Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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First Reply The Cracked Helm

The cage door clanged shut, the sound swallowed by the chants of the underground crowd. Korda Veydran stood bare-chested, muscles thick with scars and ink that told stories of battles long past. His red eyes glinted under the low lights, giving him a look that was half-warrior, half-predator.

His opponent circled, throwing jabs to test him. Korda didn't flinch. He simply planted his feet, shoulders loose, waiting. When the swing finally came, Korda surged forward. Their bodies collided with a dull crack as his head slammed against the fighter's brow. The man staggered, dazed, while the crowd roared.

Korda pressed in, fists flying like sledgehammers, each strike meant to end the fight rather than drag it out. He wasn't here for glory. He wasn't here for cheers. This was just another arena, another wall to break, another reminder that he was still the storm his clan had cast out.
 
"-and once again! Down for another count!"

The crowd had roared, they demanded it, they demanded the blood, the fighting, the undenied adrenaline of watching those with strength, destroy one another for their amusement. Slowly, the door opened to reveal a one eyed man starting to come into the arena, almost a bit bewildered as he glanced side to side.

"Next contestant, from parts unknown, Nolan Nond!"

There was a bit of a sighed murmur from the crowd as he slowly looked a bit forward, looking at the strange man known as Korda Veydran. Flexing his hands for a moment, the singular eye glances back forward towards the Mandalorian, staring forward as the voice broke out, it seemed...tired, aged...lost. Looking back up, body completely relaxed as the buttoned shirt was removed and jacket slid off, throwing it off to the side.
"It has been....far to long. I keep hoping someone jogs my memory...maybe that be you."

The body was devoid of scars, barely any bruising but curiously, his body was starting to become inked. As to what it was supposed to be, it was completely unknown. With a fast DING noise, the fight begun as both hands shoved downward as fists before raising them up, rushing towards Korda as he attempted at his first move, to just tackle and ram Korda directly into the fencing around them!

Korda Veydran Korda Veydran

 
Korda's gaze didn't shift as Nolan's words echoed, the crowd's roar almost drowned them out. To the Mandalorian, this wasn't a test of memory. This was survival.

Nolan charged with surprising speed, aiming to ram Korda into the fencing, but the Mandalorian was already bracing himself. The impact hit, but Korda stood like a mountain, absorbing the force of the attack. He didn't stumble. Instead, he leaned in, using the charge to his advantage, pushing back with all his weight.


The crowd cheered as Korda grunted, his hands gripping for control. "You'll find no mercy here," he growled, the words more warning than threat, before he aimed to shove the man away, ready to finish what had already begun.

Nolan Nond Nolan Nond
 
Being thrown back, he would be literally on the old phrase "ass over tea kettle", flipping backwards from the sheer amount of strength. Feeling himself tumble for a moment, he give a small grunt before standing back up. This was indeed not the man to be trifled with, standing upwards as he made a small gesture with both hands to simply bring it.

"Sound like an old lady I knew."

Then he would try to move forward, trying to strike with his left hand a small palm thrust before giving a very harsh, very quick side kick to the right side with his left leg, trying to make him move. If he could not move...he is going to have to really think on what to try next.
Korda Veydran Korda Veydran
 
Nolan was fast, but Korda was a wall. The force of the push sent Nolan tumbling, but he quickly recovered, rising to his feet with a grunt. Korda's eyes never left him—this was no ordinary opponent, and Korda knew it.

"Old lady, huh?" Korda muttered, almost amused by the taunt. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to get under his skin. But words didn't matter now. Actions did.

Nolan struck first with a palm thrust, and Korda sidestepped just enough to avoid a direct hit. The sidekick came next, aimed straight at his ribs. Korda took it, but the blow didn't land clean. The sharp pain hit, and his lips pulled into a feral grin. A little pain never stopped him before—it only made him hungrier for more.

He grabbed Nolan's leg, locking it in place with a vise-like grip. The crowd's noise blurred in the background as Korda's elbow came down hard on the knee joint. A sickening thud rang out, followed by a sharp snap. Korda didn't flinch, his grin widening as he shoved Nolan back, intent on showing this fighter that strength alone wouldn't win this fight.

"You're going to have to do better than that." Korda's voice was cold, rough, as his stance widened, ready for the next round.

Nolan Nond Nolan Nond
 

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