Fragment of Dentavii
The Quaestor leaned against the opening with his left arm raised, the clawed fingers of his cybernetic prosthetic providing a support for his forehead. His hair was parted lazily, the shaggy mess hiding his more natural eye from view while the corruption of his left eye seemed to pulse with anticipation. Maelous took a wary step back, putting space between himself and the Battlemaster. From behind his mask, the Warrior’s gaze was steady and hardened, and yet his expression was one of caution. Memories, as they so often do, came unbidden into the man’s mind.
Pain. Fiery and hot. Searing through his flesh.
“Can’t even take a compliment, eh?” Atra’s cheshire grin spread impossibly wide. “Sometimes I wonder if you wear that mask of yours or mayhap it wears you.”
The Umbaran turned his gaze to the side slightly, pressing the fingers of his right hand against his communicator. As he did so, Maelous took another step to center his stance, raising his weapon steadily and pressing his thumb toward the stud that would trigger the deadly plasma to surge forth.
“Hey there Blood, found your lost property,” Atra began speaking without so much as looking at Maelous, an insult all its own. The proud Warrior’s lips curled with disgust at the blatant disrespect, igniting his weapon and pointing the sanguine tip towards the Dakhani before him. The signature snap-hiss drew Atra’s gaze, but the man reacted with nothing more than mouthing the word ‘rude’ before glancing away again. “Oh yeah, no problem. You want to tell him that? Great, before or after he tries to separate my head from my shoulders? You may not have noticed lately, but I’m sort of attached to it.”
Maelous, ever so clearly, had had quite enough of Atra’s indifference. He bent his knees and springboarded forward, his cloak billowed in his wake as he sought to drive his blade straight through his target. Atra responded with preternatural swiftness, rolling forward and under the impending threat. The older Sith’s blade sent a shower of sparks as it carved a glowing wake through the durasteel of the shuttle’s entryway where Atra had been not a breath before.
“What do you mean ‘what was that’? Yes, he is very much attacking,” Atra continued as Vestigium of Duriel sprang to life in his left hand. The weapon’s cerulean glow stood out in stark contrast to the crimson of his would-be assailant. “Have you even met your Aedile?”
With a battle cry, the Sith Warrior charged out of the darkness of the shuttle, long strides closing the distance between himself and Atra even as the latter back pedalled with haste. Maelous maintained his pace as he grinned with anticipation behind his mask, his saber weaving back and forth through his filtered vision before slashing towards Ventus’ right side. The Umbaran stepped back with his right foot while reaching out with his opposite arm to press his blade against that of his attacker, the momentum of his pivot carrying him out of harm’s way while pushing the crimson weapon to the side.
“I’m hanging up now, daddy’s gotta go to work.” Atra muttered into his still active commlink before dropping his right hand down to his side and releasing the activator.
“I remember you having more pride for your fellow warriors, Ventus,” Maelous’ words were muffled by his visor, but no less disdainful.
Atra spread another toothy grin, his enlarged canines pressing tightly against his pale lips. “That’s cause I actually gave a damn back then.”
Maelous dashed forward, his blade swinging left then right as it bounced off Atra’s deft parry and came back around before the Umbaran had a chance to make a riposte. The Snow Dragon dropped low, swivelling his head under the swing and attempting to cleave through Maelous’ torso with a rising slash. A sudden surge of Force energy rippled outward as the Warrior launched himself backwards, evading the assault and putting space between them once more. Ascarend wasted no time opening the pouch at his side once more, motioning with his left hand. Three durasteel pyramids launched towards Atra like bullets, but the Umbaran merely held out his right palm and projected a wall of solidified Force energy which deflected the projectiles off harmlessly off course.
Atra spun his saber in his left hand before shifting the hilt into his right, rising to his full height and placing his left arm behind the small of his back. “We both know that we can keep each other occupied here for quite some time, and as enjoyable as that sounds I just have one, very simple question for you,” the Quaestor spoke once more, his voice positively chilling. “Who’s reinforcements you think are gonna get here first?”