Arena The Galactic Shockboxing Tournament

[Salon Loghain]

From the neon-drenched spires of Coruscant to the dusty cantinas of Tatooine, every screen is tuned in to the Tapani Arts and Sports Complex on the Planet of Vycinyth. For the first time, The Franchise is bringing the brutal, electrifying sport of shockboxing to the galactic stage.

A booming voice from the announcer's box cuts through the din, amplified to a deafening pitch. "Ladies and gentlemen, gladiators and glory-seekers! Tonight, we separate the wheat from the chaff, the weak from the worthy. In the Bantha League, we'll see non-Force users push the limits of their endurance and skill. And in the Wizard League, the Force-sensitives will put their powers to the ultimate test!"

The camera pans over the ring, a circular cage shimmering with a low, menacing energy. The floor isn't just painted; it's a grid of pulsating conduits, ready to deliver a jolt that can stop a Bantha in its tracks. "Remember the rules, folks: last one standing wins. The only way out is through your opponent... or a Surge Strike that could fry the circuits of a starship."

High above the electrified arena, a private box was set aside for the Game Patron and Black Sun Vigo, Salon Loghain , who leaned forward with a subtle smile on his face. The podrace had been thrilling, yet nothing could rival the sheer intensity and force behind each blow in a shock boxing match as each set of gauntlets was set to 10,000 volts .

Even at this moment, the crowd was a sight to behold, as the scent of blood and sweat filled the atmosphere. With a single hand raised, he commands the attention of the entire complex.

"I pronounce the galaxy's first official Galactic Shockboxing Tournament... open. All fighters make your way to Stage A-B for the Bantha League and Stage C-5 for the Wizard League."

Isur - Sponsored by Bumblebee Tuna​	VS​	Corr ​
Adonis Angelis IV - Sponsored by HVI​	VS​	Ragos Terrek - Sponsored by Röhr Group​
Vestra Tane - Sponsored by Bespin Gas​	VS​	Davik Haize - Sponsored by the Trade Federation​
Kayla Ordo-Shan - Sponsored by Phaseera Manufacturing​	VS​	Scherezade deWinter - Sponsored by First United Astral Engineering​

Tyrant 4 - Sponsored by Bespin Gas​	VS​	Skyria Kyrtan - Sponsored by Intergalactic Exports​
Ronhar Tane - Sponsored by...to many​	VS​	Seldan Rourke - Sponsored by PGEM​
Artam Macek - Sponsored by Galactic Empire​	VS​	Elara Veyran - Sponsored by Banking Clan​

Only Chaos Dice-Bot Rolls will be accepted given the discord dice bot giving three 20's to Damien Dooku

If you are sponsored by a Major Corporation (IE: Banking Clan, Trade Federation, Commerce Guild). You get to reroll any number below 10. Only once each post

Spoiler: Dice Ruleset

SPECIAL DICE RULES
The Basics:

• 1d20 per attack. Higher roll = lands a clean hit.
• Ties? Brutal clash both take shock damage from the ring.
• There will be a total of Two Rounds per fight, Which I will announce with Rathmar. You get four dice rolls per round for a total of 8 posts. Whoever's combined dice total is higher will be the winner of their match.

Shock Surge (Crit):

• Roll 20? Your hit overloads the opponent's gear they take damage (or get knocked down, stunned, etc.).

Overload (Fumble):

• Roll 1? You lose balance opponent gets a free counterattack (no roll needed).

 

[Tyrant 4]

The Pantoran limbered up, cracking her neck, and dancing from foot to foot. She looked at Tai Corde in her corner and the rest of Tyrant Squadron watching from the stands, including Tyrant 1 . She pointed at him with her glove.

This one's for you.

Squaring up with her opponent, a little blonde Imperial, Cypher put up her gloves and danced forward, light on her feet. She shot out a few jabs, testing the air, then came in with a heavy right overhand aimed at the woman's jaw.

Skyria Kyrtan

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

So advantage number one to getting politely strongarmed into Black Sun turned out to be sports tickets. These Black Sun people really, really liked their games. Swoop races, pod races, full-contact gambling, competitive gifting, now - even better - this. Having tweaked a few cyborg prizefighters' insulation here and there, on Denon and Coruscant and Nar Shaddaa, Skeevi was an appreciator of the consummate artistic form of shockboxing. They settled in at the viewing gallery-

-with a dubiously hissing bottle and a gut already full of snack foods. They craned over the edge just in time to see Tyrant 4 commit to a big swing at Skyria Kyrtan Oh yeah. Very much worth the hitchhike.

"Ten on th'flashy Pantoran!"

Beside Skeevi, an Ithorian with a Black Sun forehead tattoo - big hit with the Gran ladies - gronked appreciatively. His name was Cousin Moomlis, Skeevi had learned, and he liked a nice shockbox too.

​

There was another spectator of interesting character, a Pantoran pirate named Cerulean who spent most of his time griping about one Mauve du Vain without actually naming her.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Kayla Ordo-Shan

---

Scherezade deWinter was bouncing. Literally. The moment she'd walked into the Galactic Shockboxing Tournament venue, her boots had barely stayed on the ground. Shockboxing! She'd read about it, seen a few holovids, but now she was going to be in it. The lights! The noise! The smell of hot metal and fried circuits! Oh, this was going to be amazing. She had chosen her outfit carefully, going for a leotard, big hair, and ridiculous make up, just like one of her favorite GLOS (Glorious Ladies of Shockboxing) character, but in pink.

She rolled her shoulders, flexed her fingers, and grinned like a kid let loose in a candy store as assistants helped her into the heavier than usual gloves. Somewhere out there was her opponent, probably stretching or psyching themselves up, but Scherezade? She was already vibrating with anticipation. Sure, there'd be volts flying and muscles aching by the end of it… but that was half the fun, wasn't it?

A camera passed by her and she flashed the lens another huge grin. "What happens when you lick the glove?" she purred. Certain they hadn't turned the gloves on yet.

Pretty sure.

Not completely sure they hadn't.

Scherezade licked the gloves in front of the camera.

Spoiler

Don't worry, nothing happened. And the camera cut to elsewhere before anything could have happened anyway.

 

[Corr]

Corr seemed out of place, on account that he was.

Standing in front of this giant creature now, he stupidly held no regrets. He disrobed from his usual garment tunic, revealing a body lined with corded muscle, ritual scarring and brands burned onto his flesh with a recurring sun motif. He began to bounce, teetering from one foot to the other, before propelling from the ground with a leading punch.

He lacked any finesse.

Isur

 

[Amea Virou]

Legs up on the table, beer chugged with an ah!.

Amea's shockboxing days were long past these days. Not so much because she wouldn't enjoy it but because she just didn't have a good reason to risk her brain like that anymore. Contrary to what she had once believed it would seem that wisdom genuinely came with age, or perhaps it was the fact that it wasn't just her bank account that had been padded out in recent months.

She twirled the content of her glass bottle for a brief moment and glanced at the screen from her own little pirate broadcast of the game. Just because she was out of the game didn't mean she would just stop her small antics now and again to fuel her own little need for pointless rebellion against some kind of system.

Besides, given the sponsors of this fight it seemed like it would hardly matter if she hijacked a rating or two just to avoid paying a paltry sum that would undoubtedly just reach the scum of the earth anyway.

"Kinda rootin' for Corr, to be honest." She spoke, although it would seem mostly to herself as she looked around the room she was seated in only to find herself alone for now. "Only one not dumb enough to accept, or maybe offered, a corpo sponsor."

 

[Ronhar Tane]

As Ronhar stepped into the boxing arena, he couldn't help but feel vulnerable.

After all, he hadn't been this exposed since his Rhydonium operation, when the doctors had to cut him out of his clothing in order to save his life. Wearing nothing but boxing shorts, Ronhar's various scars and burns were on full display for the world to see, etched deeply into what little flesh remained on his body.

Not that any of that mattered, of course, as Ronhar was here to do one thing and one thing only: win the Galactic Shockboxing Tournament and prove once and for all who the best fighter in the galaxy was.

For this event, Ronhar's new cybernetic limbs had been plated in Chromium, sparking especially intensely under the bright lights of the arena. He had also painted the logos of his various sponsors onto this limbs. On his right shoulder was the painted logo of Bespin Gas, where if you weren't first, you were surely last (Bespin Gas). On his left shoulder was the simple yet dignified rondel of the Imperial Confederation. His right thigh hosted the image of the haughty N&Z Umbrella Corporation, while his left thigh had been imprinted with the symbol of his home planet, the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant.

Ronhar hadn't been particularly thrilled about being treated like a mobile Holoboard, but he didn't really have a choice. After all, the disastrous expedition to Brosi had left him needing a new set of cybernetic limbs, and all of his sponsors had agreed to pay for them in full in exchange for him advertising their services. Honestly, it wasn't a terrible deal for Ronhar, who decided to swallow his pride and agree to do what the corporations had asked.

Still, he was worried that his new limbs would fail him, as he didn't have enough time to properly get used to them. Anytime Ronhar received new cybernetic enhancements, he would need time to try to them, to troubleshoot and potential issues that might come with a new set of limbs. Unfortunately, Ronhar had been thrown back into the galaxy the moment he set foot on Mahporeem, and only had a cursory amount of time to get used to his new cybernetics.

Still, Ronhar was excited to blow off some steam, especially after the horrors he had witnessed on his last mission. He sized up his opponent Seldan Rourke , and began to advance toward him, testing out his new cybernetics. His arms and legs responded quite well, at least for the time being, as Ronhar threw a flurry of blows at his opponent, jabs and crosses, hooks and uppercuts, an unrelenting stream of attacks...

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

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Light on his feet was something that described Adonis Angelis IV less and less these days. The once lithe warrior had been hardened by war, his youthful muscles tempered into the dense, unyielding frame of a soldier. Months in power armor had made him forget what it felt like to move without the weight of crushgaunts. This tournament wasn't just about bringing honor to himself or the Mandalorian Empire, it was a test to prove he still could. Truth be told, he'd been looking forward to a good, honest fistfight. There was a certain thrill to laying down suppressive fire with a heavy blaster, but nothing compared to beating the brakes off someone with your bare fists.

For many of his Mandalorian kin, this was the first time they'd see him without armor. Power armor in a boxing ring wasn't just unfair, it was a hazard, the shock and current likely to fry life-support systems and lead to an expensive repair. Adonis wanted to enjoy his winnings, not dump them into maintenance. Instead, he'd gone old-school, dressed like the boxers he'd watched in the holos as a kid. Over his shoulders hung a crushed black velvet robe, the white House Verd skull emblazoned proudly across the back. Beneath it, light fabric shorts left his scarred, bruised frame on display.

He ducked between the ropes and stepped into the ring opposite his opponent, Ragos Terrek . He didn't know the man, but he knew better than to underestimate him. The shockgaunts hugged his fists, and from the faint hum he guessed the volts were already live. Around them, most fighters had thrown their first punches without hesitation.

"Good luck." He gave a short nod before sliding into his stance, feet bouncing lightly as he closed the gap.

If he was going to impress Mandalore and his brothers and sisters, he might as well start big. Drawing on his Mandalorian training, he tested the waters first, rolling his right shoulder forward in a subtle feint, a twitch meant to draw his opponent's guard. The moment he saw the shift, Adonis snapped his left hand over the top, aiming to drive his knuckles straight into the man's jaw.

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[Seldan Rourke]

Seldan Rourke stepped out from the tunnel into the riot of noise and light, the kind that hit you like a concussion blast. The air was thick with blood and sweat, a static charge prickling along his arms even before he stepped onto the grid. The glow of the arena floor climbed up his boots, crawling along his frame as if sizing him up too.

Ronhar Tane was already there, his chrome-plated limbs throwing off the lights like a disco in a warzone. Seldan's eyes swept over him once, twice, and a chuckle rumbled in his chest. The man wasn't just armored; he was branded. Bespin Gas on one shoulder, Imperial Confederation on the other, corporate gloss plastered all over his legs. He looked less like a fighter and more like a walking trade show.

Seldan rolled his shoulders, letting the familiar weight of his gauntlets settle. "Shiraya bless PGEM," he muttered under his breath. "At least Niki Priddy had the sense to just put me in the ring instead of painting me like a freighter hull." His lips twitched at the thought. He might've taken a payday, but he still had some pride left.

He tilted his head, sizing Ronhar up again, his gaze moving past the chrome to the person beneath it. The scars told their own stories, just like the set of his jaw. This wasn't some rich kid with toys. This was someone who'd been chewed up and spat out by the galaxy and decided to come back swinging. Good.

The cage's low hum deepened, signaling the charge was building. The crowd roared like a storm front rolling in. Seldan took one step forward, planting himself squarely on the grid, eyes locked on Ronhar. The next step would take them both into the shock zone.

Ronhar Tane​

 

[Ragos Terrek]

A strange tightness filled Ragos' chest on the seemingly endless walk to the ring. Ragos had been fighting for his whole life.

First on Haruun Kal, where he fought as a boy to survive a war he did not ask for and never thought to escape.

Then the streets of Nar Shaddaa where Ragos never backed down to anyone no matter their size or number. He fought in bars, on the streets, at school, everywhere until it became clear he knew no other way. His father had stuck him in a gym then, gloves on, learning how to fight for real.

They'd told him if he'd stayed committed he could've gone pro. Could've made real credits. Could've been a star. Ragos didn't have the patience and the streets didn't give him the chance to learn it. He was a soldier in a gang on Nar Shaddaa, all thoughts of boxing gone, a blaster stayed in his hand not no glove.

Eventually he'd made it to Coruscant. Had his own gym, did his part to help train kids like him, put gloves on they hands instead of blasters…well the good ones, them hopeless cats got blasters and put on corners. Credits still needed to be made ya dig?

Owning a gym? Training fighters? Yeah, all that chit was good, he kept in shape, he kept sharp, but he never had a pro fight in his life. It didn't matter how many nights he'd fallen asleep to the same fantasy of some ring announcer calling his name:

Representing Kyd's Gym on Coruscant, the fighting pride of level two hindered twenty two Nar Shaddaa, Ragos Ghost Terrek!

He was alone now. Kyd's gym was lost on Coruscant now occupied by the empire. Ragos was dead if he was caught back on Nar Shaddaa, his gang having excommunicated him. His father was dead.

He was alone.

Scared money, don't make money.


Ragos faced the man who was his opponent with a passive face, trying not to give away anything.

"Good luck." The man across from him said with a nod. Ragos said nothing but returned the nod respectfully and bit down on his mouth guard. Ragos was bare chested, the scars from his bear deadly assassinatjon attempt brightly visible in the lights. He wore green shorts with black trim, the Röhr Group emblem emblazoned upon his shorts as Ragos was lucky enough to have the support of Iliana in this endeavor.

Ragos opponent bounced on the balls of his feet. The fight was on now and Rag's face went from passive to grinning with joy. A fight was a fight and he lived for chit like this.

His opponent closed the distance between them, Ragos was bouncing now too but he made no effort to back away. Ragos noticed a twitch in the man's right shoulder, a strike was coming, Ragos, ever eager to impress, fired a right hook to counter, unaware that a monster left overhand punch was on the way to turn out his lights.

It was all a matter of timing now.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Isur]

Somehow he got a seafood merchant to give him a totally not bullied into sponsor. It was an odd call on the part of the company. He didn't mind eating their product but if he was in one of their fishing worlds, he'd go fishing on his own.

Which was probably legally known as poaching.

But didn't matter. What mattered was the ring he was in. His captain let the crew take leave and do some fun things. Isur was not expecting to be shock boxing, but a few drinks made him so silly things.

Like punching one of the small soft-skins.

He didn't move so much as just take a big swing.

Corr

 

[Davik Haize]

Somehow, Davik Haize was here.

The whys and hows escaped him. What he only knew was he had to compete and the tall, lean woman standing ahead of him in the ring was in his way. Black hair cut short and a sly glint to her eyes, her charm lied beneath a mask of pure mischief.

He could not underestimate her.

Haize dropped into a stance and clapped the shockboxing gloves together, before lunging fast into a flurry of probing jabs and feints to gauge his opponent.

Vestra Tane ​

 

[Skyria Kyrtan]

Objective: WIN!!
Location: Tapani Arts and Sports Complex, Vyncinyth
Outfit: Fighting Unitard
Tags: Tyrant 4

Skyria had not participated in organized fights for sometime. Her adoptive big sister/mother figure had needed her to focus on growing. Sky had learned political and military strategy, she had helped to solidify the Pakuuni place in the old Empire and Teckla's standing atop the Imperial Crusaders.

Now that Empire has fallen and the planeshift has moved Pakuuni further from any large government. Lady Tane has returned to her full time ruling position as others handled recruiting for the Quasesitorum. That meant Sky had time for her own ventures.

Shock boxing would not be the same as her Atrisian Mixed Martial Arts days, but Skyria was confident in her prowess. The announcement of her first opponent was a bit of a wash for Sky's preparation. How was she supposed to scout a being called merely Tyrant 4? Instead of doing that Sky worried only about her own technique. Now was the time to put that technique to use.

When she learned that the league would be divided between those who used the Force and those who did not, Skyria had prepared a speech expecting to be put up against a large, brutish male. The speech was going to explain why her small size was not going to matter. It turned out her opponent was also a smallish female. Skyria put the speech in her back pocket for later as she limbered up.

When the fight started adrenaline started to pump and Sky bounced on the balls of her feet allowing her opponent to approach. There would be a feeling out period for Skyria. Teckla had worn off on her, making her more cautious and calculating.

With her hands raised in defense Skyria was able to maneuver around the initial jabs. Then as Sky threw her own jab came a bigger punch. Sky’s Jan went off course as her opponent’s landed clean.

Sky danced backwards and shook off the hit. ”Nice shot. Seems like I am a bit slower than the last time I stepped in a ring like this. I will try to make it more of a challenge from here on.”

 

[Vestra Tane]

Vestra had this easy, friendly grin on her face before the fight started. It was sort of her default expression; she had a face that made people assume she was going to try and sell them something, or maybe rope them into some kind of highly illegal scheme. Under most circumstances, those were pretty good guesses. But right now, she was analyzing. Across the ring from her prey, Vestra licked the top row of her teeth.

Big - about an inch taller than her. Packing way more muscle, too, but that only really mattered if he knew what he was doing anyway. If he did, though, and he could go toe-to-toe with her in metaphysical might...

The Sith's grin widened when the bell rang. This might be fun after all.

Her stance was loose - left side forward, body bladed, guard low. It looked almost like Teräs Käsi, but...too light. Too bouncy. She wasn't bothering to block or deflect any of this initial flurry. Intuition told her it was inquisitive more than it was a legitimate offense, so as long as she didn't get cocky, she could bob and weave her way through this opening assault.

She just had to be a little patient, wait for an opportunity, and...there.

She took her shot. An intense burst of speed, less than half a second long, and a whiplike cross to her prey's chest inbetween jabs.

Davik Haize

 

[Davik Haize]

Thwack!

He felt his chest reverberate, air scraping his respiratory tract as the woman’s cross punch landed square in his center mass. With a heavy step, Davik slipped backwards away from her reach. Eyes narrowed, he studied her stance and catalogued what their brief bout had told him.

Fast.

Deceptively so for her slender form, and that lithe footwork - casual even. Waylon of Arkanis had drilled him in countless martial arts, even those beyond the Warden of the Sky’s intricate repertoire, and he was certain he’d witnessed that style before. But the name refused to surface. His memory really was off; his head swam with every attempt to recall it, and anything else for that matter.

Tempering his rising anger reluctantly, he settled into guard and opened his palms, ready for her.

Vestra Tane

--
Post 1: SEVEN AFTER REROLLING FROM NINE, MAN??​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

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Everything had been going perfectly, Ragos looked like he'd bitten on the feint. The warrior's arm popped out to counter the fake strike, and Adonis drove in with his left, ready to finish it in one clean exchange. That was when hubris bit back.

Somewhere between the shift of his weight and the final extension, something went wrong. A sharp, tight snap flared through his arm, pain ripping across his face before he could mask it. His strike came up short, leaving Ragos to deflect without even throwing a counter.

"Feth." The curse slipped out through clenched teeth as Adonis backed off, trying to buy himself a breath. He bounced on his feet, testing his balance, the pain gnawing deep and unforgiving. People like him didn't stop for torn muscles or shredded ligaments. That was something to deal with after the fight, after he'd claimed his winnings.

Still, a fighter knew when another was hurt, and Ragos would smell blood. Adonis rolled his shoulders, forcing the movement to look casual, and let the Manda steady him. Both fists cocked forward like he was chambering a shotgun before he slid back into stance.

Adrenaline did its work.

He stepped in hard, letting the forward drive load power into his swing. His left stayed tight to his body, still burning, still dangerous to use, but close enough to guard. The best defense now would be to keep Ragos Terrek too busy to press the advantage.

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[Tyrant 4]

Skyria Kyrtan

The Pantoran felt a vicious surge of adrenaline as the blow connected, sparks flying from her mitt and zapping the other woman.

Nice.

Then the other girl started yapping. Cypher bit down harder on her mouthpiece, was this chick not wearing one? How could she talk through that shit. Cypher didn't care who she was, or where she came from - Cypher fought to win. Always.

"Shut up and fight," she grunted around the rubber mouthguard.

Dancing forward and trying not to overextend herself on the successful strike - didn't want to send a flurry and gas herself out - Cypher lunged in with another combo, keeping it simple. Classic. Cypher loved the classics. Those who knew the basics won most, that's what Emperor and her talked about. People got too fancy with their aelrons and cobra maneuvers, when they should just keep it simple.

Cypher's fist snaked out in a jab, testing distance again, then she followed on with a right cross from her back hand, feeling the shifting weight set her up for the finisher - a left hook to the body that she put some torque into.

OOC: 7 rerolled to a 13.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

Spoiler: Running Total

First Roll: 19
Second Roll: 18 (Rerolled)

Ronhar's opponent was certainly no slouch. One look at him, and Ronhar instantly knew that he must have some sort of special operations training, considering the way he fought against Ronhar's furious assault.

In fact, he seemed to be a pretty good foil to Ronhar, a "what could have been" had Ronhar been born on a different planet in a different part of the galaxy.

But, Ronhar hadn't been born elsewhere, he had been born on Mahporeem, and that was the faction that meant the most to him. Sure, the others were important too, but Mahporeem held a special place in Ronhar's heart. He was determined to show the galaxy that they deserved to be here up on the galactic stage, that they were just as good as anyone else!

Ronhar backed up from his furious assault, hands up in a guard position. Sure, Seldan Rourke was a talented opponent, but Ronhar felt that he had gotten the better of him in the opening exchange of blows. Still, Ronhar doubted that their fight would be resolved anytime soon. No, this contest was going to be a contest of stamina, a contest of endurance. And from what Ronhar could tell, Seldan had plenty of both.

Regardless, Ronhar stepped forward once again, ready to deliver yet another furious round of punches at his opponent. As he did so, he suddenly felt a rather odd sensation in his arms, as if they had suddenly gone dead. Blast! His neural network wasn't responding properly, just as he had feared. Ronhar's arms instantly went limp, and both of them fell to his sides.

He immediately backed up, trying to will his arms to respond to way that they should. After what seemed like an eternity to Ronhar, but in reality was only a few seconds, his now dangling arms jumped back to life, with Ronhar fully in control of them. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Ronhar surged forward, this time going for power blows. After all, he wasn't sure if his cybernetic limbs would malfunction again, meaning his best shot at victory would be for a quick knockout.

Yet that seemed rather illusive to Ronhar, who swung with all his might toward Seldan, electricity crackling off his gloves...

​

---

OOC: The original roll of 4 has been rerolled into an 18. Shoutout to Bespin Gas (If you aren't first, your last!), The Imperial Confederation and N&Z Umbrella Corporation for making this possible!

 

[Ragos Terrek]

"WOOOO!"

Ragos couldn't have landed a cleaner fucking hook if he had been hitting the bag. His whole body vibrated from the blow. There was very few things in this galaxy or any other that satisfied the same way as a perfectly timed counter.

The fire of his exuberance was given a splash of cold water when his opponent didn't hit the mat. Dude was clearly hurt, evidenced by the pained look, cursing, and the fact that he took more than a few steps away to create some distance. On The Most High Ragos thought he was finna turn anyone's lights out with that hook but this mutha sucka must be tough as hell.

Ain't nothing bout it.

His opponent's hands were back up and he bounced on his feet ready to keep going. Ragos bit down and moved forward looking to end this chit for good and all.

His opponent, not out of the fight at all, stepped forward at the same time, looking to get his back. Another demon of a punch was coming Ragos' way but he was never one to back off. He bit down so hard in his mouth piece it was a miracle he didn't bite through.

In the galaxy's most stupid plan Ragos tried to slip the strike at the last moment and shift his momentum away from the strike so that he would be off center line to his opponent's left side where his arm was in a tight defensible position. If all went to plan the strike from his opponent would hit Irving but air and Ragos would be following up with a straight right just off line aiming for man's head.

That was best case scenario. Worst case was he was bout to eat a face full of electrified fist.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Kayla Ordo-Shan]

Kayla stepped to face her foe, looking down at the gauntlets on her hands, and then over to her foe.

She had never done this sort of thing before, nor was she sure how this whole thing was supposed to go down, but the chants of the crowd and the zooming about camera droids kept her attention for now. She gave an awkward wave, glancing back to her opponent. She briefly punches her gloves together, just trying to pose, and flinches when the gloves make a sound that did not sound like they were supposed to make.

A camera droid zoomed by as she glanced to it, only for the woman to wave it off. “I meant to do that, come on, buzz off.”

She remarks, as she gets into a stance, looking over to her opponent. “Do you want to just start, throwing punches or….I was kind of expecting a bell to ring-”

She called out, sniffing as the whiff of burning metal caught her attention. Needless to say, she was not a fan of this new found scent.

Nor was she a fan of watching her opponent lick her gloves.

She blank stared over to Scherezade in disapproval.

Now she was going to be thinking of the woman getting spit on her while they fought.

Tags: Scherezade deWinter