Private Art of Duology

[Shaka Musa]

TOL AMN,
Underworld Fighting Ring

You never knew what kind of situation you were getting yourself in to when coming to these seedy and anonymous fighting pits. Contestants and patrons alike could find themselves being injured before the fighting event even began, or the place could be raided by whatever galactic power had interests on the planet. There was never a one hundred percent certainty that you could come to places like these and not have your life extinguished, just for being there. But the sleazy criminals had since learned to set up these events on neutral planets where the would be heroes of the galaxy didn't really have a claim.

Just had to hope there weren't any hero Jedi in the midst.

That's why Shaka fought in these circles.

His Thyrsian kin were more likely to fight in regulated, publicized events. Few would lower themselves to the treatment and environment here. So that's where Shaka had deemed it necessary to be, while also paying homage and tribute to his background and what he had learned growing up. He had also come to know that should he put on a good enough performance, he could find himself entering more matches with more pay, though in his experience that typically fell through. Better to stay in the illegal circles than finding legitimacy.

It was on Tol Amn that Shaka enlisted himself into a new tournament. The contact that had sent him to the planet had assured him there were good winnings. There were whispers of the event being secretly funded by the Hutts. Many in the Underworld wanted to see if it were true. If it were, he wouldn't need to sell himself for small earnings as much as he had initially thought.

A two on two fight. There were multiple competitors. It was unlikely that assigned partners would know it each other. From all over the galaxy opponents came. When he was announced and moved up to the podium to show himself, he looked out over the crowd of assorted species. The light that shone on him made it difficult to see.

"And his Partner...!" The announcer sung out over the megaphone.

Palm-Imer

 

[Palm-Imer]

Location: Tol Amn.
Tagging: Shaka Sunstar
Wearing: XxX.

​

The Consors Sovereignty remained silent. Geminidae, more often than not, was only known to the very few that managed to strike up a trading agreement with the isolationist Sovereignty. And no one, absolutely no one outside of her home-system, knew that a valued diplomat such as an Ambassador was also the one sent to sort out the dirty business that went down in the galaxy. The last time she had been assigned to look into a problem with a merchant ship within hutt space she had ended up tangled in some derailed organization's affairs, experimenting on sentients and turning them into monster.

She had barely made it out alive.

So, it was difficult to feel intimidated by the all too familiar scene of an illegal fighting pit and all that came hand in hand with it. Such was the life of a geminian Ambassador - dinner with politicians and royals one night and getting down on the mud with the worst of em' come morning. The cargo ship had been on the Oktos Route when they had to make an unscheduled jump out of hyperspace due to a struggling engine. Then they were boarded and robbed of their cargo.

The Consors Sovereignty was silent, but it wasn't idle.

Palm was here to investigate and collect the information they needed, then relay it to her superiors and call it a job done. This time around, she would hopefully avoid being jury, judge and executioner. The first two would suffice. However, she had been met with a difficulty. Where Palm was expecting simple pirates, it had been a hutt cartel the one involved - and implied her job would be much more difficult than expected and would require tact. It seemed almost too fortunate that this fighting tournament was being held, giving her the perfect excuse to get within Tol Amn's worst circles without arising suspicions.

And that was how she had gotten here. Clad in sturdy but well-worn clothes, coupled with a rugged cloak and several belts and fastenings around her figure. A dark mask covered her neck and lower half of her face, and deep red make-up sat against her skin across her eyes. She was sitting in a corner, unbothered by the rowdy cheering of the crowd around them as the pairs were announced. A man was called forth, and then she heard her own alias being named.

She walked forward, conceding to the theatricality that they were going for. Apparently even criminals needed some entertainment in heir lives. Her golden gaze then fell on the man that would be her ally in the upcoming battle, offering him an acknowledging nod. Soon enough they were ushered within the structure once again. Apparently the cartels took this tournaments seriously. There were even barracks, or something akin to them, meant to house the fighters that found their way to Tol Amn.

It was once they were in the hall and away from the deafening noise and the sun's glare that she took the time to properly introduce herself to the partner luck had chosen for her. The geminaie extended a gloved hand for him to shake or disregard, expression neutral and unreadable despite the courtesy of the gesture. She would have added a greeting to it, but knew better than to expect people who frequented this places to be polite or even remotely sociable. Most where here just to throw punches and get their credits. If such was the case with this man - well, then there was only hoping he was good at throwing punches.

 

[Shaka Musa]

Wearing: XXX

Victory meant a break from this type of hellhole. So when the announcer was about to name his partner, apprehension that he didn't realize he had began to crawl out from the depths of his mind to the forefront until it became the only thing that sat there. There was a shuffling through the crowd, his immediate deduction was that they were small.

Not good. He thought.

When Palm-Imer came out to stand with him, he masked the feelings of defeat that already began to seep off of him through the Force, but with an abrupt furrow of his brows it ended and a grin flashed across his features before sending an upwards nod in her direction.

He had to remember that he hadn't been born a Thyrsian, built to endure the harsh heat of two suns, slavery and the extermination of his people, battled with and lived amongst the Echani so that he could have a loser's mentality. It was certainly true he had a cocky outlook on life that put him above others, for that reason alone, he realized that he was likely going to be disappointed anyway.

When the fighters were ushered into their separate training barracks, they exchanged greetings. His large dark hand eclipsing her own before shaking it. "First fight in the Pits?" Breaking the silence as broad arms came up, one of them extending across his torso while the other held it in place while he stretched before alternating to the other. Regardless of the answer, he would've gone on to continue speaking. "What style are you best at?" Sure to question her type of combat, there was an obviously shared goal in needing to be able to compliment each other to make the best partners - with as little time as they had.

 

[Palm-Imer]

Location: Tol Amn.
Tagging: Shaka Sunstar
Wearing: XxX.

​

A small smile played on the lips of the geminaie, hidden beneath the mask. While her goal at the moment demanded that her usually more social and laid-back self be replaced by a focused and more aloof persona, right now there were no people to eavesdrop on or leads to follow. Had the upcoming battle been a regular 1vs1 affair, she would surely be sneaking her way through many corridors of the structure to get her hands on what she had come looking for, but this was not reality and right now, the priority was not getting disqualified from the tournament. That necessarily involved working together with one Shaka Tau, and thus she'd abandon the forced coldness for it was not needed nor called for.

"In these pits, yes." Palm had never been on Tol Amn before this trip, but she was no stranger to the kind of fighting that went on here. In simple words, dirty fighting - ruthless and brutal, with anything even resembling a sliver of honor being nothing but laughing stock for the audiences. She didn't really mind it, it would have been hypocritical of her to look down on this. For if the need arose, she would not think twice of partaking in the same tactics and styles these fighters used. It simply wasn't something she preferred.

Soon enough they had reached the room she had been looking for, a dingy training room. Old, dirty sand covered the floor and a circle made out of worn-out black rubber marked the center...an attempt at a ring. She was well aware that there was a better, although not that much better, training hall made available for the fighters but that would mean revealing to the competition what they could do.

Another smile surfaced at his next question. The answer to that one was a trickier. She removed the heavy cloak that had hung from her shoulders, then her hands reached up to remove the mask that covered the lower half of her face. One person seeing her would not signify much of a risk. "I don't believe you would be familiar with it." Kyr'ret martial arts were a well-kept secret, Palm could name the exact amount of people who did not belong to her home-system who were proficient in the ways of the mimic battle art. They were very few. "But I'll show you." Now rid of the more cumbersome pieces of clothing, she walked into the ring and waited for him to do the same.

"What about yourself?"

 

[Shaka Musa]

Wearing: XXX

It wasn't a thing that he would voice to a stranger, but Shaka held the sentiment that fighting was indeed fun. His people and the Echani believed that to combat someone was to learn who they truly were, their battlesight and precognition affording them to potentially glean true intentions in and outside of physical encounters.

The emphasis she placed in regards to Tol Amn's pits put a questioning look on his face. In the dim lighting, it was probably hard to see, but a brow arched upwards inquisitively all the same when he looked upon her. "Where have you fought?" His curiosity suddenly piqued, and began the questioning of his own earlier sentiments of underestimating the girl. "Have you won?"

When they arrived at the dingy closed off training room, he could see a few of the other fighters get into their own closed off rooms, but further down the hall to where it opened up to even more space was likely the training hall. That's where he could hear the sound of a meaty hand striking true and he paused at the door, trying to imagine a fight that he couldn't see in his minds eye before stepping through the doorway to join his partner. Whoever it was that was fighting in the open room was not who he wanted to fight.

Shaka felt confident in his ability to quickly learn any other fighting styles. With Echani and Thyrsian Battle Arts as a basis, it'd be hard to pick up at first, but if she showed him, and he fought her, he was certain he could pick up, at least enough to survive the fight. "Echani and Thyrsian Martial Arts." There were others that he was familiar with, but they weren't relevant to the fight that they'd be facing. Hand to hand? His ability with a staff and how to disarm armed hostiles was not pertinent to their immediate situation. "Teras Kasi too."

Stepping into the dingy sand covered centre of the training room, he assumed his fighting stance, a low stance with opened hands held up in front of him. One of his legs shuffled into a slide to stand behind him. A stable centre of gravity. A focus on being difficult to knock down. "Show me." Best that they capitalize on the time they had now.

"And hold nothing back."

If she was familiar with the famous Echani Martial Arts, she'd know that already. Emotions and all would bring them to a better understanding of each other as the fight went on.

Palm-Imer

 

[Palm-Imer]

Location: Tol Amn.
Tagging: Shaka Sunstar
Wearing: XxX.

​

Her head leaned slightly to the side, eyebrows raised momentarily as he considered his first set of questions. Truth was, more often than not, Palm hadn't really fought in tournaments but rather against the likes of the people who frequented these circles. Rarely had a fight of hers been for credits. Usually, once it came to it, since leaving Geminidae most of her fighting had been a life or death affair with counted exceptions in which she managed to score herself a sparring partner. Did being alive count as winning?

"My line of work usually involves a good deal of fighting but not for entertainment. I'm still in one piece, others are not. I guess that's a victory," At least for now, she would not go into detail of what exactly her job was. Here she wasn't Ambassador Palm-Imer but unexpected show up Naddej - perhaps an enforcer, perhaps a bounty hunter, perhaps a street rat. There was no knowing for sure, and the anonimity was something that benefitted her purpose at the time being. Not trusting a soul was sound advice to give to all who dwelled in Hutt space.

Echani and Thyrsian.

The two cultures were probably among the greatest influences the Geminaie had ever drawn from to build their own society. The Consors Sovereignty was one big chimera of cultures, the ease in which they assimilated knowledge or even behaviors making them hyper adaptable and easy to transform - something which they had taken advantage of through their Ambassadors. Palm's whole purpose, besides diplomacy and representation, was to build herself into the best version she could possibly achieve to one day return home and share it with her people: that they may change in the way she had and become better for it.

Her golden gaze met his dark brown one, the smile returning to her lips. It would seem he was in for a surprise, Palm was sure that with his background he would be able to see the similarities and the select stark contrasts between their fighting styles. Even though she had learned from them, Palm had never had the privilege of facing neither Echani nor Thyrsian.

With no difficulty, her body fell into place out of muscle memory alone, adopting a fighting stance. A mirrored version of his own, something which often confused people. If Palm, as master of the mimic martial art, did her preferred style justice, then Shaka should be able to perceive her progressively adopting his own, unique take on fighting. Echani and Thyrsians could read feelings through sparring, they could get to know you. If Palm demonstrated to be skilled in her own art, then he would eventually feel as though he was fighting a very good copy of himself rather than her - excepting the moments when she tried to break their pattern.

But to acheive this she first needed to know him.

And so the geminaie went in for the first move. Quickly, she attempted to close the distance between them, feinting a punch aimed at his jaw before her left hand pushed forward with her truly intended hit: a try at landing a jab on his side. To a Kyr'ret martial artist, the beginning of a fight was more about seeing how their opponent attacked and defended rather than actually hurting them. So whatever the result of her offense was, she got ready to defend herself and analyse his own counter.

 

[Shaka Musa]

Wearing: XXX

From the way that she had framed her past, it almost seemed as if she wasn't an actual pit fighter. Or not one that frequently delved into the illegal world of fighting and gambling. From what Shaka could gather, he was certain that that thought was true, given the flamboyance of what she wore to a typically secretive event. A smile spread across his face, denoting his amusement, but his head bobbed up and down all the same at her words. Not everyone that came to these places were who they said they were, and despite being honest as to who he was, he wasn't the sort to pry - not in a place like this where things could go from bad to worse in moments.

It appears that she had an understanding, or was familiar with the Echani fighting forms, based off the way she smiled if his deduction was correct. It was famous, after all. Oftentimes, when he grew up, he had heard of the reverence that the galaxy held for the Echani and their precognitive abilities in combat. To have one apart of your retinue as a noble of whatever political power was something to note.

His brown gaze followed her movements as she mirrored his own.

Inhaling, when she came forwards to press the attack, he was ready.

Her feint wasn't one that he fell for. He was taller, longer reach, and she'd have to over extend herself and put herself at risk of a devastating counterattack. He didn't need to be familiar with Thyrsian Battle Sight to know that. His left hand came up all the same, and when her hand vanished from its path to strike his face, he swayed to her right and lunged forwards, grunting as he decided to take her jab to the side of the abdomen. Simultaneously though, his right hand came down, with the goal of trapping her left hand against his body, and he'd give a jab of his own, right into her abdomen.

Despite he himself having urged for her to go all out for him, he was sure to not strike at a place that would cripple or otherwise debilitate her. They were partners after all.

Palm-Imer

 

[Palm-Imer]

Location: Tol Amn.
Tagging: Shaka Sunstar
Wearing: XxX.

​

The first few moments of a battle were always the more delicate ones to a practitioner of her style of fighting, when faced against someone new. This was also the reason why Ambassadors were not only indoctrinated into the mimic battle style but also learnt styles such as Teras Kasi or Stava. Once they went out into the galaxy, some even picked up less known martial arts if they so happened to come across a culture that had come up with their own style of self-defense. Indeed, their love of physicality and their view of one's own body as an expression of their own understanding of themselves had turned them into a people with the prowess of a warrior culture - even if they were not one.

The geminaie read into his movements, choosing to shift her balance and allow her body to move into a sideways position that would see the fist aimed at her midriff become a grazing punch rather than a square hit - it still earned a grunt from her. In exchange for dodging so, she was forced to allow Shaka to trap her arm - there was no effective way in which both maneuvers could be evaded. However, there was a very good reason why she had rather avoided the punch and remain close to her sparring partner. The first one was the fact that close quarters fighting was her specialty. Palm felt a lot more comfortable right next to an opponent than she did when there was space between them.

The second one was the element of surprise. People often mistook the Geminaie for humans, for they surely did look like them except for the small differences that only someone deeply familiar with the species would be able to point out. Even if Palm had an athletic build, with enough muscle around her frame to denote physical prowess, people still assumed that this strength would be the one of a human. It was not, specially when it came to her upper body.

Her own hand closed around his forearm, also making sure to not exert enough force to hurt him but rather to keep him in place. A geminaie grip strength alone was enough to crush bone, and this was not something she wished on the one that would aid her in overcoming their next fight. The next part of her body to move was her right leg, knee aimed at his right side this time.

 

[Shaka Musa]

Wearing: XXX

It hadn't taken long for him to recognize that she could truly fight, even with just the opening of combat to go off of.

She read him, as he read her. As she shifted to avoid the jab that had the potential of stealing the breath away from her smaller frame and gripped at him, he trapped her arm against his body, already in the midst of preparing for his next attack. But she had continued to move along his flank, and her leg came up to kick him in the side.

This time, it was his turn to shift, shuffling his feet to turn to lessen the blow as her kick came in to the side of his ribs. His left arm dropped to yank itself out of her grip, but it was too slow to stop the kick. As his elbow angled downwards to press her leg away from him, his forearm snapped downwards, latching onto her upper thigh and digging his lengthy thick digits into the muscled flesh of her leg.

In that close quarters grapple his dark orbs searched her gaze, and he lifted her off the ground, stripping her of the existence of balance that all fighters required. There was a shift in his steps, and he spun to gain momentum before throwing the woman off of him and across the dingy, makeshift ring before facing her again and resuming his ready stance that he had started out with.

"You won't win blow for blow not in a place like this." Slowly starting to circle the ring. "Fight dirty. Joints, throat, whatever you need to."

Palm-Imer