First Reply I Mean...It's Still Training...

[Trace Xyston]

Trace Xyston grabbed up his designated sting blaster and donned his "battle armor". He was receiving strange looks in the room from the other people, probably because of his air of professionalism as he looked over his weapon. The blaster was nothing special, just heavily modified to reduce its sting as much as possible. He swept his gaze across the room as he walked to the entrance to the arena. Most were middle-aged, though there were some older teenagers. And they were all about to get smoked.

The Twi'lek picked up his pace to a jog as he moved into the arena, and directly across the open pit to take cover behind one of the dozens of high slabs drilled into the ground to look like battle debris. All the commoners flooded into the room behind him and some took up positions in the open spaces between slabs for some reason. Amateurs. The others actually used the cover and hid. But they couldn't hide from one of the Lilaste Order's Elghaseki soldiers.

A bell rang overhead, and the blast door across the arena closed, locking the people in the chamber. With a trained soldier. Trace immediately crossed a few meters to the slab to his right, squeezing off two shots at a bearded human's chest. They both hit, and a cry of surprise came from him. Yes. This would be fun. But maybe...not all of them would be unskilled, average citizens.

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

Korn Kray’ac grabbed up his designated E-10 blaster and donned his “battle armor”. He was receiving strange looks in the room from the other people, probably because of his air of stupidity as he looked over his weapon. The blaster was nothing special, just something he had stolen from its predecessor, if reducing the pain in said predecessor's killing as much as possible.

A punch to the gut, a swift kick to the head, a cracked neck and then a fist to the ribs, some fisticuffs and kicks and then some later and his opponent was dead. That was time ago, however, before the killer was thrown into this here arena.

Korn Kray’ac, a mercenary, was no amateur when it came to murder. However, he hadn’t exactly entered this makeshift tournament shindig whatzahaveit on his own accord. He was forced into it. He was no sworn Mandalorian, that was for sure.

The pit. He bit his lip as he moved past the entrance. Fighting pits were nothing new to him, however this was a bit different. It was also outfitted with idiots; those who stood in the open instead of taking cover to become hidden.

Korn did the latter. He slammed his back against a slab and took cover. The bell rang, then blasters banged. The Kray’ac, such as he was, aimed straight for a bearded human’s chest. The latter man fell, only he fell moments before Korn’s bolts had struck him.

Kriff. He bit his lip again. Apparently someone had beaten him to the gun and the punch and then some, and was skilled enough to hit with precision. I’m in for it. Korn reckoned. He wore no beskar’gam despite being ‘Mandalorian’.

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Trace fired four times into a teenager's lower abdomen, sending him sprawling on the ground (more from surprise than pain). Before long, he was back on his feet again. "Hey, man, not cool!" he squealed before he stormed off into the dugout of defeated players.

The Twi'lek concealed a grin and lunged behind another slab of duracrete. He would circle around the entire arena, and make sure that everyone taking cover would be attacked from the flank (or from behind, for those who were stupidly hiding in the innermost rim of 'battle debris').

He stopped to take a deep breath, and to remind himself not to get too cocky. There was still that one man... probably a mercenary of some sort. The man had brought his own weapon to this little arena. Interesting. And while all the other commoners had brought friends or family to have a good time, he had come alone, just like Trace. Maybe to hone his skill whilst awaiting a pickup or something. Well, the Twi'lek would have to watch out for that one human-

And as he rounded another slab, Trace spotted him. He was at an angle where the soldier couldn't get a shot on him. But Trace wanted to engage him badly. He aimed at the ground right behind the slab and fired, probably hitting a few centimeters away from his opponent.

Now to see if he would respond.

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Die Shize]

oops

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

​

I mean… Korn afforded himself a moment to think. It’s still training… It didn’t matter if his hits were lethal or nonlethal. His time in the fighting pits as a teenager, for instance, led to death or just blood from split lips, his opponents getting up to fight again. Or not getting up. Period.

The mercenary swallowed, took a breath, and let his rifle do the talking. His next opponent wasn’t in the open, rather he had the intelligence to crouch low behind a makeshift pillar, dodging blows, but that itself had left him open to hell and the hail of Korn Kray’ac’s bolts.

A squeal followed. All in all, the merc’s blaster might have been awarded him from a kill, but it felt satisfyingly surreal that in this instance of a ‘tournament’ or whathaveit, well, the reward of war was more of a dignified walk to the exit upon being hit with a bolt.

Truth be told, Korn had no idea what he had walked into until the bolts started flying, his blaster having been tampered with, perhaps, and that was fine for him. Good. They won’t murder me, at least. In turn, he wouldn’t have to return the favor.

A bolt whizzed by his head just then. There were still stakes in this game. Quickly, he shifted position, covering his escape with a barrage of bolts his shooter’s way. He slammed his back against another wall.

“Hi,” Korn greeted the guy by his side.

“You’re a nerf herder!”

-THUMP!-

At least there was no blood as Kray’ac rendered his best friend unconscious with the butt of his rifle to his head. Hiding behind the wall, he was safe for now, though was no coward. He would peak round the corner when the time was right, at least.

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Trace barely had enough time to take a breath before a flurry of bright yellow bolts flew his way. The Twi'lek immediately turned and dove to the ground, avoiding the shots by a hair. It was obvious to him then, that this man he was fighting was no average joe. This was a trained killer. He didn't even take the time to carefully aim his shots. Just sent suppressive fire Trace's way, and almost knocked him out of the match. He had to be careful.

After recovering quickly from his laid down position, Trace crouched down low and crept over to the end of his slab and peeked out cautiously. A shot whizzed past his ear. That was a lucky shot, taken by a Quarren standing in the middle of the entire arena. Fool. The Elghasek would hit him with a book move, and turned around to peek around the other side of the slab. The Quarren didn't expect it, still aimed at Trace's previous location. The Twi'lek fired a single shot and hit his opponent in the knee. Now it was time for some barely legal fun.

The Quarren fell down on that knee, dropping his blaster. That was when Trace sprinted straight towards the downed man, stopped a meter before him, and wound up for an uppercut. Once he released...the Quarren went flying three meters before landing unconcious on the sandy floor. Without wasting another moment, Trace ran forward and around another slab to catch his breath. Boy, was that fun.

But the mercenary was still in here somewhere, and there were probably only five people left in this arena. They would cross paths very soon.

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

​

Hopefully pray tell no one had seen him take down that contestant by knocking him out but oh well. Korn had not been disqualified from this tournament or whatever it is so there was that of course. He moved forth, forward, toward the corner of his new cover.

There was a Quarren standing in the middle of the entire arena. Fool. The Mandalorian would hit him with a book move, and turned to peek around the other side of the slab. The Quarren didn’t expect it—neither did the Mandalorian.

“THE GAME IS ON!’ Shouted some pink flamingo of a Duros given his armor’s color and the way he ran out of nowhere. He dashed with a sword brandished forward, ready to tear. Likely it was set on some kinda vibro-stun or whatsuch like their blasters but whatever.

“I do like to play,” Korn gave as he stood at the ready. If this was a nonlethal tournament as expected then he would at least honor his competition with his fists at the ready.

“I’LL HAVE YOU, LONGSHANKS!” The Duros cried as he attacked.

His opponent dodged the blow, swinging low to high for his own opponent’s cheek.

-CRACK!-

“WAGH!”

The Duros came back with a horizontal swing from his left to right at a 93-degree angle, banking on momentum and the inertia within this arena. “TIME TO PAY YA FU—”

-SMACK!-

There goes the Mandalorian's step backwards then the uppercut.

“WUGH!”

That sent his contender landing flat on his ass before crashing to his back. Amid the blasts of blasterfire, Korn Kray’ac unslung his blaster from his shoulder and moved onward. There were probably only four people left. Maybe the one who had plugged a bolt toward his skull was next?

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Trace carefully crept over to the slab to his right, blaster held out. There. Another Twi'lek, aiming away from him. A simple kill. Trace decided to get a bit fancy with this one. From behind, he placed his hands firmly on the teenager's mouth, and pulled. His head slammed into the soldier's chest, and the boy was kicking and panicking, his screams muffled. Trace squeezed...and the boy went limp. Alive, of course, just knocked out. Hopefully no one saw that...

The trained soldier then stood up and yawned. This was easier than he'd imagined. And then he heard a war cry. A pink armored Duros ran across the arena and disappeared behind another piece of cover. He was obviously attacking someone. And there was a decent chance that person was the mercenary. Trace could third party that fight and get the mercenary out quickly. Yes, that would be a good idea.

He jogged around the slabs until, around the corner...was the Duros's unconcious body. Strange. Where did the mercenary go? Trace didn't want to wander amidst the middle ring of slabs and get ambushed, so he stayed back. The youth nowadays called that 'camping'. An appropriate term, certainly. But it could be very effective.

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

The last time Korn Kray’ac had gone camping he woke up to the roar of a Rancor on the horizon and a bear that gave him quite a scare as it began to tear through his tent after mistaking the man for breakfast.

Now it was a matter of cracking down on the others and chomping on them like dinner. He pressed his back against a pillar, took aim and watched as a Togruta popped a shot off at someone outside of his vision. The Man took the opportunity while his opponent was distracted.

-POP!-POP!-POP!-

Korn’s rifle coughed a barrage toward the shooter. At least one bolt found its target and took its toll. It didn’t knock him out cold but the Togru got up and moved. Yerrrrrrr OUT! Korn wore a loud grin.

Problem now, however, was peering around the corner offered no targets. They were likely pinned in their own positions. Karking campers. With that, Korn took his chances and rolled forward.

He was on the outer edges as he moved toward the middle. The little slab that grabbed his back wasn’t much bigger than a crate as he aimed to wait but it sufficed to hide him. If someone shot at him while he moved into position, they had missed, but at least he could gauge where those shots may have come from.

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Trace was always taught in the Elghaseki to keep his guard up. And he did on those behind-enemy-lines, top secret missions that his team always did. But here in this play arena? His blaster was lowered by his chest as he surveyed the room. Then, his eye caught a glimpse of...the only other trained person in the room.

He fired off two shots, but immediately regretted it as he missed catastrophically. Now his opponent knew where he was.

Trace reacted immediately by rolling to his left, behind one of the wider slabs. Unfortunately, it wasn't very tall, and he had to stay prone to use its cover. He counted to three, then crawled over to peek around the corner, looking at the slab that the mercenary had dove behind.

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Two shots had coughed. A blaster blared. To be fair, it wasn’t any surprise that they had missed and no fault to the shooter. The latter had likely not expected the unknown mercenary to suddenly roll from out of cover.

Sometimes misses just happened. Could a bolt have grazed Korn’s skin? Singed his garments? Oh for sure. But this wasn’t yet the moment to take a hit in the second he had flipped in the open and so exposed with his armor.

And there’s your trajectory. Korn had caught the shots coming in from one side. However, to pinpoint the shooter’s position with pristine accuracy? That was a long shot even from this meager distance in comparison given the arena that the fighters are in.

The Once Upon A Mandalorian was a pretty good mercenary but he wasn’t that good. He didn’t have the precision to determine his opponent’s position except that he was somewhere to his left. Bet.

It went quiet. Silence took its toll. Kriff it. Korn immediately rolled again to the opposite section of better pillars than the makeshift crate of a slab that had grabbed his back. No shots went off. Delicious. That meant his more accurate opponent was also shifting position in that moment.

The question was, had Korn’s attacker noticed his own departure in that moment? Or was he still training his weapon on that slab? Didn’t matter to the Mandalorian.

There were likely at least three people left. Korn let a taller slab hug his back. That a… He blinked. That a kriffin’ Chevin? It looked into the distance as if taking aim at someone in a prone position.

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Trace snarled as nothing emerged from the short slab. Great, now where is he...

Suddenly, there was a rustling sound behind him. The Elghaseki turned around abruptly, training his weapon before him, to whatever came past that corner. Sounds of loud breathing entered his ears, and an Ithorian came into view. Trace blasted her twice, much to her dismay, and he nodded to her in respect for making it this far in the match.

But now he'd given away his position again. Something he usually never did. Was all this lack of missions unraveling him? He would make a point to talk to Laphisto later about a heavier training regimen. Meanwhile, he had to be careful with who he shot. He'd much rather have the two remaining civilians fight each other, and the mercenary end the survivor, than taking them out himself. The former option would be much to Trace's benefit. The two civilians would be out, and the merc would reveal his position.

But things usually didn't go according to plan for the Twi'lek. Trace decided to stay behind this slab, as his main opponent would think he'd moved. Or maybe the merc knew Trace was trying to trick him? Decisions, decisions...

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Chevins, Ithorians and positions oh my! Korn was too busy focusing on his own target to pay another contestant his attention in that moment. The Chevin had a big hulking karking rifle leveled from his hip to his…chin…which were about the same level as he began to squeeze the trigger.

Fortunately for his target, the Mandalorian mercenary was quicker. From behind his new structure that served as his cover, Korn coughed a flurry of shots off and he didn’t really need much skill for his ‘kill’.

Nonlethal, granted, in this makeshift tournament wotzahaveit, but damn if that elephant—Chevin— wasn’t an easy target with his giant chin. He squealed and reeled and was down and out for the count.

Amid Korn's attack, he had heard the burst of a blaster and had glimpsed its flash from the distance and his position. Then there was silence. If two persons were exchanging fire then they would still be going. That meant only one thing to the mercenary. And then there were two.

So Korn Kray’ac moved, he advanced, slamming his back against an adjacent slab where the Chevin had been at it, and he took a peek. What did he see? Didn’t matter. He played attacker. He sprayed and prayed. Maybe he’d hit the contestant protected by that slab.

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Seconds after Trace downed the Ithorian, his position was peppered with the mercenary's fire. If the soldier's count was right, it was just he and his skilled opponent in the arena now. He would need to be cautious. The Elghaseki stayed put, enduring the spray of sting bolts. But it didn't stop. So Trace looked to either side. It looked like his enemy was spraying at random, from left to right side.

Trace memorized the pattern and leapt to his right. A sting bolt whizzed right past his ear. So much for caution. Immediately, the soldier stood and crept to the right even more. He peeked out and began firing towards his enemy's position. At least, where he thought the mercenary was. Trace could have been wrong in pinpointing the position, or the man might have moved already. But he attacked nonetheless.

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music IC? OOC?

Damn it. The Mandalorian had missed his target. Kriff it. He wasn’t much of a Mandalorian to begin with. See any beskar’gam on his person? No, more like substandard armor; an amalgamation of durasteel, duraplast, durawotzahaveit and don’t ask. The rest was bubblegum.

It happened. Sometimes you landed a hit and sometimes you simply missed. Korn wasn’t one to need to singe somebody’s skin for him to feel like he had a modicum of success and he didn’t care about burnt garments.

In this tournament shindig something-something, it was take your opponent out or be taken out in one hit. Oh, did a sting bolt go whizzy-whizz past his opponent’s ear? That made little difference to the shooter as far as he could hear.

It didn’t matter whether you hit by an inch or missed by a mile. Winning was winning while losing was losing. Blaster’s came Korn Kray’ac’s way in that same moment? Okay bet. Heck. I recognize this music. ‘Jordan’ by Buckethead.

Maybe it was in his head? Another argument of who gives-a-kriff. If this is a stadium then just maybe the audience wanted music but whatever. Korn didn’t move from behind his makeshift cover as bolts came his way and flew past his position amid four walls that weren't worth breaking.

“HEY!” He shouted at his foe, the only remaining opponent. “YA LIKE GRENADES!?” He looked left, looked right. “Cuz I…don’t have any…” He blinked. “How about we settle this with a bit of melee, eh?”

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Trace took his finger off the trigger as his opponent shouted to him.

“HEY!” He shouted at his foe, the only remaining opponent. “YA LIKE GRENADES!?” He looked left, looked right. “Cuz I…don’t have any…” He blinked. “How about we settle this with a bit of melee, eh?”

The Elghaseki scoffed. A melee? "How can I trust that you won't shoot me when I come out of cover? And how can you trust me?" he yelled back. From the soldier's prior dealings with mercenaries and scum, their promises were either the most trustworthy in the galaxy, or the most worthless. Now...which type was his opponent?

As he shouted across the arena, he looked left and right, trying to find a way to sneak behind the merc quickly. Trace would respond to his opponent's next sentences, then move quickly to flank him while he was still talking. Not the most honorable attack, but it would be effective. Maybe.

Trace spotted a path through the random pattern of slabs that would take him in a semi-circle around the room. It would also provide enough cover for him so the mercenary couldn't beam him. Yeah...this was training. Both physically and mentally. He would have to tell Laphisto that he wasn't goofing off on this planet. Maybe he'd get a raise...

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC? IC?

Well, his opponent certainly had a point to his argument and no mistake, Korn reckoned.
I mean, it wasn’t like his enemy knew him to be a mercenary, to exact form of definition.
Then again, we are not writing from first person, and this was not third person…or is it..?
Whatever. This was why you don’t try to break prose in the hopes of sounding like a pro.

“I can’t,” Korn yells back. “In a game of thrones, my not-quite-a-friend, it ain't about trust.”
He was no liar amid this fire of combat. His tactics might even warrant him a promotion?
Then again, Korn Kray’ac had no recollection of how he had entered this tournament.
That was problem number one. Might even be why I’m stuck in my own imagination.

“Did I ever tell you about Emperor Jalala?” He blew through his lips behind his helmet.
Isn’t a Mandalorian’s helmet, granted, but he isn’t much of a Mandalorian to begin with.
Back to slab, Kray’ac made no notion of departing from his position as he talked back.
“A complete idiot, really.” A Mandalorian reflected amid music that might not even exist.

“He was in this coliseum—colosseum—” And there’s your extended hyphen. “When…”
Korn suddenly caught onto the silence of his opponent. He looked right, he looked left.
“He lifted and bit his thumb at his enemy and…” He trailed off, listening for a response.
“...A gladiator named Kestein flanked and killed him.” He stared past slab and watched.

Trace Xyston

 

[Trace Xyston]

Trace stopped in his tracks when his opponent mentioned flanking. Could the man know where the soldier was at the moment? No...probably not. Trace decided to stay silent, and continued creeping around. Then, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Armor maybe? Trace looked over...and saw his opponent looking at him.

The Twi'lek's eyes widened as he dove for cover behind a tall, yet narrow slab. He'd been cocky. "Maybe a melee will be better for the both of us," Trace called out. He hoped to the Force that the man would respond. Who knew? Maybe he was sneaking up to Trace silently, and the Elghaseki would never know until he was down.

He could either break out of cover and depend on a quick strike to catch his enemy off guard, or he could stay under cover and hope the man didn't advance.

Breaking out it was. Trace got to his feet and sprinted left, completing the semi-circle and firing blindly at his enemy's last known location before ducking behind another slab.

Korn Kray'ac

 

[Korn Kray'ac]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Korn had no idea whether his opponent was flanking, his intentions or his position. That said, he could tell from what direction he might be coming from based on the position of his opponent’s voice. And if said opponent only gave him silence between Korn Kray’ac’s spiel of nonsense? There’s your flank attack, mister, and thanks.

The voice finally came forth toward Korn. His opponent indicated that maybe a melee will be better for the both of them, and said voice didn’t carry from his original position. Heheheheheheheheheh—

“POPCORN!”

Amid the silence of a quiet arena where the audience tried not to pulsate too much amid two opponents, Korn caught onto just enough movement in the distance to spring from his cover. Blind fire was his reward as it hammered against his slab.

-POP!-POP!-POP!-POP!-POP!-POP!-

At the same time, relying on neither inertia nor momentum, Korn burst forth a blaster bolt barrage of his own for his opponent. Being suppressed, it was likely that Korn had missed before returning to the cover of his slab.

“You’re a crafty one! I’ll give you that! So much for melee. We do this the ranged way. Tell me…” Korn blinked. “...How the hell did you get into this arena, anyway?” One thing he at least couldn’t kriffin’ remember.

Trace Xyston