3631 BBY, nine years after the end of the Galactic War during the Old Republic.
"All five fighters he's faced were good."
"How many of them have I faced?" Ka'an Tra'el asked
"Three of them."
"And the other two, have they ever beaten an opponent who's bested me?" The answer to this was obvious, as Ka'an Tra'el had to double braid his mane, in order to keep it under his helm and from interfering with his fighting, so long had it been since he was defeated.
"Of course not. But, of the three you have faced before, he beat them much faster."
"I think you are over-worried. He is a city rat, he has never been in the championships, and it is this very awkwardness which has befuddled his opponents, until now. You have watched the holos, what should I avoid, and what can I capitalize on?"
The entourage was busy mounting Ka'an's championship armor to his massive, almost 3 meter frame as they spoke. Ka'an had gone through his warmup, his fine gold hair hide was glistening with sweat, which also pooled on the boney ridges above his eyes. His wide flared nose and deep set eyes were typical for his species, but that was the only thing anyone could say was typical of the Kroyn'Tal Champion three years running.
"He fights without style, his moves are brutal, animalistic. His equipment is a mess of hand-me-down scraps that are ill-fitting. It will be your years of battle, the little things this child has never seen. Faints, footwork to maneuver him where he doesn't want to be and taking advantage when he is off-balance; these are the things that will beat him easily."
"I am ready." Is all Ka'an said as he started down the tunnel to the roar of the crowd.
The crowd noise had dipped as the two warriors began to circle each other. The open air arena was huge by other system's standards, but average where Warriors live. At 30,000 seats, it was dwarfed by the Rols'Kus, which seats 250,000. These preliminary rounds of the Kus'Nar were simply warmup for when the Tawws'Kroyn would be named; and this year Ka'an was going to win that title.
The whelp in front of him was wild; his mane was matted into dreads, whose locks thrust about his head haphazardly to varying lengths. So disheveled was his mane, the youth didn't wear a helm, or he didn't have one, as his piecemeal armor and weapons attested to his low ranking. His Red Roan coat was not typical of their species, and while he was almost as tall, his frame was more lightly muscled than Ka'an, to the point that the first thing that came to his mind was 'wiry'. He was insulted this youth had made it through the five preliminary rounds of the Kroyn'Tal championship, and he would see to it, that this was his last fight in the tournament.
As the fighters circled each other, Ka'an decided to start with a thrusting faint to the face with the blade end of his pole-arm, and when the youth raised his own pole-arm to block, he would reverse his strike, bringing the blunt end to crush his opponent's mid-section. Only, the youth didn't block his thrust at all. The Beast, as the youth was known, ducked the faint, stepping inside Ka'an's thrust, and drove the center of his pole-arm with both arms directly into the center of Ka'an's weapon with such force that he was thrown three meters through the air, sliding to a stop two meters beyond that.
Ka'an took a moment to regain his feet as he shook his head the arena's red dust falling from both outside and inside his armor. The blow was so strong, he gawked in disbelief at his pole-arm that was now broken into two pieces and his chest plate that was dented where the youth's weapon had struck it.
Ka'an realized he was vulnerable and immediately assumed a defensive stance, as far too long was his bewilderment, his opponent would surely be on him any moment. To his amazement, the Beast simply stood where he delivered the blow, his pole-arm's blunt end on the ground, holding it vertically as if a flag, with his head canted to one side, starring at Ka'an.
He dropped the two halves of his now useless pole-arm, and drew his sword. The Beast simply released his pole-arm to drop to the ground and drew his sword as well.
Ka'an saw now, that he would have to use his experience to defeat the Beast, as his style was unorthodox and unpredictable.
He began to circle the youth, changing his stance so his right leg was forward to match his sword arm, giving him more reach and better defensive posture. The Beast circled with Ka'an, with his sword in his left hand, pointed at the ground, the tip hovering only ten or twenty centimeters above it. While Ka'an was in a fighting stance, ready to counter any attack his opponent made, the Beast simply walked, as if on a stroll in the park.
Infuriated, Ka'an started with a lunging thrust to the head, then whipped his blade in an upward circle to the right, bringing it down on his opponents clavicle, then reversed and in a counter circular strike would slice from left to right across the Beast's midsection, ending this farce!
As Ka'an drove forward, the Beast took half a step back with his rear leg, raising his blade faster than he could follow, and guided his blade to the Beast's right. With a feral growl, he saw the youth's mistake. With his left leg forward, the arrogant youth had no way to defend as he whipped his blade in a circle above his opponent's blade and head, and drove it into the space where his neck met shoulders. The fight was over, and Ka'an's experience had won out.
Ka'an's blade never made purchase. The Beast lunged forward, bent low with the knee of his front leg and at the waist, ducking Ka'an's circular attack while simultaneously folding his sword arm and driving his elbow under Ka'an's arm, just below his armpit, were his ribs were most vulnerable. The blow stopped his momentum suddenly, as the youth stepped forward with his rear leg, spinning in front of and across his body, pulling the now trailing sword arm across Ka'an's chest, slicing through his armor and drawing a deep gash across his chest.
By the time his brain caught up with the maneuver, the Beast was almost standing behind him. Ka'an turned and stumbled back, as his right arm began to go numb, and his breathing was labored, he realized he had several broken ribs.
Again the Beast did not press his advantage. As Ka'an's sword fell to the ground from his numb hand, the Beast simply stuck his sword in the ground by it's tip and looked at Ka'an in that strange way again, with his head canted to one side.
Growling fiercely, Ka'an drew his dagger awkwardly with his left hand. The Beast actually shook his head, as if to say no to what he was thinking.
Enraged, Ka'an rushed forward, his left arm cocked low, as if to deliver an underhand thrust to the Beast's mid-section; but, in mid strike, he altered his trajectory, raising his arm and sweeping a looping strike that would drive his dagger hilt deep into the Beast's neck.
The Beast stepped back with his right foot, raising both hands. His right forearm blocked the strike, but instead of counter attacking with his left, the Beast used it to also grab Ka'an's arm, locking on to his wrist. Ka'an began to stumble forward, thinking his rush had overwhelmed his opponent, as the Beast began to fall directly backwards to the ground. Far too late, Ka'an realized his mistake.
As the youth continued to roll onto his back, he lifted and shot his hips forward, bringing his legs up and straddling Ka'an's arm. With one leg over his neck, and the other over his chest, the Beast arched his body and drove them both to the ground on their backs as a puff of dust rose from the arena floor. Applying incredible strength, the Beast continued to arch his back, and with a pop that could be heard to the highest seats in the arena, dislocated Ka'an's left elbow.
Rolling into a backwards summersault, the Beast stood watching Ka'an. Who attempted first to roll to his right, and push up with his right arm, only to find his ribs couldn't take the strain. He then tried to roll to his left, but his dislocated arm was of no use in finding his feet. And that is when the horn sounded, ending the match.
The Beast walked past Ka'an, collecting his weapons, never looking at him or acknowledging the fervor of the crowd, and simply walked out of the arena.
The Jedi Master's bare feet hit the floor of his room on Tython, and he made his way to the refresher. Starring into the mirror, he could not get the scenes of his dream out of his head.
This was the sixth time he had awoken in such a state. It was time, he finally acknowledged, that he speak to Grand Master Shan. Matters were only getting worse, and it was obvious the Force was sending him a message.
