Look, it had to happen sometime...(Baracc)

[Je'gan Olra'en]

“The Jedi had something right, you know.”

Baracc blinked, disengaging his lightsaber and watching the red blade disappear into the black metal of the hilt. His words were slow in coming, perhaps from fatigue and perhaps not. Though they had just done sixty minutes of solid sparring and his frame was adorned with burns, bruises, sweat and a little blood, that had rarely stopped him before when a retort was concerned.

“I can think of a couple of possibilities,” the Sith Apprentice said at last, “but please: enlighten me.”

Je’gan flipped Azubah through his fingers without once lifting contact from the activation switch. “They decided to break lightsaber combat into styles or Forms. Are you familiar with the Forms?”

“My studies…well, no.”

The Sith Knight regarded his brother, an absolute lack of surprise on his face. Baracc hated lightsabers – the books he pored over generally discussed pure Force manifestations, nothing as ‘rough’ and ‘crude’ as combat. Je’gan had had to…chastise…his brother for disrespect more than once, simply on the grounds that Baracc didn’t think too highly of anyone who spent as much time with a weapon as Je’gan did – and that was letting slide his suppressed contempt for Teras Kasi. In time-honoured tradition, they were very different twins.

“We’ll discuss the abilities of the Sith tomorrow, Baracc. Today is combat day. So.

“There’s Form I: that’s what you know right now. The basics, nothing more. Powerful and applicable in its own way, but incapable of standing against a versatile and experienced duellist.

“Form II is my choice – fencing, to the layman.

“Form III is one that practically no Sith practice, because it’s all about defence. You might like it: a Form III Master is untouchable. He won’t be able to strike back, though, and that’s the big problem. Of course, Jedi don’t have Sith powers to draw on, so your sorcery combined with Form III would be an interesting combination.

“Form IV is all about acrobatics. Spins, jumps, flips, cartwheels and so forth. Southstar uses it, and well.

“Form V is the one most Sith use. It’s all about power.

“Form VI might be your cup of tea: it’s for people who want to focus on other aspects of their education. Not the most healthy of lightsaber choices, you understand: it’s like a boiled-down version of all the rest of them put together.

“Form VII is what some would term the ultimate Jedi combat discipline. It’s very close to a lost art, and I know very little about it, so we won’t go into it.

“So” he said again. “What do you want to do?”

[Baracc Olra'en]

“Force Lightning and the power to control the universe.”

The Apprentice’s voice was deadpan. He was exhausted and exasperated, and saw no reason to give his brother and Master a straight answer.

“In effect, domination. That would be nice, for a-“

His face and neck exploded in pain as Je’gan backhanded him with the curved hilt of a lit lightsaber. The blade didn’t actually touch him, but the mass of metal and the strength of Je’gan’s arm were enough to wrench his head around and split the skin of his jaw. Baracc reacted without thought, pointing the hilt of his lightsaber towards Je’gan’s gut and pushing the ignition. Je’gan, however, was already in motion: the Sith Knight’s right foot, formerly forward, swung around to the back, and he leaned away just as the blade speared through the space formerly occupied by his stomach. The lean was echoed in the angle of Je’gan’s lightsaber, which swept a ninety-degree counterclockwise arc and sent the extending red blade flying. Baracc kept his grip on the weapon and attempted a backhand of his own, a flick of both wrists for Je’gan’s head. The Knight leaned back further and brought his saber arm over his head, whirling it as he rebounded for a strike to the left side of Baracc’s neck.

In the old days, Baracc would have fallen for that. Now, he merely ducked, striking for the left side of Je’gan’s midriff and losing hair in the process. Je’gan’s left hand caught the butt of his own weapon as it twisted ninety degrees clockwise and parried. His right wrist went straight and his blade came up at the inside of his brother’s right armpit.

Baracc tried something risky, bringing his hands up to rotate the length of the lightsaber around the middle of the blade and simultaneously forcing Je’gan’s strike down and away from his body. The older Olra’en disengaged clockwise, bringing his blade up to sear the tip of Baracc’s elbow and snap in for a downward slash at the collarbone. Baracc’s wrists twisted clockwise, the right one a bit late from the new burn wound, and his lightsaber locked with Je’gan’s just before impact.

They stayed there for a moment before Je’gan killed his blade and backed off a step.

“Very good. You can, at least, defend yourself. Now pick a number between one and six.”

“Five,” Baracc growled, replacing his lightsaber at his belt and stretching both arms above his head. New muscle bulged through the fabric of his shirt: these two-hour spars had been going on for weeks, maybe months. A bit of a recluse, he tended not to keep time.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” Je’gan knew something of how your average Sith fought – that was par for the course when most of his Apprentices came to him with entrenched fighting styles and a total lack of aptitude for his beloved Form II, and he’d certainly sparred his various Masters often enough.

The Knight lit his weapon again, holding it in a firm, two-handed grip. “Like this,” he instructed, working his hands to get the feel of it. He rarely fought like this. Baracc duplicated the grip, causing Je’gan to nod in approval. “Now a slash.”

Taking a breath, Baracc let it out as he cut down for his brother’s head. Je’gan blocked it, something firm and horizontal, not his normal parry. “Don’t do overhead cuts,” he said. “Not only are you going for a small cross-section of a humanoid target, but you’re leaving yourself open for a stab to the torso or stomach.”