The Blood Games - Alkor Centaris vs. Veiere Arenais

[Eternal Fallen Angel]

Petranaki Arena, Genosis
[member="Alkor Centaris"] vs. [member="Veiere Arenais"]

The galaxy had seen its fair share of blood spilled in recent months. From the war-torn capital of Eshan, to the explosion that rocked the parliamentary buildings on Kuat, to what remained of the Jen’ari Empire, scattered to the solar winds. The Confederacy had contributed a large amount of that blood - and it would seem that their appetite had turned inward for a change.

Recognizing an opportunity to reforge bonds with their allies, the CIS put out an open invitation to anyone who would consider themselves friends. Those who had been brave enough to put their names forward were invited to join with a horde of spectators at the Petranaki Arena on Geonosis.

The morning was bright, the skies clear. The stands were filled to the brim with roaring spectators, all having gathered to watch what promised to be a brilliant bit of sport. Nestled high above the sandy floor of the arena below, and overlooking the festivities, a platform stood sentinel. A cluster of massive stone chairs sat perched at the edge of the platform, with an unobstructed view of the arena and stands spread around them. Seated there were several members of the Confederate Viceroyalty, and others invited guests from their allied factions.

It didn’t take long for every single seat in the arena to be filled to complete capacity, with the unlucky patrons that were unable to secure a seat forced to either hover above the stadium or find somewhere to be able to stand and see the spectacle that was about to occur. The sounds and roars of the crowd only got louder and louder as the time neared to introduce the fighters that would be clashing for the crowd’s entertainment. That roar reached a fever pitch as the guardian of the arena, an aging Geonosian, hobbled his way to the front of the observation platform, his cane doing all it could to support him. Beside him, a silver protocol droid, a translator, took up the microphone and awaiting the first words from the crowd’s esteemed host.

After allowing the crowd to quiet down momentarily, the old alien made his voice known through a series of clicks and buzzes, the Geonosian language. The Geonosians were apparently quite pleased with whatever he had to say, though everyone else that spoke basic was left quiet for a moment. The translator droid was quick to fix that, speaking aloud into the microphone for all to hear. “The Great Guardian welcomes you all to this event of bloodshed! He hopes you will be pleased with the fighters, the fights, and the results!”

The elder allowed the droid to finish, before continuing the speech in his native language, then motioning toward the gates at the far end of the arena. The droid, quicker to translate this time, made the same motion while speaking in its robotic voice. “Open the gates! And let the fighters make their way forth, so that we may see these fighters in all their glory!”

With that, the gates would be opened, and the competitors would be lead into the arena. The very sight of these fighters had the crowd reaching a fever pitch once again, the open air gladiatorial arena shaped in such a way that the sound would be loudest in the bowl itself. All of the fighters, coming from different backgrounds, different walks of life, were embraced by the crowd wholeheartedly as they were lead to the center of the fighting arena, where all could get a good look at those that had been chosen to fight for their entertainment.

The fighters, [member="Alkor Centaris"] and [member="Veiere Arenais"], had the look of those that could win the entire tournament, and as the crowd began looking over the competitors, credits could be seen being exchanged as the patrons began placing bets on the individual fighters. The arena guardian allowed this to go on for a few moments, before clicking his cane against the rock observation platform, bringing the crowd noise back down to a slight murmur. Looking to the protocol droid, he gave a short nod. Once seen, the droid began the final words to the fighters. “The Great Guardian is pleased with the form you all are in. He, as well as all those here in the arena, are very eager to see what you all can do. You all have your first matchups for the first round. Now, let us begin, and let the blood flow!”

Rules:

Spoiler

1. 
   Rounds of combat are called when all but one of the combatants concedes, is killed, or the 1 week time limit has been reached.
   
2. 
   Disallowed items: Poison, Alchemized Weapons, Force Powers (there will be force user sentinels present to observe all matches), and Heavy Explosives.
   
3. 
   If your combat wraps up before the end of the 1 week time limit, please reach out to [member="Adron Malvern"], [member="Xobos Yakieer"], or [member="Shakti Sweet"] to submit the thread for judgment.
   

 

[Alkor Centaris]

In the darkness before the chaos began, he sat in candlelight and meditated. On life, on death, on loss, and on victory. He sat with both knees in the dirt, his hands on either hip with his torso elevated- his buttocks never touched his heels. Rigid discipline held him aloft as his gaze remained fixated on a small flame.

News of his opponent traveled fast enough that he had time to contemplate the humor of their situation. Once enemies of circumstance, now pitted against each other once more for sport. If [member="Veiere Arenais"] were anything but a Jedi, Alkor would have assumed that he languished the chance at settling the old score. As it was, he wondered how the man would approach this chance meeting. He had heard it said that fate and the Force were entwined, and that nothing that existed or transpired fell simply to change.

Perhaps the gods found divine comedy in their blood sport.

He rose slowly as the announcers raised their voices and the crowd lifted up their spirits. They wanted carnage. They craved the scent of blood. In the coming hours, they would be rewarded for their patience.

Swathed in only canvas trousers and bandages that covered his torso and arms, Alkor wore his lightsaber on his right hip. He moved toward the battleground, mind clear and focused on the combat to come.

How had both of these men changed since last they met?

Soon, they would both know.

 

[WolfMortum]

Apparel: Jedi Tunic.​

Weapons: Standard Lightsaber.​

Opponent: [member="Alkor Centaris"].​

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Yes indeed, there was history behind these two.

[member="Alkor Centaris"] and Veiere Arenais had met one another in battle once before, back when the former Exile had moved to support the Rebel Alliance against the movements of the Sith Empire. Alkor had been part of the Mandalorian Empire back in those days, and he had taken on paid work under the support of the Sith Emperor, [member="Darth Carnifex"]. Veiere had been beaten that day, and subsequently handed over to the Sith Emperor whom would later use his new found captive to tip the scales during the invasion of Commenor.

[member="Kaine Australis"] had later decided to try and reunite the two under some sort of mutual objective, yet they had come to blows with one another instead of the hopeful civil meeting that the former Warmaster had hoped for. Through some sort of questionable logic, Kaine had thought it a good idea to live-stream the fight across the holo-net...-Compared to the situation Veiere found himself in now, it wasn't all that different from the run-in they had had, back then.

“The Great Guardian is pleased with the form you all are in. He, as well as all those here in the arena, are very eager to see what you all can do. You all have your first matchups for the first round. Now, let us begin, and let the blood flow!”.

The Jedi Master listened to their commentator, though he remained standing opposite to that of Alkor, watching his opponent and studying the man's chosen apparel carefully. He seemed to be carrying less on his person than he had held during their first battle. These 'Blood Games' that the CIS had invited the Silver Jedi to, were rather more violent than Veiere had initially expected and in some cases, combatants had been killed in favor of the peoples entertainment. Not the outcome that Veiere was hoping for, in either one of them, that much was certain.

The roar of the crowd around their fighting pit was near deafening, the amount of people cheering for them to begin, Veiere could not hope to count. Testing his skill in combat had been a good idea at the time of his volunteering for the Games, yet he hadn't thought their arena would look as primitive as this. Still, this was what he had signed up for, he supposed. Might as well make a good show of it, give it his all and see whether or not he was still capable and worthy of calling himself a Guardian of the People.

"It's been a while, Centaris..." Veiere called across the clearing to the man opposing him; "I didn't expect that you'd be the first, though the Force does so like to humor me in such ways. Fortunately, you will not be graced with it's power during this match, according to the rules we're given. I wish you luck in the coming fight" Veiere lowered his head, bowing in acknowledgement of his opponent, though never taking his eyes off of Alkor.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He had imagined their next meeting might have been under different circumstances. The other man a Jedi, they might have shared drinks in some tavern sequestered away from any kind of combat, and they might have found a few moments of silent understanding. Destiny, it seemed, wanted nothing but blood between them. Alkor found some irony in that.

The man offered a bow, the way a combatant with formal training generally greeted a foe of known skill. It was an acknowledgement, of sorts, but Alkor's own reply was something else entirely. Both hands came up, out in front of him at chest level. His right hand open, the left fist rested in its palm. The nature of mankind, and of his hands. With one, He cultivates and with the other, He destroys.

He offered this, the respectful acknowledgement of a worthy adversary from a Master of Teräs Käsi, to one of the few men alive he believed had warned it.

There were many things he could have said, and truth be told, he had considered most of them. All of them seemed beneath both of these men now. "Show me," Alkor responded evenly, "what you've brought."

The time for words came later.

He jerked back his right arm, hand curling into a fist, to his chest level and his left arm flew cross body, arced in front of him as he rushed forward to meet [member="Veiere Arenais"] head on.

 

[WolfMortum]

Apparel: Jedi Tunic.​

Weapons: Standard Lightsaber.​

Opponent: [member="Alkor Centaris"].​

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Ever the man of action, [member="Alkor Centaris"] hadn't been much for words the last time they had been drawn into combat either. The use of the Force here was strictly prohibited which meant that Veiere had to keep on his toes more so than usual, without the aid of precognition where it could be helped. The ability was more a passive one as opposed to those you'd look to trigger, however most practitioners could block these instances out, when it was required of them.

Centaris hadn't yet drawn his weapon, it was the one and only real thing that Veiere had noticed in the brief moment before the man was moving swiftly towards him. Instead of engaging him in hand-to-hand however, Veiere drew upon the Lightsaber that had previously been attached to his belt, the brilliant blue blade streaming out from the hilt with a hiss of ignition, energy being released and contained through the blade emitter, soon stabilized and humming vibrantly with every subtle movement.

He wasn't too keen on being hit by one of Alkor's heavy hands, he'd felt that sting before and knew better than to let the man gain and advantage over him so soon. Veiere began to move backwards instead, slowly walking at first, though with the closer Alkor came to him, the quicker his pace became until the last second where Centaris had extended his arm and in response Veiere had sought to side-step off to the right whilst simultaneously bringing the lightsaber sweeping up from the floor, hoping to catch his opponents hand and deter the connection.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor reached his opponent in short order, and [member="Veiere Arenais"] responded with the ignition of his lightsaber. As his opponent shifted to parry, the Dark Jedi's body spun. Utilizing the explosive momentum from throwing his elbow back, Alkor carried his torso through, bringing his head low and his legs high. As he did this, the powerful sweeping motion of his arm collided with the blade of pure energy, and a dull clang reverberated through the arena.

His body still in motion, Alkor was airborne now, driving off the arena floor with his right foot to achieve altitude. The left leg snapped around, its shin aimed to whip through and take the Jedi square in the head.

Regardless of the effectiveness of that strike, his body carried through and he turned his hips mid-motion, landing with both feet square, right side faced to the other man. Both hands rested at chest level, palms open and fingers splayed. His breathing remained even and his body lulled from right to left, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

 

[WolfMortum]

Apparel: Jedi Tunic.​

Weapons: Standard Lightsaber.​

Opponent: [member="Alkor Centaris"].​

​

​

[member="Alkor Centaris"] threw the blade of his lightsaber aside with the heavy weight of both arms combined, the thick and heavy cloth or bandages wrapped around his torso and arms appeared to be resistant to the weapon, if not entirely impervious to the energies blazing heat. The force of the Warrior's counter offensive caused Veiere to stumble, not having anticipated such a strong defense from an apparel so seemingly subtle in it's strengths, and without the Force it would take the Jedi longer to come to notice that his opponent was still very much in the process of turning the battle back against him.

Alkor wasn't finished, but instead had managed to propel himself from the wall of the arena, Veiere turning last minute to find his gaze darkening by the ever looming shadow of the former Mandalorian Warrior, his shin sweeping around too quickly for Veiere to gain a defensive footing and instead being thrown to the ground floor with concussive force. The shin was the strongest part of a persons leg, comparable to the elbow when it came to striking force, Veiere couldn't even hear himself grown as his head rang, his vision temporarily blurred as he tried to pick himself up but only stumbled once more.

Far too vulnerable a position to be in, he scrambled upon all fours, shakily seeking to stand once again and put a meter or two between the two of them. No doubt Alkor would be one to let this blow go unchecked, to let this vulnerability of Veiere's be squandered.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

There was a noxious odor like charred plastic as [member="Veiere Arenais"] reeled from the kick. Alkor shook the arm absently to reveal a blackened area where the bandages had shown significant resistance to the heat of the lightsaber, but ultimately still been burned. Without any sort of buffer, anyone could reasonably conclude that the heat transferred almost directly to the flesh beneath the wrappings.

Heat was the only thing those arms truly felt now. Pain was so normal for Alkor that he dismissed it offhand, but the already blackened flesh now screamed out as though the wounds were fresh. He drew on that and used it for his focus.

He moved quickly as Veiere did, turning his hips a full one hundred and eighty degrees in a snap-motion. This exacerbated the movement, which allowed Alkor to cover significantly more ground with less steps, but it also wound his body up for what came next.

Alkor brought his fist high, then came crashing down with a blow intended for the Jedi Master's spine. Painful, crippling, but far from deadly. In the event that Veiere was able to react more quickly, it also put him in a better position to do something about it rather than flailing with his legs against an aptly timed lightsaber strike.

 

[WolfMortum]

Apparel: Jedi Tunic.​

Weapons: Standard Lightsaber.​

Opponent: [member="Alkor Centaris"].​

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Veiere gasped as he caught sight of [member="Alkor Centaris"], throwing his own weight to the side so that he could roll out of the way just in time for his opponent to come crashing down against the ground floor of the arena. With, or without the Force, Veiere had been trained in a few physical forms of hand to hand combat, though nothing to the expertise of Alkor it would seem; None the less, the Jedi Master rolled a couple times over before using his momentum and weight to try to sloppily regain his footing, pushing himself up from the ground and taking several further widely placed steps to get clear of the warriors follow-through.

His weapon had managed to stay in hand, though the blade suddenly disengaged as Veiere had toggled the activation stud and instead chosen to return the weapon to his belt, freeing up both hands in order to fight as Alkor seemed intent on doing. They'd both bloodied one another up before, and there was no sense in treating this foe alike the typical opponents a Jedi might meet out in the field of duty. His tunic however gave him the freedom of movement, stifled none by the weight of armor; unfortunately this also meant far less protection, thus he'd need to be on point and very precise in his actions if he were to overcome this first momentous round.

Having recovered and given time for Alkor to do the same, Veiere took the chance to catch his breath and steady himself. The foe's vicious kick had staggered him, and Veiere could feel his ears ringing still from the throbbing pain that still sought to vex him. Curato Salva may have come in handy, were the rules to be different, however it would this time need to come down to a matter of stubbornness and pride, were he to see through the haze of his pains.

Much like his preferred form of Saber Combat, Veiere simply waited for Alkor to make his next move, choosing best to take as much time as he was given to regain strength and stamina both.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

The ground shivered upon his impact, sand blasted in every direction around his knuckles. In truth, Alkor had not expected the Jedi to take such a devastating blow to his back. Instead, he had forced the man onto a wildly exertive defensive shuffle intended to further drain him of endurance.

As [member="Veiere Arenais"] scrambled away, Alkor gave him the chance to take wider steps and create distance. One misstep born of overconfidence could tip the scales in his opponent's favor. No, Alkor rose quickly to his fighting stance, left side faced toward the other man. He took slow, measured breaths, sweat drizzled along his back all the proof anyone needed of his own effort.

Once Veiere looked ready, Alkor approached once more. He took a stagger step forward with his left foot, then thrust out with his right. The momentum carried his entire body over a meter in the span of a second, and he continued his approach by bringing his left leg across in front of his right, then lashed out once more with his right.

Two meters, less than five seconds.

He wasted no time getting back into Arenais' face. The difference was, this time he snapped out the moment he was close enough. His right hand pulsed toward the Jedi's jaw, his wrist curled backward so that he was striking with his wrist. Meanwhile, his left arm remained at rest at his chest, ready.

 

[WolfMortum]

One....Two....Three....

Veiere watched and counted [member="Alkor Centaris"]' steps silently, his feet shuffling against the sand floor as the Jedi Master walked slowly backwards whilst his opponent came for him once more; watching Alkor with a keen and intense focus, Veiere's eyes narrowed with concentration as he sought to time his counter-offensive as accurately as possible.

The strike came as quickly as ever, Veiere's left arm raising, forearm forcing Alkor's blow to be pushed higher whilst the Jedi's knee's voluntarily buckled, bringing his body low to avoid being hit.

With his right hand, Veiere thrust his open palm out towards the man's throat, it was a quick jab aimed to stagger his foe whilst he moved to evade any further retaliation as best as he could by using Alkor's momentum against him, stepping forward beneath the countered wrist and seeking to move out of harms way.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

When the block came, Alkor responded fluidly. His curved wrist snagged on the arm, so that it hooked between forearm and fingers. He jerked it backward, twisting his body in an attempt to throw off the other man's aim by putting his own body in the trajectory of his jab.

Alkor dropped his own level in response as the Jedi did, now out to the side of the man's body. He threw his left shoulder underneath both of Veiere's extended arms, intending to put the other man's weight over both his shoulders. Throwing his arm straight outward like a swimmer, the Corellian shifted his hips and turned his torso clockwise.

If the other man didn't manage to weasel away, he'd end up on his back in the sand.

 

[WolfMortum]

Before Veiere had the time to react, he felt Alkor's shoulder impact against his side and then suddenly his weight was uplifted from the ground. The world around him seemed to spin and then his stomach lurched as gravity around him became the weapon of his opponents; he had been hoisted up and then thrown in what had proven to be an effective measure of countering his would-be blow to the throat. Without the Force, Veiere seemed to be at a significant disadvantage, and it showed the moment he hit the arena floor and sputtered up air and sand, the landing having winded him.

His opponent was talented and quick to execute his moves, Veiere didn't have time to lay around. While he needed to catch his breath, he still forced his aching torso to turn, his hands once again scratching at the hard sand as he moved to push himself back up to his feet and search for [member="Alkor Centaris"], expecting yet another follow through. Instinctively, the Jedi's hands rose up in front of him, though fingers were loose and palms visible, Alkor likely had the eye to know that Veiere was back on the defensive, where as a closed fist might have suggested otherwise.

The fight thus far had left Veiere feeling the heat, his tunic collecting the warmth while the loose sand that fell from his hair and clothing only bothered him further. The fight didn't seem to be going in his favor, though he wasn't about to give up either. Frankly, he'd come to participate as a friend to the Confederacy, and to prove to himself he could still take a beating and give as got as he got. Age wasn't something Veiere was willing to get the best of him, and so over-all, it seemed that he was getting just what he asked for...