The Fall of Revan

Oya!

Chapter 16

Dantooine, Khoonda Plains

Three weeks after your failed Jaik'ran

Frustrated in more ways than one, you watch as Freedom viciously slams Khal into the ground before she kicks you like a raging maalraas and throws you backward. "Bic ni skana'din," (expression of being angry) you grumble attempting to catch your footing as she practically runs up you before vaulting backwards and on top of Zan, crashing him full force to the ground with her knees. Deftly dodging your ori'vod's blow while still on top of Zan, she glares murderously at him and leaps into an offensive position. Shit, now he went and pissed her off.

"She's wiping the floor with you lot!" Targ yells from his forge. That she is... "Come help me with this mask of yours girl, before those or'dinni (fools) kill themselves trying to prove their prowess against you." He calls, beckoning her to him.

Watching her stalk away Khal releases a slew of curses and wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"That dalas (woman's) more pent up then a Maalraas," Zan grumbles pulling himself up.

"Her vod left her with us and went to fight," you frostily growl, as that Vu'traat distastefully pops to mind. "You'd be just as pissed."

"Oh, he left her frustrated all right. If you know what I mean," Khal crudely declares, spitting blood into the dirt.

"Ne'johaa!" (shut up) You snap, shoving him as your temper flares.

"Udesiir, Torian!" (calm down) Psylor warns.

"Do us all a favor and haav (bed) that girl, Torian. It'll improve both your damn moods." Khal icily snarls as he glares back at you. "If you don't soon I will. She's bound to be nehutyc (feisty) one."

Snapping, you slam your fist into Khal's face, rocking him back on his feet. Stepping towards him, you pull back again but your ori'vod roughly grabs you by the arm. "Enough!" He booms keeping you firmly in place. "Take a walk Khal," he orders. Shaking with anger, you glare defiantly at Psylor but say nothing. "Get ahold of yourself Torian," he commands.

"I'm good to go, Commander." You curtly retort through clenched teeth.

Closing his eyes, Psylor runs a hand over his face. "To hell you are little brother. You're pent-up like an unspent gore (grenade). Khal's right, that Vu'traat's not here to interfere. Just bed that Inya'kin of yours already for fuck sake! Before she trashes my camp with that ramikadyc, (commando state of mind) skira (settling scores) mind frame of hers!" Tensing at his words you glare icily back.

"Is that an ke'gyce?" (order) You press, leery of your own brother's answer.

"Do I need to make it one?" He demands, his expression now harsh like the icy world of Hoth.

Misreading your unease, he steps challengingly into your pace. "I said, do I need to make it one vod." Tensing your jaw, you return his gaze. "No, ori'vod."

Eyeing you with his keen eye Psylor finally nods, "Good, now Oya! (lets hunt, go hunt)

Yeah I wish I could hunt, you inwardly grumbling as you grab your kit. A good hunt would've done you well, but no, this god forsaken planets animals were docile by your typical standards. What I'd give for a Maalraas or a Krayt dragon. Those are a fine hunt. Dangerous and cunning beasts from your home world and travels. Krayt dragons in particular but a Maalraas... Damn, you inwardly curse as Freedom's image instantly comes to mind. If Maalraas could take a human form, Zan was right, she'd be one. She was sneaky, vicious, cunning and a very, very patient hunter who seemed to cloak herself in shadows. She was also stunning beyond compare and it irked you to no end that that Vu'traat chakaarycyc held such sway over her. And as much as you wish you could accept her word that he was only her vod, you knew he wasn't.