The Battle of Jericho, Part I
Posted on Fri Mar 2nd, 2018 @ 12:05am by Zrad Rezer† & Nala Sao & Bomoor Thort & Sev Rezer & Mentis
1,852 words; about a 9 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Throne Room, Jericho
Timeline: Immediately after "Trouble", concurrent with "Another Way Forward"
OLD
It was only Sev suddenly raising his voice, shrugging at Zrad's words, that halted the Exiles from leaping upon their quarry. "That, cousin, is the first thing we agree on. But first, family business. You're not fit to be a warparty's leader. I watched the way you behave, and you lost your honor, your sense of duty with your own."
Even through his bloodied visor, the broadening of his shoulders and his tightening grip gave away the truth of Zrad's hateful stare, just as Sev finally let slip the mask he had practised so perfectly with the Dromachean woman and bared his teeth for the elder Rezer. There he was, much like the ancient mythosaur, at last challenging his hated elder.
"I challenge you."
NEW
A bare few seconds passed from Sev uttering the words and the world crashing down about the two Rezers.
With the immediate shock losing its lustre and the rage from Zrad's unceremonious murder of the Cartel translator, both the Mandalorian Exiles and the Hutt soldiers had fallen upon one another. Blade licked at flesh as axe crashed away at bone. Plasma and laser burnt away skin and lightsabers sliced cleanly through limbs. Screams and the scent of blood filled the air of Jericho's throne room, whilst Sev and Zrad remained poised, staring plainly at one another, two hulking masses of Mandalorian refusing to balk before the other.
"At last," Zrad seethed, bringing the Rezer beskad about to point it at his cousin's glinting artificial eye, "the little cousin hu'tuun shows his true face. Lying to your kin something you learnt murdering for the slugs?" He twisted the blade in the air, his manner as if the cries of agony and cacophony of violence were nothing to him. "I should have saved you the dar'ijaat back on Manda'yaim. Vanar Rezer and our Crusader bui'tsad would be shamed by you. Dar'ma-"
The Exile alor halted as his helmet lit up from an ethereal magenta glow behind Sev. Within the calamity of the three-way struggle, the Nautolan dar'jetii had the slender fingers of her left her splayed, and odd, wispy arcs of translucent light were arching forward, the tendrils sinking into the orifices of one of Zrad's lowliest would-be Mandalorians.
Looking up as she noticed Zrad spying her draining the man's essence from his body, the pale green alien exposed her teeth in a cruel, seductive grin at him, the truth that the Force was now returned to his 'guests' plain to all.
Another low growl rumbled from within Zrad's barrel chest as the Nautolan dropped the desiccated corpse of his man, and Zrad turned and swung his blade around hard and down at his cousin, that growl erupting into a roar as he did so. Sev was quick, nimbly spiralling out of the arc of the older man as chips of metal scattered from the beskad's impact. "You did this!" He shouted at his kin, advancing on him. Despite his age and size, he moved as quickly as Sev as he thrust his blade once more at the other man, determined to keep him on the defensive. "You and that noble bitch?" He pushed, still swinging and missing. "And the Jedi?!" He roared, actually using the Basic word for his presumably-former prisoners. "Oritsir!"
"You disgraced yourself and I'm here to restore the Rezer name. You betrayed yourself when you forgot the reason we're mando." Sev brought his own blade up. "Now it's time for reckoning." He raised his weapon high, and bellowed an old Mandalorian battle cry that had no translation. Their blades impacted on each other, sparks exploding everywhere. "Do you remember what I said to you ten years ago, Zrad? 'Honor or death?' Meet death!"
Then there was no else but them, their blades and fury.
Nala could not help but chuckle to herself as she felt the raw life of her felled victim course through every fibre of her being, rejuvenating and energising her. Her teeth clenched in the excitement, hormones rushing and power flowing. It had been one thing to touch the Force again, but quite enough to feed off of the essence of another once more - all that had been lost by the ysalamiri's disturbance had been brushed away, and once more she stood there before them all, resplendent.
To her side, the ever-loyal Mentis had been her stalwart defender as she restored herself. As he cleaved one over-eager Bothan goon, Nala placed a delicate hand upon his shoulder. "We must find the shard!" He hissed, some of her stolen power spreading into her fellow cultist.
Seeing the two darksiders so close to one another, their brilliant red-hued lightsabers humming at their side and crackling with each swing and parry, had apparently served as a lightning rod for the Cartel and Exiles alike, as a pair of Twi'leks tattooed with Grogga's symbol on their foreheads advanced towards them with several menacing blades darting about their hands.
"Oh my," Nala said with some venomous humour, her blade swishing into a ready Makashi pose, "they are delicious."
Riding on his returning Force energy and the rejuvenating life essence Nala had poured into him, Mentis turned the other way, looking for threats from behind their group. His gaze rising upwards, he saw a pair of Zrad's snipers standing close together on the upper railings and poised to fire in their direction. Unable to deflect both blaster bolts at the same time, Mentis arced his crimson blade back, the Force allowing him to effortlessly calculate the angle before he sent it flying forward. Becoming a disk of red light, the weapon shot towards its target, striking right between the men, cutting expertly into flesh and metal so that the hilt did not make contact. The men slumped down as the platform sagged and collapsed, while the lightsaber completed its wide loop and returned towards the Ratattaki cultist.
The attack was perfect and Mentis grinned, baring his teeth, as he focused to re-capture the blade in an outstretched hand. However, a fraction of a second before it reached him, another hand intercepted. He watched as Trey spun across his field of view, his large form inelegantly performing the Ataru manoeuvre as he received Mentis' weapon. The human landed, his double-bladed saber already engaged and now, in his off-hand, sporting the sharp leather-adorned saber Mentis prized.
"Whoops," he shouted through the din towards Mentis, "Looks like you lost something."
Before Mentis could even process his rage at the humiliation, Trey turned away and made a show of brandishing the new weapon while still supporting the hefty weight of his regular blade in one hand alone. While a testament to the human's strength, it was a clumsy display compared to his usual whirling blows. He threw the three edges around like he was cutting through a dense undergrowth, striking down two of Grogga's men with one heavy blow.
However, he quickly tired of the extra effort required to maintain his display and disengaged the stolen hilt and threw it towards Mentis, "Hmph, mine's better," he mocked, spinning his long blade and feeling more-comfortable immediately, "Don't lose yours again though or big, bad Axion will make you lose much more than that!"
Spinning off again, like a circus acrobat, Mentis went to follow but found himself cut off by another group of Zrad's Exiles. He channelled his anger into his re-acquired blade and, clenching it with both hands, he set upon the Mandalorians with terrifyingly fast strikes in the Vaapad style. He could feel his enemies falling but he saw only red.
At the back of the great, metallic hall, a heavy iron door flew off its hinges and skidded across, landing just behind Zrad's towering throne. Silhouetted against a pulsating orange glow, the distorted humanoid figure of an Ithorian began to rise from the doorway until, in the spotlights of the Throne Room, the full shape could be seen clearly.
Those who turned to the disturbance were confused at what they were seeing: this was not the enraged beast that many had observed charging around the fighting pit just a few days ago. This newcomer was different: intelligent and powerful, alert and focused; all aspects of his person were practically bursting forth.
With great purpose and confidence, even holding his trunk higher, Bomoor kicked off with a powerful leg and surged towards the entangled fighters. Those who saw fit not to stand aside were batted away by a simple flick of the Ithorian's finger, peeled away from the stun baton he still held in his right hand. Despite the subtle motion, those caught in the vicinity of the Force Push were sent tremendously far, landing against the cell doors on the far side of the room or into the platforms above the room. Bomoor felt it all, the sensation of the impact, the breaking of bones, the swelling of the brain: those in the room who with no defence against the Force became like extensions of himself and just as easily manipulated.
He sensed a pair who were not so easily swayed by his Force powers: the cousins Rezer, standing at the end of the great table, close to the throne. Unable to breach his mind, the Kaiburr-enhanced Consular diverted himself towards them.
Zrad had heard the enormous crashing of the hall's doors crashing inwards, two luckless fighters immediately blown away by the tremendous force of the newcomer's entrance. Narrowly ducking out of the way of one of Sev's swipes, he brought his elbow upwards into his cousin's face and knocked him back, giving him the chance to glare at the great mass storming towards him.
"Grrgh!" The Exile First growled, as if this development were any true surprise. If it were not for the speed the Ithorian was bounding at him, he would have taken the time to curse his traitorous cousin, but as it was, the sheer power of his former captive struck him; the Jedi was a blaze of energy. A seasoned warrior, Zrad's eyes were able to keep up with the creature, but it seemed as if even the light of the room were being absorbed by the beast, and all manner of objects were trailing along in its wake, almost as though it had some gravitational pull.
For the first time in decades, Zrad Rezer felt fear.
Already turning on his heel, his suit pumped its remaining supply of stimulants into his bloodstream. With that and his panic, Zrad felt his heart thudding at an inhuman pace in his chest as he abandoned the fight with his cousin and began fleeing to the hall's entrance. Through the implant embedded in his skull, he was already priming his ship to leave - and Jericho for destruction.
He could claim victory of the Battle of Jericho when there was no one else left alive to say otherwise.
TBC
MENTIS
▬ Saber Throw Increase
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