Tisto dove into a shipping container as a barrage of blaster blots slammed into the metal near him. The Kiffar scrambled to his feet and started running through it, taking a sharp turn to the left once he exited. Frakking Arx! Frakking Tournament! I just wanted to show off how good I am at shockboxing! Why droids!
The shirtless man had a surge of heat run through him on his left side as he turned another corner. Used to the sensation, he jumped through a nearby window, calling on the Force to shield him as he did. Shards of glass crashed against the barrier as he smashed into the ground, an explosion coming from where he had just been standing. A few bits of shrapnel collided with the barrier, one breaking through and grazing his right arm. Tisto yelped as it did, pushing himself back up and taking great care not to step on any broken glass. When I heard about the tournament, I did not think anything this dangerous would be occurring. Diy told me I should bring boots, but no. I went into this in just shorts.
After he had cleared the broken glass, the Kiffar reached out through the Force to try and get his bearings. Supposedly, there were opponents who should be around, though he was not sure how many. He was taken aback when all he could really sense was a nearby coldness. Something profoundly wrong smashed into his senses, and it was getting closer. Tisto shook himself away from that sense with a grin. Anything that wrong or cold has to be a good fight. Here is hoping they can sense me!
The boxer planted his feet as he fell into a casual stance. Outside, he heard the droids that were following him fire at something. A lightsaber ignited somewhere and crashed against the blasts. Metal collapsed on the ground, and one of the droids flew past the window Tisto had crashed through. The Kiffar felt a surge of excitement; a proper fight was coming his way. The first since he teamed up with a bunch of people to fight some god to help out his friend. His thoughts about the arena were tossed to the side as he felt his purpose for arriving.
A figure appeared on the other side of the broken window. They were wearing some armor Tisto was not familiar with, with some fancy cloaks. The helmet of their armor covered their face, and a black lightsaber was ignited, giving the figure an aura of menace. Something with yellow fur padded behind the figure as they pointed at Tisto.
“What did... are... What is with you?” The lightsaber wielder opened up with.
Tisto blinked, focusing less on the figure and more on what followed them, but he kept up a friendly smile. “You brought a pet? Damn, two on one is hardly fair. You should have brought more. Can I get a name?”
The figure paused, seeming to study the boxer. It was difficult for Tisto to figure out what he was fighting because of their armor, but they definitely had height and weight and a pet on Tisto. After a moment, the figures seemed to compose themselves.
“Sorry, I am Kojiro. You are just... How did you heal from transference?” The figure struggled to find the right words, distracted by what he was sensing. “The lack of darkness and only a scar.”
The boxer cocked his head, trying to show his confusion. "Sorry, bud, I don’t know what you are on about. I’m just here for the tournament, as you can see. I’m Tisto by the by. Sorry, I don’t know what this whole transfer thing is. I just box.”
Tisto watched Kojiro seem to do a double take as the Kiffar gestured to his shorts and gloves. “Sorry, I just thought... nevermind then. You came to this dressed like that? To a tournament full of some of the best fighters in Brotherhood space?”
The boxer nodded at the Elder. “I'm an athlete. I don’t really do the whole armor thing. Before we start, I’m trying to do the whole Jedi thing. Really, really bad at it. But you brought an animal of some sort. This place is dangerous, and if it's going to fight, I kind of want to know if it's cool with you that I fight back.”
The Lonto seemed to study Tisto for a third time, shutting down their lightsaber for the time being. “Tal'rasha fights with me, yes. I appreciate you asking.”
With the question asked and answered, Tisto twisted on the balls of his feet and sprinted further into the shipping container building, taking one of its many paths. He heard the door slam open and suspected whatever animal Kojiro brought with him was hot on his heels. He didn’t know much about who he was fighting other than some weird questioning, so he didn’t know if they had given chase as well. No, he said fights with, not fights for. Kojiro is coming.
That thought was oddly comforting to the Kiffar, but still, he didn’t want to engage both at the same time. He felt confident he could fight someone who used a lightsaber, and based on previous experience, people who felt as cold as Kojiro tended to throw around lighting. Tisto felt confident that a one-on-one it would be an interesting fight, and he was surely going to give a proper talk down if he did have to fight both at once, but he felt a hint of fear creep in. Kojiro felt strong and had some giant animal following him; this could possibly be one of the most dangerous fights Tisto had ever found himself in alone.
The bruiser stopped thoroughly lost in the maze of a building. He looked out a nearby window and noted he had run up at least one floor. When there is no emotion, there is peace. The first line of the Jedi code came into his head as he looked outside. Oh, why am I thinking about that now? The Kiffar looked at the hall he was in, trying to check his surroundings.
“I’m not exactly one for peace,” he muttered to himself as he saw a rush of yellow charge around a corner. At the same time, from the opposite direction, Kojiro appeared. “And I cannot give up this challenge.”
Tisto opened himself up to the Force, feeling a surge of heat rush into his arms as he grabbed hold of the windowsill and threw himself against the glass. He broke through it, hitting the ground in a roll. It was not a far drop—maybe two and a half meters—yet the impact still stung, and he could feel scrapes on his back. The Kiffar looked up at the window, just in time to see Kojiro vault out of it much more safely, landing a few feet away from the boxer.
Tisto stood up, bouncing on the heels of his feet. He twisted his body so he was leading with his left side, both of his elbows tucked in towards his chest. “Good luck, Kojiro.”
The Son of Sadow ignited his saber and swung at Tisto. The boxer ducked down, rolling to his left as the swing went over him. He followed the roll with a quick jab to the gut that left the kiffar’s hand stinging. Frakking armor! Never a fair fight.
The Kiffar bounced back, trying to get distance from Kojiro, when a flash of heat struck his mind, warning him about something from above. Tisto barely had time to dive out of the way as Tal’rasha pounced down from the window above.
The Kiffar smiled against the fear. As dangerous as this felt, for the first time in a while, he felt his purpose return.
