Faction TSE // Blood Sport

[Aspect of Passion]

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Odavessa
870ABY

The clouds were high in Odavessa that day - wind cold and harsh, banner flapping in the heavy breeze. For the contestants, they'd only feel the strong winter bite of ice in the air - the signs of a harsh winter on the planet, but in the stands, the cheering crowds would feel nothing. Set in an isolated enviroment - they'd feel the joys of summer and wine while these young men and women fought and died. Slaves many, warriors few - but blood was all the same in the sands of the great pit of the Worm.​

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Standing before the crowds, a man tattoo'ed in iconic Sith scrawlings stood and spoke - the Force enhancing his words without compare.​

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"Welcome, Children of Freedom, to the Great Pit of the Worm!"​

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A cheer from the crowd that nigh on drowned out even his voice.​

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"Today you bear witness to great carnage, the symbolic struggle of our people against the rising tide. We fight one another, we fight the galaxy, we fight the very gods to free ourselves - and only the strong may inherit our grand will. Before you is just that, the strong destroying weakness, encouraging evolution of our people through rampant destruction - and it will all be for your entertainment."​

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"Bear witness to two fights! One, between Oran Khan - a Sith Vong - and Darth Tormenta - herself a strong Cathar. To even the stakes, she shall be weighed down - a suit nearing 70 kg to ensure she not ruin the fight too quickly."​

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"And across the way, another fight - between Darth Strosius and Krause Zelier . To ensure equality, Darth Krix shall be weighed down with more - chains between the legs, a weighted vest of 140kg, to ensure a true even fight."​

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"Now - welcome your Emperor, and prepare for blood!"​

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As he spoke, the crowds cheered loud once more, booming within the arena to the benefit of the contestants. Hundreds were in the pit now, but arenas had been cleared for the two mainstage acts. The Worm Emperor entered at the head of the arena in his own stand, surrounded by others. Mordecai Zambrano - the Arch-Priest of the Sepulchral, and Demiurge, the alternative nature of Darth Carnifex . When he sat, a horn sounded, and the blood began to flow deep in the sand.​

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The duel was on.​

 

[Darth Strosius]

The roar of the crowd, the scent of death and blood, the tension as one was finally thrown into the arena to fight and die like so many others before them, it was all a macabre show. Unfortunately, Alisteri didn't have the luxury of sitting back and watching like so many of his 'superiors.' I wonder how many times I must be subjected to this before they simply stop inviting me to these events. The Acolyte winced slightly at the volume of the announcer and the subsequent cheering, his hand clasped around the hilt of his lightsaber as his gaze went from the audience back to his opponent.

In truth, when he had initially been told that he was to face off against a Darth he had assumed that the arena was less a show of power and more an execution with a large audience. To say that he was surprised that his opponent would actually be limited in order to balance out the fight somewhat would be an understatement. Krause Zelier was a Sith of whom he had heard only little, scattered murmurs, but even weighed down he highly doubted the supposed equality of their duel. I wonder what he did to anger the Worm enough to be tossed in this pit. Oh well, not my problem.

The masked man ignited his weapon as the horn sounded, a noise almost rivaled by the rest of the arena's inhabitants, and held the blad in front of himself as he readied to charge. "Tell me, Darth Krix, would you like me to fight one handed to even up this duel a bit more?"

 

[Turranis vulcun]

Turranis stood there this was a waste of sith those who would fight could be used to slaughter their enemies not for a wannabe gods enjoyment. And the enjoyment of children who only wanted to see death and blood for their on sake the sith had reduced themselves to savages like the original sith species but he wasn't stupid enough to call out these siths leader since so little life would be lost.

He looked over two combatants he could sense the inexperienced siths reservation about it being fair he reached into his mind and spoke telepathically "if your opponent can't defend themselves and prove of no value then they should be killed show no mercy" he said as he looked at him.

Darth Strosius

 

[Krause Zelier]

The crowd roared at the sight of the 2 combatants, eager for the end result everyone expected, death. Darth Krix had attended hundreds of these events throughout his lifetime, and though they quickly grew tiresome, he still competed. He stared at the Acolyte in front of him, a mere child compared to him. Fighting such an opponent was an insult to his name and reputation. The chains on his legs clanked were hardly noticeable, though it would make fighting quite difficult, not being able to move as agile as normal. The vest on the other hand, might be a bit difficult to wear, though certainly manageable for one of his strength.

He threw off his robes and stood up to his full heigh of 2.9 Meters, towering over the acolyte. His molten skin, shining gold in the light. He basked in the roaring of the crowd. This should be a fun little fight.

The horns sounded as both of his lightsabers flew from his hips, one in each hand. Each igniting into a dark red colour, burning like a flame.

"Tell me, Darth Krix, would you like me to fight one handed to even up this duel a bit more?" The masked man spoke as his lightsaber raised, ready to charge.

"Do you want death to arrive so quickly? Your choice though, either way you die." He spoke in a deep voice, both of his lightsabers raise as he moved into his battle stance.

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi ignored her opponent for a moment, testing the limits of the handicap suit restricting her movement. The weight wasn't much of a problem, her specialty was enhancing her own physicality after all. What was more concerning was the way it changed her movement. Many of her best techniques required focus and precision. Trying to pull them off while in a suit that restricted her movement was a challenge, an interesting one. Still, as things currently stood she wasn't very worried about losing this fight. Maybe she would if she didn't treat it at least semi seriously, she didn't hold contempt for weaker fighters. The fastest way to learn was a real fight, and it was time to show what both of them could do.

She didn't wear fancy robes, or even any real armor. She wore a simple compression shirt and shorts, at least she was before the weighted suit clung to her form. She ignited her lightsaber, obviously a dualsaber but for now she only had one end activated. Of note was the weighted gloves on her hands, and similarly weighted boots, alongside sharpened claws and fangs. She assumed a ready stance, lightsaber ready for her opponent. It was a slightly different one than what most used for Juyo, for in fact it belonged to the Jedi-invented Vapaad. Jedi invented, but other Sith had used it before. She preferred Vapaad over Juyo herself, especially when fighting other Sith. The ability to use the darkness of your opponent against them was a massive leg up against darksiders, and many weren't used to mixing full Sith aggression into it instead of Jedi restraint.


"Alright then, let's see what you can do Oran, and let's give them a fight worth watching."

As it stood, if he proved a good enough challenge he'd get to see her second blade, or perhaps even see what she could really do once she put the lightsaber away.

Oran Khan

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Accidentally Double Posted - Please Ignore

 

[Darth Strosius]

The Acolyte's eyes narrowed as his opponent stood to his full height, the dual lightsabers catching his gaze for a moment as they were ignited. Well, that's going to make this harder. He had yet to face off against two blades at one, and it looked like he would have to improvise to win the day. Or survive it, at least. Alisteri shifted his feet and gripped the hilt of his weapon with both hands, eyeing up the Darth across from him for another moment before he finally moved forward.

He broke out into a sprint, rushing across the arena as fast as he could to close the distance. He had no idea how, or if, he would win the duel, but he wouldn't be left on the back foot for his opponent. As he neared the other Sith he leapt into the air, swinging his blade in a downward arc to try and sever the other's right arm in one fell swoop.


Krause Zelier

 

[Krause Zelier]

He stayed in his stance, though adjusting to shift his right arm in front of him. He had decided against wearing his lightsaber resistant gauntlets, not wanting to end the match too quickly. He curiously watched as the Acolyte leaped into the air to swing at him. Very bold, but very foolish. He had yet to meet an Acolyte with a death wish such as the Sith before him, but he had power in him, though not used, he had potential.

The Acolytes blade fell down on his right arm as Krause raised it up, but instead of the blade slicing straight through his arm, it halted, running up against it, his molten skin blacking the strike as sparks flew. His skin wasn't lightsaber resistant, but it could survive a few hits without a blade breaking through. Now it's my turn. Seconds after the acolytes hit landed, his fingertips on his left hand sparked with electricity, as it launched off of his fingertips at the acolyte with enough power to knock him to the ground. Krause glanced at his right arm, glad to only see a scorch mark and feeling mild pain. His arm couldn't survive another hit though, but this didn't worry him. Hundreds of years of living would not lead to failure to a puny child.

Darth Strosius

 

[Oran Khan]

Oran spin the lightsaber hilt in his hand as he paced back and forth. His eyes were closed - channeling darkness, finding the strength to utilize the Force. For an Acolyte it was not so much a problem - but for a Yuuzhon Vong Sith such as he, it was problematic. Sure, the few of their species who were Force Sensitive were dangerously so; but the principle strength of being highly resistant to the Force also worked against him. He was hard to channel it within to begin with.​

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Fangs clacked together behind his leathery skin, chitinous bio armor clicked together as he finally clenched his hands and ignited the red saber. It spun, leaving black char marks in its wake on the ground - only for him to look up and expose that wicked smile to her.​

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"A show? A show.", he repeated to her, as though internalizing the message.​

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He lurched forward, shooting a small geyser of sand in his wake. His blade swung wide, but tightened towards his body at the fulcrum of the swing changing not only its angle, but the depth of the cut; making it harder to block. Whether it hit or not - he would spin back around, carefully twisting his heel before he'd done so to add momentum to the attack. Another wide strike - but this one stayed wide and strong.​

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"A show!", he beamed, laughing as the lightsaber strikes of a Dark Side infused Shii-Cho came forward.​

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Darth Tormenta​

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Shii-Cho? Shii-Cho?! Well that wasn't usually the opener in Khamesi's experience. She saw far more Ataru or Juyo among the Sith. She couldn't say it was a bad choice, it was aggressive and balanced, no particular major strengths or weaknesses, though it did have the most storied history of the styles, being the first, at least the first widespread. She could see what the Vong was doing with his first strike, a feint and while a clever one, not a particularly surprising one. It was a simple enough matter to divert it's energy so it glanced off her blade, losing no momentum but sailing past her instead. For the second strike, she brought her lightsaber up, catching it directly with her own blade. Her sheer size and strength, along with the dark side suffusing her being, brought it to a halt. It wasn't a bad strike, and it had been closer than she would have liked. If she let him keep the momentum, the suit she was wrapped up in would let him score a hit, maybe more.

"Quick, aggressive strikes. Shii-Cho, not a favorite of mine, I prefer Vapaad or Jar'kai, but it's a solid style."

As she spoke she disengaged from his blade and brought her blade in at a tight angle, from above down towards his collarbone, did Vong have Collarbones? It was a quick strike to force the Vong back. It was single handed, but with Khamesi's sheer bulk it still had a fair amount of power behind it, but it wasn't the dangerous part. What was far more dangerous was the ice forming on the sand behind the Vong, where she was trying to force him back towards. Ice was a particular favorite of hers, it wasn't as flashy as fire, nor did it have the same kind of...oomph, but it was insidious. Slow, unpredictable, but most of all it was unrelenting. A fire could be extinguished easily, but ice? Ice you had to melt or circumvent, she found it was perfect for controlling the movements of her foe. She didn't expect her first strike to even injure her foe, it was simply there to prepare him for the next. As it stood she still hadn't ignited the other half of the blade either, something that she doubted was lost on Oran or the observers.

Oran Khan

 

[Turranis vulcun]

Turranis watched the two fights take place keeping an eye on those who fought and how they fought noticing that the restraints wherent as much of a weakness to begin with unless that was the point. To give the lesser fighters a better chance but still in their superiors advantage do to combat experience. He doubted they would win but if they where worthy of the sith name they would give a worthy fight nonetheless for show.

Keeping an eye Darth Strosius who had more of an up hill battle then the vong competitor he wondered how much the boy knew he noticed the vong had training or atleast training with shii-cho. He found the vong species interesting for sure do to their bio tech and would like to train him in alchemy to see what he creates but he watched the human male fight seeing how the fight would go.

 

[Oran Khan]

The blade that struck out was caught by his own saber - but the ice that formed under him took his footing. Despite the spikes at the bottom of his feet - the ice had caused enough of an issue with his grip that his foot slid and his hold on her saber faltered. It fell into his shoulder - stopped only by the lightsaber resistant chitin of his shoulder pauldron - held tight between the spikes of his carapace.​

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"Kark you and your style.", he said with a deep seethe.​

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She would find, however, that the pull of his dark side energy was harsh - like sucking out a partially blocked straw. As a Vong, his natural alien nature to the Force made standard Force manipulation techniques difficult. Where his darkness rised, she would only find sand instead of the oasis of strength she hoped to feed on - her strength would have to come from herself more than the opposition this time.​

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He grunted as his free hand moved to grasp her closer hand, pressing it tight to the hilt as his own blade struck out at her knees. Afterall, while they may stop the fight before one dies - what was a little dismemberment than a right of passage for a duelist?​

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Darth Tormenta​

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi smiled as she felt the Vong growing angrier. A source of power it may be, but without control it'd make him more reckless. Even know as he went for her knees she simply extended the second half of her saber so rather than having to wrench her hand free, she simply had to twist and bring the second blade down to block the strike. The suit slowed her down just enough that his strike forced her own blade into her skin, but she had been prepared for this. While the smell of burnt fur and skin entered the air, it was barely a flesh wound as she used Energy Resistance to negate the majority of the damage. She followed this up with a move that many may find surprising, if they didn't know Khamesi herself. She brought her foot up in a straightforward but powerful snap kick, aiming for the Vong's thigh. There was a palpable sense of danger in the air as the power of the force flowed through her and into the kick, enhancing the power and speed behind it significantly. It wasn't unblockable or undodgeable, but with the slippery footing beneath him the Vong would have have some choices to make on how to do so.

At the same time she pulled her hand and saber free, bringing both blades to the ready to try and counter any incoming strikes, baring her fangs as the battle was hitting it's stride. If this Apprentice thought he could dismemeber her with a single strike, he was sorely mistaken. It would taken multiple, and she was only getting started. A quiet laugh of enjoyment more than anything else escaped her lips. She was no fool, if she got to arrogant than even a Master could be brought down by an Acolyte, though admittedly it was rare. She shifted her grip on her saber, moving away from finesse and more to raw power. It was still a balance, but her next strikes would be even heavier than the last.

"My my my, you overestimate yourself, or underestimate me. Was that strike supposed to take my entire leg?"

Oran Khan

 

[Oran Khan]

The twisting, the strikes - it was not lost on Oran; but he tended to tank hits than dodge them. The leg flung out, snapped into his thigh and nearly buckled his leg. It did, at the very least, cause a noticable crack to form in the bio carapace surrounding the far softer muscle beneath; but his grip was not so easily broken by it. From his now lower position, he let the strength of his opposite leg force him upwards.​

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She would be met by only his head - and the crowning horns that came with it. They dripped with poison, enough to slow her down more - enough to weaken her to his level; but the rest of her gambit would find weight. He'd seperate, they'd be only a few meters apart now - and his jaw was clenched tight with fury.​

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"It was supposed to shut that maw of yours, cow.", he said with a grimace.​

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He swung his blade back and forth across the ground again, leaving dark striations in its wake. His free hand writhed, closing and opening over and over as he considered how to close the gap between them. Without any real opening he could see - he choice the most straightforward option. Charge her, stab straight at her core - back it up with the full weight of his shoulder. Sure, there were counters; but a man like Oran would figure that out when he came to it.​

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Darth Tormenta​

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi wasn't surprised when his head came up to meet her jaw, it wasn't an uncommon move among those shorter than her. She knew that many Vong had poison coating their claws and horns, so as he backed off, she brought her own saber to the cuts his horn had left, burning the majority of the poison away before it could infect her. Sure it hurt, but pain was another source of strength, and she doubted he was expecting this from her.

"Cow? My little Vong, few have called me that or worse and walked away without losing a limb."


Her grin turned wicked, even as it hurt to speak. Before she was just having fun, now...now she wanted to teach this brat a lesson, and so she did something that may startle him. She did not bring her blade up to deflect his attack. Instead she stepped inside the strike, using the palm of one hand to knock it to the side so it missed her ribs, if narrowly, while the crook of her elbow flashed out in a quick jab. This wasn't just a simple kick like before, now she was tapping into what was her truest weapon, her body itself. She was a master of Teräs Käsi, and like other masters she could shatter battle-armor with her bare hands, without the force. She focused her anger, the power of the darkside, into Energy Negation, and her eyes became focused, searching the Vong's carapace for a single weakpoint she could exploit. That was not where her elbow was aimed though, that was going for where the arm and shoulder joined. Armored by his carapace sure, but weaker to allow movement, and now his hide would have to deal with the focused devastating strikes of a style renowned for it's ability to bypass armor and counter force users alike.

"Now boy, let us see how handle yourself with your back to the wall."

Metaphorically, for now.

Oran Khan

 

[Oran Khan]

Oran wasn't a master of Teras Kasi - nor was he ultimately the best at lightsaber combat, or even skill with the Force. Much of his acolyte career was founded on taking hits and still moving forward - and she would find that all the more why he kept moving. A strike to the shoulder to snap bone did what it had to, breaking the carapace and leaving his bare skin exposed beneath. It bruised instantly - showing her strength - and the bone beneath was most certainly shattered; but it would mean little.​

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The biot beneath his skin jammed bio-metal barbs through the bone and restructured them instantly. The pain was not only immediate, but flooded his vision as he howled in pain; driving his own strength to great levels. His free hand shot out a poisoned spike, and his fist ripped through the air directly towards her ribs; to breach a lung, to puncture an organ, to drop her where she stood.​

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His lightsaber followed suit from the other direction, twisted quickly in his hand for a downward spike into her shoulder.​

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"Karking die!", he yelled, and the crowd that watched them cheered in time with both their strikes.​

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Darth Tormenta​

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi, for the first time since the fight began, backed away from the enraged Vong. Her focus was more on his spike than his saber, so she moved at an angle away from the incoming fist. Her saber moved to deflect his blade, but it just meant that instead of stabbing her it grazed down her side, charring skin and some muscle despite her Energy Resistance. That was what happened when it had prolonged contact, she would not get away from that meeting unscathed, but it provided her an opening. She twirled her dualsabre, giving up on trying to find a shatterpoint in the Vong's carapace for the time being. Her typical methods seemed enough to breach it, so it was just wasted energy. Instead she came in fast and hard, feinting with one blade before reversing it's direction and bringing the second down towards the Vong's cracked carapace on his leg.

Her eyes flashed dangerously with power as she channeled the pain in her side into the black gashes the Vong had left in the sand, grabbing the still molten glass that had formed with it and yanking it in from behind him. She already knew what she wanted to do after this, but it was a matter of how Oran responded it. Even through the pain and the Vong trying plainly to kill her, the grin plastered on her face grew no less wicked. She was still enjoying herself, but she wasn't prolonging things. She just needed one opening, and she could end this fight, as her elbow had proven to her.

"Boy, I'm not so easy to kill, much stronger have tried and failed."

Her master came to mind, old codger's body had probably drifted into the atmosphere by now, burned up on entry. That was not a particularly fond memory, but it hardened Khamesi. She had survived a Lord trying to kill her, if only barely, this apprentice would not come close. What's more, she saw no reason to keep any scars from this fight yet, so it was unlikely even that would mark their encounter for long.

Oran Khan

 

[Hrakon Kla]

“Who is worthy of my cause.” He spoke, though no one could hear him. He was a ghost, a spirit, he was madness himself. I need a host! Hrakon Kla was unknown to most, but he was known for his power throughout his eventful life. He had begun the study of moving the soul into a new body, being immortal in a way. His studies, though, were stolen when he died. Assassinated by Sith, whom he had yet to find who they served. His power was diminished as a ghost, though he was a unique case, not quite a force ghost, not quite living. He drifted over the crowds that had gathered to watch the arena fights. Again he scanned the crowd, spotting the matches taking place with interest and curiosity. He was cautious of drifting too near to those close to the Emperor. They were powerful, and Hrakon wasn't going to risk accidentally being seen, though he was drifting over the crowd...[/div[

 

[Oran Khan]

The blade cut what remained of his carapace - tearing it away and leaving a deep gash in his regular skin. The molten glass his his armored spine - and it forced him to holler in pain. Despite all of this, he continued his march forward - his eyes flaring with golden hatred as he launched his long handled saber like a javelin directly at her. It was quick and powerful - suprisingly accurate given his rage.​

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But what was more than that was what came after. Whether it landed or not - he was immediately behind it. Flying through the air, both feet extended forward, the Vong was screaming like a rabid beast as he sought to put his entire weight and being into a drop kick that would shatter bone beneath his spiked boots. What she faced was his entire weight - backed by the protect and amplification of the Force.​

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Any words he seemed to say were lost to her - either in his native tongue or simple emotional spits so dwindled by the rage that consumed him it didn't matter.​

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Darth Tormenta​

 

[Darth Strosius]

The moment of pride and relief when his blade struck his opponent was quickly replaced by surprise and frustration as his lightsaber merely damaged the arm rather than cutting through it. Well that complicates matters. He did his best to suppress a growl of anger, instead focusing on twisting in the air so that he would land behind his opponent with his lightsaber at the ready. By the time he got over the other Sith however, the lightning struck.

Without time, or knowledge of how, to deflect the lightning the Acolyte took the bolts full force into his chest. Rather than landing on his feet, he was instead thrown back by the lightning and hit the ground a bit farther back from the Darth than he had intended. A fresh scorch mark adorned his clothing, right across his chest, as he groaned in pain and moved to pull himself to his feet. So that's what it feels like. It fething hurts. One of his hands went up to press against the sight of the strike while the other tightened around his weapon as he struggled back onto his feet.

He was a bit winded and wounded, but he had no intent of submitting. "That the best you can do?"

Krause Zelier