Kashyyyk Tournament Round 1 (Aya vs Edric)

[Asaraa Vaashe]

The wind whistling through the trees carried the scent of the forests through the arena, leaves swirling across the floor as the referee paced between the two competitors, glancing down at his clipboard. “Well, now you’re both here we can start. The nurses are here for and bumps and bruises, but I expect you to fight with honour. It’s training only so you shouldn’t end up hurt but we don’t want to take any chances. It’s combat till one of you gives up, or till the time runs out then I’ll pick a winner. If you’re both ready,” she smiled, dropping his hand down in the air, “begin!”

[member="Aya Clarke"] | [member="Edric Vanyan"]

 

[Aya Clarke]

• Weapon: Gifted Lightsaber (In signature, set to a training mode)
• Wearing: Padded cloth, surcoat, and cape (Similar to this)

Aya didn't seem to be listening for a bit, her eyes closed and her head hanging back slightly as she stood. This smell, it was different but, even so far away it was like peering out the window to her homeland. The smell of the forest was rather comforting, especially so soon after recent traumatic events she had endured. For a brief minute she could forget, let her imagination wander, while waiting for the signal to go. There was a brief delay in her response, as she returned to reality, and stood straight, her hazel eyes locking on [member="Edric Vanyan"]. If he remembered her, they'd look a bit duller than before, but there was still a determination living inside them. "Good Sir, it seems we will finally be able to have a proper bout. Sir Vanyan, I am Ser Aya of the house of Clarke, and it is my honor to be your opponent today."

Rather than robes, she wore a cloth surcoat with padded cloth along her arms and legs, and around her neck was a simple cape that fluttered with the gentle wind. She had opted not to wear her general's uniform, perceiving it as armored enough to be an unfair advantage, and figured that padded cloth would be acceptable. The Surcoat was a choice for comfort, something she felt heralded back to her home enough that, even though hers had no crest on the front, let her uniform have as much meaning as the jedi robes most of the others would likely be wearing. In her right hand was her lightsaber, the elegant hilt, with its phrik crossguard well polished, glimmered in the sunlight as she thumbed the ignition, making the blue blade flare to life.

She lifted the blade up, as if making a salute, before lowering it into a low Albert, or Fool's, guard, the blade angled forward and across her body, the hilt on her right side as her hands held onto the hilt. How would he engage, she wondered, or would she be given the honor? Her eyes locked onto him, paying attention to his waist intently. No one could move, without their waist adjusting. And as they stood outside even a wide mensur, it would take more than two steps to reach one another, though perhaps no more than four or five. How far would they advance... These first moments were important...

 

[Edric Vanyan]

Saber:

Spoiler

https://pre00.deviantart.net/169a/th/pre/f/2008/125/a/9/lau__ren__s_lightsaber_by_magyareagle.jpg

Armor:

Spoiler

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5e/de/02/5ede021008cb3e6f7d8face516bdae15--character-art-character-inspiration.jpg

Edric was as relaxed as he always was these days, bowing as he walked into the area and smiling with his body spinning a bit to bow back the way he came. It was all a show for him and he enjoyed it after having been in less public fights these last few weeks. Today was a day for enjoyment and without someone's head being on the line should something go wrong.

It was then that he saw his opponent and smiled all the wider, instantly recognizing the woman who was infront of him. He could only laugh a little bit at the situation and how he was placed in a fight with someone he actually knew, figure that. He almost wished it was Zesiro though if it was someone he knew, knowing that would be an interesting fight.

"A pleasure as always Miss Clarke, after you." He just smiled and bowed to her now, standing back up and taking off his cloak before grabbing his saber and waiting patiently.

He did not rush to ignite the blade, or even move on her when the beginning of the fight was announced. Instead he stood there patiently, even choosing to whistle a tune while he waited for her to strike first. His smile still a ghost on his face, even as he whistled and his eyes a bit more merry than anything else. The man was honestly quite at ease in this situation and happy to finally fight someone who wouldn't shoot him or gut him. It was a refreshing change and he said one more things, hopefully before she choose to strike.

"By the way, how about the winner buys the loser a drink. For the record, I prefer wine, but whiskey isn't terrible either. Just keep that in mind for after." The words would have a simple meaning, he had no intention of losing.

[member="Aya Clarke"]

 

[Aya Clarke]

• Weapon: Gifted Lightsaber (In signature, set to a training mode)
• Wearing: Padded cloth, surcoat, and cape (Similar to this)

A smart man, did he remember her swordsmanship properly? Taking the role he was, the defensive position, would force her to be the aggressor, at least to provoke him. As a swordswoman who specialized in defensive tactics, if she couldn't convince him to begin an assault of his own he would be well on his way to victory. Of course, one should not underestimate her drive, a specialty was nothing if you couldn't do aught else after all. Still the situation made her smile, overjoyed to be fighting someone who, intentionally or not, was making quite the intelligent decision. She began to take steps towards the man, lifting her free hand up and under her cape, finding the folded cloth's end and gently undoing it to let it fall around her to lay behind. "A curious choice, Sir Vanyan. I have always favored champagne for a victory toast. Perhaps you ought to take notes?"

A return jest, as she entered the wide mensur, two steps apart. The middle mensur, one step. She curled her lips into a smile, and chuckled gently. "For honor, young friend!" With that, she entered the near mensur, where she could reach him without taking a step, but not with her hands. Which meant it was time for her to strike, and strike hard. So, she lifted her weapon up, above her head, and angled slightly back, before she brought it down at his upper body. The bright blue blade was hissing through the air, as it trailed a path for [member="Edric Vanyan"]'s left shoulder, aimed to 'cut through' to his right hip. She expected to be blocked, or avoided, in either case she would be in a powerful defensive position for the counter.

Unless of course he didn't counter. Then she'd have to reevaluate.

 

[Edric Vanyan]

Edric neither blocked nor simply jumped to the side, avoiding the blade. He was interested in testing her reaction time to counteracts and even his own independent strikes, which is why he pushed himself back a foot. His body didn't move far, only far enough for him to manipulate the direction of the blade as it was cast downwards towards him, his own hand coming up to meet it, blade activated and humming now. He shifted his weight backwards, dragging his own blade back down now to collide with Aya's, dragging its path off to the side now and safely letting it glide away from him at that point.

Then, with his free hand, he snapped, a sharp, quick motion created the same distinct sound Edric was all too familiar with. A bit of a habit he had picked up and copied before casting his influence out with the force. Only unlike his father, the result was not quite so instantaneous, not without plenty of preparation. That was fine though, he had to gauge how she reacted to this in the first place.

So the snap sounded, and nothing happened, nothing but a steady growing of heat. At first, it would feel like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a warm day, filling the air suddenly with a breath of warmth, and then it was more than that, like a hot shower that suddenly jumped up in temperature. But it would then smell like smoke, the last hint for Aya to react as flames erupted out from Edric's hand and launched forward to try and grab onto the fabric of the woman before him, and to snuff out the enemy. Edric would be careful about causing harm, knowing how easily someone can become disfigured or how permanent burns can be even when the world they live in can correct such things.

But, that did not mean he would be so quick to just abandon the main method of fighting he preferred, using the force as his weapon, rather than the saber in his hand.

[member="Aya Clarke"]

 

[Aya Clarke]

The blade clashed, and was sent aside, cutting through air and coming to rest by her side, aimed low, a changing guard. He had excellent blade work, of course, but still it wasn't the best she had seen. Practiced and capable but, lacking in something. Then he snapped his fingers, an odd move, but she supposed it was a way to manipulate the Force. She braced for something, yet when nothing came she immediately tried to discern the trick. Nothing, then she felt the growth of heat. No, that wasn't something the Force did, right? It grew hotter. No, no it couldn't be something so cruel. Smoke.

She stood alone on the broken field, the last remaining cinders of her home still glowing even in morning's first light.

She felt the burning as she dug through the rubble, desperately hoping against hope that her parents somehow had made it through.

She felt the fires consuming her, as time itself conspired to make her suffer death over, and over...

Had she been any lesser, she would have broken before the first flames came into being. As it was, she barely managed to force her panicked brain into action, diving to the side as flames sprung forth, consuming the very air moments before she had inhabited. She had to pat down the end of her surcoat, as it hadn't escaped unscathed, but the panicked hands managed to keep it from going up completely. Satisfied she was not going to burn to death, again, she stood upright, her arm just barely visible with the consuming fear. "I was unaware of such a power. You shall not have such success again." And she meant it. This time when she advanced, she had an altered strategy. Her first assumption was that he was fond of the Force, and would seek an opportunity to use it. So, she intended to give him no ability to do so, as she began to bring her weapon back up for a swing, this time at the opposite side, and far more horizontal across.

This time, even if he blocked, she intended to keep steping forward, pushing her weight against him in hopes to force an opening. She could not allow that fire again. Who knows how much more she could take before her composure crumpled.

[member="Edric Vanyan"]

 

[Edric Vanyan]

[member="Aya Clarke"]

Edric was remarkably like his father in many aspects, how he viewed the world, his stance on people and things like slavers, his choice of which side from which to draw the energy required for the force. And lastly, the choice of powers the man had so kindly passed onto Edric. Unlike his father though, Edric did not boast in a fight, did not taunt or even joke and make comments meant to throw off his opponents, after all when it came to a duel, every second and action counted. So she dove to the side, escaping the flames but Edric has something more planned for her.

Rather than simply vanishing, the flames seemed to curl back up, rolling in on themselves and slowly retreated back into Edric's hands where they were finally snuffed out, all this happening as she stood back up and spoke. He just smiled at her though, a small and kind smile, but a smile none the less. The force energy would return to his hand and unlike before would be stored there, a beacon for anyone who could reliably sense the energy built up.

She had also given him a new emotion to work with, something should keep her on her toes and distracted. Fear was not as useful for him as it was his fatehr, the man having taught Edric how to use his empathy to take on an opponent's anger or fear and redirect it into a battery for the Force. Edric wasn't entirely sure if he should do so being the issue, considering he would be using this woman's own emotions for his gain. So he barely drew off her emotions, only enough to keep himself stable and going in a fight against her.

Her next attack was far more violent, and he knew why, it was to distract his attention and keep him from drawing on the force too greatly. The problem was that she had already wasted five seconds with those words, enough for him to already regain his focus and now he was just keeping her from striking him. Even then it took alot to keep her from doing such. knowing that he was far less skilled than her. This one came on a more horizontal path, not allowing him to do as he had before which meant that he would be left with one of two options.

He stepped and planted his feet to strike out and meet her blade with his own, angling the blade off to the side so that some of her strike was directed down and away from him rather than meeting the brunt of the attack head on. He didn't return a strike or use the force though, not yet. She would step forward and rather than increase distance he closed the distance too so that they were far closer than she had likely intended, and in an instant his fist came up, aimed for her cheek.

 

[Aya Clarke]

At least it wasn't fire.

Aya felt the fist connecting with her cheek, the rush of pain that went through her brain as her younger opponent stepped even further into the melee. It was no meager hit either, she could actually taste that familiar iron sting in her mouth, he'd hit her well. Yet, if he had hoped to cut off her swordplay by reducing the distance even further, he truly had another thing coming. The close mensur was exactly what he created, within enough range she could no longer use her sword, or lightsaber rather, at all effectively, but this range was meant for using her other hand, the one not using the sword. Grappling was as much a part of swordsmanship as knowing spacing, and footwork.

And Aya was well trained at swordsmanship.

So to respond, even as her head tilted away from the blow, she released her sword grip with her right hand, and quickly reached out at Edric. Her intent? She made to grab onto his shoulder, or rather his clothes, his arm, anything she could to keep him right where he was at that moment. Optimally it would be his shoulder, as he wouldn't be able to escape easily and have much chance of avoiding the attack she intended to use from the grapple. Simply grabbing hold of him wouldn't be much use after all. What she needed was to end this quickly, or at least get a solid hit of her own back in on him, which meant she twisted the sword in her left hand around to thrust forward. If it went to plan, she would grab his shoulder, and at the same time 'impale' him on her weapon.

If not? Well, hopefully something worked. Perhaps they would fall over. Perhaps she'd graze him. Perhaps she'd hit a 'non fatal' target like his arm. Perhaps nothing worked. She wasn't a psychic.


Summary in Layman's terms:

Spoiler

1. Trying to grapple onto Edric's shoulder, or anything else she can grab
2. Also trying to stab, hopefully in the chest? Or whatever she can get to.

[member="Edric Vanyan"]

 

[Edric Vanyan]

[member="Aya Clarke"]

There was a reason he was not a fighter and this was certainly it, as his shoulder was caught and held in place. Next came the blade and he knew backing away or jumping off to the side was not likely to be something he would be able to do. He could still turn though, not alot, but enough to spare him a gut full of saber, even if the weapon was on a training mode, that kind of strike would still hurt.

Just as it did when the strike hit him and his own eyes flared up a bit in pain before he could get his own saber down and protect himself from a more definite strike. She had hit him, that much was certain and he smelt the scorch of his clothing, the saber running along his side as he had turned, striking on his hip and sending pain up his spine. The pain was needless to say significant and the damage, while minimal thanks to her weapon's settings, was still enough to set his nerves on fire.

He turned his eyes on her though, pain in them but a smile crept up his face as the clothing that had been struck smoldered. That had hurt, and he was intending to repay the favor, this time without the snap. The area around where her strike had landed, that had been burnt and singed by the saber, sparked up and shot out, this time with far less warning as he already had his source of heat and already had energy stored up. It reached out curling up the path of her blade and latched onto the woman's arm, crawling further up her side. Edric need some distance and considering how she had reacted before, he would use this moment as that chance.

Assuming it actually had the desired effect, otherwise he would be trying to break her grip and likely not get very far.

 

[Aya Clarke]

Fire.

Her composure was melting rapidly as the flames danced up her blade, to kiss and devour her arm. She couldn't let that happen again, fire conjured or not would want to become an all consuming inferno after all. But the part of her still clinging to that fading composure could tell what he was after, or an idea of it, and she also couldn't allow that to happen. Between her frightened animal brain and rational swordsman brain, she had but moments to come to a plan. Something that could give her the time to satisfy her fears. Well, her sword arm was still held in place, and her grip on his shoulder was still present. He was taller than her, not a terrible amount but enough to be a problem, and she was evidently stronger if he hadn't already broken free of her grip. What could she do...

Gritting her teeth, she gave a hard tug downward on Edric's shoulder, aiming to pull his head down as she ducked, and rose up quickly, almost jumping to a certain extent to jam the top of her head up into his jaw. Such a strike, assuming it worked, would be painful and potentially disorienting, to him and a lesser extent to her, but grant her the moments to have her small panic. After the strike, successful or not, she would try to get a leg between them and kick back, failing that she would simply let go and take a few retreating steps and pat down her arm in a panicked flurry.

How was it you were supposed to handle fire? The pain and scorching of her cloth coverings was making remembering difficult, even as she started to actually succeed in batting the flames away. Eventually she'd get it dealt with, but she'd be in a bit of a sweat over it, with pain radiating up her arm from the burnt cloth.

[member="Edric Vanyan"]

 

[Edric Vanyan]

[member="Aya Clarke"]

Edric's head had not been straight as he felt his body tugged down, leading to a very different, but similar ending conclusion.

As her head came up the few inches that separated their heights, she would find her head ramming into the side of Edric's own, rather than his chin. Specifically striking on the cheek and quickly knocking his focus away from the power that he had used. Thankfully, fire did not simply end like telekinesis or illusions might with one's focus gone, being able to continue and feed on whatever it was directed at. Which, after she had let go would leave Edric a moment to focus and gather himself, leaving her to deal with putting out the fire.

He was already dazed, the strike for his head leaving a taste of iron in his mouth from where the skin had scrapped at the inside of his jaw. His vision was blurry, another side effect of her ramming into his face and the loss of the lens that had been resting in his left eye, knocked free at the same time as her strike. Luckily her focus had been on the fire, as he had expected considering her previous reaction. They had distance now as well, something he could use to his advantage as she was a far more prominent close combat opponent.

He thankfully still had his saber, and even if his breath was ragged. The fight was so far short, but he was already tired and needed to end this quickly if he could. His best chance was to force her into some kind of distraction once more and then try to disable her somehow. The Fire had proven itself useful thus far, but short of using the still hot material she was wearing as his target, it would be easy to see what he was doing. The problem with using that clothing was the fact he had no intention of harming her to a significant extent. His fire would only harm her worse than he wanted at this point, especially if he used her clothing.

He needed a solution.

He thought on that for a few moments more, and then stumbled as he stood there, his arms drooping to his side and his legs bending slightly. He let out a long breath and shook his head to clear up his vision a slightly. He had an idea now and needed to be certain it would work, so he slid his hand holding the saber forward and held it out once more. He would not make her mistake and speak, instead taking the chance to gather the force once more into his free hand.

 

[Aya Clarke]

Finally the flames were gone, and Aya felt her every breath like a weight in her chest as she finally could focus back on Edric. Heavy, thick breaths left her as she raised her blade once more, in a sort of improvised key stance, the hilt of her weapon up by her head, the crossguard flat across the top of her off-hand. It wasn't perfect, since she couldn't rest the blade at all against her arm, but the position helped to keep her centered and focused all the same. Granted her hands were still shaking from the aftermath of the fire, but anything that she could do to keep from breaking down would be necessary. If she couldn't keep her mind focused, this short, brutally violent duel would be over before the final blow.

She spat out a bit of the red fluid in her mouth, calculating her odds in her head. She had to get close to win, and he had to stay away. Defensive fighting was not an option, and if she couldn't close the newfound distance, four or five steps perhaps... she wouldn't get the opportunity to return to her strong point. From his stance, she could guess he was using his weapon as a way to keep her a further step away from his free hand, since he seemed fond of using his magicks to keep her at bay. Well, if that was the case...

Then she'd just remove the obstacle. She began to make her advance, lifting the blade up in both hands now, like an ox's horn up by her head, angled down at Edric's chest. There was one path to victory, through his blade, and so she would take his defense away. Three steps, Two steps, One step... Aya took the last step forward, intentionally making an easily parry-able thrust towards his chest, before turning it into a hew aimed directly at Edric's hand and wrist holding the blade. A simple solution, the hope was that in his attempt to parry the thrust he would put his sword hand at risk, which would make disarming him possible. If he failed the parry, he could be hit by either the thrust, hew, or both, and if he somehow managed to keep both from harming him hopefully he would put him in a position of weakness.

[member="Edric Vanyan"]

 

[Edric Vanyan]

[member="Aya Clarke"]

Just as she intended to remove his own advantage, he did so plan to remove her's. He breathed in deep, drawing out a few seeds from the pouch on his side and letting them fall by his feet while she prepared for her strike and then it came, he shot back from her, not parrying, not blocking, merely moving and attempting to separate himself from her. He wanted her to take an extra step or two, just enough for a trick his father had taught him to come into effect. But first, there needed something to feed the seeds.

He tugged at a pouch of water he had and cast it out in front of him, letting Aya's first strike, the one he had meant to avoid connect with the item. Water would be released and fall to the floor, resting at her feet and seeping into the ground. All the while Edric would step back once more, waiting for her to come into his range knowing she had to strike him if she was going to win.

And with that his free hand moved upwards, and his saber moved to block any last strike, to meet it head on and hold it there if he could. Out from the ground would come those seeds, but grown and expanding, crawling up her legs in the form of roots and vines that sought to hold her in place to draw her focus long enough for him to make a final move. He needed this to work and to do that he placed himself in a spot where she would be close enough to strike out once more. But, if his distraction did work, if he got the few seconds he needed, if his possible confusing and unusual actions, and their result held her focus and movements for long enough.

He could strike.

 

[Aya Clarke]

Tricks, deception, fields that Aya was not proficient in. This was where the force wielding boy had significant advantage, and could turn the fight around in an instant. That said, she expected tricks, only lacking in an idea what those tricks would be, short of trying to cause her to break down from flames. So she was rather pleased this was not the route he took, though the water and seeds was throwing her off significantly. She could feel the vines and roots wrapping around her legs quickly though, which was, concerning.

Very soon it would be past the point she could rip her legs free by their own strength, and the best she could do was position herself in a stable position to fight. Legs shoulder's width, left leg leading forward. She was still in striking distance, and kept her blade between them both in a plough position, the hilt by her hips on her right side, aimed up toward Edric. Hopefully he intended to best her without retreating away, leaving him in a position she could react from. If not, she would have to weather the storm.

So long as he didn't try to burn her again she might at least be able to get up again with pride intact.

[member="Edric Vanyan"]