Red vs Blue [Mass Melee Tournament]

[Aver Brand]

​

The heady perfume of exhaust fumes and violence fills every set of lungs under the metal sky of Nadir. Morning dew and the veil of twilight know no place here – the station is an ever living, ever evolving organism of its own. The machinery marches on, and those who stumble are ground into meat and dust.

Creatures gather today.

They litter the streets. They crowd the gutters. They shuffle through corridors and overpasses, over squares and stairs and roofs and cellars.

They scurry like rats through sewers.

They gather like vultures on high, waiting on the feast. Eyes wide open in greed – lips wet with hunger.

But the carrion yet lives.

Traditions are the hallmark of culture, and culture is a dying breed on Point Nadir. So this? this is not tradition. It’s entertainment.

The paper-thin illusion of civilization curls up when held to the flame that fuels these people. Rules and morality fall to the wayside, abandoned in the ditch with a hole between the eyes.

It is time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34jC1fmeFD0​

​

Spoiler: OOC

[member="Mishka Larraq"]
[member="The Matador"]
[member="Aedan Miles"]
[member="Aryn Spar"]
[member="Zyrok Drakxis"]
[member="Eralam"]
[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]

[member="Kaden"]
[member="Pike Alavar"]
[member="Alkor Centaris"]
[member="Keira Ticon"]
[member="TT-837767"]
[member="Shamira Karuto"]
[member="Vorhi Alestrani"]

OOC threadhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/111270-mass-melee-tournament-signups/

 

[Aela Talith]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED

There was an odd sort of smell in the air, a mix of stale piss and garbage that one would expect from the low and down trodden. A scowl pulled at his lips, a low growl running through his throat as the clack of his claws against durasteel floors rang out into the air.

His ears twitched slightly, the scurrying of tiny rodents and observes alike sending his senses tingling.

The massive Togorian stood scrunched between a small alcove in the streets of Point Nadir. To his left was a cantina called the Ribbed Nexu, filled to the brim with observers and bystanders. He could smell them from where he was, hear them scurrying and rushing about as they clamored for more drinks and a better place to watch the holo-feeds. His eye slowly turned to gaze at the half broken wall, the growl in his throat catching for just a moment as he heard something move behind him.

He turned slightly, stopping as he spotted a womp-rat skittering across the floor.

The Mandalorian scowled, then slowly returned to his path. Each step he took was met with a loud thump followed by a small series of clicks as his claws pressed against the durasteel floor. The armored plates on his torso shifted with every movement, his pauldrons clinking against one another where they met upon his broad shoulders.

He paid no mind to the vermin surrounding him, having attention only for those whose blood he could spill.

 

[TB-705]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED

A broad-shouldered Cathar clad in what appeared to be an exosuit stepped out into the middle of the street. Scars stitched across the umber fur of his muzzle, each one whispering its own bloody tale. Eyes like twin suns scanned the hustle and bustle with scorching derision, for he saw only carrion. Cruel, black lips curled down. Nostrils flared.

The port stank of the refuse of so-called society: excrement from an ill-wrought sewage system; vomit from an overbeveraged Gamorrean doubled over outside the bar; and somewhere, the smell of fresh blood.

Those who dwelt upon Coruscant's upper crust would call it a wretched abode full of barbaric vagabonds. The fools.

The denizens of Port Nadir knew existence in its purest form. Strip away the wealth and trappings of the Coruscanti tower-dwellers and they would prove no better. Yes, the port stank, but it stank of a primal musk, devoid of garish perfumery so often present in the ecumenopoli of the galaxy. Those futile attempts to cover up the truest state of being. Peel back their layers of silk and one would find the wretched larvae writhing about in their hive. Blackmarkets and the downtrodden. The homeless vagrants turned mugger turned murderer. Filth? No.

The tower-dwellers were the ones who covered themselves in filth. The filth of 'civilization.' A meaningless word meant to draw attention away from the way the galaxy operated. Civilizations were the creations of power. And power was not gained from ones and zeroes upon a holoscreen. Power lay in the claw and fang, in the feeling of sheer ecstasy when flesh and bone gave way beneath a crushing blow. The sole reason Thengil Ri'shajirr deigned to place himself amid this pack of whelps.

Yet, as Thengil cast his gaze about, his stride was brought up short by the sight of a white-furred Togorian, taller than any he had ever met before. There was a breathless moment, utter savagery hanging in the balance like a thread drawn taught, then-

"Greetings, Snowpelt. Shall we hunt together?"

[member="Aryn Spar"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Location: The Nest
Allies: [member="Alkor Centaris"]
Tag: [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"], [member="Aryn Spar"]

They were hunting together, but then, that was almost always the case. Brother and sister shared a bond that ran deeper than both would outwardly admit, and neither could deny that they made a dangerously effective team on the battlefield. One was rarely seen without the other when it came to mercenary work, and this was no different. Keira couldn't quite say what had brought them to Point Nadir, but that didn't much matter now. They had a different problem to contend with, namely navigating the maze-like streets in which they found themselves, The wonders of HUD technology would relieve much of the burden, allowing the two to concern themselves with more important affairs.

Her brother, she knew, would thrive in a venue such as this, where the only rules were that the strong survived. In part it reminded her of the criminal underworld she'd been born from, though on Corellia business had been run with a touch more refinement. Somehow places like these would always be home to her, no matter how far she distanced herself. No matter how seemingly at ease she was, she was thankful for her armor and the protection it provided, along with what pieces of her arsenal she carried with her today, namely her EE-3 - Delilah, her tomahawk - the Akaa'gai, and the pistol her brother had a hand in manufacturing. It was fine to be at ease in the environment, but she was considerably more relaxed when she had her own deterrents.

"You still owe me that drink, you know." She spoke through in-helmet comms, the comment mostly meant in jest. The pair did enough drinking that each would pay the other back in no time, and besides, there was more to worry about than losing a bet. "Well, at least there's no shabuire calling us pretenders this time. Or did Asha not tell you about that?" Conversation came easy as they walked the streets, but she took advantage of the three-hundred-sixty range of vision afforded her, never quite entirely at ease. It had been a relatively quiet day, and it just so happened whenever that thought chanced to cross her mind, something always came along to change it.

 

[Vorhi Alestrani]

Team: Blue

Location: Same street as [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] and [member="Aryn Spar"], about 200 meters to the south of them, on the rooftop of the Wild Vyrnock.


Tunes: [youtube]https://youtu.be/xL7n3sF7sX0[/youtube]


The blind monk smirked, his blue tunic ostentatious, but clear in displaying his allegiance. A grand melee, he was told. Prizes and glory to the victors. No holds barred, no weapons forbidden--an all out war with no rules. Just his style. After all, what fun was it to know what was coming? The combative archaeologist smirked, adjusting his blindfold and grinning wickedly. There were many participating, and most civilians had fled the streets, fearful of being caught in the middle. That was good. Civilians and bystanders made things messier, and the old Grandmaster of the Hidden Fist would much rather stand cheerily. For the first time in a while, he was fighting sober, which was still odd to him. Five years of crawling into a bottle, and all of it stripped to sanity and reason, healed in the most painful way, by the Aang-tii's influence. Although he smelled of tea instead of liquor, he still carried it in his gourd, metal gauntlets at the ready. He looked at the grenades on his belt, and smiled, sipping a small amount of his tea. A black blend, mixed with local spices to produce a woody, almost smokey flavor. It was harsh on the nose, but he enjoyed it. He putt the cork back in his odd gourd and smiled, producing some soft, foam earplugs, placing them in his ears.



He meditated calmly, listening to nothing, feeling in the force the others nearby, seeing with his spirit their signatures in the force. "Knowledge is not wisdom," he recited, his own variation of the "code," neither Jedi or Sith, but his own dogma, a mantra earned over the years with many scars. "Power is not strength," he recited breathing in deeply, uncertain of his volume, his own voice outside his clogged ears. "Appearance is not reality. Through these truths, I am enlightened, through these truths, I am made free," the blind monk grinned, almost wickedly. Today, he would pursue enlightenment through battle, as he always had. For in battle, the truth of one's skill and emotions could be made known.



He "gazed" forward at the two away from him a good distance. Two of them, both matching descriptions of the "Red Team" he was supposed to be fighting. The larger one had a minimal presence in the force--he was a very large, very well-armed person, though, and from the way his aura was distributed through his body, a true warrior's practiced discipline was in him. Although he was likely unaware of how his aura would present itself, a long-time soldier's hardened resolve was easy enough to detect, like a solid steely bulwark moving through the street. He hoped the giant cat-like creature favored close combat, as that would be far more interesting.


The smaller of the two of them--still both larger than Vorhi, though--had a spikier sort of aura. Steeped in the dark side, reforged and hammered again by multiple wars, with a tense sort of pride that some would describe as unbridled arrogance. He grinned wider, happy at this revelation. A Sith with an aura steeped in blood, who shared his lust for proving oneself in combat. A darksider who came here, and was clearly eager to participate. If duty drove the taller one, a different thing moved the smaller of them--a desire, a true lust for conflict. Vorhi stood up and stretched, still entirely deaf to whatever it was being said. Soon, he'd get to have some real fun. This would be a blast. he couldn't wait to see what secrets he would learn form this battle.


"Knowledge is not wisdom. Strength is not Power. Appearance is not Reality. Through these truths, I am enlightened. Through these truths, I am made free." He held up one fist, and for a brief moment, felt the tension, the readiness, or this city to fight and be fought, to spill blood, the angry tide waiting for a cathartic release. "I am....enlightened...." and then, as he felt all the anger flicker through him, he simply let it go and fade back into air, like sand upon the wind. He held no attachment to the seething rage. He felt nothing but joy and elation at the danger enveloping him.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Location: The Nest
Allies: Blue Team
Enemies: Red Team

"I talk to her less than you do," Alkor replied across the comm channel as he assessed the cityscape as it appeared on his HUD. "I have no idea what you're talking about." In terms of strategy, the two had learned the importance of taking notes and cross referencing. Things Keira did not see, Alkor did- and vice versa. He could see the bowels of the shadowport above, winding endlessly over the labyrinthine streets of the Nest. In terms of criminal underworld, this was the heart of darkness in Point Nadir.

Assassins, Bounty Hunters, Mercenaries, and their ilk frequented this zone of the installation. That was why the two Verd clan Mandos had come there first, for the sake of following up on their contract. He ran a finger across the stock of his Ghost Shatter Rifle and tugged back the bolt. A round loaded into the chamber with a quiet click.

"Fuel tanks at the western and northern fringes," he muttered to himself. From where he stood in a second story window, he had a slightly better view than Keira did of the streets, but buildings still onscured his vision on every other side.

Blasterfire echoed in the streets, and Alkor watched as corpses fell to the duracrete and bounced once. He pressed the sensation from his thoughts and focused on the crosshairs. Blood splattered the floor of the station and rallying cries came from local gangs as they rose up in their eternal power struggle.

He pulled the trigger.

The quarreling masses lurched at the sound of the fireball growing to consume the outer edges of the Nest. Screams of "take cover" and "oh, feth!" drowned beneath the inferno. Homes dissolved in the conflagration as Alkor's first target was obliterated.

"We have one more of those to play with," he commented in a bland voice as he chambered a second round. "But that one ought to stir up some interest." Keira was not a fan of Alkor's godless tactics where civilians were involved, but in wartimes, she could partially excuse his inhumane actions. "All access from the north will be rerouted, and they'll be scrambling to contain the fire."

Most importantly, the emotions run rampant would hinder the Force Senses of any Adepts who decided to wander into his little killbox. It wouldn't do for their mystic powers to save them from his rifle. "I'll handle them from up here, for now," he added. "I'll cover you."

In addition to his armor and the crushgaunt sleeved on his right arm, he wore a shortsword forged of Mandalorian Steel at his hip, as well as a rail pistol for closer range firing. Like any textbook Mando- he was armed to the teeth.

 

[Aela Talith]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED
[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]

He stopped in his tracks, his nose scrunching slightly as the scent of the cathar filled his nostrils.

For a moment the Togorian said nothing, only glanced towards the other feline. This tournament was supposedly something of a teamfight, two groups clashing against one another in hopes of bringing forth a victor. Aryn hadn't counted on moving with any allies of any actual worth, but a Cathar? They were not his people, not directly, but they were like cousins.

Similar enough that it mattered.

He sniffed the air for a moment, his one good eye settling upon the Cathar for just a few more moments as he attempted to gauge him. There was something...off Aryn could not quite place, but there was something wrong about the man. After a moment the massive Togorian shifted his shoulders. The pauldrons upon his shoulder clinked together for a moment, the heavy beskar shifting as he allowed his muscles to relax for just a moment.

"We hunt." Aryn answered before turning away.

There was no need for conversation, there was no need for words or planning. The two would move on instinct, Aryn moving first as he began to quickly lope through the streets of Nadir, searching for prey with his newfound brother.

 

[TT-837767]

Location: 150 meters away from[member="Aryn Spar"] and[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]
Team: Blue

TT-837767 walked around looking for prey. TT-837767 wasn't bothered to be sneaky and made his presence known hoping some red fella would foolishly enter his kill zone. TT-837767 wasn't one for tactics since that was something he let the terror troopers he worked with make. TT-837767 signed up for this so he could kill and didn't think that at the start fighting would be very minimal.

 

[TB-705]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED

A growl of assent rose in Thengil's throat and he followed his brother-in-the-hunt, another primal aspect that humankind failed to understand. They did not know the way of the hunt like Cathar and Togorian. Few did.

The two felines prowled through the street. Suddenly, Thengil froze. The hackles on his neck rose in a ripple. In the distance, an explosion shook the air. The Cathar's ears swiveled one direction, then the other.

"Wait."

Thengil stretched out with his senses, both natural and in the Force. He sniffed the fetid air, then turned around. Yellow eyes narrowed.

"The roof of the Wild Vyrnock. The one in the blue sits idle."

He did not know if this was the being who had caused the explosion, but it did not matter. They hunted all.

[member="Vorhi Alestrani"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]

 

[Vorhi Alestrani]

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] @TT-837767 @Aryn Spar[member="Alkor Centaris"][member="Keira Ticon"]


Vorhis stood up, hands behind his back. Forraderri, the treacherous minister's form. Hands behind his back, one atop the other, free to move as quickly as the blow needed. Another person or thing was in the road. Looked like a small body bonded with a machine--it had little in the way of life-force, but there was force signature. What the hell set off that explosion? Huh. Lots of battle unfolding, excellent.


The blind man stepped, slowly moving to the edge of the roof, letting the breeze blow his outfit a bit before he bounced off the edge, practically skipping as he twirled and landed on street. This would prove....fascinating. He continued walking, slowly, humming a little tune as he did so. He continued humming, and skipping, bounding down the street, hoping some of the oncomers would approach with eagerness. He seemed almost joyful at all of this. It'd been a long time since he'd gotten a real challenge. He bellowed out loud enough for the entire street to hear. "GREETINGS! I AM VORHI ALESTRANI! WHO AMONG YOU IS MY FIRST VICTORY!?!" He wasn't being loud for the sake of ego or braggdocious bravado--he just still had the earplugs.

 

[Aela Talith]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED
[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Vorhi Alestrani"]

A low growl escaped his throat, his ears twitching as some sort of man jumped and bounded down a row of buildings, his lungs bellowing with some sort of bravado.

For a moment Aryn simply stared at the figure unsure of what exactly to make for him, his lips pressing together before a low growl entered his throat. His one good eye locked on the man, his gaze drifting towards the small crowd that had gathered around the three of them. The People of Nadir were eager to watch the fighting, they wanted to see blood, they wanted to see death, and this appeared to be their first glimpse of that. The Togorian shifted slightly, glancing at Thengil for just a moment.

Then he became a sudden burst of moment.

The Massive Togorian lurched to the side, not moving towards the mysterious blind man but instead reaching out and grasping one of the bystanders. In an instant Aryn's massive claws dug into the throat of one of the scum standing there, pulling him off his feet and then suddenly hurling him forward towards Vorhi.

A moment Later Aryn's massive form followed, bounding forward and drawing his blade.

 

[TB-705]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED

The man in the blue tunic hopped down into the street. He spoke loud and proud, yet Ri'Shajirr noted him as a human. Weak boned and fragile. Thengil's lips curled back, snout quivering, revealing yellowed fangs.

The Snowpelt seized a bystander and hurled the body at the human before charging. Thengil held back, watching, muscles tensed like an adder's coil.

Raising a paw in the human's direction, Thengil curled his fingers inward and exerted his will in the Force. Line of sight for the moment clear, he sought to telekinetically compress this Vorhi's right ankle in an instant and either sprain or break it. The result would ideally be to hobble the human and render him easy pickings for his hunt-brother.

[member="Vorhi Alestrani"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]

 

[Vorhi Alestrani]

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] [member="Aryn Spar"]


(OOC: lemme know if I missed anything, been a bit tired while replying lately)

The Bar in the City.


Music: [youtube]https://youtu.be/t_2Sk6dC-hM[/youtube]


The blind man seemed to stop smiling in the same instant the bystander's throat was slit. He was not amused. He bounded to the left avoiding both the body and the blade, hands still behind his back. "Pathetic. Do you lack trust in your own strength, that you need the unwilling death of another to aid you?"


Sadly, Vorhi's hat was victim to the Togorian's machinations, impaled upon his sword. Suddenly, he felt a grip, like iron on his foot. He grimaced. Two against one, and still they fought in this banal fashion. Very well. If they hand no interest in honor, than he'd share their lack of scruples for the time being. The fallen grandmaster reached into his sleeve and threw a small orb into the air. The monk with earplugs and no eyes waited as the small, entirely run of the mill flash-bang grenade exploded. He presumed it would overwhelm the better-than-average senses of his opponents long enough. More importantly, the Sithy one would have to choose between keeping his 'grip' on Vorhi or steeling himself against the sensory overload. Vorhi smirked. A simple dichotomy, but enough to weaken the decisions made. His tone was stern, as he let the loud bang echo across the street first. "If you wish to keep playing at power, than let us play. You are not yet worthy of my fists, though," he mused out loud. A taunt, but one that was earned. After all, so far these two had played the coward and managed nothing. They were physically the older man's superior, and used tactical advantage carefully. However, they had mistaken their power for strength. His hands were again behind his back. A simple man, with graying temples, his black hair in a braid often worn by Palawan Ascetics. A blindfold of simple sackcloth across his eyes.

 

[TB-705]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED

The human's hand blurred into his sleeve before tossing a small, cylindrical object into the air. Thengil's reaction was immediate. Pressure released from Vorhi's foot as the Cathar made a slapping gesture, smacking the object out of the air and sending it through a window of the Ribbed Nexu. Glass shattered, followed by a burst of heat, light, and sound that blew out the windows to the bar.

A stream of people stumbled out the front doors of the Ribbed Nexu, clutching hands to their ears and screaming incoherently. Temporarily blind and deaf. Thengil chuffed. A flash bang. Strange, he had expected it to be lethal.

The human began mewling again. Thengil let out a low growl. Once more, his fingers curled inward and he reapplied pressure to Vorhi's ankle in the same manner as before.

"The cold grave of space is filled with those who said as much," the Cathar Sith rumbled, voice like the deep roll of thunder above the injured wails, "With braver words, not backed by strength."

[member="Vorhi Alestrani"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Location: The Nest
Allies: Blue Team, [member="Alkor Centaris"] ([member="Vorhi Alestrani"] and [member="TT-837767"], indirectly)
Enemies: Red Team ([member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] and [member="Aryn Spar"], indirectly)

"I'll tell you about it later." Keira paused as he fired, watching and listening not for the explosion that followed, but for any that may be spurred into action because of it. For a long handful of minutes both her helmet's scanners and her own senses studied the surrounding area for an opportunist that might be looking to get lucky, but, fortunately or unfortunately, no such individual existed. The fireball hadn't done much more than stir up the civilian population, but it seemed no target of worth had taken interest. All good things came with time, but she wasn't of a mind to be patient. The Verd siblings were apex predators in their own right, and it wouldn't do to simply wait for their prey to come to them.

But, as much as she wanted to move on, she would give it time. Another disturbance rumbled in the Force, this one far quieter than that which her brother had caused, but notable all the same. It was indicative of pitched combat not too far from their present locale, and she was certain Alkor felt it too. There wasn't much he tended to miss when it came to nuances of the ethereal, his sensitivity more acute than even her own, though both rarely utilized their extrasensory abilities outside moments of sheer convenience or necessity. "You feel it." It was spoken not as a question, but rather a statement of fact across their in-helmet comms. Now there was only the question of how they would react, if at all.

"It's too quiet here." Blessed were the days of calm, but not when they had done everything up until this point in the hopes of instigating some sort of conflict. Her left hand brushed briefly across the grip of her pistol, but she made no move to truly arm herself. Not yet, at least. "What do you say to moving territory? This position is strategic, but that doesn't get us anywhere without a reason to utilize it. And I know you'd like to see a fight before it's all said and done."

 

[Aela Talith]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED
Thengil Ri'Shajirr | Vorhi Alestrani

The Togorian did not speak.

Combat, battle, whether it be a tournament or on the field was not a place for conversation. The Mandalorian instead moved to strike once more.

The grenade had been dazing, though Thengil had managed to take the brunt of it since the odd man had dodged and caused Aryn to run past him. By the time he turned a low growl escpaed his throat, his ears prickling slightly from the pain ringing within them.

He turned on a dime, his claws swiping low towards the man.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"I've got a better idea," Alkor replied curtly when time slipped by and still no targets reared their ugly heads. Emergency responders had rushed to the site of calamity, and they fought tooth and nail to both contain the spread of the blaze and to prevent it from breaching the walls of the station. The utter terror of being spaced lay beneath their resolve, but it was palpable enough that Alkor became aware of it.

"The ventilation controls shouldn't be too far from here," he explained. "What do you say we help them out and vent those flames?" The Dark Jedi was already moving before he had an answer. Keira wanted a fight, but for that to happen, all the pieces had to be on the field.

If they didn't spook easy, then he would just smoke them out.

He moved through the alleyways, dimly aware of the skulking faces that shied away as he passed. The faceless visage of Mandalorian warriors won him no favor among the denizens of Nadir's darkest domains. Whether [member="Keira Ticon"] stayed close or headed for the action, he would catch up with her in due time.

Due to his inital shot, the tanker that now burned close by had leaked dangerous fumes into the otherwise breathable atmosphere, and people close to the epicenter of the blast were being ushered and carted away. They paid Alkor little heed as he slipped through the broken and beaten people and headed straight toward the blaze.

"Here we are," he muttered as his HUD painted the terminal, several meters above the ground, elevated on a platform that was taped off with the words 'Authorized personnel only.'

He climbed the ladder quickly and pulled the Datapad from his kit, jacking into the system and allowing the code to chip away at the Shadowport's security measures. After several minutes, a click rewarded his efforts and the screen lit up with a layout of the station, as well as the current movements of air through the ventilation shafts.

Alkor furiously typed, eyes on the screen as green shifted to yellow, and yellow to red. "Warning," the computer insisted vehemently. "Airflow to and from the Nest has been rerouted due to a compromised fuel cell. Until it has been contained-"

"Not my problem, honey," Alkor gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he forced the manual override, and the floodgates tore open.

The green areas surrounding the Nest suddenly blinked red, and the station screamed alarms. The gas that was flooding the ugly underbelly of Nadir and the flames that hungrily lapped at it surged out through the vents and into the rest of the station.

Explosions ripped through the streets and jumped from sector to sector. Flames consumed whole buildings, and agonized screams turned to ash. The Force twisted and doubled over in agony, a sensation like vicegrip on the chest and minds of Force Sensitives.

Incoming Firestorm: [member="Aryn Spar"], [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"], [member="Vorhi Alestrani"], [member="TT-837767"]

 

[Vorhi Alestrani]

(OOC: sorry for the delay. Hell of a time at work)




[member="Alkor Centaris"][member="Aryn Spar"][member="Keira Ticon"][member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]


Location: In front of a bar, a real test of temperance right before everyone started exploding.
Objective: Why the FETH is everything always on fire when I show up to a battle? THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.
Music: [youtube]https://youtu.be/GI_aggj-UrI[/youtube]




As Vorhi was about to clearly and wisely demonstrate the value of patience, diligence, and pleasure in the enlightening strength of battle to these strange kittens, the streets conveniently exploded as fire seemed to vomit from multiple atmospheric valves across the city, interrupting whatever point the sagely monk was trying to demonstrate. The blind man grunted as he saw souls fleeting and flickering, death romaing across, the cities flickering rage. The monk grew taciturn. "Such a waste....."



He focused inward. his unnamed assailant was substantially larger, substantially stronger, and not as slow as more unseasoned fighters would assume. But contrary to what you see in the holo-flicks, big doesn't always mean slow or dumb. The monk had his back turned to the large, beastly giant, who charged towards him, claws raging. He breathed deeply. One heartbeat was all he had, as fire began to envelop, to burn to sunder. One heartbeat to demonstrate to these younger souls how to learn from their opponents.


Was one heartbeat ever too much for an idiot of Vorhi's caliber? He wished he had time to laugh. Still, his response to the opponent was obvious. To block a blow of such massive strength with a leg bound would be too much even for Vorhi, if he were to keep to his little game with them. No, the correct idea was to redirect it. One leg bound, the other simple rising behind him and flying backwards as he bent over, wind flying to reveal silver pants beneath the robe. Aiming to plant a foot under the large swing of his opponent's arm, deliver force enough to send him over the monk and towards Thengir. "And what would you know of strength? You wield power. The difference is evident..."


Another breath, another heartbeat. His focus rose again to the fiery sky, the screaming rage of dying souls. and then, briefly, a hiss of steam seemed to escape the man slashed by his opponent's claws. A single gasp, but it spoke to the Blind monk, in the way the dead did to a oracle. His voice was steady. "If you desire to test my strength, so be it." so far, the grip had tightened on his ankle, but it felt hard, not like flesh. If they could see his foot, it would be bright red, muscles straining against the chokehold, tensing with force body techniques as though they were made of steel. "Hmmm, if I am so weak and frail, then what does that make this grip of yours, hmm?" His chuckle was dark. As if he was...enjoying being bound, threatened, and called out. Gods, when was the last time someone actually challenged him? Druckenwell, Merrill, people putting actual effort into trying to kill him, that had been years ago. He'd forgotten just how good it felt to gamble his life. "Come now. Shatter the weak old man...easy enough, isn't it?"



The fire had now grown. Screams were audible. And Vorhi remembered it, not behind the haze of booze or wall of sorrow. He remembered Druckenwell. The power, the fear, the near-death agonizing...the screams of a whole world in peril. A pang of something, not guilt, not loss, but something else, rung within him. An aura, that was neither dark nor light. Untainted by either. A purple fire, his own, that had been shattered, and submerged in alcohol and cowardice to wash away the pain. That had been found again while playing games with the Aang-tii. He'd have to send [member="Jorus Merrill"] a gift card. That had been made, in a new path, neither light nor dark. He smiled. This was going to be good....

 

[TB-705]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED

More explosions rocked the streets, gas pipes beneath the surface bursting, blowing whole sections of street into the air, a caldera's violent eruption. The firestorm seemed to consume Thengil as the floor just in front of him blew to pieces, rising skyward in a cloud of ash and flame. The shock wave tossed Thengil off his feet and several meters across the ground, breaking his grip on the human's leg in the Force, along with his own footing.

Ears ringing, the Cathar shook his head and picked himself up. People stumbled out of burning buildings in a weird reiteration of moments past, only this time the people were on fire, bodies blazing as whatever liquor they'd been awash in now only added fuel to the grog-soaked clothes that had become their funeral pyres. Thengil's nostrils flared and twitched, nose stinging from the acrid tang of burning flesh and hair.

Thengil's eyes swung toward the Snowpelt and settled upon the human who called himself Vorhi, who stood alive and apparently unharmed. The Cathar's hearing returned in time to hear more proud boasts above the roar of the flames and the screams of the dying.

Snorting derisively, Ri'Shajirr looked away from the mewling cub. He had not survived a decade in Republic prison cut off from the Force only to be lectured on the nature of strength by one so weak and pathetic as a human. Of more concern to him was the integrity of Point Nadir itself after such explosions. A cursory glance at the comet's ceiling overhead assured him, if only for the moment, that the shadowport was in no danger of imploding. The explosions, whatever they were, had been localized to this area.

He found this... irritating.

Thengil returned his attention to [member="Vorhi Alestrani"]. One ear flicked. Smoke wisped from portions of his fur blackened by hungry flames. Again, the human spoke. Thengil cocked his head slightly to one side, then his lips peeled back over yellowed fangs.

A deep chuffing vibrated in his chest.

Laughter.


[member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]

 

[Aela Talith]

Location: Streets, Ribbed Nexu
Team: RED
[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Vorhi Alestrani"]

Flames slashed towards his fur, the massive Togorain half ducking and overturning a nearby dumpster in order to protect his larger frame from the fire. He crouched low, feeling the heat burning away some of his fur and igniting across his skin. A low growl escaped his throat, a mixture of anguish and annoyance as the flames around them died as quickly as they had come.

Slowly the Togorian stood, a grimace across his face.

His ears were ringing, his nose smelled of flame and brimstone, and his body was half coated in ash. Left arm was red and blistered, the flames having torn across his side and bitten into his flesh. He growled as he glanced towards the wound, ignoring the blind man was he boasted and taunted. His gaze drifted for a moment towards Thengil, ensuring that his battle brother had made it through the explosions. When he heard the cathar laugh a small smile touched his lips, though it disappeared a second later.
The Togorian turned, his attention focusing on the blind man once more.

He took a slow, deliberate step towards the man, one hand wrapping around the lip of the dumpster to his side.

Then without a word he took a step forward and hurled the metal container towards the blind man, knowing he would most likely dodge it, and giving Thengil just enough time to strike when he did.