KentraDonrav
Combatant
Trills rule.
Posts: 248
Gender: 
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OFF: I left this one fairly sparse so if you want to describe it Korenz then go ahead.
On:
"I need to win this, I need to win this," Kentra chanted to herself, her new mantra. She had fought hard over the full day, two if she counted the qualifying match the day before. Now this last match would decide if she moved onto the next round. Though the thought of spending the rest of the tournament laying in sickbay healing had a certain appeal to her, she had come this far and she wanted to show she was not useless just because she was a pacifist.
Of course, she reflected, this was an odd way for a pacifist to show her value in a Klingon combat tournament.
Still maybe it would make Hunter respect her, or Ta'pez who she'd had a few run ins with so far during her stay on the station for the tournament. It was clear that from the moment she had told him that she was committed to avoiding violence at all costs he had stopped... stopped what? Why did she care so much?
Being a trill was complex, really complex. She had a previous host, one that was fairly dominant and whose memories fought with her own, who had married a Klingon woman and had joined a respected Klingon House. He had raised a Klingon child who had served the Empire in combat. And then when he had died Kentra had received the Donrav symbiot and the memories.
Kentra had hated Klingons. They were everything her family and people of their faith were against, they embraced violence in a way that even humans would not. It was not even that they used violence to solve their problems, but in fact they seemed to have an entire society set up to cause problems so they had reasons to use violence. To attack, spill blood and kill for nebulous concepts like honour and pride.
Even now, with Denax's memories and feelings inside of her, Kentra would rather be struck down with a bet'leth than harm someone else. On away missions she never carried a phaser, and had defied orders in her attempts to stop violence when it others believed in was the only option.
That was just it, that was why Ta'pez's dismissal of her as not a warrior stung her so much, she was trying to reconcile her past life with her current one. It had been her own impulse to join Starfleet, despite her parent's wishes, but Donrav had some say in that. Joining Starfleet meant finding a group of people who while now her new family, since her parents had turned their backs on her since she had joined up with a 'war-like' institution like Starfleet, could never understand her beliefs.
She had come here, to the place and time when her beliefs would least be understood, in order to do what? Test them? Abandon them? Have someone convince her she was wrong so that she could return to the Laffey as a regular officer and not some sort of religious kook?
It was easy to talk herself into it though, whatever her reasons for being here. Bet'leth was not fighting, it was like dance, like poetry. When she had taken up bet'leth she had found it a way to connect to Denax and her other previous hosts in ways that sitting down and thinking about memories, the past and her motivation would never do. She had discovered this when she had been forced to fight when she was kidnapped, moving with the bet'leth in her hand brought Denax back in a way and she found that as different as she was from him she kind of liked being close.
It was the only time since she had been joined that she could find herself free from thought, analysis, worry or over a thousand years of history. From the first time she'd picked up the blade that used to belong to Denax's son, who in a way she felt as her son, it had felt right. She had held it at his funeral, her son... Denax's son, killed in a useless brawl in a bar over some slight to family honour.
She had just been joined, and was still trying to deal with Denax's memories along with those of over a dozen other hosts, and then she found herself burying his son. It was against trill custom to attend, but she felt obliged. She had stood near the back, clutching the bet'leth and trying not to cry. Denax's wife had given it to her, saying that she should have it as the father of the warrior to be put in the ground.
Later, at a memorial which included bloodwine, she had been told what had started the bar room brawl that had ended in tragedy. It seemed that Denax's son had been getting grief because of her. The exact words that had caused blades to be drawn was, "Your father was reincarnated as a worm inside a coward's belly."
A drunk Klingon had told that story to the bar, and laughed. The next thing thing Kentra knew she was standing over him holding the bet'leth to his throat, shaking. It had happened naturally, instinctively, and it had scared her. She ran out of the bar, and left without saying goodbye.
"I need to win this, I need to win this," she chanted her mantra as she looked at k'dr'n Korenz from across the match area. He was large and Klingon and there was no reason in the world that he would not beat her. There was no reason in the world why she should even bother fighting in this tournament. However she was sure of one thing, she needed to win this match.
The rest was a blur to her. Though she could remember every moment of ever other match, as though they had been favorite holodeck novels played back in slow motion, this one she could not recall. The last thing she remembered was dodging his first blow and striking back and the sound of metal hitting metal and then nothing until he was weaponless and she had to stop herself from hurting him.
She could have sworn, as they called her name that she was growling a little. She then vomited right in the centre of the match field, in front of everyone.
<Tag K'dr'n Korenz, others>
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Pages: 1
Kentra Donrav versus K'dr'n Korenz (Read 346 times)
