Duel THE IRON TOURNAMENT | FIGHT 1 | HAASTAL VERD VS TARRIK KESTIS

[Ra Vizsla]

M A L A S T A R E

The IXV Annual Malastarian Podrace

Haastal Haran vs Tarrik Kestis

Thunderstorms echoed in the background.

A floating platform above the race,

as announcers in the background

began talking on loudspeakers.


​

The revving of engines. The smell of exhaust fumes. The chanting of Dugs in the crowd.

Ra's visor glowed green, atop a large floating platform they all stood on. He sat in an iron throne, leaned forward in his seat, his crimson red armor offsetting the dull atmosphere of the world they had come here to partake in the Games on.

"There are no rules."

Ra stared at the two duelists, perched atop the floating platform above the race track.

"Two go in."

The announcers blared their starting alarms.

Several dozen podracers took off on the track below.

"One comes out."

Ra looked hungry for blood as he sat ready in his seat.

"LET THE TOURNAMENT COMMENCE."

His fist slammed down

on a hidden switch in the chair

and the floor below the duelists

opened,

dropping them both

fifteen meters

to the track below.
​

 

[Haastal Haran]

Objective: Win
Location: Malastare
Tag: Ra Vizsla Tarrik Kestis
Equipment: Armor, Assault Rifle, Sonic Grenade X2, Starfighter (Slave Circuit)

There are no rules.
​

While the Mandalorian stood on the platform below the Gamemaster, he kept his eyes on the opponent that had been set against him. Haastal didn't know him, didn't care to. He was just another job. Except this time the stakes were a bit different. Haastal wasn't just fighting for the pay off, he was fighting because it was what a real Mandalorian would do. Find the strong opponent, beat him, move on to the next.

For this opponent? Haastal wasn't pulling any punches. He didn't know anything about the guy. Not where he came from, who he worked for, or what he was capable of. Best policy? Try to make it as quick as possible. When the rules stated everything goes, Haastal was quick to prepare a little surprise.

His starfighter could be seen in the planet's upper atmosphere. A small speck to most, hidden among the rolling storm clouds that seemed to overtake Malastare. If all else failed, he had a back up. Still, he preferred it didn't come down to something that involved.

The sound of alarms caused Haastal to glance down. He chuckled as he saw the track beneath and the pod racers that fell into the gritty, dangerous race below. Well, if nothing else the setting sure had been set in good taste. Who didn't like being rolled over by a race pod or two? The platform below shifted uneasily as the Gamemaster's voice echoed out, signifying the start of the round.

"Bet." Haastal muttered before the platform swallowed him below.

He fell down, grunting as his arm slammed into the inside of the platform's mouth. The fall to the ground was fast and the moment Haastal slammed into the ground, his HUD shimmered at the impact. He growled out, before speaking into the microphone into his buy'ce. "Target-lock." He commanded, lifting his head so that his eyes could find the image of his opponent. His HUD beeped in response to his command, causing the Mandalorian to pull the assault rifle from it's sling, breaking the clasp as he raised the weapon up at his opponent's position. "Mine." He breathed out as the targeting system tagged onto his opponent. Almost immediately Haastal pulled the trigger, allowing a hail of armor piercing rounds to fly towards his opponent.

 

[Tarrik Kestis]

Objective: Win
Location: Malastare
Tags: Ra Vizsla Haastal Haran
Equipment: In Sig

The Inquisitor sought to test his skills, after all, what better way then to test himself was against a tournament sponsored by Mandalorians. He knew of the warrior race, after all he was tortured and kept in captivity on Mandalore under the rule of the Sith, even turned to the dark side and went as far as to even take a Mandalorian's Vambraces as a way to not only show some respect to them but to also fight as if one of them. Although he did admit the idea of a Force Wielder such as him to prove his superiority over the Mandalorians as a Force User. As this tournament involved the customs of Mandalorians, despite Force Users or not, when a warrior challenged another to single combat a Mandalorian would be honor-bound to answer the call for battle. First Brother would only oblige the one he faced.

As the storms rumbled, the crowds of dugs in a frenzy as they were hosted to an annual podrace and games that involved single combat. It must have been a special treat for them to witness such an event like this. First Brother entered into the inside of the Platform from where he himself had been waiting. Adorned in the armor of an Inquisitor, both shoulder pauldrons showing the insignia of the New Imperial Order. First Brother can only look up, as his opponent descended down to the platform, and to his surprise, he would be facing a Mandalorian. They would not die they were told as much, but it was all very simple. The last one standing would advance on to the next stage. Winning or losing did not matter to Kestis. He would prove himself as a worthy adversary in the very least.

No introduction was shared between the two, no words of luck, or even a simple saying of how either fighter may win. The Mando was eager to get to the fight, Kestis only responding with a chilling smirk. Looking upon his enemy, igniting one blade of his lightsaber, for he himself had many tricks up his sleeve. Such was his role as a shadowy Imperial Inquisitor.

When the armor-piercing rounds came from the Mando's rifle, First Brother had to react quickly, With the second addition of his blade came forth, the twin crimson blades spinning rapidly, as the rounds came towards him, the blades lifted him towards the air, hovering towards his enemy, trying to avoid the shots, until coming above his foe returning in kind by turning off the second blade. Adjusting the angle of where blade first would be coming to his enemy, utilizing the immense pain he constantly felt. Attempting to slam into foe with the power of the Force built into the momentum of his fall.

 

[Haastal Haran]

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber caused Haastal's eyes to quirk as he realized the allegiance of his opponent.

Dar'jetii. The crimson blade of the Sith was something any man could recognize. This meant that this opponent would have some amount of martial skill, proven through personal experience and fables of the ancient warriors. Haastal had never gotten a chance to fight one of them before, but there was no time like the present. When the Inquisitor took to the skies, Haastal's volley ended. He aimed his eyes for the height that the Inquisitor reached. "Two can play at that." He said, before tapping a button on his wrist. The rockets on his jet pack flared for a moment as they tested the booster's attached to his back.

The Inquisitor fell from the skies, lashing out at what was now empty space. Haastal's jets fired off as he leaned back, flying away from the area where the brother of the Imperial Order sought to cleave the Mandalorian in two. The flight system on Haastal's HUD came to life as it marked his speed, height from the ground, and even supplied a small arrow pointing to his marked target. Rather than fire at the Inquisitor once again, Haastal flew towards him, clasping his rifle to the magnetic plate fastened on his back. The Mandalorian grabbed his wrist, sliding one of the plates to the side to reveal a small canister of sorts. While flying towards the Dar'jetii, Haastal held his arm out.

From several feet over his opponent's position, crimson flames flew from his wrist, dragging a scorching trail of flames over the Imperial. However, that was not the end of the assault. As Haastal flew over the man, his free hand dropped a small sphere at his position. A sonic grenade. Moments after the Mandalorian flew over the Inquisitor he'd attempted to bath in flames there would be a massive sonic pulse to fire out from the very same position. Haastal's eyes fastened themselves on the HUD as he took to the skies, turning back towards the Inquisitor, or what was left.

Tarrik Kestis