Sith-Imperial Tournament - Round Two

[Ao Xian]

Bastion
Round 2


Round 1 of the Imperial Tournament was over. As the arena was cleared out and everything reset, there was mixed conversation from the Emperor's box.

Spoiler

“No shows and late arrivals. Punctuation is the hallmark of a great Sith, they have much to learn.”
"We could use them as an example."
"That's what you always say."
"Yes. I also always mean it."


*****
“Another reason why I need to pay the Fetts more.”
"You could send a basket next time."
"Fruit?"
"Heavens no."

*****

“Excellent! Orion has proved himself worthy of the Emperor’s praise, may he go on to achieve much.”
"Very clean match."
"You sound disappointed."
"..... maybe a little."

****

“It pleases me to see Ara taking my lessons to heart, she fought with fierce determination against an entity that fought only to ridicule another. Plus, she finally used that spell I had taught her.”
"......"
"Your mouth is full isn't it?"
"Mrufl*cronch*"

****

“Like father, like daughter. Again I am reminded why Joycelyn is worthy to be the successor of Vornskr above all of my other children.”
"It was an excellent showing."
"Mhm, indeed."
"Oh, I meant the Sithspawn. The humans too though I suppose."
"Ao please."

****

“Vaylin fought well, but one cannot rely solely on the defensive. That is where she lacked, while Elani showed initiative and aggression. Hesitate too long and victory will slip through your fingers.”
"My least favorite match."
"Because no blood?"
A pause, then a petulant, "Yes."

****
“I will have to remind myself to gift the Golden Company a bonus next time the Empire hires them, their exceptionalism continues to astonish.”
"His head is very shiny isn't it?"
"..... yes. Yes it is."

****
“An interesting bout, more even than I would have imagined. Alas, victory was decided by the most microscopic of circumstances.”
"Every one should be like that match. We can't allow them to both advance?"
"Unfortunately no."
"A pity."

****

“I didn’t know what to expect from a talking bear in the arena, but I’m not totally surprised.”
"..... That was an actual entrant? I thought he was a plague. Like the kath hounds."
"Ao. Please."

****
“At least he didn’t blow the place up with wrist rockets.”
"That seems like a very low bar."
"You'd be surprised."

The winners and the next round match ups were announced an hour later. All of the combatants had been seen and treated by medics, but some wounds would require more time to heal. Some of them would go into their new matches sporting the marks of the previous.

[member="Orion Darkstar"] vs [member="Ignis Imura"] - HANDICAP! Trap doors are rigged under your ring. They will open and close at random intervals.

[member="Adrian Vandiir"] vs [member="Ara Zambrano"]
[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] vs [member="Kazmai"] - HANDICAP! Both participants are injected with a hallucinogen (dosed appropriate to their size) just before the match.
[member="Rexus Wenck"] vs [member="Essar Ibis"]
[member="Koda Fett"] vs [member="Khonsu Amon"] - HANDICAP! Gravity weights have been applied to the wrists and ankles of both opponents. An internal inertial tumbler resets the amount of weight at random intervals.
[member="Sokar Azad"] vs [member="Elani Zambrano"] vs [member="Thyne"]

The sun was just past midday, starting to throw shadows. It could be used to the canny opponent's benefit. The sand was warm, and the crowds were intent. The events were now being overseen by a brain in a jar..... and Ao'Xian was drowsy and replete.

 

[LT-137]

​

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Ao Xian"]​

While others would have revelled in their triumphs against their opponents, Khonsu had found himself silently returning to the preparation chamber, offering nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement to his newfound foe, and the crowd thereafter. In his mind, there was little need for him to linger on the sacred ground for longer than he was needed, as that would offer any prospective foes a chance to admire his techniques - thus depriving him of the underdog advantage. What good would he be against a studious opponent who had sized him up when his body was resting? However, as that was the past, there was little reason to devote precious seconds to dwelling within its embrace. Let the devils linger where they must, He mused as he slowly stalked through the Arena’s underbelly.

As his sand-encrusted hand had palmed the access panel, the Thyrsian was greeted by several figures shrouded and veiled in white sackcloth. They bore a striking resemblance to those that had prepared his body for combat earlier in the day and left the man wondering if they were truly the same servants - or clones thereof. Nevertheless, as his eyes had blazed several trails up and down their hidden frames, the Mercenary nearly shoved the grime-caked blade towards the woman nearest to him and whispered that it needed to be cleansed. It wouldn’t do for him to go out onto the field once more with a filthy blade, as that would hamper the blade’s toxic effects, leaving the man with a useless crystal sword during a bout. After she had taken it into her possession with delicate hands, Khonsu stepped forward and allowed the veiled servants to turn their attention's upon him.

With the curved obsidian blades from earlier in the day, they guided their polished surfaces across the man’s rippling musculature, ridding his darkened frame of the sweat and sand that had kissed his flesh. He had remained silent as they went about their work, knowing that it was unlikely that they would be able to hold a conversation worthy of his attention. They knew their places, and he had known his. They had a duty to discharge, and it would’ve been unbefitting of the Thyrsian Gladiator to deny them from seeing it to completion by idle conversation. Moments later, when they were done cleansing his physique of sand, they had set about to reapply a thin layer of fighting unguents to every curve of his body that wasn’t shrouded by fitted, and dyed leather or vambraces - impregnated by thinned strips or silvered cortosis.

It was during this process that an Imperial Herald had arrived with a summons to return to the fighting pits of the Grand Arena. The man, clad in the ceremonial armour of the Sith Legions, had relayed who he was to be matched against and what handicaps were to be applied to this bout.

Khonsu had almost laughed. Gravitic weights? Of all the things they could’ve given him, they had chosen to give him what were essentially training bands to wrap around his wrists and his feet? When the servants had retreated, only to return to his ritual seconds later burdened by the unclasped bands, did the Sun Guard chuckle. He had been used to fighting with training weights and regularly done so whenever he had been stripped of his armour between assignments. They were a welcome handicap in comparison to what had been mentioned of the others taking to the fields beside him. He could only imagine what it would’ve been like to face his opponent drugged out of his mind.

With the bands lashed to his person and locked into place, the servants had followed after the Sith-Imperial herald as he moved onto another chamber, leaving Khonsu alone once again with his thoughts. Not wanting to disappoint their overseers and his benefactors, the Sun Guard wrapped his fingers around his cleansed sword and marched out towards the fighting pits. Along the way, the man had taken the time to recall where he had heard of his adversary before and managed to take hold of the brief encounter they had during the Empire’s conquest of Raxus Secundus. Koda Fett. A Mandalorian. The Thyrsian smiled, as he reached the entrance gate and waited for his name to be announced.

He would relish this bout more so than any others. To the Scion of Thyrsus, this was to be the personification of two warrior cultures clashing on the battlefield. A testament to which of these mythical races were superior, and who would be forever immortalized in the eyes of the Empire… Nay, the Galaxy.

Making his way towards their prescribed ring, once the doors had parted and his name was announced to the roaring crowd, Khonsu elected to greet his rising fanbase with an intimidating feast for their eyes. With his arms, and sword outstretched towards the outskirts of the arena, the Thyrsian began tensing the fibrous muscles within his torso - causing his pectorals to bounce in tune with the adulation the seated throng laid atop every fighter’s shoulders. To further entice them to greater heights of veneration, the desert-born allowed himself a moment of hubris and unleashed a bestial roar that echoed throughout his surroundings. He would show these gathered souls that he was ready to face the Mandalorian and that he was ready to prove that his culture was more than worthy to stand atop a similar pedestal amongst the annals of history.

| [member="Koda Fett"] |​

 

[Lemon]

BASTION

---

---

ARENA, CAPITAL

The Mandalorian waded through the sands, his booted feet sliding across the scorching grains whilst the sun shines directly above. His T-Shaped Visor stared towards the entrance of the arena's cavernous underbelly, showing no emotion as per usual- but even then, beneath the infamous helmet was nothing more than an expressionless face. On his right side hung the electrostaff utilized to defeat Scipio Alta, and a pair of vambraces clinging to each forearm. He departed the arena victorious.

A cacophony of disorganized sounds echoed throughout the depths of the arena, unable to truly grasp what each individual said. The Bounty Hunter kept to his path, though, wandering his way back towards the quarters the had so generously been provided for the duration of this tournament. For a considerable amount of time Fett bathed himself in ice, combating the micro-trauma in his muscle fibers. And then, well, Koda viewed the remaining fights in an attempt to remain entertained, ultimately hearing that his opponent was Khonsu Amon of the Golden Company.

Fett had heard of the Golden Company, everyone had. Even fought alongside them on Raxus Secundus, if only a short time in the initial assault. You could respect a Thrysian Sun Guard, and certainly don't underestimate them, for they are formidable foes. Much like Mandalorians, or those of old, he would suppose. The Mandalorians of today, in Koda's mind, are simply not worthy of any respect, but that is a tale for another time, and hardly relevant. Beneath that battered helmet of his a smug smirk cracked upon his lips.

In time, a Sith Official in clad in traditional clothing approached the Mandalorian. Booted feet, clothed legs, vambraced forearms, electrostaff in hand, and helmeted head. He was ready, but then again, when wasn't he? Yet before the short walk could be made a set of gravity weights clasped around his wrists, and ankles. Koda shared a similar thought to Khonsu, but was wary of what possibilities this presented, both positive and negative. All of which ran through his mind. The Mandalorian was just like that, he never stopped thinking.

The crowd erupted into a roaring cheer as the two presented themselves, and the Sun Guard put on a boisterous display of testosterone. The Bounty Hunter stood still in his starting position, but not because he chose to, but for the ankle weights had seemingly kicked in already, cementing him in the sun-kissed sand. His hands, however, remained free.

"Come on, Sun Guard." The Concordian Accent ringing over the crowd.

---

---

[member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

[member="Ignis Imura"]

[SIZE=11pt]War's Edge[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]x1 Sith Lightsaber | x1 Valis Worship Lightsaber (White, No special features.)[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]

[/SIZE]​

​

​

The first round came with its difficulties, fortunately for Orion, his arm was now capable of normal use. The medics assisted him, wrapping his skin with soft cloth. Underneath the bandage rested a thick, wet gelatin that soothed the affected area. It was tight, perfectly placed to hide underneath his light garments. He shared no words with the servant of the empire, instead, he rested. He remained in the corner, laying on the purchase of a soft bed linen and stone. Leaving his large blade to lean against the nearby wall. The time that passed allowed him to focus on the force, healing his mind of doubt before the next round. If he was to perform at full capacity, meditation would help. ​

​

A rough hour had passed. The servants that strolled into the quarters, began to show the contestants to their respective lines. Orion sat up, anticipating for his call. Getting to his feet he cranked his right arm into a full rotation, a slight crack breached his ears. The relief it brought caused a small curl to form along his delicate lips. His eyes shifted to the next servant. He could feel it in his bones. It was his time. ​

​

Reaching for War's Edgehttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/107635-wars-edge/, he placed it along his back. Adjusting his belt, he tossed his cloak over his shoulders, hiding both of his saber hilts. His attire remained the same as the first round. The all black ensemble remained, black boots and all. The servant pointed and curled his finger inward. The door to the arena, once again, slid wide. The piercing sun almost blinding Orion as it did. Lifting his arm over his eyes, he stepped out into the same sandy breach. It was warmer than before, significantly so. Orion hated the heat, if he could, he would use his few teachings of Cryokinesis to weather the sweltering force from above. Orion looked back at the servant. The old peasant extended his arm forward, pointing at an empty ring. ​

​

Trudging through the soft grains, Orion admired the golden accent of the landscape. As much as he disliked the sandy resemblance of Tattooine, Orion still appreciated the golden minerals that sparkled along the arena's entirety. He stopped, looking toward the spectators to the side. In normal fashion, they cheered and booed. Orion dug into the sand with his boot firmly, shifting his right leg forward and relaxed. Patiently he waited for his challenger to arrive.​

​

For the untouched sands of the present, could be tomorrow's bloodied tale of victory or defeat...​

​

[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Ignatius]

Opponent: [member="Orion Darkstar"],
Judges: [member="Ao Xian"], [member="Darth Carnifex"],
Gear: Orain, Oathkeeper, Scindo,

Well that was eventful. With a latecomer to the ring, I could only assume that I was chosen to move on simply due to being here. Which saddened me. I could not fight in the first round against my foe, and I was not injured unlike others who I may have faced further into this tournament. It gave me a slight unfair advantage. However, the rules of the game, was supposed to mimic close to a real battle in my mind. If you were injured, defeating your first opponent, your next opponent may or may not be better off or in worse condition than you. However, That didn't deter me from my new opponent. Why was I not on the field at the same time as the man who I would be facing? In the previous bout I was allowed to wear armor, yet didn't use it.

Hence me taking a bit to remove said armor. I then had to put back on my various weapons upon me. I shook my head as I walked out. Slowly hearing the crowd growing louder as I moved inward. Holding Scindo in my left hand, Oathkeeper was sheathed upon my left, and the dagger Orain held tightly in a small of the back sheath. Grip barely sticking out of my right side. I adjusted my vest that was covering my shoulders and back. However, underneath was a simple tank top. The various tattoos upon my arms visible to whoever I may be facing.

Walking out into the arena, I took a couple steps past the gate as it began to close. Seeing my opponent dressed in all black against the heat of the sun above, with the hot sand at our feet. As I began to draw closer towards the center of the arena, I felt a small chill go down my spine. Searching through the force to feel the presence of a dark sided artifact, I could only assume the sword he carried was the cause. A longsword, at best, it would be a small claymore with the large crossguard. Eyeing the suspicious weapon, it would likely be heavier than the swords that I carried. At best, it would weight just about as much as Scindo. My own claymore.

It seems my lessons in the forge have only allowed me to size up my foe and his weaponry. Getting an estimation upon his fighting style as well. However, that was all that was visible. Showing up with only one weapon to this kind of fight, was either a challenge, or he felt he was master of his weapon to face off against just about anyone with it. With his mask, and his body covered, I could not tell age, nor could I estimate due to his physicality. I would have to play a little on the safe side I think. Grabbing a hold of the grip with my right hand, the tip was planted firmly into the sand as I looked forward.

"Muri murshirtsa, diâ kiha tu'iyia asminys shinsizi amohti."

The harsh syllables of the Sith Language would reach the man. I was unsure if he knew how to understand the language or not, but it was only true to this kind of battle. Wishing him luck, and for his blade to stay sharp throughout the battle. A flick of my wrist, and a firm grip upon my Scindo, I gave the man a salute, before presenting the weapon. Left hand open almost to the crossguard, gently resting upon the webbing between my index and thumb, while my right hand gripped all the way down to the pommel. Weapon up, and parallel to the ground, with the point ready to be thrust into someone's chest if necessary.

 

[AMCO]

Opponent: [member='Ara Zambrano']
Gear: Two VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblades
Previous Post: N/A

The first round had gone better than he expected. He had been worried there, for a while, but thankfully he had been able to turn the brute against the Echani, only to mop up the mess. Of course, he might very well have lost if his opponent had worn goggles, but... he preferred to put it down to his superior skill and cunning instead. That sounded a lot more impressive, after all.

It wasn't too long between the rounds, which might just work to his advantage. He had avoided any sort of physical contact with his opponents by tricking them to attack each other, which gave him an advantage over those who had been forced to pay a far greater price for their victory. That being said, there was some concern about who he would be facing. The pool of force users around his own level of experience was quickly drying up, which could pose quite the problem. If he did have to fight a Knight of the Sith, he could only hope that it would be some brute you had shirked his study of higher forms of force usage in favour of more mundane pursuits. Yes, some brute would do nicely. Preferably an injured one.

He had spent the last hour in meditation, replenishing his mental reserves and cycling through his emotions in order to prepare himself to draw upon as much power as possible in the match to come.

And now, the time was upon him.

Rising smoothly, he navigated the vast space under the arena, taking the time to make sure that he looked presentable in the same pristine duelling doublet he had worn during the previous match. He did not know whether he would win or lose today, but there was no reason to look shabby, whatever happened. He had a reputation to maintain, after all, even if he was just an Acolyte.

Striding out into the sunlit arena, he greeted the cacophony of the crowd by letting a spark of lightning dance across his form for a few moments before sending it off with a flourish of the wrist. Moving to the centre of the area in which the fight would take place, he turned towards the booth which seated the Emperor and some of the Empire's most important individuals, as well as, he was sure, the usual spineless bootlickers. Taking the time to bow deeply and respectfully to the Emperor before taking his position, he began another exercise of the mind, preparing himself just in case he had to face another tactless brute with no respect for proper duelling conduct. If someone tried that again, they would face a lot worse than a little sand.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

Ask a Dark Lord of the Sith to allow for an unknown injection in their hide... ask for some trouble.

It had taken the personal intervention from [member="Ao Xian"] to talk the large simian down from ripping the attendant's arm off. Then her personal, invisible, touch for the actual injection to take shape before the bright red substance flowed into his veins. At first there had been nothing. Just a calm, just a rumble of the chest as Kazmai breathed in and out, while waiting for some effect to take hold of him. Eventually he had just grunted, pushing himself up from his seat at the call of the bell. This time there would be an actual fight... Kazmai hoped.

The last time had been a waste and part of him was still grum-

Hrm.

Kazmai halted at the far end of the tunnel that would exit into the arena itself. He stared at his....... hands? They seemed to shimmer, Kaz blinked, turning them around and noticing strange patterns just underneath the skin. "It begins.." The Sith rumbled slowly as he resumed his slow tread into the arena. That ended up being a bad decision, because the roar of the crowd froze him up.

Somehow the humans had grown more ugly within the span of an hour.

Their faces grotesque, the sky above them crimson stained, but it was not that which made him worry. Instead it was the little bantha, black eyes, perching on his shoulder and whispering something that made him worry the most.

"I cannot hear you, speak up, little one." Kazmai grumbled as he stared across the arena and tried to focus himself. This was going to be a mess. It took all his effort to take out his hammer, letting the hilt wring within curled fingers, but it felt strange too. Greasy, it... was it humming? The simian brought it to his ear and could clearly hear some sort of tune from it.

Dum, duuuuum, dum dum dum, dum. Waawaaawwaaaaaaaa~

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Kazmai"]

As the needle was set in her tricep, Joycelyn took a moment to wonder if any other contestant had been shot with as many different drugs as she had in the last twenty four hours, or if there was, perhaps, a specific reason why they decided to stick it to her. Perhaps, she wondered, they wanted her to ridicule herself. Well, that fit with the insects; something small taking down someone grand. Now they had simply secured the delivery a little better.

The needle exited her arm, the doctor stepping back and walking out as the Miraluka handmaiden walked started throwing the mixture of ash and chalk over Joycelyn's oiled form. She lowered her head, focusing her mind on the fire in her soul, and the fire in front of her.

"Mother Vahl, give me fury"

Fire flickering over her fingers, she cupped her hands and lifted the residual flame into the sky, then flicked it out before it burned into her fingertips. Standing up, she rotated her shoulders and felt the pop-pop-pop of her body adjusting. She was warm, ready, her sandal-strapped feet were light on the sand. She wore a different set of shorts than the day before, these covering the outsides of her thighs, but still exposing the inner. That way, the wound on her leg and its bindings were covered up. She hid the pain of it well. She was ready.

As Joycelyn sheathed Zaudraka and picked up her sabrestaff, she felt the injection begin to affect her. As she moved the staff, the air seemed to ripple, as though she had trailed it through water. She twirled it again, inspecting the ripples closely. The doors opened, the bright light of the sky piercing through and momentarily blinding her as she stepped into the arena.

It had changed.

The sky burned a deep purple and the walls stretched impossibly tall towards the cone-shaped sky. In the rows were not women and men, but faceless mannequins, swaying and rattling maniacally. She gripped the songsteel staff in both hands, holding it horizontally as she stepped up to the centre of the arena. Her opponent matched her surroundings, tall and drawn in an impossible pointed cone, with beady eyes and long swaying arms.

What was this chit?

 

[Farah]

It was the time in between rounds where the medical staff found themselves the busiest. Sure, there had been a steady stream of wounded combatants, but there were quite a few who held on until a victor had been declared. Then they were swamped.

A thunderous roar brought Farah’s attention back towards the arena. One of the competitors—shirtless—was working the crowd along with his pecs. The doctor found herself transfixed with the bouncing bosom of [member="Khonsu Amon"] for a few long moments.

“Dr. Zambrano! The patient!”

Spell broken, Farah’s head swiveled back around and was suddenly reminded that she was currently elbow deep in some poor human’s chest. “Of course,” She asserted. “Phase scalpel.”

 

[Progflaw99]

Subject: [member="Sokar Azad"] | Round II​

Affiliation: The Golden Company, Stellar Centurion​

Opponent(s): [member="Elani Zambrano"] | [member="Thyne"] | (Note: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Ao Xian"])​

Weapons: Light Whip Hybrid | Guard Shoto | Cortosis Shield​

​

He had advanced. A victory to be sure, but not the final victory he craved. The abrasions across the dark canvas of his flesh had been tended to, only the deepest remained. Even still they were little more than thinly drawn scars, covered in dirt and sand from the arena. The chilling effect his foe had imparted upon his fingers was now little more than a memory, one erased as the Stellar Centurion's fingers curled themselves into a fist where he stood. Again he found himself just behind the portcullis which would release the warrior upon his foes. This time they numbered two - though there were no distinct lines drawn across the sand. It would be a free for all. Three fighters, all stalwart enough to emerge victorious, each more deadly than the first. With a quiet exhalation of air, Sokar readied himself. His weapons of choice had changed in part. Hybrid lightwhip yet remained at his side, however the energy shield which had been mounted upon his forearm had been replaced.

Cortosis, a particularly well known metal had been forged into the shape of a shield, its brazen surface contrasting with lines of obsidian across its surface. A symmetrical pattern etched upon its gilded shape. Along the inside, sheathed, rest a violent blade. There it would stay until the time was right. Grasping the leather grip on the inside of the shield, Sokar waited for the sound that would signal the fated warriors entrance to the arena. As the shrill tone echoed across the enlarged chamber which was to contain them, the portcullis rose grating into its recess. A shimmer flashed across the legionnaire's eyes as his feet brought him forward, the warmth of the afternoon sun spreading swiftly. He was ready for this.

As Sokar stepped into the glowing rays of the sun, a cheer went up across the arena - for him, or his opponents who no doubt had emerged at the same time he knew not. Cared not. Even so, if it was a show they wanted, it was a show they would get. Deliberately his shield remained low, casual even. Free hand reached, a slow and gentle manipulation of the leather which held his whip coiled like a viper at his hip - and then dropping and stretching across the sand. In a flourish worthy of the arena on Thrysia, the length of the whip twirled, bending and waving back upon itself until with a flick of his wrist, a violent crack split the air as the tail end shot forward and then back against itself. Sokar smiled - the fight would continue.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

[member="Ignis Imura"]

[SIZE=11pt]War's Edge[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]x1 Sith Lightsaber | x1 Valis Worship Lightsaber (White, No special features.)[/SIZE]

​

​

​

​

The beating sun refused to let up its assault on Orion's weary feeling. ​

​

Exhaustion, it was something he hadn't considered after his last match. It wouldn't make his fighting or decision making less proficient, but dealing with another capable fighter could strain his limitations. Even so, Orion stood strong, sweating beneath the soft cloth hugging his muscular body. His patience wore thin, scanning the area for a new entrant to enter the ring. In the time he had been standing, he made note of the emperors box secretly whispering opinions on his arrival. If it was a show they wanted, they wouldn't be disappointed. ​

​

The crowd livened up, roars coming from a far off distance as his opponent approached. The young male that approached was harboring a large weapon. The shimmering steel glistened as it shifted up and down, until; it stopped and the challenger met him in the ring. He bore a vest, and by the looks of it, seemed to have a taste for tattoos. It mattered little to Orion, if the young man wanted to battle with steel he would oblige. However, not too quick to release his own monstrous blade, Orion waited out of respect. The force warned him, Ignis was far more capable in the force than his last opponent. He could feel the scales of the force becoming unbalanced. Shifting and tugging at his senses. Eventually, it dissipated and Orion ignored the unfavorable outcome of the living force. Orion was a Sith, bending it to his will would lead him to victory. ​

​

He observed the adversary, assessing the possible threats. Besides the large sword he branded as his own, the only other tool he saw was a sheath. The sheath was long enough to be a one handed sword. Clearly the young man was partial to steel, alchemized or not. Orion deduced the only factors he could, speed could potentially be his saving grace. As an assassin, Orion had a knack for dodging wide arcs and slow powerful precision. Still, the claymore that rested in his opponents hands became more of a threat. Ignoring the subtle act of honor and respect, what came next was a erupting signal of fire. The young challenger tightened his grip, forcing the weapon to spark to life. The waving flames danced along the edges of the two handed masterpiece. ​

​

Fascinating..​

​

Tilting his head, Orion smiled. Naturally, Orion was curious to see if such a unique addition was capable of amplifying aspects of the force, he had yet to see. Regardless, he would try his hardest to eliminate the boy before it became a real issue. Returning the polite act of kindness, Orion bowed towards him. Silently, he stared. For the length of time that Orion waited, playing the defensive game would benefit him. Plus, with little to no knowledge about his blue eyed prey, Orion remained motionless. ​

​

It took a second for him to contemplate whether to unleash the War's Edge, or not. Quickly, his mind churned to a verdict. His right arm shifted lower, the tops of his fingers hanging at his side. The common sway of his body, forced the tips of his fingers to slightly graze the hilt of his saber. He decided against a large sword fight, it made perfect sense. ​

​

Why would he slow himself down, when he could seek victory in the offensive strategy of his opponent? It was only logical, nothing more. So, Orion stood, just like he had been. Calm and cool, the blanket of exhaustion left him. The invigorated anticipation of a test, wiped it all away. He could feel the darkside embrace him.​

​

Orion wasn't in a fight, he was home. ​

​

[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Ignatius]

Opponent: [member="Orion Darkstar"],
Judges: [member="Ao Xian"], [member="Darth Carnifex"],
Gear: Orain, Oathkeeper, Scindo,

Holding the blade aloft, I had already done my best to gauge my foe. However, as what seemed an eternity, was mere moments with the man's movements. He returned the bow that I had given to him, and the respect shown. We were here to battle and to train. Those who won got a prize at the end, sure. However, this was training in the closest form to the real deal. Yet, as I stood there, waiting for him to draw his own weapon, I noticed he seemed to stay back from me.

He was going to be playing defensive. Even the seemingly nonchalant movement to his hips. Nooo. I had been too well trained by my father that no matter where the hand is, it can still attack you. He was not bringing forth his own blade. One of two thoughts came to my head. The man was very confident in his bladework, or he had another weapon I couldn't see. Ducking my head just a bit, I slowly let my left foot slide forward across the sand.

I then slashed at him.

Bringing the sword from its position over my head, and cleaving downward into open air. The blades flames only ignited brightly as I channeled the force through the weapon. A wave of destructive energy cleaved through the air and headed directly at him. A twist with my hips, Pulling my hands up towards my left chest I sent an underhand cut with another wave of energy racing through the air. Pushing everything out of the way with the Sand kicked up in it's wake. I chose that moment to close the distance.

With having to possibly deal with the two arcs of energy thrown at him, with sand being thrown up into the air, I could only hope that it could obscure some of his vision to allow a closing of the gap between us.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

Kazmai grunted.

"No, smol bantha friend, you have to sit carefully on my shoulder. The floor is lava." His large thick finger shushed the squeaky high-pitched whine of protest, while he hummed along the tune of the hammer. The colors of the sky were slowly shifting from blood to imperial purple and beyond. Even the ugly humanoids (their faces contorting, teeth barring and screeching in joy) didn't seem to bother him as much anymore. It was just one of those things and in truth Kazmai had always believed that humankind were ugly creatures.

This only served to confirm it for him.

"See, this is fine-" Suddenly the bantha flopped down the ground and started for a run towards the center of the arena..... towards a standing wall, except that it was a human with a barrel-chest, huge mouth with veiled teeth and burning red eyes.

A demon... and the smol bantha was running straight at it!

"Floppy, no!" Kazmai roared and started to chase after it. It was zig-zagging and impossibly fast, the large simian didn't even care about the grotesque bulbous human-demon, all that the Sith Lord wanted was to cradle the bantha to safety. His feet pounded against the dirty sand, making it rumble with his weight and purpose, every step Kazmai took made the ground shudder like small, contained earthquakes.

"Flpppppppy!" The panic causing his voice to strain in a roar as Kazmai closed in towards Joyce.

 

[Thyne]

A twinge of disappointment hit Thyne upon realization that his first round opponent wouldn't be making an appearance. Shame. He'd been looking forward to this. Advancing to the second round only by default felt cheap, lacking in any satisfaction. Oh well. It left him ready for the next round, energy unspent, person unmarred. The scientists would have their data, one way or another.

The next round would prove to be interesting, at the very least. Two opponents for the price of one, each with their own personalized choice of weapons. Perhaps they'd provide the challenge the Teevan so craved, perhaps they'd overwhelm him immediately. Still, perhaps they'd focus more so on each other, giving him time to pick particular opponents accordingly.

Regardless of the coming battle's various options, he stood, poised and ready to react at a moment's notice. Lightsaber in hand, eyes wide and focused on the two in front of him, he offered no form of greeting or taunt to either opponent. Just stood there, lying in wait.

​

[member="Sokar Azad"] | [member="Elani Zambrano"] ​

[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Round: 2
Opponent: [member="Adrian Vandiir"]
Weapon: Ba’Vanim // Back-up Weapon: Generic Lightwhip

It was amazing how an hour could affect the field of battle.

The sand was pliant and soft beneath her feet, bare again, despite the rise in temperature, the soft grains warm enough to almost burn the soft flesh pressing against it. The roar of the crowd once again crashed over her as she emerged, much the same as the Arch-Queen had appeared before. Twin handles hung form the leather belt strapped low across her hilts, the intricately carved Ba’Vanim barely cooled from the last bout.

A long gash in her right pant leg fluttered against the soft breeze, a matching tear in the left leg the most drastic change in the Master’s appearance from the first round to now. Long chestnut curls had been bound back in a loose plait, a far more difficult handhold than loose locks might provide, but easily unraveled should the need arise. The sun burned against her sensitive retinas, a soft, wry smile curling up the corners of her lips as she entered the ring that had been designated as her arena for the match, Ara’s opponent already in place, a flash of sparks dancing across his skin in a playful display of power.

A dark chuckle floated across the ring from the Master’s lips to the Acolyte’s ears, amusement shining in her eyes as she mental compared the flourish with that of a peacock displaying his plumage. Throughout the tournament grounds, others followed a similar thought process, their entrances grand, flashy, and playing to the attention of the audience, the cacophonous barrage of noise rising and falling in appreciation of each. The Ren offered none, a simple, flirtatious smile the most that could be garnered from the half-Hapan’s entrance, her gaze falling first to the young man standing center of their ring then to the Emperor’s box once again, a low bow offered to the Dark Lord of the Sith and his emissaries.

Beyond the nebula of power that always coalesced around [member="Darth Carnifex"] , strengthened by the strange fox-creature settled beside him, another signature caught her attention, the smile morphing into knowing smirk, the inclination of the head offered in difference to the woman’s presence, easily dismissed as another respectful greeting to the Emperor should anyone pay that close of attention to the smallest Zambrano in attendance.

The wicked crimson gaze fell once again to the acolyte before her, a second bow offered to her opponent, fingers falling to the less ornate hilt against her right hilt, yet failing to remove the weapon from its clip.

”Well met.”

Again, that deep laughter undercut the purr, Ara’s irises shinning with mischief as they roamed over the young man’s form, her smile growing wider. She had to admit, the pairing of a Master against an acolyte had been a surprise once the second round had been announced, a thread of annoyance running through her. Had this been the first round, she would have suspected a jest, the pairing a sign of disrespect to her skills and her education, a subtle slight from the Lords of the Sith who thought the might of the First Order below their own. As it was, she suspected this was more a test for the boy as opposed to the Ren herself, a chance to prove himself worth of the Darth titles they were all too fond of.

”Their faith in you is admirable. Shall you prove it worthy?”

One eyebrow rose in a taunting challenge, the smile never wavering as one foot slid back in a ready stance, her fingers still splayed across the smooth metal of her weapon, still quiet. A challenge they wished to give him, she was all too happy to oblige.

[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"]​

 

[Orion Darkstar]

[member="Ignis Imura"]

[SIZE=11pt]War's Edge[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]x1 Sith Lightsaber | x1 Valis Worship Lightsaber (White, No special features.)[/SIZE]

​

​

The cheers and rants fell dead. Orion was lost to the inner workings of his own calculating mind. He followed his opponents movements diligently, careful not to miss every detail. The sudden upheaval of the large Claymore cut through the air like a dagger. The flames along its edges roared to life, the stroke of the ending result crashing downward meeting its purchase. Erupting from the tip of the peculiar blade was a resounding blast of energy, the pocket of the force alarming Orion as it came for him. As quickly as the first, the blade slanted upward. The same silent ripple of the force bore down into the sand. Specks of coarse silica separated, curling into an open wave ready to crash on top of him. ​

​

Orion anticipated something, but this was far more interesting than he had considered. The sudden card that had been played from his adversaries deck, was a strong one. There were only a few seconds left to make his move. Jumping would force him to be hit by the first wave of energy. Dodging it, however, would also force Orion into a unruly situation. If he ducked under the first threat, the second would surely force him to jump. Doing so, would allow the opposing sith to get a decent edge on him for the follow up. Orion wouldn't allow it, if the man wanted to see what he was capable of, then so be it. ​

​

In a hurried fashion Orion threw his hand forward. Empty and weaponless, he ushered the force into his being. The gripping tendrils of the darkside wrapped around his forearm, ushering forth a large torrent of the force to escape from his palm. Then, in the amount of extra time he had, he dropped lower, he's knees crashed to the ground. His arm remained stiff and forward, sending another immediate blast of energy outward. It was pure genius, the two shock waves of the force would collide. Once they passed through each other, they would fail to reach either of them, at least not the correct way. Orion made sure the blast met the strength of his opponents. He had to. If not, well Ignis would get everything he wanted. If he did, the equal forces would collide, each unaffected by the other and preventing both shock waves to continue forward. There was a catch. Once that happened, there would only be one direction the initial shock waves could go. ​

​

Backwards. ​

​

The blasts would maintain their strength, collapsing on contact they would spring back toward the practitioner's central point. In essence, both of them would be hit by their own blasts. More sand created a wall as the new blast pushed forward to stop the assault. As it did, Orion's green eyes found a rushing opponent. If everything worked out, each of them would be flung backwards. Not only would this space them out, it would give Orion enough space to utilize his own alchemized weapon. Of course, his couldn't shoot blasts of energized force from its tip, but it could prove useful if necessary. ​

​

Orion braced for impact, digging his back foot into the sand as he knelled. Watching intently, he waited to see if Ignis emerged from the heaping wall of sand between them both. If so, Orion would have to be quick. ​

​

[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Kazmai"]

This guy was bulky, and loud. It would seem like this fighter was more like herself. It was going to be fun, though the drugs injected in their veins had made it all slighty... off. They would make do, and they would give the public a fight that would show the crowd, the galaxy, and the Dark Lord himself, what it meant to be a warrior of the Sith Empire.

She took a firm step forward, her foot potentially smashing down through Kazmai's hallucination like a giant trampling an invisible cake. Her sandaled foot threw dust to either side, and she could see it ripple out through the universe, making sand and stone, and even the stars themselves quiver. She felt mighty.

With another twirl between her hands, the songsteel shaft drew lines in the air, like trails of smoke or the V of a leisure barge cutting through a still pond, she re-positioned her weapon. The spear was brought close as she turned it around, making sure it could not be intercepted in the pivot. As it seized, she could hear the songsteel sing its silvery aria. It wanted to murder. She would only allow it to maim.

But if he walked straight into her point?

She thrust it out towards the ape. The blade activated mid-thrust, making it all the more difficult to see where it would stab. The sound of songsteel against her left hand sang like a choir of stimmed up mental patients who had miraculously hit a harmonic tune in their agonising anarchy. The crimson blade with its two prongs burned through like a baseline, and she thought it coloured even the sky, like a second sun in her very hands, thrust towards the chest of Kazmai, expecting to be parried.

 

[LT-137]

​

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Ao Xian"]​

​

It was in the moments after that his adversary had taken to the sands, that Khonsu himself had come to realize the hidden potential laced into the bands that were clasped around his wrists and ankles. In the moments after the signal to begin had been declared, for all to hear, the man began to feel his arms become sluggish - as if there was something that had weighed him down.

That wasn’t good, the Sun Guard mused as he tried to loosen his wrist and slowly test out the timed delay between strikes.

He’d need to rely almost exclusively on his uncanny abilities, afforded to him by his cultural arts, that would allow him to read and predict his opponent’s moves - perhaps even going so far as to guess them before they were even made. However, such foresight brought with it it’s own issues, as the future was ever-changing and unreliable when it came to following a certain, branching path.

With one twist of fibrous musculature, the man could’ve sent his weapon towards an angle that the Thyrsian would have never predicted. An event that would doubtlessly see his Mandalorian foe lauded by those in the stands for beating someone born from the sands of Thyrsus in combat.

Khonsu couldn’t allow that.

The man would have to play it smarter than he normally would, and mix things up with a different fighting style. One that would possibly throw his adversary for a loop if it was used, and possibly score the ever critical laurels offered by claiming first blood in such a non-lethal bout. Therefore, having made his offering to the primary podium, and to the adulation of the crowd thereafter, the Sun Guard decided that he would submit to the Scion of Clan Fett’s words - and would be the first to make his move.

With his legs unburdened the gravitic restraints, the Thyrsian surged forward as fast as his body would allow, seeking to close the gap between the two fighters as quickly a possible. As his foe was helmed, an option that Khonsu had silently wished he had taken as well due to the favouritism of sand being used as a weapon, knew that following in his previous opponent’s footstep’s would be ill-advised. It would’ve been a waste of time, and effort, to blind someone whose facial features were shrouded.

The fact of the matter was, the only fool who’d find himself getting blinded by the same tricks as before - was the Sun Guard himself.

Nevertheless, when the gap was closing, the Thyrsian Gladiator struck out with his sword in an overhead arc - having built up the momentum from his dash across the fighting ring, and throwing his weight behind the heavily-burdened extremity. It was an act that was visibly slowed, and easily readable by even the most unskilled fighters. One that could easily be dodged or parried, depending on how brave his Mandalorian Adversary had believed himself to be. However, there were dangers that presented themselves with such a simplistic attack, as parrying would put the Thyrsian’s gravitic-enhanced against his foe’s, and dodging would present a possible avenue in which the man could somehow follow through.

Regardless of what path was taken, there was but one certainty known to all that would lay eyes upon this mighty bout. It was going to be entertaining.

In one way, or another.​

​

| [member="Koda Fett"] |​

 

[Lemon]

BASTION

---

---

ARENA, CAPITAL

Weighted down, incapable of performing greater movements, confined to the shuffling of booted feet against the scorching sand. Beneath the T-Shaped Visor were the brown eyes of Fett- the very same that persisted with it's attention upon the Sun Guard, examining each movement in an attempt to decipher what was to come next. Predict the future by watching a man. He could admit that it wasn't a skill he possessed when it came to the more dangerous men, such as Khonsu, but lesser men were in the way of books. Readable. The ability to do it with hardened finesse was saved for the Echani and the Thrysians.

His right foot slowly slid backwards in the sand, focusing on the man ahead of him as he made his approach. Sand entered Fett's boot, though, and he didn't like that. Suppose it was true that sand was course, rough, and that it got everywhere. Strange how something as simple as sand can remind you of something so awful, too. Not as if it that mattered right now, however. What mattered now was the advancing Thrysian.

The overhead swing was formed, and it was all that took hold of the Mandalorian's mind. His feet shuffled across the sand once more, trading places as one end of the electrostaff ran through the grains beneath their feet, brought upwards in a swing in an attempt to launch sand into Amon's eyes. At the completion of the swing, though, Koda's body twisted to the left with one end of the staff high into the air- doing it's best to knock the sword away from himself.

---

---

[member="Khonsu Amon"]

 

[AMCO]

Opponent: [member='Ara Zambrano']
Gear: Two VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblades
Previous Posts: 15, 6

Adrian was arrogant, smug, and generally self-centred. That did not, however, mean that he was a fool.

When he had learned that he would be fighting a Master of Ren, he had been concerned, to put it mildly. Even he realized that the odds of him emerging victorious from this bout was infinitesimal. He would have even bet against himself, had the odds not already been too skewed for that to be profitable. However, he was no longer concerned. Despite the odds, this would be a truly interesting match, he had come to realize. It was not often one got the chance to test oneself against someone so far beyond oneself, in a non-lethal setting, at least.

The question of why he had been paired with her still remained. As far as he could tell, there were three options: That this was meant to test him, that someone involved in organising the event really didn't like him, or that this was meant as an insult to his opponent. Judging by the look of amusement on the attractive woman's face, he figured it probably wasn't the latter option, which was likely very beneficial to his health and well being. Fighting a Master in a non-lethal duel was one thing, fighting a deeply insulted one was a different thing entirely.

He had one advantage, at least. She would likely be expecting very little from him, given his much lower rank and flashy showmanship. Perhaps he could turn that to his advantage. But to do that, he would need an opening. The element of surprise.

As she bowed to him, he responded in kind, bowing respectfully but not taking his eyes off her for one moment, the hilts of his two vibroblades poking out from over his shoulders.

"Likewise."

As her eyes scanned him, he did the same to her. Eyes combing over her slim form. She was considerably shorter than him, which would give him the advantage of reach, but there was no guarantee he was actually stronger than her. Not that raw strength would have done him much good, even if he did possess it. His swordsmanship wasn't particularly impressive, and he didn't really have any training in dual-wielding, despite the two blades he carried. She, however... he had no doubt she knew how to wield the two lightsabers at her hip. He would need to be very careful about maintaining his distance in this match, even more so that usually.

"We shall know soon enough, won't we?"

At that, he gave her a wry smile, a slight trace of amusement in his blue eyes. His hands, rather than going to the hilts of his blades, was kept at his side. Stretching his fingers slowly, he continued to face his opponent, while building up as much power as he can muster in anticipation of what was to come.

As the match commenced, he allowed tendrils of lightning to leap across his form once more, as a final act of deception. He had no intention of unleashing something so mundane on an opponent of this calibre. Instead, he rapidly recited a short incantation in the language of the Sith. Driving his hand towards her, the tendrils of lightning dispersed only to be replaced by an ominous purple glow coalescing at the tip of his fingers, launching towards the graceful form of Ara Zambrano as his hand came to a halt. He may not have spent much time on his swordsmanship, but that didn't mean he didn't have other tricks up his sleeve.