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Round 1 Steph Zenima Vs Thrasher CC-312

Dredge

Kneel Before Zod
Character
@[member="Steph Zenima"] Vs @[member="Thrasher CC-314"]
Biome: Arena
Rules: Bare knuckle melee combat only, no armor.

Roars, the roaring of a crowd to be more specific. The two duelist would find themselves in the middle of a large hefty arena atop a large stone circle platform. There was no cover, nowhere to hide. Just an eighty meter stone circle with nothing but the two of them inside of it. Watching them from above in rows of stands were rows of different alien races, poised and ready to watch these two troopers fight each other to near death. It was a glorious moment and the two had best take a moment basque in it before blood and teeth would start flying. Standing on opposite ends of the arena the two opponents would face off. Stepping out to a nearby balcony above head the supreme overlord himself roared and spoke out. "FIGHT!!"
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
For once things were finally looking up for galactic tragedy Steph Zenima.

Bare knuckle combat? No armour? This would be her moment. This fight, right here and right now was probably going to be the peak point in her life. After all, when in this realm did you really have the chance to get at an unarmoured opponent, I mean really now. I don't blame others for having protection, this galaxy's a dangerous place after all but it wasn't fun to throw a fist a chest plate made of nigh invulnerable armour. In fact it was quite the opposite of fun.

She savoured the crowd.

It almost felt strange to be cheered on, in most situations she was either causing bystanders to flee or scream. Well when they weren't looking at her with disgusted sneers or with great pity. Oh yes. Addiction is a terrible problem on our streets. Yes, yes, the amount of homeless citizens is a great plight. Talk talk.

The crowd craved blood, and whether it was hers that was spilled or her opponents it didn't really matter, as long as the blood was spilled.

@Thrasher CC-314
 

Thrasher CC-314

Guest
T
Thrasher popped her knuckles eagerly, popping her neck at the same time. The crowd was cheering hungrily as she walked out into the arena. This was definitely goingto be a fight they would remember. This reminded her of training with her sisters on Kamino. She was the best in her class, even in the battle simulation zones, where she could've actually died. With a facial expression that showed she meant business, Thrasher waited for her opponent to make the first move...
@Steph Zemina
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
The mighty God Queen Louise sat at her computer, she took a moment after heating up her curry to find a tag, ah yes, Dredge, that little scamp, I like the cut of his jib. What the weaver of words had found almost caused a moment of irritation as the grains of rice before her were devoured hungrily like the souls of children. That little scamp didn't tag me! Imagine if I had missed this thread and gone out in the first round! My jimmies would have most definitely been rustled. Thank goodness for the Supreme Overlord. ALL HAIL!

The cursor floated up to the top right corner of the screen.

Follow this topic

Click.

As Grand Master Poppin' Joints stood there like a plank waiting for Steph to strike, the idiotic creature of a woman took a moment to indulge in some show boating. Like the monkey she was, the short arse beat on her not-so-well endowed chest, the hollow thud of champions. I am Steph. Hear me roar. She hooped and hollered, making obscene gestures and absorbing the electricity of the crowd. What a boost for morale.

Then she ran. Reckless. Unthinking. Zenima wasn't the most graceful fighter, or even the best. Endurance was the name of her game.

Like a trail going off the rails the half-pint leapt, soaring through the air with her right arm extended outwards. Some call it the Clothesline from Hell and well, others just call it a regular clothesline but either way Stephanie was definitely aiming to decapitate.

@[member="Thrasher CC-314"]
 

Thrasher CC-314

Guest
T
Thrasher's cybernetic eye studied her opponent's form along with her regular one. This girl appeared to be a street fighter of sorts. There was no real pattern to her movements, as she appeared to be doing what she felt appropriate. She came at Thrasher with her arm extended like a sort of clothesline tactic. Thrasher grabbed the girl's wrist, throwing her down onto the ground with a foot in her back. She pinned her there, now twisting the girl's arm and kneeling down on top of her, moving her foot to the back of girl's throat. If she were to move too much in any way, there was a good chance that Thrasher would break her neck...
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
They call me Mister Go-With-The-Flow...

So the clothesline was a dramatic failure, it happens, y'know? She's just a scrappy son-of-a-gun from the ghetto, or rather the under-ghetto given the lack of justice the g-word gives it. Her only form of training was life experience. Day-in and day-out of straight up balls to the walls survival.

I mean, the automatic manhandling put a bit of a damper on her assault but hey, turn that frown upside down girl, you're a survivor and I believe in you.

Zenima actively laughed at her opponent. Yeah, twist that arm. See if she feels it. The cluster of deadened nerves otherwise known as Steph grinned, bearing whatever teeth she had left (it was hard to keep track given the rate that she lost them).

“Ye've got sum great clompers fir feet there, mate,” she drawled, “did ye lie aboot bein' a girl when ye signed up fir this?”

@[member="Thrasher CC-314"]
 

Thrasher CC-314

Guest
T
Thrasher smirked. That was actually pretty funny. "Nah. In truth, they're a bit smaller than the average clone's. I just know how to use them better than most." She answered. Though keeping the girl pinned until the end of the match would be the easiest way to win, it seemed incredibly boring. So, Thrasher decided to give the girl a second chance. She thrust herself off of the girl, backing away from her so she could get up. "C'mon. I don't want to win that easily," Thrasher said, waiting for the girl to attack her again...
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
A true gentleman! Er...gentlewoman...rather.

Obviously if it did come down to an old-fashioned wrestling match than Stephanie Zenima had no hope, given the difference in height and weight she would just get out-muscled, although if her opponent went for the submission then she would find that to be the loftiest of goals.

Bleed out before you give out.

Steph popped back up to her feet as if she were spring-loaded, this time her assault wouldn't be a charge. She would have to play it with a touch more caution, or at the very least not run at the other woman like a wild bantha.

This time her attack was a much more standard affair. A simple step forward, Steph Zenima held no guard so it was at times difficult to tell what she was about to do. Her right fist rocketed upwards towards her opponents chin. Simplistic, east, breezy, beautiful. Nothing like an uppercut to kick-start your day.

@[member="Thrasher CC-314"]
 

Thrasher CC-314

Guest
T
Thrasher's chin barely moved three inches when the girl punched her. She punched back, a hard left hook to the girl's cheek that knocked her to the ground. Thrasher bent her knees slightly, spreading her legs. She put her fists up in front of her chin and her mouth, and began bouncing slightly on her heels. The traditional boxing form.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
You call that taking a punch?

Come on, girl. I want you to feel the fist. The human sandbag otherwise known as Steph Zenima soaked up the sweet left hook, her cheekbone no doubt receiving a delicious fracture from the blow. A crack. Savour that flavour. Let's rewrite rule one of Fight Club: just roll with it. Had reality collapsed? The woman felt as if she held no control over her movements any more as she was knocked to the ground.

So her opponent took a boxing stance, no doubt to bob and weave her way through the fabric of god's reality.

Zenima however kept to the ground, she liked it down here, the creature of a woman found that on most days she ended up here. The floor called out like home. Swing low, sweet chariot. You know what? It's a bit early but we're bringing the teeth out. Or however many there were left. Like a lightning quick lizard Steph went for the woman's left knee with her not-at-all-pearly whites bared. She had bitten plant-people, dragons and amphistaffs. What's a little clone meat to add to that repertoire?

@[member="Thrasher CC-314"]
 

Thrasher CC-314

Guest
T
Thrasher saw the girl make a swift movement for her knee. She quickly side-stepped the girl before she could sink her teeth into the flesh. Thrasher came up to her side and gave her a hard kick in the ribs, backing away to her original position again. "C'mon. No one can fight a battle on the ground," Thrasher said to her, smirking. She might just learn some fighting techniques from this.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
Too slow.

Like the proverbial football, Steph's ribs took yet another hit. These ribs. Day in, day out. Broken. Fractured. On one occasion they had even been pulverised but that had been more of a volleyball play from a super soldier. If one were to take an x-ray of the woman's ribs it wouldn't be at all surprising if they resembled trunks of mashed potatoes, gnarled and knitted back together. Over and over.

The goblin woman rolled onto her back, smiling upwards at this other woman. This was the jovial-side of Zenima, the one that shimmied up to face death and then spat in his face. Not today. Not today. Hopefully at the very least she would disgust her opponent with that rampant display of gums and half-cracked yellow jagged shards.

"Ye'd be surprised what ye can dee on 'eh ground, mate," Steph drawled with a crooked wink.

Innuendo aside, she lay there with her hands clasped behind her head and crossed her legs, as if she were laying on the classiest of beaches.

@[member="Thrasher CC-314"]
 

Thrasher CC-314

Guest
T
Thrasher grinned. The girl certainly knew how to put on a show. She placed her hands on her hips. "I'm sure I would," She agreed. Well, If she didn't want to get up, might as well try to fight on the ground. Thrasher stretched herself out next to the girl. "The ground isn't so bad. There's always ground around, wherever you go. It's a good place to be in situations involving blasters." She glanced over at the girl. Though she appeared utterly relaxed, she was alert and ready for any move the girl might try to make.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 

Steph Zenima

Guest
S
“Blasters?”

Steph sat up, disgust painted across her face in great thick layers. She pointed a scabby finger at the chest of the other woman, it was a finger of accusation.

“Blasters are durty things, ken?” she said, scrunching up her haggard face, “Thur's nae feel tae a blaster. Ye're nae lookin' 'em in the eyes whaun ye kill.”

Zenima was not a woman suited to speaking in large doses. Her mangled dialect was hard to translate in short bursts, so you could completely disregard the actual full sentences. The small troll of a woman got up, she really wasn't amused by this talk of ranged weaponry. It wasn't her style. She thought blasters were for cowards, and that if you kill a man you should make it personal. Of course she wasn't eloquent enough for that.

“C'mon,” she said to her opponent, “ah want ye to forget aboot blasters and just gie me a good hit.”

@[member="Thrasher CC-314"]
 

Thrasher CC-314

Guest
T
Thrasher stood up, smirking. The fight continues. She came in, giving the girl a hard upper cut to her stomach. "Hard enough?" She asked coolly.
@[member="Steph Zenima"]
 
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