Rugs likes this
Post by DreadPirateMike on Mar 28, 2015 15:50:00 GMT -5
For all his savagery and invective, the Sith was no simple brute, even in his utmost desperation. The switch from shoto to blaster had proven a successful tactic, doubtless; despite its apparent and unsurprising uselessness at the outset of this bout, this basic staple of every ordinary Republic infantryman had at last truly broken his fearsome enemy's guard where all his nearly thirty years of Jedi training had struggled to merely chip away at it. Even so, justifying the soldier's faith in said weapon had also left his own defenses more than a little dented when Nieraan yet again proved his seemingly bottomless capacity for stubborness. He got his foil in the way of the sudden lightning storm in time, but he had nothing left to stop the lightsaber. If he were just a bit closer, he could forget the sword and focus on intercepting the arm holding it. But Nieraan had executed this pincer well; just maintaining a defense against the lightning was no small task to begin with, not with that kind of power thrown into it. Jaidan could move, yes, forward or back, but neither with the speed it would require to save him.
His salvation lay not in pushing doggedly past these limits as his opponent might try, for in all honesty, he had to admit he doubted he could muster the same levels of defiance as seemingly lay at this man's core. Nor could he rely on the good graces of the Force if he could not save himself. Instead, as so often, he looked to...well, math.
At one time, hardly his best subject. Until the day a random doodle had suddenly given him a whole lot more motivation to apply himself. That doodle, the circle and its radius, had begun at a desk, and that was where Jaidan's unique variant of Makashi had been raised from infancy. Some days, it was still practised there, though more commonly, after all these years of practice, in his head as well as on the physical training grounds. There, countless hypothetical fights had been broken down into their individual movements, and from there, still further, into their measurable angles. The enemy stands just here, and his blade comes in just so. Where must your own blade AND body move in response, so as to grant you the advantage?
And that was why Nieraan was wrong about him. Because paradoxically, it was at times like this, faced with deadly weapon and deadly intent, that he was at his most savage, but ALSO his most serenely Jedi-like. A duel was thrilling, yes, but simple. He could forget the blade or blaster bolt and what it represented entirely, and see just one geometric proof after another. Thus was his composure reinforced to make panic the unlikeliest of prospects, even now. One of these days, perhaps, he'd come upon that one proof he could not solve in time. But not today.
Not forward or back, then. Around. Keeping his foil in place at first and using that as his pivot point, Jaidan stepped back with his off foot, and rapidly spun into a full circle that not only evaded the savage saber stroke, but allowed him to flow around the lightning storm rather than struggle against it. At the beginning of the fight, granted, such a maneuver's success would have been unlikely, but luckily for him, Nieraan had opted for power over maintained balance by throwing all he had left behind his sword. And with his attacker already struggling heroically against biology to even stand, Jaidan was at last the faster, and at the conclusion of his spin, his off hand came around, the butt of his blaster pistol hammering unforgivingly into the base of the Firrereo's skull. Against virtually any other man, after all he'd endured already, the Weapon Master might imagine that enough. But he'd made the mistake of underestimating his opponent more than enough already. Dropping low, a sweeping kick knocked the legs out from under the man, and a moment later, the tip of an emerald lightfoil resting barely an inch above Nieraan's forehead meant Jaidan was THEN satisfied it was over.
And yet, he held back from the killing blow, for not everything sat quite right with him. Perhaps the Sith warrior didn't have the complete understanding of his character, but that didn't mean he didn't have a point. Even if they weren't entirely the same, it was both irresponsible and ridiculous to claim that they did not BOTH share responsibility for this violence. Both sides had come in prepared for a fight, just as both men had taken more than their share of lives already. That only one of them relished it was a doubtful comfort to anyone. And if Nieraan had grown up outside the temple, then perhaps that was the Jedi Order in their entirety to him. Drones, who not only forbade all passion, but would cut down those who defied them without even the courtesy of CARING.
Jaidan HAD taken his read of this man, and behind all the anger, he thought he could yet detect some spark of...was decency the right word? It was hard to say, but perhaps something of the boy he'd been before yet lingered. Which meant there was hope, though whether it would ever be realized was not Jaidan's to say. So, as the only (However loosely qualified.) representative of the Jedi and their principles, he had to ask himself. Whatever Nieraan Onin thought of his enemy, had he been given any reason here to think differently?
Could he really ask that the Sith reconsider anything if he didn't make some concession as well?
"A killer." he repeated aloud after a moment, and a moment after that, a silent nod followed. "I'll grant you that. But from time to time, I CAN alter my own course. It may be wise to question a few more of these 'obvious truths'."
The Jedi's meaning would immediately become clear, as the killing stroke was cancelled, the blade deactivated and the foil withdrawn. Force willing, these words would merit some thought. But not now.
Even as the exotic weapon withdrew, the blaster came up once more, and a third stun pulse was fired at point blank range. Ordinarily, using the weapon in such a fashion would be unthinkable to its owner; against most humanoids, even the stun setting often tended to do a lot more than stun at so close a range. But Jaidan had little doubt the Sith would survive it, not that he didn't take the man's pulse to confirm it. Even so assured, however, and even after his weapons were returned to their holsters, he did not rise from the sands immediately. He instead closed his eyes, directed his focus toward the unmoving enemy before him, and concentrated.
Jaidan's telepathy compared against Jedi standards much as his other powers did. Adequate, but unremarkable, suitable for defense against most attacks of that sort but not something he usually employed offensively against any but the most simple-minded thug. At least, that was the case when the target in question was CONSCIOUS, and able to actively fight his attempts at infiltrating the mind. With those usual barriers down, and possessed of time to properly focus, his reach was extended. Moderately, at least. Even were he inclined to attempt to leave behind some sort of mental compulsion, it would almost certainly be shaken off in short order. Instead, he simply focused on putting a bit of fog in place, a further barrier to returned consciousness that would buy Jaidan time to accomplish his original errand here without interruption. And in that fog, he imbedded a brief parting message.
Your rage did not keep you alive. So, I ask. Does it truly serve you?
In all honesty, Jaidan was not terribly optimistic that anything would come of this...anything beneficial, anyway. At first, the message would probably just piss him off. Afterward...who knew? In all likelihood, he would come to regret leaving a man this dangerous alive. But nor could he deny, whether it was Jaidan Shatani or the all-knowing Force at work, that in spite of his earlier determination to the contrary, this was the right course of action to take. He'd not presume to speculate where Onin's path might lead, any more than he could claim to know that for himself, but either way, the decision was made, and the journey would continue.
As would Jaidan's own. Removing the datacore from its somewhat battered housing proved slightly more difficult than he'd first thought, and this time his lightfoil was of no help, but even so, five minutes later the device was safely stowed in his Interceptor's small cargo hatch, and the loud hum of thrusters powering back to life meant it was time for both ship and pilot to bid this lovely planet farewell. For now, anyway. Some day, in better times, he resolved to visit this place again. He could not shake the feeling, and he cast one look back down at the beach and the rapidly shrinking still form lying upon it, that events here would be visiting HIM again at some point. Shaking off such (For the moment.) irrelevant thoughts, he opened a secure channel to any Republic ship in range.
"All points, this is Shatani. Authentication, Sarlacc. Please confirm."
"Confirmed, General." came the response a short while later, the tone of the comm officer by not well familiar. Strained, as biology demanded when someone was trying to kill you, but controlled, the flight or fight response ably reigned in by training and professionalism. Perhaps he'd not spent too long on the beach after all, then. "Go ahead."
"Pass the word to Commander Tranaka. Mission accomplished. All units are to disengage immediately, and make for the pre-arranged rendezvouz coordinates."
No sooner was the order acknowledged than Jaidan was programming the Pegasus' autopilot. According to the computer, even at best sublight speed, it would be nearly three hours before he met up with the Republic task force. Good. Hollow as the myth of Jedi invincibility was, as dramatically as it had nearly been shattered yet again, its value for troop morale could not be denied, and he had no wish to present himself seeming outwardly as tired and battered as he now felt. And so, he closed his eyes, and allowed the rumble of his engine's acceleration ease him into his healing trance.
His salvation lay not in pushing doggedly past these limits as his opponent might try, for in all honesty, he had to admit he doubted he could muster the same levels of defiance as seemingly lay at this man's core. Nor could he rely on the good graces of the Force if he could not save himself. Instead, as so often, he looked to...well, math.
At one time, hardly his best subject. Until the day a random doodle had suddenly given him a whole lot more motivation to apply himself. That doodle, the circle and its radius, had begun at a desk, and that was where Jaidan's unique variant of Makashi had been raised from infancy. Some days, it was still practised there, though more commonly, after all these years of practice, in his head as well as on the physical training grounds. There, countless hypothetical fights had been broken down into their individual movements, and from there, still further, into their measurable angles. The enemy stands just here, and his blade comes in just so. Where must your own blade AND body move in response, so as to grant you the advantage?
And that was why Nieraan was wrong about him. Because paradoxically, it was at times like this, faced with deadly weapon and deadly intent, that he was at his most savage, but ALSO his most serenely Jedi-like. A duel was thrilling, yes, but simple. He could forget the blade or blaster bolt and what it represented entirely, and see just one geometric proof after another. Thus was his composure reinforced to make panic the unlikeliest of prospects, even now. One of these days, perhaps, he'd come upon that one proof he could not solve in time. But not today.
Not forward or back, then. Around. Keeping his foil in place at first and using that as his pivot point, Jaidan stepped back with his off foot, and rapidly spun into a full circle that not only evaded the savage saber stroke, but allowed him to flow around the lightning storm rather than struggle against it. At the beginning of the fight, granted, such a maneuver's success would have been unlikely, but luckily for him, Nieraan had opted for power over maintained balance by throwing all he had left behind his sword. And with his attacker already struggling heroically against biology to even stand, Jaidan was at last the faster, and at the conclusion of his spin, his off hand came around, the butt of his blaster pistol hammering unforgivingly into the base of the Firrereo's skull. Against virtually any other man, after all he'd endured already, the Weapon Master might imagine that enough. But he'd made the mistake of underestimating his opponent more than enough already. Dropping low, a sweeping kick knocked the legs out from under the man, and a moment later, the tip of an emerald lightfoil resting barely an inch above Nieraan's forehead meant Jaidan was THEN satisfied it was over.
And yet, he held back from the killing blow, for not everything sat quite right with him. Perhaps the Sith warrior didn't have the complete understanding of his character, but that didn't mean he didn't have a point. Even if they weren't entirely the same, it was both irresponsible and ridiculous to claim that they did not BOTH share responsibility for this violence. Both sides had come in prepared for a fight, just as both men had taken more than their share of lives already. That only one of them relished it was a doubtful comfort to anyone. And if Nieraan had grown up outside the temple, then perhaps that was the Jedi Order in their entirety to him. Drones, who not only forbade all passion, but would cut down those who defied them without even the courtesy of CARING.
Jaidan HAD taken his read of this man, and behind all the anger, he thought he could yet detect some spark of...was decency the right word? It was hard to say, but perhaps something of the boy he'd been before yet lingered. Which meant there was hope, though whether it would ever be realized was not Jaidan's to say. So, as the only (However loosely qualified.) representative of the Jedi and their principles, he had to ask himself. Whatever Nieraan Onin thought of his enemy, had he been given any reason here to think differently?
Could he really ask that the Sith reconsider anything if he didn't make some concession as well?
"A killer." he repeated aloud after a moment, and a moment after that, a silent nod followed. "I'll grant you that. But from time to time, I CAN alter my own course. It may be wise to question a few more of these 'obvious truths'."
The Jedi's meaning would immediately become clear, as the killing stroke was cancelled, the blade deactivated and the foil withdrawn. Force willing, these words would merit some thought. But not now.
Even as the exotic weapon withdrew, the blaster came up once more, and a third stun pulse was fired at point blank range. Ordinarily, using the weapon in such a fashion would be unthinkable to its owner; against most humanoids, even the stun setting often tended to do a lot more than stun at so close a range. But Jaidan had little doubt the Sith would survive it, not that he didn't take the man's pulse to confirm it. Even so assured, however, and even after his weapons were returned to their holsters, he did not rise from the sands immediately. He instead closed his eyes, directed his focus toward the unmoving enemy before him, and concentrated.
Jaidan's telepathy compared against Jedi standards much as his other powers did. Adequate, but unremarkable, suitable for defense against most attacks of that sort but not something he usually employed offensively against any but the most simple-minded thug. At least, that was the case when the target in question was CONSCIOUS, and able to actively fight his attempts at infiltrating the mind. With those usual barriers down, and possessed of time to properly focus, his reach was extended. Moderately, at least. Even were he inclined to attempt to leave behind some sort of mental compulsion, it would almost certainly be shaken off in short order. Instead, he simply focused on putting a bit of fog in place, a further barrier to returned consciousness that would buy Jaidan time to accomplish his original errand here without interruption. And in that fog, he imbedded a brief parting message.
Your rage did not keep you alive. So, I ask. Does it truly serve you?
In all honesty, Jaidan was not terribly optimistic that anything would come of this...anything beneficial, anyway. At first, the message would probably just piss him off. Afterward...who knew? In all likelihood, he would come to regret leaving a man this dangerous alive. But nor could he deny, whether it was Jaidan Shatani or the all-knowing Force at work, that in spite of his earlier determination to the contrary, this was the right course of action to take. He'd not presume to speculate where Onin's path might lead, any more than he could claim to know that for himself, but either way, the decision was made, and the journey would continue.
As would Jaidan's own. Removing the datacore from its somewhat battered housing proved slightly more difficult than he'd first thought, and this time his lightfoil was of no help, but even so, five minutes later the device was safely stowed in his Interceptor's small cargo hatch, and the loud hum of thrusters powering back to life meant it was time for both ship and pilot to bid this lovely planet farewell. For now, anyway. Some day, in better times, he resolved to visit this place again. He could not shake the feeling, and he cast one look back down at the beach and the rapidly shrinking still form lying upon it, that events here would be visiting HIM again at some point. Shaking off such (For the moment.) irrelevant thoughts, he opened a secure channel to any Republic ship in range.
"All points, this is Shatani. Authentication, Sarlacc. Please confirm."
"Confirmed, General." came the response a short while later, the tone of the comm officer by not well familiar. Strained, as biology demanded when someone was trying to kill you, but controlled, the flight or fight response ably reigned in by training and professionalism. Perhaps he'd not spent too long on the beach after all, then. "Go ahead."
"Pass the word to Commander Tranaka. Mission accomplished. All units are to disengage immediately, and make for the pre-arranged rendezvouz coordinates."
No sooner was the order acknowledged than Jaidan was programming the Pegasus' autopilot. According to the computer, even at best sublight speed, it would be nearly three hours before he met up with the Republic task force. Good. Hollow as the myth of Jedi invincibility was, as dramatically as it had nearly been shattered yet again, its value for troop morale could not be denied, and he had no wish to present himself seeming outwardly as tired and battered as he now felt. And so, he closed his eyes, and allowed the rumble of his engine's acceleration ease him into his healing trance.