Chapter 44 — Unfit Offerings — Justice
Li’IMack
A plume of dust burst out as her sore knuckles smacked the punching bag that served as a temporary substitute for Jo’s head.
He was being an idiot demanding trial by combat…just adding of his stupidity after running after the Sith or whatever they were.
“Unng!” she called out with a quick combo slapping the bag sweat beading down the sides of her face, odd strands of hair stuck across her brow.
As the bag swung back, she caught it spinning along with it till it settled.
If knocking Jo on his stupid arse was what it took to get through his thick skull, she was happy to do it…but
If I told him the truth… his crusade against Valens was...ill placed…this Valens creature may have killed Odjina and the others, but it was under orders from Kimar…who then lost control of his monster to the point it destroyed him.
So far as Li was concerned the blood was on Kimar’s hands, the weapon he sent to destroy Vyth was less important than the fact the so called Jedi Grand Master had sent him there in the first place – so afraid of Mak’Tor unorthodoxy he couldn’t’ leave them in peace.
But to tell Jo that…would mean telling everyone, Jo was not known for his discretion…and that would destroy any chance of the Jedi
after Kimar getting a fair treatment from the Mak’Tor again…the old clan ‘grudges’ could still be strong….
“He’d probably go after the Jedi order itself,” she huffed out…if Jo was blinded by rage enough to try not once but twice to fight a monster like Valens despite overwhelming odds he’d have no compunction turning his rage on the Jedi order as a whole.
Maybe I’m not giving Jo enough credit…There was no justice nor balance in this…Jo had done wrong…but so had – so
was she by lying about Vyth to keep the peace…
Flopping onto the bench along the plain cream gym wall she felt the weight of the ‘crown’ of Kage threaten to crush her…the tight heaviness of the lie around her chest…the depth of the split with Jo draining her confidence in her choices…
It was a bitch of a situation…but she was stuck with it.
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“Kage…have you reconsidered…” Mi’ke’Cas – ‘Mike’ her honour guard prodded as they headed to the exercise yard outside the Military Prison where the Trial by Combat would take place
“I don’t need a Champion Mike…” that came out more caustically than she’d wanted, her nerves jagged already
“…If anyone is going to slap some sense into Jo it should be me,” she smiled across her purple lips trying to look nonchalant.
Jo wasn’t exactly top of the crop in terms of combat skills, and she knew his weaknesses, he took a while to get into a decent rhythm and favoured upper body work – habits Odjina had never quite drilled out of him.
As they wandered past a few Military Police who had gathered to see the archaic spectacle Li began to wonder if she shouldn’t have asked Anson D’aklon to be her Champion – put some distance between her and the situation and get an outside perspective…but the noises coming from Galtea were troubling to say the least.
The Military police had marked out a circle 4 metres in diameter, Jo standing in the middle waiting. Li didn’t want to make a big deal of Jo’s stupidity, so only her Honour Guard, the Prison Warden and the Military Police would watch. Normally such a ritual would be conducted privately among the Mak’Tor, but as it stood there were still gray areas between the Men-at-Arms and the Knights jurisdiction that needed to be sorted out.
The Knights did not want to end up a mere special forces branch of the Men-at-Arms, but nor did the Men-at-Arms wish to simply become ‘grunts’ under the Knights, and until the Mountain facilities were finished sharing accommodation and resources required a bit of give on both sides, Li was confident she could settle a good working relationship eventually, but Jo and those who joined him on his jaunt certainly hadn’t helped in that effort.
She intended to kick his butt, then commute his sentence to hard labour on the building of the new Mak’Tor facilities on M’Tzigon.
It did stink a bit of nepotism, but it could be justified given the relatively lenient sentences she’d given the others who followed him of 5 year suspensions of rank. Working on the new facilities would keep him on world and occupied with something productive…and hopefully he’d settle down enough to let her reduce the sentence further – and more importantly allow her to let Ha’Ona see him.
And that was what angered her more than anything - Jo wasn’t just hurting himself he was hurting Ha’Ona who was asking more questions about why she couldn’t see him despite feeling his presence on M’Tzigon, and Li was running out of excuses.
For that if nothing else he needed a slap around the ears.
“Changed you mind Joey?” Li called across as Mark grudgingly handed Jo his sabre, the use of his childhood nick name a last ditch attempt to sting him into backing down.
He just shook his head eyes focused.
Li rolled her shoulders, she’d given him every possible chance – the hard way it was.
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Jo’Set’Mack
The amethyst of Li’s sabre lit her eyeshadow and lip gloss a deeper hue of purple – her ‘Little vanity’ she called her makeup.
She thought she had him beat, she had no idea – every scrap of annoyance, rage and frustration he felt at being beaten by Valens
twice was loaded into the chamber and about to fire straight at her.
“You’re a coward Li, you know what’s out there, what they did to Ho’Li and you’re doing nothing about it,” he taunted as they circled at the edge of the ring. Normally a trail by combat would involve the master of blades, but considering Anne had joined his strike force that option wasn’t on the table
“If you think to redeem some honour by facing me yourself…” he held back a fake laugh
“You’re the coward Jo, running away from a hurt little girl who needs you,” her reply was laced with acid as she twirled her sabre in an Ataru flourish
“I was protecting her and you by taking the fight to that psychopath – you have no idea you’ve never seen what that thing is capable of, too busy flirting with your Vhal’Dan boyfriend to see the threat to the whole galaxy”
Li grimaced as her grip tightened annoyed he was making it personal –
but how could it not be.“Enough, quit stalling and come get your arse kicked!” she shouted back before the charge.
She came in low and swift, going for his legs, he kept to swift strafes and white burned against the sandy ground as their sabres met. Li had a fast Ataru style that tended to a low guard when facing a physically larger opponent like Jo – she was also confident she could take him and didn’t want to hurt him seriously – she was fighting with limits – Jo wouldn’t.
As she burst out another flurry against his mid-section he quickly parried, his guardian blue sabre clashing the purple into retina staining burst of pink. This was just toying with each other, probing, Li checking he didn’t have any new tricks from their last sparring session before…Before the Galaxy died to him with Ho’Li.
There would forever be before and after Vyth, for Jo, Li and the Mak’Tor, and whilst Jo might not have much more to offer in terms of technique, he did in the way of emotion.
He let her chip away at his guard as the first drops of sweat stained the shirt beneath his arms, his hair grown long in neglect soaking up the perspiration of his brow.
One-two-three, low, she kept up steady combos not touching the force yet as they shuffled about the makeshift ring in what would have looked more like a light sparring session to the few onlookers.
One-two-three, left - with every clash his mind recalled the motions of Valens, the few he had seen and actually comprehended, the fluid graceful moves like an Angel of the Maker…it filled his stomach with bile that such a murderer could possess such power, hit his very soul that the Maker would allow such creatures to walk the galaxy…
One two three low – for the Maker to permit in His supposed grace such crimes to occur – he kept defensive, Li was starting to get suspicious he was going to try something – oh she was right – but she would never be able to predict just what
One-two-three right – every trace of injustice he felt toward the Maker filled him like a cloying tar that filled his limbs…so powerful yet so weak, Free Will…where was Ha’Ona’s free will NOT to watch her mother die…You claim equality of Sentients yet the strong still rule…promise Justice and healing yet never show it here and now.
One-two-three LOW - “Frell the Maker,”
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Li’IMack
“Wha…” she couldn’t end her exasperated word as something changed – Jo’s eyes went black for a moment and he struck.
Her shoulders screamed as they almost popped out backwards against the strength of his blow, her feet almost swept out from under her by the tidal wave of ugly emotions that flooded her.
One the Sidelines Mark almost leapt to intervene, but having to respect the Trial by Combat stayed out of it.
She hadn’t realised just how far Jo had fallen. With every hammer blow against her comparatively weaker grip she learnt her error, with every silent scream of pain he belted her backward.
Jo wasn’t just be a hard headed Mack, wasn’t experiencing grief sparked rage that would burn out – he was completely losing it – and she was taking the brunt of it.
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Jo’Set’Mack
With every blow, every stroke he felt himself growing stronger and stronger, Li was trying to twist out but he wouldn’t let her escape like he had let Valens get away twice.
It had taken two failures to realise that to destroy the Daemon you had to become one – so be it – Jo Set Mack had been a weak, pathetic fool pining for his lost sister, he wouldn’t be that Jo Set Mack Anymore – he’d be something better, stronger – a weapon that can destroy Valens and his apprentice.
Blue was smacking Purple toward the ground, Li starting to stumble under the strength of his blows. She turned to her ally the Force and pushed the air out, his feet fumbled for a moment before the tar of his hatred firmed his stance – it was a weight of power the Master would tell him he needed to throw off – they were wrong –hatred wasn’t a dead burden – it was an armour, a shield and sword – only those who feared it left it behind – was Gray he wouldn’t turn from it, he would wield it.
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Li’IMack
What had he become…
She almost didn’t care about her own defeat, the one Jo was suffering was far worse…but what could she do…he was his own man, and if he won…
Li couldn’t let him win. A quick riposte and telekinetic blast to his left opened up space for her to fall back and regroup, rising back up from her defensive crouch she drew the force into her limbs her mouth silently moving with a healing tune to keep her muscles from becoming over strained.
Jo leered at her, his face distorted in a way that made her stomach drop – this was what hatred did, this was where revenge lead – it twisted the very soul, turned what was a good man into a monster who believed his cause was just.
“Come on coward!” he sneered, words hit like blaster bolts to her chest, the darkness that was overtaking him made them stick and drip on her – there was truth to them, she had all but abandoned any effort to seek out the murderers of Vyth after Soryu’s warning, it didn’t sit well with her, especially hearing the rumours of a Jedi defeat on Myrkr at those same hands – but the Mak’Tor couldn’t fulfil their oaths if they were dead.
She was trying to avoid extinction by consolidating on M’Tzigon, Li knew others wouldn’t agree with her choice, but to see in her cousin’s face the vile produce of her decision not to act…
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Jo’Set’Mack
He struck forward, the force speeding his feet and creating an invisible shock wave that battered her back before she raised her blade just in time to keep his sabre from taking her arm at the shoulder.
Jo battered out his frustration from Sinkhole onto her high guard, bearing down with his height, dominating the space all around her, he pushed his disgrace on Nimban into her sternum with a barb of force energy, she staggered back and rolled, his blade slicing into the sand the pure energy superheating it into blackened glass.
She was on the edge of the circle scrambling, her healing tune getting audible under her heaving breath.
Jo smiled as his heart welled with the warmth of victory, first Li then Valens.
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Li’IMack
He looked crazed, utterly crazed – she needed to end this fast. Her second wind already spent she quietly prayed for a third as his arms twitched with dark strength.
She knew what she was facing now – a being of pure emotion – and she knew how to face it –
She would balance rage with serenity,
Strength with dexterity
Ferocity with mercy
She would fight as a Gray should
Keeping her grip light she allowed him to close in, not resisting, he was a bulky tank, his dark turn had shocked her into a retreat but no more.
Left foot up and forward she moved to meet him, sidestepping his downward blow she kicked out to turn his attention to the left, he strafed out, but she went back to his left, keeping him moving, his strength faltering against her dexterity, her movements precise almost text book – reasoned well timed moves kept her away from his emotion driven blows.
The Trial by Combat was till incapacity, she had expected to knock him down easy, now she knew he would have to take a serious wound for her to win – to maim her cousin was a harrowing prospect – but in those eyes she didn’t see much of Jo’Set’Mack to feel guilty about harming.
Her speed frustrating his desire for a quick kill she twisted into his guard, he thrust forward but she got her blade over his and pushed in locking the glowing weapons, he pulled up hard to get out of the lock, the tip of her blade searing into the dirt, she wouldn’t budge until she wanted to.
With a grunt he let out a sloppy force blast that ground their feet deeper into the sand, the movement useful for her plan she executed it – loosening her push she let him push her blade back up – opening her to his attack for a brief second that his rage denied him the clarity to take.
He was over doing every movement with dark strength he didn’t know how to use, her looser grip twirled her blade in a 180 around his and added to his pull, physics and bio-mechanics worked his wrist uncomfortably and his blade flipped from his hands.
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Jo’Set’Mack
That bitch!
As his blade loped off past the rings edge she twisted forward to strike, he sidestepped with the speed of darkness, her blade sheared the sweaty shirt and left a painful welt along his chest as his hand sprang out to grasp her throat and lift.
Immediately she turned her wrist to slice but in the distraction he slammed his mind into her sabre knocking it from her loose grip before pulling her off her feet. She was too heavy to hold up by the throat with one hand for long – so he slammed her down.
Mike yelled from the sidelines as she curled up like a child at his feet, her arms up to protect her face as he raised his foot to kick.
Between her forearms he saw just a slice of her features – no Li – Ho’Li. His foot stopped knee crooked back to boot her head like a razor ball.
“Enough!” Mike yelled rushing to his Kage
“You’ve won its over”
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Li’IMack
Gasping for air she barely heard the words of her Honour Guard.
It wasn’t truly over, but Mike wasn’t going to let it end properly, he valued Li’s life more than their traditions – she might reprimand him for it later – for now she couldn’t’ be more thankful.
Mike stood indomitable before Jo who looked more confused than happy at his victory, slowly her breath returned.
She felt the dark poison of anger leaching off her cousin as the ‘crown’ of Kage twisted in her heart like a knife…Jo never needed help more…yet she couldn’t let him stay and infect others vulnerable to walking the same path. Subconscious thoughts that exiling him after losing would look like spite rather than justice were drowned by the pounding of her heart
“Get out…” she rasped
“Get out and don’t come back.”
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