Skirmish The Brawl on Abregado-rae | TSC vs. COV

[Carduul Akahl]

Tags: Canm-Bulnu Bi

To make small adjustments was a sign of fundamentals, at the very least- unlike many of the whelps he saw recklessly swinging their blades in hopes of brute forcing victories. Still, it would take far more than such to overcome the challenge of which he posed. His momentum could not be halted so easily, so utterly against that which held but the weight of an arm. Rather, it simply shifted.

The crusader was left with little choice but to redirect the blow with what he could—the upper half of his haft again meeting with the blade as his torso slightly tilted backwards, the opposing end being brought forward with but a levering motion. He could not attempt to weave the blow as he normally did, for the terrain was far too treacherous, and he was more liable to attempt to motion directly off the edge. Lips thinned beneath the helm as sparks cast into the darkened heights they fought amongst, narrowly catching the crimson blade against the plates of armor with a grit of teeth from the blow. Had he been a less cautious fighter, that may well have been an opening that saw his arm severed.

In the push of his weapon’s upper half forward, the bladed edge came to bear directly towards his opponent’s shoulder and neck, a step taken backward with the strike received to create a measure of distance with the attack. A delicate dance, this one would have to be.

Immediately following, there had been a wrench downwards in a thrust—attempting to leverage the pointed end into an impalement aimed for the gut.

 

[Canm-Bulnu Bi]

The shift in Carduul's weapon was subtle, but Canm understood its purpose the moment the opposing end rose toward his shoulder. The Mandalorian was not going to contest the strength of his blows directly but turn that strength against him, using the length of the haft to redirect the crimson blade while bringing its other edge into play.

The Weequay was forced to bring his shoulder inward and twist with the motion, refusing to let the bladed end catch him cleanly across the neck. The movement spared him from the worst of the strike but it carried him dangerously close to the edge of the rusted pipe beneath them. The Mandalorian then went for a downward thrust that left him little room to recover his footing without meeting the point head-on.

With a frustrated growl, his boots lost grip on the pipe as he dropped below the descending weapon as Canm quickly grabbed a nearby conduit with his free hand as he fell. His body swung beneath it, the sudden weight causing the old structure to creak, but he used the momentum to swing one leg over the pipe and secure himself underneath it.

The crimson blade vanished with a hiss, its hilt remaining clenched in his other hand. Canm released his grip once his legs secured him. Anger gathered in his open palm, as blue light crawled between his fingers before erupting upward in a violent stream of Force lightning, the branching arcs racing toward Carduul Akahl across the narrow distance between them.

 

[Yuri Maji]

ABREGADO-RAE | TRIPLE NOVA CASINO
ALLIES: COV | Vara Maji | Vren Rook | Siv Dragr
ENEMIES: TSC | Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin | Calyx Sundrift | Varin Mortifer
ENGAGING: Calyx Sundrift
GEAR: In bio

THEME​

The feint worked. Yuri pressed on as his grappling line failed to find purchase, just as he suspected would happen. He wanted to bait the Acolyte, let the scoundrel engage where he was comfortable. His jump boots came online to help him fight the powerful blast that threatened to send him reeling while his own flames pushed back to heat his armour up.

His vision modes shifted for an unobstructed view of his enemy through the flames, waiting for him to make his move.

The Sith finally moved, blade extended forward as he launched toward the Hound who waited for his moment. He didn’t believe for a moment that the scoundrel would commit to the strike, he was certainly not dumb enough to think that one swing of his blade would be enough.

The Hound shifted. One arm shifted to intercept the blade against his vambrace while the other fired his Repulsor to knock his enemy off balance. All in an effort to conceal his goal. His knees sparked as rocket darts shot forward and his boots unleashed a small volley of Whistling Birds all aimed at his limbs and back. The Sith wasn’t going to get a dignified death, he would suffer.

Between the attacks and the shift of his legs, Yuri shifted backward to steer clear of the Sith’s blade once again. Close enough to be a problem, far enough to stay out of range. The Hound was expending a bunch of ammunition, but his adversary would likely feel the strain of the fight a lot sooner. War was holstered, Peace still had ammunition, Yuri stayed sharp to dodge or overwhelm the wounded animal if needed.

”I’ve fought Jedi more dangerous than you. Nothin’ but hot air.” He taunted the Sith.

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Abregado-Rae
​

Allies: Vren Rook
Enemies: Quinn Varanin | Arris Windrun

"Shy, much?"

"Ah, shut it," Siv muttered under his breath as Rook rocketed away, still focused on blasting away the last of the light fixtures. He doubted the old Bounty Hunter would hear, though that's what they had comms for. The last of the lights shattered, plunging the cavernous casino floor into semi-darkness. Only the scant glow from scattered holo-projections and personal devices provided light, but they were only tiny blue beacons in a sea of darkness. Siv's HUD automatically shifted to night visuals, using active-infrared sensors to render visuals. Colors were muted, but Siv could at least see.

Calling the scene before the blackout chaos was an understatement now. Patrons, absolutely frightened out of their minds, floated around like a madhouse, many shrieking, others bellowing commands at unseen -- or nonexistent -- employees. Most who came to this casino tended towards the wealthy side of the economic spectrum, and as such were accustomed to much more comfortable conditions than these.

"Hm." He said to himself as he saw crimson-red lightning dance at Varanin's fingertips, their brightness even more pronounced against the darkness of their surroundings. He leveled his blaster at her, but hesitated to fire. He did not know yet whether the Sith knew his position.

Suddenly, he felt a gust of wind. Unnatural, here in this closed setting. Then he saw it, out of the corner of his vision. A storm of debris is picking up from all over the casino, spiraling to and past the Echani -- towards Siv and Vren. Was the Sith channeling them? Siv didn't have time to reason, only react. He raised his right arm and fired his grappling hook towards a nearby pillar, the whipcord hissing fast out of his gauntlet to wrap around the pillar. Heaving with all his might, Siv at once tightened the cord and levered the pillar's extreme mass relative to his own to pull him towards it, a feat only possible with their zero gravity. He tucked and raised his legs so that his feet immediately struck the pillar, his entire body compressing as his momentum was reduced to zero. The whipcord slackened and began mechanically to retract into his gauntlet; Siv was now looking up, his body horizontal to the ground.

He saw the cyborg repositioning herself, smartly using the kinetic propulsion of her blasters in a similar effect to his jetpack. "Cyborg on your six," he growled to Vren over comms. Nothing the old man could handle. Instead, he pushed off with both his feet in a path directly towards the Echani. He counted on his voidsteel-impregnated armor to mask him from the Sith's senses.

Suddenly, mid-air, that same Rodian in expensive vestments collided with him, entangling the Mandalorian. The Rodian was shouting a long string of Huttese expletives; Siv cursed in Mando'a, pushing the Rodian away from him and accidentally tearing the latter's fabric in the process. "E chu ta!" the Rodian spat as they tumbled towards another side of the room. Siv didn't spare a second more on him; his position was surely given away now, even as he neared the Echani.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Tags: Canm-Bulnu Bi

What could’ve been a clean slice across the neck had regretfully been mitigated by his opponent. It was then, he had witnessed that tell-tale lull in combat. Like a wave moving with the waxing and waning of the moon, the momentum was now ripe for the taking. And take it, he did.

Carrying through the motion, he was intent to pursue his foe. As Canm dropped beneath the next swing, there had been a twist of grip so that stance would be pointed downwards. As his opponent recovered and re-found their position without toppling below, he had been intent to sever the first limb he saw clinging to the pipe from above.

Yet, the sudden crackle of electricity came too quickly for him to react in the heat of the moment.

Lightning. Surprisingly enough, this was not the first time he had dealt with such. Though, this was one far different than that- it was the intent behind it. This was no Jedi, wielding mere elements and placing them elsewhere- this was an opponent who no doubt wished him sincerely dead, and all his kin alongside. And it showed, wordlessly, the instant those crackling forks of energy made contact with his armor. There had been a pained groan hissed through teeth, his movement stiffening. Vision swam for a brief moment, and he did his utmost to push through. Had his armor not been environmentally shielded beneath- had he not been experienced in this particular brand of pain, he would no doubt have had a far harsher reaction. Instinct were relied upon as always- but his usual instincts were dampened in such an environment. A tight-knuckled grasp upon his weapon, he had swung erratically towards the Sith to halt the source of that pain.
In the attempt, his swing had been offset by the slight seize of movement. Instead of severing an arm or a leg, it cut cleanly into the pipe they both dueled upon, the harsh whine of metal being ruined as their ‘ground’ collapsed.

And so, he was airborne and sent plummeting. “Hah!” A rasp of a laugh escaped him, as he twisting mid-air. “Getting tired of bladework, wretch?” Two can match that. His arm raised as he plummeted, and a jet-fueled fwoosh brought the tell-tale technology back into the foray. In tandem with a jetpack activation, a wrist-rocket was fired towards the Sith who was undoubtedly either scrambling for new terrain, or briefly suspended just as he. As he shook off the remainder of the disorientation, he had come to a harsh landing against a new pipe- barely halting a complete crash with a shake of his head. He knew that would not be enough to kill his foe- it merely forced them to move. Through the smoke and debris, his polearm was prepared.