ToTG:Malik Rodarch VS Meanken!

[Soliath Devin Talith]

The tournament progressed farther and farther. A Dozen had fallen out in the first week, half a dozen in the second, now as the fights narrowed and the battles raged on, Round 3 slowly began. Four fighters began it, Four warriors ready to do battle. Each one clamored for a chance at victory, each one demanded respect and cheer from the audience. Galaxy wide people began to look on in anticipation as the fighters of the Third Round were finally revealed.

Two locations this time, one for each fight.

The First!

Resu.

A planet of oceans. The bare seas of Resu bore no land or anything of the sort, acting as only a home to the water born Resu species, Moross' most devout followers. It was here that Round 3 would begin, deep beneath the oceans of this world. An old research station, built years ago by Republic scientist and been selected as the grounds for this fight. Groaning metal walls, loose wires, and thin glasteel windows were all that separated the contestants from the vast ocean depths.

It was here that Round 3 truly Began, deep beneath the oceans.

[member="Malik Rodarch"] VS [member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Now this would be interesting. They told him on the ride down the barebones of what he'd need to know. All water planet, and they'd be fighting in an old research center of some sort. This would, of course, provide both advantages and disadvantages. The fact that they were underwater would mean that, while he'd still be able to use the missiles he'd brought, he'd have to be damn careful to make sure he didn't kill em both via drowning. he heard that wasn't a fun way to die. Of course, that was a fact that cut both ways, and would restrict the moves of his opponent too.

Speaking of him, chaff was not horribly worried. His digging had told him the guy was a Mando. Mando's were some of the most overrated warriors in the galaxy, in Chaff's opinion. After having his first two rounds be against a heavily armed 8 foot giant and a Sith lord, a simple Mando was not a concern.

Today, Chaff had brought along his missiles in one wrist launcher, which would be of limited help today. However, in his other wrist he had a flamethrower. In the narrow hallways of the station, the flamethrower would be of immense value, as the Mando would have limited maneuvering room to avoid it. On his hip, he had his DRX-11 gun. It conferred no real advantage against the Mando other then the speed of the shots, as it had been designed to fight force users, but the slugs were still more then capable of killing and maiming. Chaff made a note to himself to look into purchasing a gun built more for fighting regular dudes. The only other items of note were his jetpack, which would again be of limited value in a cramped situation, but could help him make a rapid approach for more close range attacks with his wristblades, which he was immensely skilled with.

All in all, Chaff felt he had the advantage here. The arena played to his strengths, all but forcing the opponent into close range combat, where chaff excelled at. As he stepped into the station, Chaff drew his gun and deployed a wristblade in the other hand, holding it in a guard position as he held up the gun and started searching for his opponent. One other move he made was to turn on thermal vision. in the cold and empty station deep underwater, any heat signatures would stand out like a gigantic sign yelling "I'm over here, shoot me!" No doubt this would help him locate the target quickly.

[member=Malik Rodarch]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Mullet whimpered.

Crouched down and with his helmet off Malik Rodarch looked into the eyes of his beloved Asharl Panther companion, as if trying to search for the source of the big cat's unease. A big gauntleted hand reached up to scratch the chin of the beast, as soft amber continued to study those reluctant blue orbs.

“What'choo sayin'? Big 'fraidy cat?” said the Mandalorian, proving that even big burly men had baby voices to speak to their animals with.

In response to this query, Mullet released one of the most pathetic mowls ever heard by big cat kind. Was he a fierce panther? Or an over-sized tabby cat? A little of column A, a little of column B. When it was go time, it was go time, he's gonna bite your leg off so watch out but until that time came, Mullet was a giant pussycat.

The structure groaned, prompting Rodarch's head to perk up and for him to look around for the appearance of his opponent. Nope. Nobody here just yet, merely an old building moaning about its impending doom.

Having almost died at the hand of his formidable opponent in the last round, Malik decided that a warrior's death could come swooping for him in this venture at any time. So he decided instead of actively seeking it out, that he would savour the time spent with his feline companion. Still crouched down, his hand travelled to the underside of the panther, to the belly.

“What'choo sayin'?”

Mullet, immediately knowing what was coming collapsed to the surgical steel floor of the facility and rolled onto his back, allowing Malik full access to scratch away. Which he did. Using the spiked knuckle guards upon his stun gauntlets (turned off) the Mandalorian gave the panther's thick hide a good scratchin', right in the best spot, causing the large creature to vibrate with violent purring and even a little leg twitch.

“Ya big git.”

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Chaff quickly located the target. As expected, the heat signatures made him stand out easily. The hardest part was making his way there, as he didn't have a map or anything, so he had to rely on guesswork. But, the guy was remaining still, so it was easy enough to figure it out. As he got closer, he could see that there was not 1, but 2 signatures. Great. Another punk who brought along others to fight his battles for him. What little respect Chaff might have retained for his opponent died a swift death. He could see that it was smaller the the thing the Sith had brought in round 2, but it warranted caution all the same.

Chaff stopped at the door to the sub hanger, where he was inside. Of course, they had removed the sub, no doubt. Chaff put his back to the wall and lifted his gun. He checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded. Once satisfied, he positioned himself in front of the door. A noise caused him to look behind himself. No one was there. Must have been the building. Chaff rolled his eyes as he re-positioned himself. he lifted his gun and aimed in the direction of the signatures, slammed the door open button with his other hand, and opened fire on the guy's position once it sprung open with his slugthrower, ready to hop behind the cover of the wall if he moved to counter fire.

[member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

So far into the Tournament of the Gods there had been no opportunity for Mullet to really shine, I mean, what did set apart the asharl panther from the other feline races in this galaxy? A wicked sense of style? A funky fresh method on the bass guitar? They can lick where no other cat has licked before? No, none of these. However, I, the kind narrator that I am shall indulge.

The asharl panther has fronds upon their back, call it an extra sense to prevent any kind of predator or poacher from sneaking up upon the beast. They are the kings of awareness.

Rolled over upon his back, upon his fronds, the slight vibrations carried through the floor by footfalls down the hall alerted Mullet to the approach of somebody else. The playful mood of the situation ended abruptly and the panther rolled back over onto his front, head pointed at the closed door that was the source of vibrations. He was aware now, he was ready.

Shotgun slung over his back, spiked stun gauntlets on his fists, Malik swiftly slipped his helmet on, covering his rebreather-clad face as the door groaned opened with a pained whoosh. Instead of moving to counter the ambush, Malik dove off to the right, heavy durasteel armour clanging hard upon the clinical flooring as he avoided the initial shots fired.

He remained off to the right, pressing up to the wall and making a small hand gesture to Mullet to command the creature to stay behind him. Big Rhonda, the 8-gauge pump-action shotgun was in his hands as he stood and waited for his opponent. He'd have to come into the sub-hanger if he wanted to tango.

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

The guy had jumped to the side. Somehow he knew what was coming. Chaff wasn't sure how, but that was irrelevant right now. Chaff flipped back behind the wall outside the room and took a quick second to swap to a fresh clip. Now it was time to decide how to proceed. Chaff could see with the thermal vision that the guy wasn't moving. Clearly he was waiting to ambush him when he went in. Why did it always seem to end up this way? Chaff was damn tired of punks hiding and delaying the end of the fight.

Usually, this would be the point where Chaff poked his arm around the wall and unloaded missiles at the other guy's location. However, with the environment the way it was, Chaff waned to hold off on that for the time being. So the name of the game became shock and awe. Move fast, hit hard, and don't give the guy a chance to think. This style of combat was Chaff's specialty. Chaff reached for his jetpack. Guy was probably expecting him to just run in and fire or something. Chances are that he wasn't expecting him to fly in on a jetpack. Hopefully this would throw off his aim. If not, so be it, the armor wouldn't fold on the first hit or anything. So Chaff made his move. Using his thermal vision to prep his advance, he flew in and immediately started firing his flamethrower at the guy and his pet behind him.

[member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Points for the unexpected, Malik, despite having faced a jet pack clad opponent in the last round did not expect somebody to utilise one in such cramped surroundings.

His opponent came flying from out the door, and the flames came spewing forth. It was an unorthodox strategy as opposed to the flash-bang and take down entrance that Rodarch was ultimately expecting, and a strategy that might have been more effective against a less well armoured Sith. For you see, Mandalorian armour, whether just simple durasteel or phenomenal beskar will always come with the advantage of a thermal bodysuit. Heck, even Stormtrooper armour had that as standard, really important for going into space, you know?

He made sure to stand and move into the face of flames, to block any harm that might have went for the very flammable Mullet who still stood behind him.

However, thermal bodysuit or not, standing in fire while wearing metal is generally ill-advised, eventually the molecules will get far too excited and then that comes with the issue of being cooked alive in a man-shaped oven. The stream of fire effecting his vision meant that the target his shotgun would seek was less the man wielding the thrower but more the source itself.

The 8-gauge was lifted and the trigger was pulled, sending a punching hail of pellets out at the fast moving target. Hopefully he would catch the flamethrower itself and put an end to the firestorm.

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Now that chaff could see the target better, he could see that he had on a suit of armor that was negating the effectiveness of the flames to the point where he was intentionally standing in it to block his pet from harm. Chaff should have expected that. Damn mando armor. Of course, eventually it'd work anyway. That's one of the hazards of using metal armor, eventually it'd heat up no matter how much armor ya had, and then you may as well not have any on at all. He saw the guy aim his Shotgun at his flamethrower arm.

The intent was clear. He was trying to stop the flames. Chaff yanked his arm out of the way just before the shot went off and narrowly avoided the shots. He wouldn't have been so lucky if there'd been another 10 feet between them. Shotguns worked best at a range where the slugs had time to spread out. While a point blank shot will obliterate anything it hits, at least unarmored, if it missed, your pellets were wasted. Chaff decided to shut off the flames anyway. Let the guy think he'd hit the target, since he'd have trouble getting visual conformation of the damage with all the flames in his face.

Now Chaff decided to change it up. it was time for melee combat, and chaff knew exactly how he was starting this off. Turning off the jetpack while in midair, Chaff leaped at the target while engaging one of his wristblades and holding it up, ready to stab the target directly in the less armored neck. Neck was always a good choice for attacks against dudes with armor, Chaff knew from personal experience. By design, it was less armored due to having to be able to move the head, and you didn't get anywhere trying to slice up a guy's heavily armored chestplate. You go for the joints, cripple them, then finish them off. As he reached the target, he would move to plunge the knife into the guy's neck.

[member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

The flames ceased, at the very least a positive outcome for those who didn't want to get flash fried by their armour.

With the name of the game changing, Malik threw his shotgun down to his side leaving Mullet to collect the weapon in his considerable jaws before moving away from the focal point of the fight. You should never leave your toys just laying about like that, it's not exactly difficult to just bend down like it was Borderlands and say, 'well hey, this is my shotgun now'. Because it's all about that loot, 'bout that loot, that's stealing.

A flick of the wrist switch and his gauntlets became engulfed in glowing electrical energy, just in time for his opponent to come pouncing in with the wristblade. Naturally, after the injuries of the last round (in the throat and armpit respectively) he was ready to defend the soft spots of his armour. As he tucked Malik tucked his chin one arm came up to block his opponent's strike, his own bulky forearm moving to clatter against the man's wrist. Seeing as he was just an ordinary human, getting stabbed in the neck was not preferable.

Coming back with his own offensive, Rodarch's free arm shot up like a cannon, the fist of electric judgement rising up in an uppercut that would at best catch his opponent's own throat with his spiked knuckle guards or at the very least hopefully catch him on the chin and rattle that head about. That wasn't even mentioning the stunning potential that the gauntlets held. Watch out for that zap, don't want it messing with your electrics, or even worse, with you.

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

The punch sent Chaff onto his back some feet away. Chaff had managed to avoid getting hit in the throat, but the chin still got hit. he lie there stunned for a moment. That was new. Shame he used blades, or he'd have to ask where he got one of those things. electronics still looked good for the moment. With all the force crazy's running around that liked to throw lighting round, he'd made sure the armor had some circuit breakers inside that would prevent it short circuiting from any old amount of lighting. That said, it had limits, so it wouldn't do to keep getting whacked like that.

Chaff considered his options at this point. He still had the blades, but going in close was an iffy proposition with the lighting fists active. He had the flamethrower, which had proven less then effective, and he doubted the opponent was just gonna stand there and take it. He'd save that for if the cat thing tried to move in for an attack. That left the missiles. if this was a narrow hallway, he'd have took his chances with the blades. But the room was big, and he'd have a bit of time to work with before he'd have to get out if it hit a wall and started leaking water into the place. So he said screw it. Still on the floor, he lifted his arm and fired a missile directly at the guy. If it hit, great. if not, it'd impact the wall behind him and more then likely cause some water to start coming in. Another benefit, the water would force the guy to shut down the electric gauntlets or risk getting fried.

[member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

That's the good stuff.

When a hit like that connects it sends a rush of blood to the head, a spike of adrenaline, gets you fired up and ready for more. That's why he fought with fists. Getting up close and personal. High impact. Throughout this tournament he had wanted nothing more than to take off the armour, throw down the weapons, put Mullet to the side and fight with nothing but bare fists. However, no opponent would indulge in that, so this would have to do.

Mental alarm klaxons blared as his opponent raised his arm and Malik barely reacted in time, if this had been a holomovie then he would have surely made a hilarious quip before the missile soared over his head but in real time the brain could only think of survival. He ducked, leaning his torso forward as if he were going to put his head between his knees and kiss his arse goodbye.

The impact happened behind him, blast zone throwing him forward and to the ground.

Then came the sound of the water sputtering forth and onto the cold unfeeling floor. “Oh biscuits,” he muttered face down upon the floor as the realisation that playing with electricity was suddenly a bad idea. The wrist flick was switched and the crackling glow dissipated as Malik staggered back to his feet. Being a part of the small blast zone had evidently rocked him somewhat.

He looked back at the leak in the wall, then to his opponent.

“You got that jetpack insured against water damage?”

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Chaff grinned behind his helmet at the quip. "Oh, I'm not worried bout it. Even assuming you last long enough for it to get that high, the 5 mill prize will more then cover the damages." And if not, he always had money saved up for equipment repairs. One of the precautions he took. Last thing he needed was to be unable to complete a job cause his equipment broke and he couldn't afford the bill. But the attack had worked perfectly. Water was now coming into the room, and would level the playing field in close range combat. This was all Chaff needed to make his move. And, as an added bonus, the guy seemed to have been a bit too close to the explosion, and had been knocked off balance. Now was the time to strike, before he got a chance to recover.

Chaff lunged forward, quickly closing the gap between him and his opponent. The wristblades came back out as he attacked with a sudden fury that his prior attacks had lacked. Now he was feeling the rush of battle, the knowledge that his life could come to an end at any moment, the will to spill his enemy's blood. It invigorated him and gave him strength. As he reached the target, he spun around, using the momentum to power his first swing. he'd be expecting another strike at the throat, of course. So Chaff did not swing for that. He unleashed a series of powerful blows aimed at the weak spots of his armor. Even if the guy was able to block the attacks, it would no doubt tire him, weaken his defenses. And it only took one good hit to render him unable to stand or use an arm, and make victory that much closer.

[member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Malik offered a shrug in return, it was worth thinking about. Some insurers didn't cover water damage, I mean, you could lie and tell them that it fell into the toilet (big toilet) but they'll catch that footage on the Holonet of you fighting in that dilapidated underwater research base and bam:

CLAIM VOID.

He didn't take much offence to the man's arrogance. He'd been up against a rage monster of a Sith, an honourable fellow Mandalorian, there had to be room for the cocky upstart in there.

His opponent dashed in and once more Malik tucked his chin in. Just because the enemy won't always go for the throat, doesn't mean that it shouldn't always be protected. He did move his arms up once more, letting the one of the wristblades sink into the flesh at the joint of his right elbow.

“Krif!” he exclaimed at the stinging sensation that erupted from tender flesh, and in an instant Malik's form rocketed forward, chin still down, the top of his helm coming in fast to clash with his opponent's own helmet. Evidently Rodarch was very keen on rattling the man's skull.

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Chaff recoiled back from the headbutt. Helmet visor was still intact. it had gotten broken in round 1, but that was from the 8 foot giant smashing him directly in the face with a gigantic fist, not exactly the typical situation. Here, the helmet would hold up. Clearly the move was a reflexive reaction to the blade sinking into the arm. it wouldn't confer much more of an advantage to him then a moment of disorientation. He'd been in enough bar fights with dudes swinging for the head to know how to deal with that kinda pain and quickly get back into the fight.

At first, Chaff took back up his combat stance with the blades, to fool the opponent into thinking he was going to strike out again with the blades. He stepped in, supposedly to strike, only to reach out with an open hand to grapple the man's weakened arm. if he failed to grab the arm due to the guy evading or deflecting the hand, he would then reach to grab the head and slam it into the nearest wall repatedly. If he got the arm, he would try to flip the man onto his back and quickly come in with a wristblade aimed for the shoulder joint of the man's uninjured arm.

[member="Malik Rodarch"]