SO Tournament Round 1: Korog Zordaal vs. Nisha Skaiyr

[Kamon Vondiranach]

SOURCE: LINK​

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Geonosis, Present Day

Two combatants reside within the fabled Petranaki Arena. Each has somehow been captured and brought here by the Geonosian's for sport purposes. To make things particularly interesting, each is secured to a large stone column on opposite sides of the arena. Their lightsabers, or whatever weapon they normally carry, is secured to the base of the column. Reaching these will be difficult and the Geonosian's have even made it so that there is no particular way to simply pull the lightsaber to ones hands. They've gotten a lot more crafty since the Clone Wars, it would seem.

The leader of the Geonosians is making some sort of announcement in his native tongue, and you hear the rising of gates in the distance. Snarling is heard after, and you realize that your battle will not just be against your fellow Sith, but against whatever creatures the Geonosian's have decided to throw at you. Perhaps you are a little more fortunate than past Force Users in the arena, as only two Nexu are sent against you and not an Acklay, but if you don't work swiftly, they'll make short work of you, and your opponent will be the last of your worries.

[member="Korog Zordaal"], [member="Nisha Skaiyr"]

 

[Korog Zordaal]

There he lay, Korog Zordaal, on Geonosis he had arrived as an explorer. An adventurer eager to delve deep in to the catacombs of this fabled World in search of antiquities long forgotten, to mark and catalogue treasures of the past. To collect with a feverishly rabid desire. Alas, once more he had been cornered and run down. The Muun had yet failed to keep his obsessions in check, how to keep his mind open.

Funnily enough, that well tutored brain of his had a knack for seeing and feeling the danger coming, but he could not wrest his wit from task soon enough to do something about it. [member="Matsu Xiangu"] had happened upon him in quite a similar fashion. Aloof, examining and feeling everything, yet too frail to act accordingly.

A glaring foible of the Academician. . .

With a half sneeze, he huffed coarse granules from his nose-slit. How long he had been out, he couldn't rightly say, not right now, as he rose to hands and knees in the sand. HIs cloak and tunic had been dismissed by his captors, his corpse-like complexion and spindly limbs left to bake under the hot summer sun of this barren World.

His fog subsided further.

Still laid low, he began to wriggle and move with greater accent. Suddenly aware of a number of things, as he rubbed a hand, grimed with sand, across his chap face. The first, there was a definitive snap, click and roll of a voice that, unmistakably, was that of a Geonosian. Second, that booming wind of a million, rasping, wings. His final point, then, came as no surprise:

A chain, modified to secure his sickeningly thin wrist--his right---with unflinching security.

He floated wispy frame backwards, resting full on bowed knees. With both hands he began to pull on the slack of the chain, hoisting coil after coil out of the sand until it ran taut.

His eyes narrowed, there before him a pillar, it's circumference, as he could tell by mere glance, far too large to attempt climbing.

Ah,

but alas. . .

He caught the glint of his Lightsaber, bouncing upwards to a hunched posture he dragged his feet through the sand with staggering strides. He noted with a strong enough step, each foot would bury itself down to ankle.

He took mental note of it.

Finally, he came to his pillar, lobbing himself down with a very haggard grace at the base of this stone structure. He palmed his Lightsaber, making to pull it from base, no luck!

Again he tried,

and again!

Well, as it turned out, it seemed as if one of the masons that secured his weapon had gone above and beyond his call of duty. Even were he Jedi Master Arturius, he could not wrest this weapon from the stone; not without destroying it in the process.

He gave a quick look around, gates were opening, he knew this wasn't good. With his bony shoulder he leaned against the pillar once more, pallid flesh bleeding from scrapes, knuckles and fingers weeping red tears in to the sand already as he attempted one last effort at securing his tool of survival.

No luck.

Again his eyes took fleet across the sea of onlookers and the Gladiatorial ground around him. Ah, another. She lay on the Eastern end, he at the West. The sun was at their South. At least he was not alone in his endeavor here. Although, he'd be willing to wager a fortune, this individual was not merely there to keep him company. Wait. . .

No,

not Nexu's.

[member="Nisha Skaiyr"] | [member="Darth Ignus"]​

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Nisha Skaiyr was beginning to think that she hated the Galaxy.

It wasn't simply that she was dragged from place to place by a psychopathic Sith Lord.

It wasn't just that she had little to no understanding of most of the technology that more modern, advanced planets took for granted.

No, mostly, it was because things like this happened.

Sand, whipped up by the wind, found its way into Nisha's one healthy looking eye as it slowly opened. The grainy, coarse substance scratched ever so slightly against her exposed skin, just hard enough to be uncomfortable, and the Indoumodian native was suddenly very appreciative of her respirator. The sand combined with the trace pollutants (as her healer called them) in the air would no doubt wreak havoc on her lungs.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, the War-Witch saw the skulking, predatory form of a Nexu slowly but steadily approaching her.

Alright, so she definitely hated the Galaxy.

Still, this wasn't anything more than Nisha could handle. True, she was chained to a stone column, and the chains were quite strong, as was to be expected; they were made from durasteel, an alloy far more impressive than anything the Indoumodian had handled before she was inducted into the Sith. Nisha would have no luck trying to break the chains themselves, not in time to save herself from the Nexu.

But the chain wasn't what she needed to break.

Nisha backpedaled, pressing her back to the column to which she was chained. Then, very quickly, she began to coil the length of the chains around her wrists until they were taut. To keep them from uncoiling, she held what she could in her hands, white-knuckling the durasteel chain.

Oh, this was going to hurt.

But that Nexu was getting steadily closer, and if that thing bit down on her head, she was a dead woman.

So the Witch allowed the Dark Side to flood her body, let it toughen her bones and, at least for a moment, somewhat inure her to pain.

And then she dashed forward, using that same Dark power to lend her a speed which she'd never have been able to achieve on her own. At the same moment, the woman pulled on those chains which tethered her to stone, lending the entirety of her impressive musculature to the task.

A scream of pain rang out.

And then, crack, crack, crack.

But not the cracking of bone, oh no.

It was the cracking of stone as metal wrenched its way free of its far more brittle, less malleable cousin.

---

[member="Darth Ignus"]
[member="Korog Zordaal"]

 

[Korog Zordaal]

Korog had to fortify himself, perhaps worthy of note, he was not renown for brute strength. Deceit, tactful maneuvering, abstruse technique. Likewise he studied Lightsaber Forms with a scientific eye, but never a day had he practiced it athwart foe.

Nay, the tall Munn instead wielded something of his own creation. Something that took use of his lank and length, the loft of his brow and branch-like reach of arm.

Of course, he had yet unsheathe his weapon from the slab of rock that regarded it prisoner.

In spite of this setback, he quite did, in fact, find himself in a sterling mood. Shock resided, damp haze of unconsciousness drying, he could abide by the omen. The Force did indeed speak, always. You just had to quiet down, apply thought, and forecast it's subtle patterns. [member="Matsu Xiangu"] was a very cerebral teacher--cruel as a Tatooine day is long, but so intelligent!

This is not new, Korog, you have been here. . . countless times!

He prodded himself sternly, retreating from the Eastern face of his pillar, giving up on his captured weapon. The chain snake that constricted his wrist rattled and writhed as he slithered to the Northwest of his pillar, the back of his right shoulder just barely a foot from the curved stone.

His wounded, scraped hands began to clutch the chain one over the other, heaving with stern discipline as his eyes focused on the great beast before him.

An absolutely exquisite specimen, if ever he had seen one. Sexy, deadly, vicious. He knew them well, another area of study he took pride in, his tongue did indeed enjoy the taste of all things intriguing, indeed. Of course, in a Galaxy where all things are useful, it shouldn't be so shocking.

It's two-pronged tail snapped and whipped with anger. It was a great distance back, it had not yet been prodded to action. Sand clouded upwards while it stamped and slashed front and back paws. Viscous tendrils of drool expanding as thick as rope from the gape of it's jaws as roar bellowed from without. Eyes, red as blood scrutinizing the reedy Munn from a distance. As if it knew, with single swap of claw, it could claim victory.

The creature began to prowl more wildly, it's target inciting no type of flight instinct. Then it's hind quarter was thrust hatefully on with barbed spear.

It took off at sprint.

Korog, timing the repetitions of his breath in perfect sync with the row of his arms along the chain, making sure he did not assert a frantic amount of energy in this heat, continued pulling. His feet pressing great divots in the shifting floor below.

Closer it came, closer and closer.

Korog heard the bellow of the woman from the other side of the pit. The crack of chain ringing like chimes across the entire stadium. But he paid her no more heed than she required, for now.

It was almost upon him, chain rings had bit and torn his dry flesh ragged. Blood became thick as mud on fingers and palms as the golden grains stuck dense and true. His grip slid, one hand gave folly in the pull.

"Gah!" He growled, get that one back.

Didn't matter, his way was of the adventuring scholar. There was rarely an expedition, treasure hunt, or even Academic wandering out in to the wild that did not, in some way, yield unexpected and brutal challenges. This was but another trek, not a duel, not a fight. Just one more day in the field.

It was so close he could feel the yell of danger electrifying more purpose in to his meager limbs. His chain snapped straight from one last writhe out of it's slender bend, and Korog, sweat beading across narrow back fled South along the Western border of his Pillar just as the creature lunged.

That swipe was strong, a raw type of power that no sentient could muster. As the beast just narrowly stroked two claws to chest, tearing his flesh further, then chain gave a great pull in the opposite direction getting caught between the stone and paw of this five meter long behemoth of a Nexu.

The trauma of the blow pulled tall Korog, frightfully swinging his shoulder and the right side of his elongated face to coarse surface. He grunted, stone cleaved as if it were dust beneath the claws, chain snapped, and he would have only a few moments to gather himself before the creature circled around to finish him.

[member="Nisha Skaiyr"] | [member="Darth Ignus"]​

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Chains of durasteel dragged behind Nisha's arms, which were, themselves, not in stellar condition, given what they'd just gone through. Still, she was free, and with freedom came the chance to retrieve her weapon, a blade which could easily shear through these restrictive chains. If it wasn't for the Nexu, that is. Yes, that vicious creature was still slowly, steadily making its way towards Nisha, and that was a problem for a number of reasons - not least of which was the fact that she was unarmed.

Or, no...she wasn't quite unarmed. The young woman glanced at the chains dangling from her arms, and then grinned. Yes, that would do perfectly.

The War-Witch took a length of the chain in her hands and turned to face the approaching Nexu. Unable to understand what was about to transpire, the beast simply continued along its merry way.

As it neared pouncing distance, the creaure picked up the pace, getting faster.

And faster.

And faster.

And pounce.

The great felid beast reared up on its back legs and soared through the air, claw and jaw primed to rip into the unfortunately unarmored woman.

And rip into Nisha they would have, if the Nexu hadn't been sent flying away by a well timed smack from an impromptu flail. The stone head of the 'flail' cracked and broke apart, slicing skin and fracturing the skull of the unfortunate beast. Still, it survived, and that meant there was work to be done. The beast ran as Nisha approached. That was fine - with a clenched fist, the War-Witch closed off its windpipe. Wheezing, choked mewls of pain escaped the creature's throat, but those cries fell on deaf ears, until they fell no more.

The Nexu slain, Nisha could focus upon the task of retrieving her blade. An easy enough one, all things considered. The masonry had been built up over the quillons of the hilt, so that it couldn't simply slide free, but as the young woman gripped the hilt in her hand, she made quite the interesting discovery; the blade was otherwise loose inside a small chamber built into the column that housed it. That meant the chamber was weak, insecure, at least in comparison to the rest of the pillar.

Nexu, it turned out, were quite heavy. Certainly heavy enough to break through a thin stone wall.

---

[member="Korog Zordaal"]
[member="Darth Ignus"]

 

[Korog Zordaal]

There was a certain, low frequency, knell in his ears. Blackness clung around the edges of his vision. On knees, stooped forward, with shoulder and face hugging rough stone, was the Muun. The exaction of this encounter was high, it wasn't enough that they, that is [member="Nisha Skaiyr"] and himself, were thrown into this Pit of heat and sand. Secured and without weapons, chained and under siege from lethal predator. But under the click and snarl of the Geonosian crowd, it had become evident they would be forced to duel each other.

Exacting a chance glance to the East of the Arena, Korog bore gaze upon the humanoid woman. Thus far she was seemingly in the more prominent position of the pair. Her Nexu discarded, her weapon moments away from the discovery of her grasp.

But never was a contest decided at the start alone, and the slender Muun was crafty, shrewdly slick.

Retreating his eyes from her figure in the heat hazed distance, he came back upon the pillar in front of him. Pressing off from it with his left hand. He could hear the rattle and snap of chain on the other side as his Nexu shook and churn it's metal coils from side to side with it's powerful head. A dance that would spell doom and death were the limp tether his animated limbs.

"AH! My pretty, " began Korog, keeping the upright stone between himself and the ravenous creature. "deadly thing!" From his right wrist, a length of chain remain, just a slight linger over two meters. "Come on!"

The beast bowed, metal rings, painted with blood and drool, hanging between it's jaws. The Nexu, panting heavily in the heat, dug it's paws ferociously through the sand once more. Kicking up vast clouds as it took a curved leap around the Eastern edge of the column.

"Rhhah!" Korog cried with strong boom, asserting his foul voice full of depth and strength.

The spindly legs of the tall Muun bounced his equally thing frame westwards. trying to use this stone to thwart any slash and claw of the animals frightening paws. Simultaneously he sent a whipping wave down the body of his chain, curling it several rungs around his right arm to shorten it's length to a more wield-y sort.

The monster lunged again, it's chest thudding the stone, arms hugging it's rounded curves. Pawing viciously at the measly stick of it's hungers desire with it's right, then left claws.

Korog Zordaal, ever vigilant, took the opportunity to pounce backwards, a smidgen to the Southwest of his stonework lifeline. With clout and vigor he began to lash the feline as it clung to the rock, it's head whirling left and right trying to catch glimpse of it's pray. But all it managed to grasp, instead, was the cruel bite of linked metal across it's face and open eyes.

Once,

twice,

three times!

Until finally, it twisted backwards and spun painful circles in the sand. Mewing vile cries, blood, thick foul smelling ooze and drool spilling from head and ruptured eye orbs as it yip in agony.

"GRAAHH!!!" the Muun would bellow once more, flogging the confused creature again and again as it howled. Until finally, it took flight.

The intensity of the attack had been taxing, sweat ran with blood down the Muun's narrow back and chest. Sand, uncomfortably, clinging to every inch of his sun punished scaffold. No, he did not kill his Nexu, but it had been startled and struck with enough intensity to send it fleeing off for the shade next to one of the walls, much to the loathing of the crowd, to lick it's wounds.

It seemed now this contest would have to be settled between the two sentient's. This left the Muun facing his next problem:

Though he still reside, a whip of chain laying lazy at his feet. Spots of blood, both of his own make, and that of the giant Feline's, with several of it's rough spinal Quills broken and left jutting in the sand. He still could not loosen his weapon from stone.

Korog tried to level his breathing, that tenacious mind of his trying to rapidly formulate how he could improvise a victory against this woman before him.

[member="Nisha Skaiyr"] | [member="Darth Ignus"]​

 

[Korog Zordaal]

Storm swelled in his brain, his attention drown under the howling gale of thought and theory that rive his mind. Think, Korog! He demanded of himself. Taking stride on disoriented legs, his body bending side to side like bewildered pendulant. That heat, this Sun, it was punishing. Even slowing two of his three hearts to a single beat per minute, he felt the sudor of his emaciated body bead and veer down his bare upper-body.

His skin was parched, sand and blood clung uncomfortably, the rattle of the chain that still hung from his scant wrist rattled, a metal snake that chased him with every plod forward he sunk in the scalding granules.

He arrived back to his pillar, foot catching in the coil of his chain, he fell haphazardly, chest first in to the burning grains, the crown of his long head skidding coarse stone, peeling back a large gash of flesh.

"Uumph!" He grunted, quickly thrusting hands in to the stinging grit.

Korog had meant, perhaps imprudently, to attempt a final stanza with his well secured lightsaber. But before he managed to rise, a mask of red washing his rangy features. It seemed as if the crowd had turned ruthlessly bitter against the scene they were witnessing.

For to the East, [member="Nisha Skaiyr"] had succumb to the exhaustion of heat, and her exertion of effort and strength in this brief contest. Not a condemnation upon her, for even Korog Zordaal had rapidly began fading in the blistering swelter of the desert World and it's cruelly gleaming sun.

A hard pill to swallow, for her, even for himself. But the contest ended, one combatant unable to continue. Curses and foul Genosian profanity lashed the sunken pit of combat. Gladiatorial Handlers came and cruelly began to lash, kick and stomp Korog unconscious as well, while they dragged the War-Witch, face down, through the dirt back underneath the Stadium proper, to revive her.

Absinthal note for the victor, whip and foot his prize, plus a well flogged Nexu - should he want it.

[member="Darth Ignus"]​