Sith-Imperial Tournament- Final Round

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Koda Fett"] [member="Adrian Vandiir"]

Lignan was a funny substance. For a moment it had given her the power to withstand and shrug off attacks, and to truck on with a seemingly endless stamina fuelled by the Force. And then, all of a sudden, it was gone.

In her charge, her eyes unfocused. She saw double. Her legs started to stumble as she felt a sharp pain stab through her left thigh: The wound inflicted by [member="Darth Imperia"] had only healed superficially, and in her exertion, began to open again. The leg buckled. The weapon out of alignment

And then she saw the purple. The energy coursed through her body like a thousand little imps stabbing her with needles.

Her back arched as her jaws opened in a scream of pain and rage.

She fell to a knee - Blood seeping from her leg.

Her eyes focused on Adrian and she threw herself up to her feet once more. The spear reared from its charge to a throw. The blade of her weapon furious in her hand, the shaft left her fingers and flew towards the Acolyte. Her legs did not sustain her after the throw and after another buckled step she fell into the sand. Staring at Adrian, breathing so hard the sand fled her breath like the fire she had belched before. Her muscles twitched and flexed, trying to regain control of her massive form.

And her eyes were pure hate.

 

[Koda Fett]

Fett can't say he saw that coming. An Acolyte against the Heir to the Zambrano Throne. It was hardly a fair fight, but nothing ever was. This Acolyte, however, had proved he could pack a punch full of the mysticism of the force. Such a strange thing, a thing that the Mandalorian was never able to understand, nor will he or ever attempt to be. All of it was irrelevant information, as the only thing Fett needed to know in regards to the Force and Force Users was how to kill them. Of that, he understood completely. Be it Jedi, Sith, or a mixture in between. They all died the same.

The Bounty Hunter clutched the Electrostaff within his grip, his knuckles white around the bar. His booted feet began to shuffle across the sand, drawing closer to Adrian, ready to strike as soon as it was possible. He hadn't known what the Acolyte could throw at him, and so he kept himself ready - hoping to evade whatever was thrown his way.

[member="Adrian Vandiir"]

 

[AMCO]

As the purple beam leapt from his fingertips, he was convinced that the charging woman would be able to dodge it, or at the very least block it. In a stroke of fortune, however, the woman stumbled, her attention momentarily diverted. It was enough. As the gnashing energy washed over her, she screamed out in pain and anger, a scream that invoked a smile of grim satisfaction across the Acolyte's features.

It was a good thing that he expected a lot from her, that he respected her on reputation alone, or he would never have seen her next attack coming. Seemingly expending her last bit of energy, the massive woman threw herself upwards, flinging her lightsabre pike towards him. Reacting on instinct, he threw himself to the side, face contorting in a rictus of agony as the crimson blade tore a gash through his side before impacting the wall behind him.

Staggering slightly sideward, he mustered his remaining energy for a counterattack, only to notice her hate-filled eyes staring towards him. Staring towards him from the ground, where she lay all but unmoving. It took a moment to register, but when it did, he smiled broadly, though it lacked the usual smugness; he knew all too well, after all, that he would not have been able to emerge victorious in a fair fight. Had it not been for the Bounty Hunter... The Bounty Hunter. Eyes snapping upwards, he half expected to come face to face with the other man as he delivered a finishing blow, but that was not to be. The Fett had taken the cautious approach, not realizing that time was not on his side. Every moment the Fett wasted, Adrian regained another sliver of his reserves. Every moment, he came closer to victory.

Smiling predatorily, the young man began to circle the outer parts of the ring, though not before giving a respectful nod to his downed opponent. He had no interest in attacking first, not now. Let the other man seize the initiative, and he would respond with a devastating barrage of lightning against his unarmoured form.

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[member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Koda Fett]

All the Bounty Hunter was able to do in the moment was continue running forwards. He was cautious and weary, but that was to be his downfall, no? Perhaps with the knowledge that this bout in particular wasn't to the death, he should of been more... reckless, daring, willing to overextend his own confidence. It was only that once he was aware of an opponents level of skill, in the force or no, did he truly dive in; there being a reason as to why he preferred range combat over the hand-to-hand, for it was there he could analyse from afar. Now? It was his instincts and skill, fortunately he had plenty of both. Yet, an arch of deadly lightning? Defenceless. Maybe accepting the cure would of proven fruitful...

Fett was closing the distance, his caution lifting, but it wasn't enough. The lightning thrust itself in his direction, creasing through the air before him in a split second that hadn't allowed time to shift out of it's path. It encompassed his body as every vein coursed with electricity. His entire body tensed, restricting movement as the force of it threw the figure off of his feet. Sliding through the sand, steaming. The Electrostaff firm in his tightened grip, yet it no longer sparked with electricity, and instead turned into nothing more than a metallic stick. A club, if you will.

[member="Adrian Vandiir"]

 

[AMCO]

Breathe in, breathe out. As the Bounty Hunter ran towards him, Adrian waited for his moment. Waited for his opening. Like Koda, he was far more comfortable at range, but he knew that he'd only have one chance. That if he missed, it was over. There. The Fett was close, closer than he'd like, but he had his opening. With a crackle of electricity, lightning surged from his fingertips, timed to coincide with both of the Mandalorian's feet being in the air.

As the tendrils of blue energy danced across his form, the man was thrown backwards, sliding through the sand. This was it, this was his chance. Continuing his barrage, he stepped forward, only to find that the combination of impending exhaustion and injuries old and new caused him to stumble. As the lightning flickered and died, he fell to a knee, catching himself with his left arm. That, of course, only made things worse. Pain lanced through his form as his weight was placed on the limb, a limb to which a semblance of function had only barely returned after receiving a glancing blow from a lightsaber from his last opponent.

Audibly snarling from the pain and anger, he delved deeper into the darkness within, drawing power from his own aching form. Stumbling back on his feet, he reached towards the Bounty Hunter with his right arm, the grasping motion unmistakable to those who had experience in fighting darksiders. Whether still on the ground or on his feet, the Fett would soon experience the horrible feeling of his throat constricting; Adrian could only hope it would not be too little, too late.

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[member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Koda Fett]

It was a strange feeling. To lose, that is. He hadn't tasted a true defeat in so long. Something he couldn't quite comprehend as his eyes went wide, his brain flickered through the memories of everything. Is this what it felt when one died, they remembered it all, the good, the bad, the... everything. Yet, Fett wasn't to die here, it only felt as if his world was to crash around him in this very moment. An odd sensation to feel such a way in the moment. Perhaps pathetic.

The Bounty Hunter had attempted to rise to his feet, but it was a slow, and arduous process. His feet and hands had slid through the sand, finding himself upon his knee with the de-powered Electrostaff used as support. His T-Visor had risen, staring at Adrian in the moment he fell to the ground, beginning to move once more only to feel the constriction against his own throat. A hand he could not see, could not understand, but could feel grasped at his throat. It squeezed, and Fett instinctively ran his free hand in the direction of it as if it pry away what wasn't there. HIs legs, however, began to move once more. It was a struggle, but was to find himself on his feet with time.

This wasn't something that could be endured for very long.

[member="Adrian Vandiir"]

 

[AMCO]

Spots appeared at the edge of his vision and his body quivered slightly, but his grip remained firm. Pain lanced through his side and his left arm, but his grip remained firm. Eyes filled with cold determination, he stared at the opaque visor of his opponent, stumbling back towards the wall when the other man struggled to his feet.

Back leaned against the stone, he could feel the apprehension filling the crowd. When Joycelyn had been eliminated, there had been an uproar; many had placed bets on this, the final match. Most of them, he assumed, had chosen to bet on the Vahlacanthix, and why would they not? She was a Knight of the Sith, the battle-hardened heir to the Emperor himself, while he was a mere Acolyte. Not to mention that the only other man standing was nothing but a Bounty Hunter, if a famous one. A Bounty Hunter unable to utilise the element of surprise or the superior equipment he would normally have access to.

This duel would be over soon. He knew it, the crowd knew it, the Fett knew it. Cold eyes hardening, he intensified his grasp around Koda's neck, then snarled a single word through gritted teeth. "Concede."

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[member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Koda Fett]

If there was one thing the Mandalorian was, it was prideful, maybe stubborn. He could never allow himself to concede. That was to be weak, to admit defeat, and Fett was never to admit defeat. There were a great many things that he couldn't bring himself to do, but perhaps that was above them all. If not his own decision, but the reminder of what dear-old-Jango may believe. Disgust? It was certainly likely. If there was one thing that Fett needed to do more than anything else it was to make that dead man proud. A strange inclination considering he never really was that Mandalorian's son, yet he chose to believe that Jango may view him as one given the circumstances. Or, so he hoped.

​As a result, Fett attempted to persevere. His booted feet shuffled through the sand in the direction of Vandiir. He choked repeatedly, and even with the added ability to endure more physical torment then most he couldn't bare this much longer. The staff had dropped, and his hands reached out with an attempt to grasp a hold of Adrian's throat and squeeze it himself, but he couldn't muster the strength.

His world went dark as his vision faded, as the control of his body began to slip from his control. His hands had slowly draped down the man's torso, fallen to a knee, and then the ground itself. Koda Fett was unconscious due to his own stubbornness. At the very least, his pride remained intact.

[member="Adrian Vandiir"]

 

[AMCO]

Thud. Thud. Thud. With quiet resolve, Fett struggled towards him. The crowd was still, the anticipation palpable. Especially amongst those who had bet heavily on the matchup. Thud. Thud. Thud. The staff fell from the Mandalorian's limp grip, but he still marched onwards.

A testament to his immense force of will, the man almost reached him, almost managed to shatter his fragile concentration, but even he had his limits. With a final exertion, the other man reached towards him, then fell to his knees, his consciousness fading into blackness. Then, his helmet struck the ground, resting in the sand mere decimetres from Adrian's fine leather boots.

Letting out a breath in relief, the young Acolyte leaned back and closed his eyes, breath steady as he worked to keep himself from passing out. Above and around him came the sound of cheering and cursing, of medics racing along the arena floor, of his opponents being placed on repulsorstretchers and brought to the top-tier medical facilities on standby.

Gathering himself, he slowly opened his eyes, then walked forward. There was a slight limp in his step, and his left side was aching like never before, but he did not care. Somehow, he had won. Somehow, he, amongst so many worthy opponents, had emerged the champion of this grand tournament. Reaching the centre of the circle, he bowed towards the Emperor with as much flamboyance as his aching form could muster, which was to say not particularly impressively. He did, however, manage a slight circular flourish towards the crowd.

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[member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]