Darknet Cage Match: Tiland Kortun vs Jian Kylo

[Jerec Asyr]

[SIZE=11pt]Deep in Sith Empire territory, the government controls the HoloNet with an iron fist. But outside Imperial monitoring, a patchy, furtive network swaps unregulated data, raw footage, contraband, and things that thrive in the dark. Two of those things are the Darknet Cage Match, and the betting attached thereunto.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]No Force. No weapons. No gimmicks, no gear. And no referees.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Tonight’s match: The enigmatic [member="Tiland Kortun"] versus the spacer and contractor [member="Jian Kylo"]. The winner of this first-round fight will get a purse of twenty thousand credits.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The arena is a square cage ten paces wide. The wire-fence walls have plenty of give but won’t break. The floor is a quarter inch of bloody sand over permacrete, offering both traction and treachery. [/SIZE]There are ysalamiri around, plenty of them.

[SIZE=11pt]A light goes yellow, orange, red -- and stays red.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=11pt]OOC: Tiland, if you decide to use a different face, I can accommodate.[/SIZE]

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Tiland observes the scene, a faint frown etched beneath his beard, yet beside that, no other emotion revealed itself. When the time came, he strode calmly into the ring, bare feet shuffling through the sand. At the contact, his frown grew momentarily deeper, but that faded as he took his position in the center of the ring. The absence of the Force left a hole in his being, a vacuum, that left him slightly off balance.

The world was duller, more bland, and everything seemed to move slower than they normally did. It was something he would need to compensate for during the tournament, for all the promptings from the Force that had led him here. For what reason, he could not yet say, but something important would happen. That he knew. Such was always the case when the Force guided him somewhere.

Then again, everything that happened was important. Regardless, he brought the Light Hand form of teras kasi to this tournament, it was hardly a quality form if only Jedi using the Force could use it. No, it needed to stand on its own, without conscious use of the Force to really put it to the test and ensure its sustainability.

The old Anzati stopped in the center of the ring and clasped his fists together, waiting for his opponent. Once she arrived, Tiland would give a half bow from his waist. "May you hold the steel of your hands lightly today."

The movements were precise and so were the words, carrying the feel and weight of ritual behind them.

 

[Mother Askani]

(Sorry! Didn't see this!)

She proceeded up the ramp, stopping halfway there before quickly glancing over her shoulder to her left - she knew the exact position and face to look for. Her cousin, Zheng caught her stray gaze and seemed to soak it; he knew what she was trying to convey from this far away. He was originally suppose to the be the in the ring.

A subtle nod, gave her the reassurance she needed to follow through on this. Lashes fluttering, her irises bounded from him and down to to his encased arm - he'd broke it prior to this event.

She continued on, entering the ring while holding that same breath only to release when the light hit her. She came to just a pace, looking around, but hearing everything over seeing it.

Zheng wanted to study Zama-shiwo and had been, accompanied by her only because of its relation to the Guardian of the Whills. The money was to rebuild the school and hopefully light the Masters flame in teaching again, but since Zheng was injured...she was the only person close to him with enough natural skill and prior training.

Her face scrunched up at the side of her opponent but...ehh she wouldn't go that deep.

She lowered her head in a reluctant bow before widening her stance and clutching her fist together.

The world around her rumbled, and she felt that deep down.

[member="Tiland Kortun"]

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Spoiler

Yay for graduation consuming my life. Sorry about that. [/spoiler[


Tiland returned the bow, keeping himself loose and relaxed. His opponent wasn't pushing the attack, but held back. Very well. In most cases, he would have allowed that to be the defusing of the engagement, but this was a competition, and for that, he could push himself a little further.

The old man began sliding forward in deliberate, sliding steps that slowly circled the arena. He needed to get a measure of her before engaging in the meat of the engagement. Or in his case, perhaps calling it the tea of engagement would be a more apt descriptor.

First step was to begin evoking responses. As he circled in closer, he would send a few quck, light strikes to get a sense of reaction time and skill. While they were a fairly quick flurry, aiming roughly for the four quadrants of space in front of the woman. Upper left. Bottom right knee. Left kick. Spear hand on the right. When completed, he would slip back several steps to try and stay out of reach, alternating the angle of circling if she followed.

[member="Jian Kylo"]