For the Creds! (1 Million Credits Tourney, Fedrig v Arekk)

[Fedrig]

So Fedrig had decided to reach for some big money. A million credits were on the line, all he had to do was beat his opponents. His years of combat training put him at some advantage, at least he thought so until he entered the stadium on Iridonia. He was carted to a changing room and several people told him what the rules of the match were. No deaths if it could be helped, which was fair, one arm tied behind his back which was an odd rule to add in and it limited him somewhat. Fedrig was a man who used big heavy weapons, needing to arms just to carry the gun, in general it was a gun. So this limitation was fairly big for him, made more so by the fact his opponent could be a Sith or Jedi, or one of those Lightsaber folks. Something he did not want to fight unless he had his two hands.

Sadly, this was the cost of the grand prize. The rich snobs wanted eccentric entertainment, there was plenty of tournaments like this, often Fedrig didn't partake but he had to this time around as the money was too great to refuse. Thinking of what he could buy with all that cash blew his mind. He could get a proper merc group running with top of the line gear. A nice dream but he had to face this opponent first. Looking over the weapons made available to him, he wandered what to take. Grenades, only ones that did minimal damage but also had other effects, such as flash grenades, glue grenades, even poison grenades. If he were to face a Force User, having these would give some edge to him.

He took a dagger that was strapped to his leg and then after he finished tying his right arm behind him, Fedrig held a medium length vibrosword. Swinging it slightly to get a feel for the blade, it was balanced enough for this fight. Fedrig sighed, annoyed that he had to leave his favourite gun behind as he entered the arena. Looking around he spotted the crowd cheering and placing bets on the winner and loser. His heavy armour ensured that any Lightsaber folk were going to have a tough fight, Fedrig aimed to predict the worst and to him, Force Users were the worst.

[member="Arekk"]

 

[Arekk]

IRIDONIA​

THE STADIUM, LOCKER ROOM​

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INTERACTING WITH: [member="Fedrig"] ​

The big prize was never his objective when he entered the tournament to face off different opponents in non-lethal engagements but to pass the trials of the Je'daii, where he would have to face a friend or foe with capable skills to withstand a lenghty duel.

His satchel only contained bandages and some small protein bars to digest after the fight, plus a towel and a spare t-shirt. Ar'ekk wasn't one who liked to fight after everything he had gone through, taking a vow of no more violence after Malachor V and subsequentally Nar Shaddaa.

The locker room was empty when he waltzed in, steam coming from the showers clouded the interior and made the air feel humid. His shoes touched the tiled floor and it felt sticky, almost repugnant. The young Knight and his opponent would become the scum's entertainment for the night yet sacrifices would have to be made if he wanted to pass his trials.

His arsenal wasn't very vast compared to any other Force user like himself, bringing along only a vibrosword. The Force was his ally and he'd empower himself during battle when attuned to such gift that lived within him. That'd hopefully be enough to reach a victory although a loss wouldn't make him lose his head at all.

Having a cybernetic arm would give him the upper hand during the skirmish when wielding the vibrosword, its design allowing wielders only to use it with two hands but he was able to simply do it with one.

You learn from your mistakes, someone once said.

After a few minutes, Ar'ekk finished bandaging his fingers and prepared with the last few stretches before heading to the arena. His outfit was comfortable, wearing robes that would adjust to his quick-paced movements when adapting a very specific stance with his vibrosword.

The cybernetic arm was the most predominant feature visible and would cause anyone feel slightly intimidated by just looking at it, that's if you're not a mercenary or someone who has looked at death into her eyes.

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