Blood in the Pits

[Lirka Ka]

[SIZE=11pt]The pits were home.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The crowds of Petranaki roared loud today, the chattering cries of easily 200 hundred Geonosians, aliens from the deepest depths of the Confederacy’s territory and beyond. A new soul had appeared in the pits, the hulking figure of Lirka Ka had thrown herself into the Pits eagerly these days. Fighting beasts and gladiators alike, whomever was willing to come and fast the mighty beast of a woman.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And it would seem another candidate had fallen into the bloody ring.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her name was [member="Aya Clarke"], the name meant nothing to Lirka. Just another body in the Confederacy’s ranks that she would’ve never encountered otherwise: but it mattered not. These were the pits, names meant nothing, the people meant nothing. They were an opponent and nothing more.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And just maybe they’d see each other again, if they both made it out of here intact of course.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The armored hulk of Lirka stood hidden behind one of the mighty durasteel doors that opened up to the sandy pits within, a handful of tall stone columns raising high into the sky: reminiscent of the ancient executions of old, far less prevalent in the new government of the CIS. The stage was barren and set, and without a doubt Lirka knew her opponent stood behind another door, just waiting for when they’d be open and the beasts would be let at each other. [/SIZE]

 

[Aya Clarke]

[member="Lirka Ka"] was wrong about one thing, Aya was not standing. The woman, donning her Saint's armor, was kneeling behind the massive door, her battle standard wrapped tightly around the pool and tied with string resting against her shoulder, inside her encircled arms as she prayed silently. The thoughts that ran through her head kept her grounded in the present, drowning out the roar of the crowd. Why had she thought to come here? Perhaps she sought a challenge to revitalize herself, keep her strength in combat. Perhaps she wished to test the extent of her armor's capabilities. Perhaps she simply, needed it.

Forgive me for the senseless violence.

The door opened at last, slowly, and Aya rose to her feet with all the grace she could. Soft steps lead her out onto the sands, as she grasped her banner's length firmly. She unfurled the flag with her spare hand, letting the insignia of a crimson hawk fly free as she spoke to the mountain of a creature she was approaching. "I am Lady Aya Clarke, and I shall be your opponent today."

About halfway across, she stopped, adjusted so her spear was angled between them, and let Lirka have the first move.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Did Lirka pray? Once upon a time she did. To the old gods of lost Thustra, but such notions were beneath her now. What meaning did faith have to a soul so torn and dark such as her's? The answer was simple, there was no meaning to it: it was senseless jargon made by the races who were too young to think anything else. Pathetic. Maybe one day she'd have enough forces behind her to simply burn all the cults in the Galaxy to the ground...

But this was no time for mindless wanderings of both hypocrisy and hatred.

This was the pits, the most proper home Lirka had ever had since she abandoned the easy old days within the Monarchy. And to keep her home, blood needed to be shed. With such thoughts in mind, the mighty monster of a woman began to saunter out as the doors slowly groaned open: sand and dust sputtering down: a side effect of merely existing on geonosis it seemed.

Lirka was quite the sight, if her poor opponent had ever heard of her before (though to be frank, Lirka was truly a nobody. An amusing novelty, the stupid berserker who wore armor all the time) it would've seemed her size was not over-exaggerated. The hulking monster of a woman stamped her way through the sand, even making a tall and strong human look like a piddly child in comparison: her stylized armor hid all notion of gender, or even that a person existed beneath those layers of sharped and engraved Dura-Armor.

It was obvious to anyone Lirka was a show woman and gladiator first, she slammed fists against her breastplate, showboating to the crowd as she approached her foe. She was riling them up, trying to entice louder cries and screams of excitement within those bloodthirsty masses: this was the life, she couldn't deny that much. And the credits would be marvelous once she beat this new pretty face into a (still breathing) pile of blood and broken bones.

"I am Lirka Severial Ka, your destroyer!"

So painfully corny. But the crowds always ate it up.

Little time was wasted, heaving up the massive blade she dubbed a "Klaive": a weapon that was almost a head taller than Aya herself the woman let out a savage roar from her helm and launched herself at her new plaything: savagely sending her Klaive down in a arc to try and either overwhelm an attempt at a blade lock with sheer brute strength or merely just wound her opposition already.

[member="Aya Clarke"]

 

[Aya Clarke]

"How.. trite" A remark of her boast, or tactics, it was hard to tell. Perhaps both. Aya could be seen sighing (considering her 'helmet' was little more than a transparent force field) with an obvious look of disappointment. The beast of a creature wished to fight and boast, she would deny some small satisfaction from her. As the weapon was brought down, Aya's contacts letting her pick up the minute details of her motion far better than she could normally, she realized quickly she simply wouldn't be able to afford blocking the weapon. In fact, given Lirka's speed, she wouldn't have a hope in the world of overwhelming her in the slightest in a direct contest. Physicality here would be Lirka's domain.

So she would have to try something different. Shifting her grip and stance, when the Klaive was brought down on her, Aya used the length of her phrik spear-banner to, not so much 'catch' the blade, but guide its momentum down to her side. The shock reverberated into her hands even still, and there was a cascade of sparks all down the weapon. However, she'd managed to avoid letting Lirka get the first strike, and confirmed the strength disadvantage. Her hands already stung from the first blow, though she did not let that be obvious on her face as she retaliated.

As the weapon slid down, she extended the spear up, aiming for the joints of the armor around the shoulder. No armor was perfect, ten thousand years proved such. There must always be a point that can be punctured, and Aya was going to have to find it, or resort to her secondary weapon already.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Brute strength was a mighty tool, because so many hot heads got off thinking they weren't as strong as the woman who would quite literally shatter someone's back over her knee if given the chance or was annoyed enough. Alas, this one was smart. Shame, Lirka was hoping she would've been able to simply beat her into a fine paste quickly.

A low growl came from the armored warrior as her blade didn't make contact. Listening to the screech of metal on metal made her feel alive though, this was a slippery one indeed. Good. All the more satisfying when they were a broken husk in the sand, for the crowd and Lirka's own sick revenge.

They both moved like a blur, Lirka's size making it all the more surprising with just how fast the woman could truly be when she wanted to: of course, nothing compared to when she let the force make her movements even quicker (quite the blender of doom on the battlefield). Crouching her knees ever so slightly for a mere second Lirka let out a laugh as she bizarrely just launched her armored body at the woman.

Her intent was simple, don't allow the weapon to connect with such a vital region for her fighting style, and leave them both disoriented under the bizarre assault: something she picked up when bar fighting.

[member="Aya Clarke"]

 

[Aya Clarke]

A scant few seconds had already passed, and both had managed to avoid the first exchange of blows thus far. There was no advantage of speed here, at least so long as Lirka remained passive in her use of the Force. The enhanced overlay the contacts provided let Aya notice the slight bend, but there really was little time to react, too little. Lirka had already hurled herself, and there was no stopping it. Their bodies connected before she could attempt to counter, and they were both sent in one direction. Aya's suit had micro repulsors in the feet, and with a quick activation she managed to put space between herself and Lirka, so they would fall separated from one another instead of being crushed by the larger woman.

Didn't stop the entire exchange from taking the wind out of her, as she quickly got herself back up onto her feet. Slow breaths, she had to breathe slowly to calm her heart. The taller, stronger woman would likely be suffering far less, having been more prepared for what was to happen, she had to stay calm and breathe now. One trick, the repulsors in her feet, had been revealed, but outside of better jumps there wasn't much in play yet. She gave Lirka time to get to her feet, there was no honor in dueling one on the ground, and made her next play.

With an intentionally large flourish, twirling the spear mostly to create the loud sound of the flag and waving banner as a distraction, Aya thrusted the spearhead at Lirka's knee, intent on finding a different joint to lodge the spearhead into. The only other portion of the misdirection was the initial angle, tilting it up before quickly arcing back down to the knee itself.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Not quite what she wanted, but Lirka was pleased enough with throwing back her opponent: and leaving herself to fall right on her armored face instead. The main plan was to being falling on her instead, then beating the little human into a (still breathing) paste. Expecting to be stabbed right into the back: no such thing came.

What an idiot.

Obviously this woman wasn't from the pits, launching herself up Lirka waited for the counter attack by her opponent. Watching the overly elaborate display of the spear: how utterly ugly. These humans had no sense of making anything remotely pretty.

Then the assault came, Lirka's armor plates were close together, but a small gap was present for the thin of any blade to slide within and stab into her flesh. And she let it happen, not letting herself flinch as she felt the blade sink into her flesh and the blood leak across her skin. Such a familiar experience, then with an amused growl she let that thin gap squeeze against the spear: she was trying to leave it trapped within her skin and armor.

Then her fist flew out, her cybernetic arm backed up by her dura armor slamming against Aya's head (or trying to, at least), and if it connected immediately following it up with another, and another, and another.

[member="Aya Clarke"]

 

[Aya Clarke]

Aya couldn't hope to pry the spear free, as the blood trickled down onto the sand. And so close to Lirka, she couldn't hope to avoid the strike of her fists coming at her head. So she did what any reasonable adult would, and let go of the spear, raising her hands to protect her head. The first blow slid a bit, connecting into Aya's shoulder with a sickening thud, before repeated punches connected with her phrik plated arms and shoulders. Over, and over, as she tried feebly for a moment to back up. Four strikes in and she was already feeling pain lacing up her arms, when she remembered she had other tools at her disposal. She activated the boots again, and this time leaped back, just far enough to give her the moment she needed.

Her hands grasped around the hilt at her left hip, and after disconnecting the hilt from the scabbard she drew her second weapon. The blue blade of her lightsaber flared to life, met by a roar from some of the crowd seeing what likely had been assumed to be a sword. "Shall I presume your armor can withstand this? Or must I be careful to not end our spar so swiftly?" Should Lirka try, she would fail utterly to detect any sensitivity in Aya, as she leveled the weapon between them, both hands gripping the weapon below the phrik crossguard.

Aya's plan was going to be simple, see if Lirka kept the spear where it was. If she did, retrieve the spear. If not, retrieve the spear. Either way she had done this to practice, and needed the spear. Her breathing heavy, she waited to see what the behemoth of a woman did.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

[SIZE=11pt]The steely eyed gaze of the Sephi’s helmet bored into the sad excuse of a fighter before her. Her fist swinging violently with every intent to shatter the helmet, the teeth, the face, every little bit of her opponent. Rules could be bent. And critical condition was still living.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But eventually the weakling disengaged, and with pain coursing through her leg: the grizzled gladiator only laughed at the Lightsaber,[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I don’t need to wear a suit to defend myself against an overgrown glowrod.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And with that, her free cybernetic arm clutched the shaft of the spear embedded into her body: and with the sickly sound of metal screeching against metal and a blade being dislodged from flesh the Sephi pulled out the Spear out of her knee: she didn’t even flinch.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Such were the nerves of a particularly angry woman over a century old.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“And we’ll see if this lasts. I’d hate to end our spar short,”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Sarcasm, Lirka was here for money and glory. Nothing else.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Changing the grip of her Klaive her hand moved to the second of it’s hilts. A slight click and the weapon burned into life, fiery and emerald green electro plasma filament burned across the main portion of where the blade sliced through it’s hapless victims: in one hand, her mighty burning blade, and in the other: her enemies weapon, christened in her own blood.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]This was a proper pit fight.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Aya Clarke"][/SIZE]

 

[Aya Clarke]

"Perhaps you would like to learn a few things from this experience. So begins the lesson." She slowly shifted her stance, moving closer towards Lirka, and slightly tilting her right side forward. A plough stance, with the sword held about waist high, angled up at the chin. A proper, practiced stance. "Lesson one, never disrespect your opponent. We teeter on the edge of death, regardless of what you may believe possible." She had fortunately gotten her lightsaber temporarily tuned down, so she wasn't going to kill Lirka if she got a swing through, just the intense pain as if she had been. So she had no reason to hold back.

Clarke family swordplay was defensive, but by no means did that mean she had to hide and wait. Knowing she had to press an attack, get close. So as best she could, she advanced on her in what could be best described as an aggressive parry attempt. There was a certain amount of trust that Lirka would see the advance and take the time to thrust first with the spear, or swing the massive weapon down again. Either way, she had plans on just how to react, with any luck she would be able to respond appropriately herself. Force Lirka to strike, and use it against her. That was how Father would have done it...

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

A lesson? This little whelp wanted to teach her a lesson, rage simmered within that armored hulk. Such insolent little children, always feeling such undeserved arrogance.

[SIZE=11pt]She would be humbled.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“A lesson? From you, child?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Lirka was not an old Sephi, though not overly young either. But to the rest of the races of the Galaxy? She seemed ancient, a seasoned warrior of 127 years, decades within the pits, a decade training with the Anzat, and decades fighting in the Underworld. Always more and more fighting, and that made the idea all the more offensive.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And thankfully, the rat advanced,[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Lirka responded all but immediately with a barely contained fury of an ancient, her Klaive took a hard swing to the woman’s side, the plasma around it hissing and crackling, radiating heat. With little time spared to see if the attack even landed she used Aya’s own spear in a follow up, holding the weapon up high and trying to stab her as if it were some strangely designed sword.[/SIZE]

[member="Aya Clarke"]

 

[Aya Clarke]

"Age means nothing." A swing at the side, she had hoped Lirka would try another chop. At this angle she only had one direction to deflect, and little other choice. With a great deal of effort, she moved her blade to intercept, and caught the Klaive with the blade and crossguard. Some effort and help with microrepulsors, and she could just barely push the weapon up over her head, though it felt for a moment as though she were about to lose her head. The spear though, that was a problem. The way she stabbed with it though was both godsend and humiliating, as it did find a gap of plates to slide into her side.

Aya's own spear had found its way into her side, only saved from grievous injury as the technique was improper. Her blood joined Lirka's on the tip of the spear, and even as her face grimaced, twisting in pain, she was now in position to counter strike. With practiced hands, she made two swift strikes. One went from her upper right to lower left, followed by a thrust. The first strike, were it a fatal powered blade, potentially cleave the woman from her left shoulder to right hip, and the thrust right through her gut. Two strikes in retaliation for hers, even with enhanced ability she doubted Lirka was in a position to really retaliate properly. Big weapons in close quarters were not nimble.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Age means nothing.

[SIZE=11pt]Such an ignorant thing. Maybe once Lirka believed it, but not anymore. Age was the integral piece that separated so many people, the wise from the naive, the skilled and unskilled, teacher from student. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Of course her own maturity to actually make it matter was greatly in question. The overgrown glowrod made it’s mark. Slicing through thick armor plates and flesh beneath before plunging itself into Lirka’s gut. A coward’s weapon.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But if there was one thing Lirka had made herself known for in her unremarkable career in the CIS it was her total and utter refusal to just lay down and die. Retaliation came swiftly as the two became locked with blades plunged into bodies. She pushed, trying to send the spear deeper into the gash it had torn open. A low growl humming from her helmet.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And an attempt was made to bring the blunt and “harmless” end of her Klaive to simply knock her opponent upside the head with it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Aya Clarke"][/SIZE]

 

[Aya Clarke]

Deeper. Twisting. It actually got Aya to let a small, pained noise loose, though her soul burned bright in defiance to this woman. Trite arrogance, insolence, she seemed to believe her age gave her any authority evidently if the child comment meant much. A fallacy if ever she heard one, age meant nothing, held no purpose if not backed by what was needed. And in this case, both were masters of their craft, even if the lightsaber was a new tool for Clarke.

The blunt end would hurt, and she had no time for it. She quickly let go with one hand and held a palm out at the 'safe' end of the Klaive, activating the secondary feature of her micro repulsors. Amplifying their power, a blast similar to a padawan's Force Push blasted out at the approaching arm, if anything the most surprising of attacks. This followed by yanking her lightsaber free, as though cutting it free out Lirka's side, and swinging up at the spear arm to try and force her to let go. Each motion dug the spear in deeper, turning the trickling crimson into a steady, if weak, stream....

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

It seemed there was two ideologies fighting, where one stabbed with a (relatively) harmless glowrod, Lirka had every intent to inflict enough punishment to where her enemy simply could not longer fight.

[SIZE=11pt]It was a lesson, eh? To take enough punishment and persist regardless, continue on despite injuries. Lirka had more than enough practice with it, and mere pain would not keep her down long enough.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Even as she roared out, a bestial thing amplified by her helmet: she prepared her follow up, with her sword arm flying back and the saber slicing “through” her cybernetic. She let go of the spear, but it was a fleeting victory. She responded immediately with her force behind that cybernetic arm, every intent to punch the shaft of the spear and send it flying out of the wound she had made within her. She had grown tired of using the ugly looking weapon anyway.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Aya Clarke"][/SIZE]

 

[Aya Clarke]

Six seconds. Everything was happening in such short time frames, even without the Force it would be difficult to watch both and keep track of the flurry of blows. Up, through, and down onto the other side. That had been Aya's upward swing, and a mighty blow it would have been with a physical blade. The moment that Lirka let go, Aya tried to reach back and pull her spear out of herself, but the punch wrenched the poorly held weapon out of her grasp and body. The spray of blood coated the sand to the joy of the audience, and for once actually elicited an audible sound of pain. Left hand reached back, charged up, and extended at Lirka's chest with another 'force push' from the gauntlets. In the same moment she activated, well the rest, her boots and the pack itself, sending herself flying back as though her own blast forced her away.

The landing wasn't graceful, lacking any sense of practice, as Aya panted heavily. She picked the banner up, and tried hard to catch her breath. Lirka was strong, vicious. Aya had made a mistake in engaging her directly as she had, a valuable lesson for herself. Likely this fight would not be a long one. She needed an opportunity, the flaw in this style. It was... crude. Heavy swings. Could she... perhaps...

"I was not expecting such a dullard of a fight. Such a lack of grace, or talent. Perhaps I should have requested a rancor, at the least the Rancor would be a somewhat entertaining bout. Or perhaps watch grass grow." By now Aya's breathing was at least seemingly normal. And her tone had mock superiority, as she adopted a stance with the spear in her left hand, and lightsaber in her right. She hoped her plan wouldn't backfire..

[member="Lirka Ka"]