Arena The Galactic Shockboxing Tournament

[Isur]

Could he keep hitting this soft skin? Was it wrong of him to be going after this opponent the way he was? Claws weren’t out, teeth weren’t used. He was following the rules of the shockboxing tournament. That was fine with him. But his hits were pretty big.

Was Isur having a moment of clarity?

That was when the hit came in, a grazing hit but still making decent contact to him. Isur looked at the Force imbued fighter before him. A slow blink of his predator’s eyes before he stepped forward, with the hit, he might be off balance, but he was going for another jab.

Small species don’t have all that to far to fall.

Corr

 

[Seldan Rourke]

​

He braced for the end. The punch was meant to be fatal, his jaw already open for the killing blow. Yet, by some fluke, Ronhar's arm swung wide, the steel fist whistling past his ear. For a moment, Seldan thought he'd imagined the reprieve, but the cyborg's panicked curse confirmed it.

That sudden reprieve bought him a single breath. He staggered back into his stance, every nerve alight with pain. Blood poured into his eye, soaking his gloves, and the back of his skull still throbbed from the elbow. His legs felt alien, but soldier's discipline held him upright. Ronhar's power came from chrome and circuits, but Seldan's was forged in the enduring pain of his own body.

The ref's voice cracked through the din. Clack clack clack. Ten seconds. That was all he had. Enough time to argue his case to the judges, to drown out the memory of that sickening elbow, and prove he wasn't finished.

He surged forward, driving his fists in a savage barrage that ignored his own screaming muscles. A hook crashed into Ronhar's ribs. A straight slammed into the chest. Another hook tore for the jaw. His arms blurred, every strike a lifetime of grit, fury, and survival poured into these desperate seconds. The crowd erupted, voices blending into a wall of noise as he hammered Ronhar back across the ring, sparks flying where glove met cybernetics. How was he still standing?

His lungs burned, his head rang like a struck bell, yet he kept swinging. Every blow was agony, but it was all he had left.

Then the horn sounded, a long, merciful note cutting through the chaos. Seldan stumbled back a step, chest heaving, his arms dangling like dead weight. Blood slicked his face, sweat poured off him. His vision was a red haze and blurred light, but he remained standing. That was the only thing that truly mattered.

He heard the crowd before he saw them, roaring their approval, stamping, hollering for the storm they'd just witnessed. Perhaps it was for him, perhaps for the spectacle itself. It didn't matter. He'd given them everything he had in the ring.

Now, it was up to the scorecards. For the first time all night, Seldan let his arms drop, head bowed, shoulders heaving. A bloodied warrior who'd left nothing behind.

Spoiler

Roll 1 - 10/20
Roll 2 - 20/20
Roll 3 - 13/20
Roll 4 - 4/20 Originally | Re-roll 8/20
Roll 5 - 5/20 Originally | Re-roll 18/20
Roll 6 - 13/20
Roll 7 - 4/20 Originally | Re-roll 20/20
Roll 8 - 19/20
Total - 121

Ronhar Tane
​

 

[Rathmar Praji]

High above the buzzing electric grid and the roaring crowd, Rathmar savored a slow sip of the Corellian brandy in his hand.

The Shockboxing Tournament was beginning to show its potential as the screens in his private box illuminated every competitor from the Bantha League to the Wizard League. Some excelled at outmaneuvering their rivals, while others found themselves on the receiving end of brutal blows from 10,000-volt gloves.

Sparks scattered across the ground as Adonis Angelis IV confronted Ragos Terrek in a notably brutal match, at least from his perspective. There were worries that Adonis's considerable size and presence could pose challenges for Terrek, but it appeared to be the other way around, as Terrek let his opponent overextend and expose himself to strikes.

The Pantoran Tyrant 4 appeared equally matched against the Imperial Skyria Kyrtan , both demonstrating fierce determination.

"Now that's a spectacle! Two fighters who seem to care for nothing in the galaxy except for knocking their rival out of the ring. The other competitors should take note of these two," Rathmar remarked with a subtle grin, clearly relishing his role as the host of this event, as it provided free entertainment. The other vigos may be nearest to the Underlord of the Black Sun, yet he was expanding their power beyond their usual lawless territory by organizing an event like this.

Another match quickly drew his interest, even more thrilling than the previous one, as Ronhar Tane and Seldan Rourke wrapped up their bout. Both fighters were quite bloodied but were now waiting for his verdict on the match's outcome. The terminals were diligently calculating a result that would satisfy the audience, as their performances were assessed and ultimately approved by the Vigo, who rose from his lounge slightly unsteady.

"In the match between Ronhar, and Seldan...... The victor is Seldan." Rathmar said with a soft bow in both of their directions, moving back to his seat to watch the other matches reach their conclusion.

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​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

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​

The pace of the match caught Adonis off guard. His mind lingered too long on how Ragos knew Mando'a instead of the strikes coming his way. His gauntlets slammed into Ragos's forearms with a dull boom, current snapping through both of them. You couldn't put out that kind of force without taking a little of the bite yourself.

But that was nothing compared to what came next. Ragos's counter slid clean through his guard and drove straight into his face. The heat of every sun in the galaxy detonated behind his eyes. His sinuses lit with fire, blood gushed like molten rock, pouring from his nose in hot streams. For a moment it was pathetic, almost laughable, but it was also dangerous. He would have to claw his way back from it.

Blood ran down, staining his shorts, but there was no thought of stopping. Not until the bell rang... or he blacked out. His eye was swelling shut already, and the pounding in his skull screamed concussion, but none of it slowed him. Training kept his movements sharp, and pain only stoked the fury that had carried him through a hundred fights before this one.

He stepped forward, weight set, teeth bared. His right hand shot out, a straight aimed for Ragos Terrek eye, an answer for the one already closing.

This wasn't over. Not until one of them dropped.

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[Tyrant 4]

As a jab connected with Tyrant's raised glove, the Pantoran countered with a punch of her own. Skyria made an attempt to dodge to her right. As she did so she loaded up her dominant right hand for a hook to the body.

Sparks exploded as both mitts connected between the two combatants. Cypher stumbled backward, pain flaring in her side. Another hit to the body. She didn't know how many more of those she could take. But she wouldn't back down, not now, not ever! She bit down hard on her mouthguard.

I won't lose. Tyrants don't lose.

The mercenary pilot from Tyrant Squadron launched herself at the imperial, guard up, footsteps quick and sure on the mat. The Pantoran jabbed twice, then loaded up a heavy, overhanded right, putting all her strength behind that punch aimed straight for the jaw.

Skyria Kyrtan

 

[Ronhar Tane]

Live footage of Seldan beating up Ronhar.

DING! DING! DING!

The sound of the final bell mercifully signaled the end of the match. Ronhar immediately stumbled over to his corner of the ring, bruised and bloodied from the long and grueling fight. He didn't need to hear the results because he already knew that he had lost. There was no universe where the judges would give him the win after witnessing not one, but two major cybernetic malfunctions in the ring.

Whatever. He was over it by this point. What a stupid decision it had been to enter this fight without proper preparation!

Ronhar groaned as he slumped down onto the floor, his Pit Droid crew immediately tending to both his physical injuries and and the mechanical damage his arms had suffered. Ronhar waved them off and called over the Pit Droid Chief.

<"Is everything alright, sir?">, the Pit Droid chief asked him, noticing that Ronhar was essentially refusing any sort of medical attention.

"Everything's fine", Ronhar spat out despite the fact that everything was, indeed, not fine. "Forget about that. I need you to do something for me right this minute. I need you to swab me from head to toe, and I need you to do it now."

The Pit Droid Chief just stared at Ronhar, not fully grasping exactly what he was asking him to do.

<"I'm...sorry, sir?">, the Pit Droid Chief asked with more than a note of confusion in his voice.

"I need you to swab me down", Ronhar repeated with urgency.

<"Um, I'm sorry sir, but I don't quite get what you mean. Swab you down?">, the droid asked with even more uncertainty.

"Oh, for the love of-! Listen to me, I need you to swab me for any traces of organic material from Seldan Rourke . It can be sweat, blood, spit, tears, I don't care! Just get whatever you can of his off my body and store it until we get back to Mahporeem", Ronhar said as he winced in pain. Yep, he was gonna feel that in the morning.

<"Oh, ok. I can do that. But...why?>, the droid as as it began dutifully swabbing every inch of Ronhar's body.

"Because, if we have his organic material, that means we have his DNA, which means we have a new template for the Cloning Machine", Ronhar breathed as he beckoned the other droids to him to do the same thing that the Pit Droid Chief was doing. "I'm no fool, I know when I've been beaten, but I'm not about to leave here completely empty handed. His DNA will make a fine genetic template for the collection", Ronhar huffed as the droids continued doing their work.

After several minutes of being swabbed from head to toe, Ronhar stood up and exited the arena. He didn't even bother to stay for the results, for he already knew how this thing was gonna go.

After all, he had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment...

TAGS:
Seldan Rourke

To be continued?

 

[Corr]

He was able to weave aside the first strike on the approach, coming in close and beneath the Karkaradon's bulk to strike out at the knee and bring him down. A small, inelegant smirk crept across his face.

Another fist come down, sweeping for him. He tried to beat Isur to the punch with one of his own, sending an uppercut of a blow upwards to the shark-head chin. If he was fast enough, that is.

Isur

 

[Isur]

Isur blanked for a second. Sure the soft skin should be faster than him but he didn't actually expect the soft skin to get inside his range. The knee too? His ancestors would be laughing.

This is what you get for going on land

And supposedly taxes. But he was Black Sun.

Large fin-like arms coming for a block before coming out with a big left hook.

No soft skin should beat him.

Corr

 

[Ragos Terrek]

Ragos bit down hard on his mouth piece as pain landed up his forearms, settling in his shoulders and back. His posture sagged just a bit from the pain of the current running through his muscles but his counter landed just as he'd hoped.

There was no energy left in him to celebrate as he did in the first round. This mutha sucka was tough as fuckin brick.

They'd both given up on foot work. Neither fighter sought to give ground and avoid the storm of the other. Both of em stood toe to toe, their sporting showcase of martial art turned into little more than a desperate bar brawl in front one thousands.

A twitch in his opponent's hips keyed Rag in to the fact that another strike was coming. Rag popped his own hips and sent a left hook aiming for his opponent's midsection.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

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​

Adonis bit down hard as Ragos Terrek blocked his attack and followed up. As he noticed in his opponent as well, they had both started slowing down. There was only so much beating one could take. It didn't help when they both blocked and attacked, causing them both to get a major shock from the ring. It appeared that them having the same reflexes was not a net positive.

The blood that was forming at the sides of Adonis's vision was concerning, but not enough to stop him. The bell was the only thing that would make him quit fighting. He was here representing not only himself, but the company associated with Mandalore and the Empire. Adonis could tell by the tension that he was a bit behind Ragos. If he wanted to pull through, he would have to get one up on him, and the round was closing in fast. The Mandalorian threw a hail mary punch, going again for Ragos's face. He wasn't able to think much further than his right hook.

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[Skeevi Merrill]

Gorram but everything here was worth the price of admission. All this simultaneous slugging got Skeevi thirstier than their dubiously hissing bottle could resolve. Cousin Moomlis, the Ithorian with the third-eye Black Sun forehead tattoo, appeared distracted due to an energetic and highly subtextual conversation with a svelte Gran; Skeevi stole Moomlis' drink.

The beverage proved fulfilling and tasted mostly of sprockets. Skeevi resumed their place at the viewing edge to find that they'd missed the best cyborg in the lineup get knocked out. "Ra'ti opakwa ko lopo," they mumbled in disappointed derision. The drink was numbing their lips. What did Ithorians drink anyway? Normally, or when trying to impress a Gran?

 

[Kayla Ordo-Shan]

Kayla Ordo-Shan

Though she had planned- No, that won't work, she hadn't actually planned. Like many things in life, Scherezade just let her gut take the lead, and the jab she had tossed not only had not been really effective, buts she'd somehow let herself stay totally open for the hook that hit her from the side, hitting the Sithlin right in the jaw.

Scherezade had been taken by surprise. Her body threatened to fall backwards as she danced a few steps in the other direction, fighting momentarily to keep her balance but somehow failing, finding herself on her butt on the ground.

Some would be angry at that. Others would be hateful for it. Scherezade? Her glowing green eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement as she looked up at her opponent, a new type of respect etched on her features.

From the floor, she launched at Kayla Ordo-Shan , her gloved hands now aiming not for her face or even upper body, but straight for the knees, ready to tackle her down to the ground with her, hoping not to end up with a kick to the face.

Kayla managed to connect, making a sound of surprise as her foe fell back, only to catch a blow to a knee.

She let out a bark of surprise, her leg going limp, pain flared up, and Kayla gave a snarl. She went down, for a moment, tucking into a roll as she would use the training from her father, rebounding as she came up on her good leg, her injured knee still burning, as she launched an upper cut on the woman, throwing herself behind the blow.

That low blow slag really, really hurt.

Tags: Scherezade deWinter

 

[Skyria Kyrtan]

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

Two mitts connected as intended, or nearly as intended. Tyrant's punch landed on Skyria's cheek instead of her chin as the blonde fighter moved to the side. Luckily, Sky didn't have quite a specific intent. Anywhere on the body would serve to continue to slow her opponent. And her fist landed on Tyrant's side. Skyria was stunned by the punch that had landed. Her entire face tingled. She stumbled backwards, again her back was up against the barrier of the ring.

Skyria's Pantoran opponent, however, was not about to show any signs that the punch had taken anything out of her. Instead of reeling or slowing as Sky had expected the blue-skinned fighter lunged forward. The first jab was blocked by a raised mitt, the second Sky knew she would not be fast enough to block. Allowing the testing jab through her defenses didn't affect Skyria much. Just a slight intensification of her already tingling face. But she knew that the jabs were only the prelude to something more. She readied herself for a quick dodge.

When the overhand right came from her opponent, Skyria dodged down and to her left. As she did so she cocked back her left hand and started it forward in an uppercut that if it landed as intended would be right at the bottom of Tyrant's ribs.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Kayla Ordo-Shan

SUCCESS! Her opponent fell, but she managed to get up before Scherezade could make use of the situation. It didn't matter though, having her fist land on Kayla Ordo-Shan 's knee as it had, had given the Sith a resurgence in levels of excitement, and adrenaline was pumping hard through her body.

If my roll (or re-roll) in this post is 10 or higher – Scherezade easily avoided that upper cut, her placement on the ground giving her an easy way to do so by simply moving back just enough inches. Now she was ready to get back up, jumping into a low crouch, her arms sending punches forward as though her opponent was her new punching bag.

If my roll (or re-roll) in this post is less than 10 – Scherezade was surprised as that upper cut connected with her face again, considering she'd been on the ground to begin with. After it, she was still on the ground, but this time a little to the side, her body falling flat to the side, her cheek smashing against the ground. Without trying to move away, she sent a kick out with her right leg, aiming it for her opponent's remaining good knee.

(Accidentally clicked 'roll dice' twice, let's refer to the first result only)

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Kayla Ordo-Shan rerolling because I think I did something wrong... That wasn't what was supposed to be rolled.

 

[Tyrant 4]

When the overhand right came from her opponent, Skyria dodged down and to her left. As she did so she cocked back her left hand and started it forward in an uppercut that if it landed as intended would be right at the bottom of Tyrant's ribs.

Another body blow landed and a burst of electricity crackled across Cypher in a volt overload that left her body spasming as she doubled over in agony. Nausea roiled through her and she felt as if she was going to vomit up her whole intestinal tract.

She stumbled away, hunching, fists hugging herself defensively. Tears stung her vision and there was a roaring in her ears. Oh dead suns. She was going to lose. Another wave of misfiring nerves overloaded by the shock hit sent her body trembling and she struggled to maintain footing.

What would Tyrant 1 do right now? Badly damaged, limping. Practically out of missiles.

What would he do?

He would fight back. Against the shuddering of his engine, against the Gs, against mechanical failures. He would fight back and he wouldn’t lose.

Cypher lurched forward, throwing a wild haymaker with her right meant for @Skyria Kyrtan’s face.