Count to Ten

[Adriana Fortemps]

Bastion, Sparring Pits​

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[member="Mordecai Zambrano"]​

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"Fourty-nine.... Fifty."

Sweat dripped off of bridge of the Echani's nose as she raised herself from the ground once more, her muscles beginning to fully wake themselves up as she finished the last of her warm-up sets. Her heart beginning to race told Jorryn that she would be ready for whoever would come out to face her right now.

The sparring pits would often hold competitive days where different swordsmen and martial artists would arrive in order to test themselves against mystery opponents, an old tradition that Jorryn had only recently been a part of. Traditionally the silver-haired Sith would just spar against her other half, someone she could rely on to not messy up her delicate features. Unfortunately for the Echani the Valkyries had been called away on missions constantly these months, leaving the girl to find ways to hone her skills outside of the comfort of practicing with Vaylin.

It had however, giving the Inquisitor a far more realistic and intense was to train.

Many of the competitors that came to these sparring pits weren't looking for a mutually beneficial training session and instead didn't hold back anything they had trying to win. It was a realistic fighting experience that she could use and bring out to the field of battle if she ever needed, her faith in her Echani sport growing stronger as she managed to get wins out. She was hardly undefeated, but still the Echani won more than most would expect a girl of her size to.

Jorryn brushed her bare foot against the canvas mat underneath her, dragging it along lackadaisically. A pre-fight meditation of sorts, readying her mind for whatever figure would come out. A deceivingly calm gaze glaring at the entrance to the room.

 

[Mordecai Zambrano]

"You cheater! You used the Force!" Came the accusation, framed with a wry smile.

The man beneath the bench press heaved a sigh of relief as he racked the bar, returning the smile. "I did not, Staff Sergeant Beck. You know how I am. Magic and wizardry won't always be able to save me, nor will it anyone else. Flesh and blood is all I got."

The Imperial soldier nodded his head, incredulous look still on his face. The man simply placed his hands on his hips, just taking a moment to guffaw at the rack of plates on each side of the bar. Mordecai dismissed him with the wave of a hand, not wanting any attention Beck was willing to offer.

"Pick your jaw up on the floor, trooper," he grinned, "Help me put this mess up. Unless you want another go. I don't mind spotting for you."

Staff Sergeant Beck shook his head. "No thanks, Lord Zambrano. Been here for almost two hours already and I've gotta run home to grab the kids and get dinner. Wife is out of town for the week, so I guess we're eating take-out for a few days." Then he dutifully began pulling plates from the bar, returning them to their neat slots on the rack below.

The Sith Lord nodded knowingly. Taking care of his body and spending a little time with the boys from the front was his favorite past time, save for startling local police when he took Rhaegos out for a walk. These troopers always had the freshest intel on everything that was happening around the empire. Be it raunchy stories of their nights out at town, solemn stories of the frontlines, or simply the menial occurrences of barracks life.

"I feel that, I've got an appointment myself."

Beck turned away to re-seat the last plate in its storage shelf. "Oh yeah, with who? Carly?" A suggestive undertone inquired humorously.

"Nah, it's fight night!" Mordecai exclaimed, as if he were deeply disappointed his friend didn't know about it. "You know, where interested individuals get to pair up with whoever they want and duke it out for a bit. Usually friendly matches with pads and gloves, but I've heard," he glanced around and lowered his voice, "From reliable sources that there's a few betting matches as well. Under the table cash, as long as you're willing to face a broken arm or bloody nose."

Staff Sergeant Beck snorted in amusement. "Well, Lord Zambrano, I may just have to let the boys in my platoon know about that. Emperor knows what stuff they get up to when they're bored and off-duty."

"Trust me I know. I've read the reports." Mordecai chuckled. "Who does that with a hair dryer anyways?"

"I have no idea!" Beck bent over in raucous laughter. "But I'll catch you later, sir, best be headin' home."

The pair shook hands firmly. "Take care, Staff Sergeant."

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With fresh clothes on, Mordecai practically walked on air. It was one thing to participate in Fight Night, and another to show up completely drenched in sweat. He understood in the middle of a match, but trying to start a grappling battle with a sweaty mouth-breather was as unpleasant as it sounded. The Sith Lord's competition as of late had been rather sparse sadly enough. All of his favorite Stormtroopers and other personnel were being re-deployed to the front, with new faces replacing them here at home.

He tossed his bag over his shoulder as he finally neared one of the sparring rooms. Most were fairly private affairs, but every single one of them had enough room for a little audience. The majority of his were simple one-on-ones. He liked that.

Mordecai toggled the activation rune for the sliding door, striding in with impunity. A casual, wayward glance was all he would offer his opponent for the moment. He dumped his bag on the floor, kneeling to rummage through it.

His back was towards her. "Gloves or no? I don't usually spar with women, so I'd love to spare you from a few bruises."

[member="Jorryn Fordyce"]

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

It didn't take long before a figure poured their way into the room, the Echani's gaze lapsing into something akin to shock as she noted the size of the man that entered. She had fought behemoth's before, but truth be told it had never been her favourite experience. But as her master taught her, through strife there is always a lesson.

An amber gaze followed the man as he dropped his gym bag and began rifling through it, something vaguely familiar about the man she was about to fight.

Perhaps a fellow Sith from the academy...

Her inquisitive train of thought interrupted by the man as he gave her the question, a more congenial attitude than most of the fighters that came to these pits. It was a bit disarming to Jorryn.

"Polite of you to be concerned, darling." A cocky tone trying to make it's way into her voice, but the natural inquisitiveness she held in her voice when presented with something strange blocking it. "I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't mark me up, but unfortunately I don't think I'll be returning the favour."

White wrappings were already tied tightly around her fists, slamming one hand into her other palm as a sort of intimidation. Unfortunately for the Inquisitor, she hardly had the most intimidating figure. Displays such as this were often met with responses such as "Cute", but at least it made it much more satisfying to lay out her opponents when they took her lightly.

[member="Mordecai Zambrano"]

 

[Mordecai Zambrano]

Mordecai shrugged absentmindedly the feminine voice reached his ears. Gloves it was then. His rummaging came to a halt as he finally found them, snugly fitting the fingerless training gloves to himself. One quick flex to ensure they were on properly and then the Sith Lord rose to his full height. When he turned to face his opponent, she was busily donning handwraps as well, enough to not break his flesh with her knuckles as well. How delightfully charming and polite, he thought.

The man bowed his head in silent thanks at the gesture. Carly hated him coming home with bruises and cuts anyways. Being married to a nurse was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing that her doting was adorable and affectionate, and a curse in the fact that she liked to inspect his body before cleaning each and every open wound. It always stung, a lot.

"Ground rules?" Mordecai inquired, slowly stepping his way into the ring as he stretched his arms. "I'm a huge fan of no shots below the belt, and that's it. Elbows and knees allowed. No teeth or hair pulling either, please, I rather like my beard." The Sith Lord grinned as he absentmindedly ran a hand across his jawline.

After a few more moments of working tiny kinks out of his muscles, he was ready. His hands raised in a rather lax defensive posture: knees bent slightly, body poised forward, hands in their natural position, heels of his feet off the floor. No need to switch to southpaw just yet.

"Ready whenever you are."

[member="Jorryn Fordyce"]

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

Again, the Echani was taken a bit aback when the figure began to place gloves over his hands. She was unsure whether to be insulted at the gesture that he would use proper gloves while she wrapped her hands, or satisfied with the fact that she didn't have to deal with every hit bruising her. Instead Jorryn just began chewing her lip as she tried to figure out what the mystery figures deal was.

Maybe he is just here for a proper spar.

Her amber eyes widened with confusion more obviously when he politely bowed towards her as she finished wrapping her hands, the bands were there fare more for her sake then it was for his. If he was either too congenial or taking her far too lightly, she would make him regret that. But the calmness in his actions and words, threw the Echani for a loop.

She listened intently as he listed off the rules, a simple legitimate bout. Maybe a tad more hard hitting than a simple spar due to the use of joints, but that's why the Echani came here. Jorryn watched as he took his lax defensive position, her brow furrowing with frustration and she watched him take a neutral stance.

"If you wish to take me lightly, then don't make excuses when you're kissing the mat."

The lithe figure shot forward quickly, not returning the calm attitude that the man offered her. She didn't take long to close the gap, swinging her right leg out towards his knee. Aiming for his joints was realistically the best way for Jorryn to take him down, save for wearing him out.

But the Inquisitor didn't feel like dragging this out, and she wanted to take out this annoyance she felt.

[member="Mordecai Zambrano"]

 

[Mordecai Zambrano]

He smiled. She took the bait.

Every one of them did that. Act nonchalant, like this is just another day and walk in with a lax posture; they always strike first. Perhaps it really was just another fight night, where he usually dropped an overzealous legionnaire on the mat within minutes. Maybe it wouldn't be, but who knows? He sure as hell didn't.

Mordecai had been waiting for the first move. Hers came in the form of a low kick, sharply veering towards his kneecaps. An awfully strange and hasty move on her part - what if he broke his knee?? The Sith Lord stepped into the kick rather that away, sending his body forward crashing forward into hers. The woman's foot made contact with him, but it was definitely not on his knee. A dull smack rang out and an ache seared through his thigh, but at least it was meat instead of joint.

The man heaved a grunt as he immediately made a lunge into her. One hand snaked downwards to catch the thigh of her kicking leg whilst the other rose to meet her shoulder. And then came the move for a clean throw. A leg moved to sweep her last one meeting the ground, his hip came forward to meet hers, and all it took was motion and the force of gravity.

[member="Jorryn Fordyce"]

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

The smile the hulking figure told Jorryn all she needed to know.

She had karked up.

It became more clear that the thought was the truth as a massive hand clamped down on her thigh, she could already tell by the force of his hand that breaking his grip would not be easy. A second palm came down to grasp her on the shoulder, putting the Echani fully into his grasp. It wasn't long after that she could feel herself being dragged, his long leg coming to sweep up one of her last free limbs.

The mat would hurt, that' the knight knew from experience. It was something that she wanted to avoid, especially by someone as physically powerful as this man.

But what she lacked in power over this giant, she might make up for in nimbleness. It would be a risky play, potentially putting herself completely in [member="Mordecai Zambrano"]'s grasp. Still, trying something was always better than getting slammed into the floor. The same hand on the arm that had been grasped grappled the man's wrist in return, using it to hold herself and readying to wrench it off if able.

The Inquisitor shot her last free leg up, the range of motion still heavily limited by the Epicanthix's grasp on her thigh. Fortunately for Jorryn, it would also hold her in place so that she didn't have to worry about the distance. The foot drove forward, looking for the flesh covering his lower ribs. She wasn't sure if the gamble would work, but hopefully it would at least loosen the bear mitts he held her with.

If it worked, she could try to get herself out of the grasp. If not...

She didn't want to think of the consequences