, sharp teeth spread in a broad grin.

This was where he lived, where he belonged-in bloody battle.

"Attack if you dare."

[Jade Rancorfang]

She was trapped in the rythm, dancing like a puppet in a deadly stage. The compass of her heart lead the symphony, her steps a deep counterpart to the hissing of the edges. Forward, drop the bow and lunge to the center of mass, the blade in her hand since the end of time. Did it make sense? She didn't care, for the world was warping and the exit lied behind her foe.
The song was crushed by the low tones of his grip, but quickly caught up again when she lashed at his eyes. The irritant dust a handy surprise. His gasp only made it worse, getting it on his nose and mouth.
It didn't matter, his coughs a part of the dirge. The smart thing would be to fall back, said a voice in the back of her head. But she wouldn't take it. The rain doesn't fear the torch, as the saying goes. And she was a drop falling from the sky.
The only way was forward.

[Kyramur Null]

Growling, Kyr retreated, barely registering as the knife missed impaling his chest.

For most people, there are few options when blinded. You need to see to use your arms or legs, or at least have a general sense of where the enemy is.

Most unfortunately for Jade, Kyr'amur was not "most people." He was a Zabrak, marking him with at least one clear difference-

He had horns.

Kyr had a vague idea of where she was, but instead of punching or flailing out, he lowered his head, his bone-bleached horns gleaming in the sun, and charged, roaring his challenge as he did so.

[Jade Rancorfang]

The mist was cleared instantly when something hit her in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. Her knife nowhere to be seen, Jade found herself impaled by the small horns of the Zabrak and feeling something crack inside her. Desperate to win some time, she did what first came to mind and locked her arms around his neck, stangling him with all her forces.

His roar became louder and he flailed around trying to throw her off. Seeing that his prodigious strength could very well end her right there, she changed tactics. Her legs wrapped around his neck and she grabbed his wrist, using her pelvis to apply pressure on his elbow, effectively locking his arm. In theory this would end the fight...