Election Night Party (Fringe+Kiskla)

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer walked up to @[member="Penumbra"] and flicked the boy's nose. Frowning, she knew they didn't need to involve themselves in this matter.

"Stop it and hush. Just watch no need to make a show of things there already enough of one here."

 

[Matreya]

Intent on staying for the remainder of the battle between master and creation...or was that Master and Knight...

"I need a drink." Zaiden murmured as he used the Force to see through his Shadows eyes. Quickly moving back inside and down to where the Vaapad Lessons were he used a telekinetic grip to lighttly carry the drink back outside and up into the rain where he grabbed it's floating frothiness.

Taking a deep pull from the glass he arched a brow, Ashin knew how to make a drink. Kark. He would never be as good as her.

"Damn Ashin being to much.." he grumbled at Spencer.
( )

 

[Onrai]

It was... Not fun to say the least. The robes Circe had worn were torn as her bulk inordinately shifted, her body corrupted by the spell as it grew bulkier, every motion more painful and difficult to make. Her head still looked normal, though her hair seemed to devolve into leaves, a flower forming over her right ear, but her body had become a twisted mass of thorns, unnecessary vines, and other corrupted biomass. But as she saw Rave go flying, she reached down and, accidentally hurting herself with the thorns grown from her body, picked up the blowdart tube, placing it to her lips. And as she saw Rave's head become visible, looking directly at her, she turned and fired it...

At Rave's face. She simply did not have the nature ruthless enough to aim the blowdart right into her eyes, which certainly would've caused her massive trauma and pain, possibly harming the brain and leading to death. Killing Rave, someone who could likely be her creator, and who she had many questions for, was almost a form of matricide. And if Emperors and other persons had not committed such a disgusting act, neither would she, even if Rave wasn't her real mother.

Oh how she wondered what her mother would think about her current situation...

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]

Aiming a blowdart with that kind of precision - face versus eye - was a difficult thing to do against a moving target. The dart sliced into Rave's cheek just below her eye. A familiar burn flooded her system: Sith poison.

The Fringe's most skilled biological alchemist, an expert in Sith poison, had been infected by this stuff many, many times. Her own specialized poison-detoxification regimen began, to compliment her acquired immunity, and she kept coming. The dart fell away. However, her focus required that she couldn't use the Force at range, not at this moment.

Thunder cracked overhead, and rain sluiced down in an instant, plastering her hair to her skull and washing her knife-blades clean of the white-blight larvae. She kept coming, though, aiming for melee range.

 

[Onrai]

Circe's newfound bulk, and the pain she experienced from it, would hopefully be dealt with soon. Surgery would be needed - or she could simply use her lightsaber on herself. But no, not now... A frustrated growl his her face as she focused with much more energy this time towards the witch. It was a more powerful Force Push than either of the two that preceded it, but whether it would send Rave flying past the point of grabbing the ledge, she didn't know.

Besides, she could survive it, right? Circe didn't want to kill her creator, or even seriously injure her - though she would do the latter if it became absolutely necessary. A frown hit her face as she realized that neither woman would be coming out of this fight the same woman they had been when they stood across from one another in the citadel.

Or when they had sat across one another in a hot tub.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]

Fool me once, shame on you. Full me twice, shame on me. Fool me a third time, and I'd have to have the brainpower of an exogorth or a Jedi Councilor to fall for it.

Circe's third Force push met empty air as Rave employed Sokan to her advantage, leaping high above the shockwave. She came down just outside blade range, and promptly remedied that with a quick step forward and to the right. Her goal was to slam her left knife into Circe's neck point-first while slashing the right across the knuckles of Circe's saber hand.

 

[Onrai]

Well, she did get a hit in. Circe's saber managed to deflect the right knife, keeping her knuckles intact and making sure the saber didn't leave her fingerless hand. On the other side, however, she wasn't so lucky. Her neck was not cut by the alchemized blades, but her left arm was. A deep gouge from the weapon went through her flesh, and she cried out in pain at the woman who was so close to her. Physically close, that was. The two had never really been close friends. But still the hand on her impaled arm clenched violently in a fist as she focused on ignoring the pain.

Raising a thorn-covered leg and foot up, she leaned back, using what little of her unnatural plant flexibility remained to send her right leg - and as proxy, her prickle-covered foot - towards Rave's exposed face. Hopefully, the needling of cactus-like prongs into the woman's flesh would get her to back off. Circe couldn't afford to spend the time healing right now - when Rave was more worn down, sure, but not at the moment. She had to formulate what she was going to do next.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]'s right foot came up and around towards Rave's left side, and toward the upraised arm that had just sunk its knife into Circe's left shoulder. Rave shrugged up her own Iron Skin-clad shoulder and brought up her arm a little higher to intercept the kick.

It still fething hurt. The Iron Skin was great against piercing damage, but her upper left arm was quickly becoming one large bruise, and Circe's pile-driving foot slipped off the armorweave to tear into Rave's already-bloody face beneath the eye. Through gritted teeth, she began chanting Revitalization of the Whuffa, and ripped the serrated blade out of Circe's shoulder-

-just as she brought up her right knife, which was pretty much in perfect position, and thrust the blade up at the underside of Circe's leg. Distance to travel? About six inches.

 

[Onrai]

Well , the good news was that Rave's right knife didn't go all the way through her leg. The bad news was, it still went very far through, however, and the wound wasn't really helping Circe out. She grimaced in pain once again, the suffering only fueling her more as she decided to make her move.

Passing her lightsaber to her other hand, the perforated arm barely able to respond and grab it, she took her right hand and shoved it towards the woman's face, whatever strength she had manifesting itself as Force Lightning aimed directly at the witch's face.

Distance: Erm... A foot? Two, maybe? Not totally sure.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

It was, once more, time for Rave Merrill to take a serious hit. Master-level lightning, at that range, without a lightsabre -- that was not a thing she could deal with.

Except by holding onto the knife that was stuck in Circe's descending leg. Her ongoing Revitalization of the Whuffa staved off the worst of the damage and lent her the clarity of thought to hold on as needed.

So as the lightning slammed her back to the aroma of burnt hair and scorched flesh, powerful ringing in her ears, and an immense purple blob in her eyesight, her knife twisted inside Circe's boneless leg and sliced towards Rave. It couldn't not -- Rave had just taken Master-level lightning to the face, and she was going flying for the third time, and that knife was coming along for the ride.

There was, however, a minor chance she was taking a chunk of Circe's leg with her.
@[member="Circe Savan"]

 

[Onrai]

A chunk? No. Causing the wound in her leg to get a lot worse than it was a few seconds ago? Absolutely. Sap poured from the wound at a critical rate, and Circe would likely need a transfusion of sap in order to survive post-battle. Or she would fall into stasis, at which point she would be at Rave's mercy. It was a wonder Circe was still able to stand. "Rave... When this is over... I'm going to fix what I did to your face."

The massive blast of lightning to the woman was enough for Circe to begin her own recomposure, and as she focused, the wound in her leg became as less severe as she could make it. Enough so that she wouldn't 'to go into shock from lack of sap, but not enough to keep her alive for that much longer after this. And with what resolve Circe had, she focused again, sending another Force Push towards the woman. But this time, she did do while on one knee, as though she was performing an Egyptian dance or something silly like that. The result would be that the push, intended to nail her and send her over the edge, would, if it contacted, likely send her somewhat up in the air as well, with a sort of uppercut-like effect.

All the while, Circe resisted the urge to check her wounds with her spell-sharpened fingers. That would only hurt more.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]'s uppercut of a Force push sent the battered, lightning'ed girl flying -- but this time, her arc flattened, her tumble stalled, and her feet skidded back to the very edge of the building as the Sokan practitioner got a handle on the situation.

And she took off running. Limping, certainly, bruised pretty severely, but running nonetheless. A zigzag course on the balls of her feet, across the roof, aiming to close to short range again. Her right arm, the only one that could move genuinely well, flicked out, and a Derriphan's Eye shot from her hand with Force-enhanced speed, aiming to pierce Circe's gut or clatter harmlessly against a sloped portion of the roof, away from the combat arena. She switched her left hand's weapon to the right as she tried to close to melee distance and lock blades with the Master.

 

[Kitt Solo]

@[member="Faenrovon The Radiant"] @[member="Sargon Vynea"] @[member="Mikhail Shorn"] @[member="Hannibal Oryen"]

Leaning against the wall, she munched on the plate of cake she swiped earlier – earlier than when all kark broke loose with something the wonderfully sexy mirage of Shorn managed to pull off.

The hot bastard.

Myrtle-ellipses drifted lazily across the fighting and mayhem, catching a glimpse of Hannibal across the room. Pushing off the wall, she sauntered toward her mentor. She made two stops along the way. First, she pushed her nibbled piece of cake beneath the dragon’s nose without any hesitation of shyness or self-preservation.

“Hey Mister Radiant. You almost caused me to fall over 5 miles to my death during a training session. Probably don’t remember me, but name’s Kitt Solo. I saved you some cake – free of charge buddy.” With a wink, she maintained a small bite of cake on the fork as she left the full plate on the floor beneath the dragon’s snout.

Stop number two.

Nodding to Sargon, she maneuvered the piece of cake on the dainty-fork through the air and right up to Shorn’s hologram-whatever lips. “Mmmm, bet you wish you could taste this, sweetpie. Too bad.” She poked it through his cheek before bringing it up to her mouth for final consumption. “Ballsy of you to be so close to here to pull that little trick off with myself and the next finest bounty hunter in the room.” Chin tipped to Hannibal.

“Watch your sexy back, darlin.” With a second wink of the night, she continued on to take a seat next to Hannibal, setting the empty fork on the counter. “Who you bettin’ on?” The Southern Corellian accent was laid on thick.

 

[Onrai]

The blade... Struck squarely in Circe's abdomen. Not very deep, as there was a significant amount of fabric from her loose robes that it had to go through, but deep enough to make yet another wound on her body. But she couldn't let that pain harm her yet - and with her right hand, pulled the blade from her abdominal region.

With her lightsaber, held by her wounded left arm, she clashed with the woman's right hand, and as she pressured against Rave, she took her right arm, blade in her hand, and thrusted it as hard towards Rave's gut as she could. If she managed to impale the woman, she would pull the blade up, attempting to rip a very large wound into Rave with her own dagger.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]

Rave's bruised left arm wasn't quite fast enough to get over there, and it was an awkward angle for an arm block anyway. She turned to the right, flinching away, and the dagger which Circe had taken skidded along her armorweave sleeve.

And bit through. She'd made these knives a little too good, it seemed, and now she had a decent and very painful cut on her left forearm to show for it -- as if that knife hadn't taken enough trauma. The stab had carried on to rest against her right side, just for an instant.

She drew her left hand back in that instant, just enough to grab Circe's wrist and trap the flat against her side, then screamed as she pushed back on the bladelock.

It was no ordinary scream.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member="Kitt Solo"]

"The one without th' branch stuck up 'er ass, obviously." Hannibal replied, nursing another Vapaad Lesson. He was probably going to kill himself on these things.

The bar television was now broadcasting live footage of Rave Merrill and Circe Savan duking it out on the circular roof of a presumably circular building. A few other people were crowded about the bar observing the clash of titan and plant. Both of them were taking a beating, but Hannibal was pretty sure Rave would come out on top. If she didn't, it was a short trip to his landspeeder to get his gear together. Goddamn plant people.

Hannibal was trying to ignore the fact that Kitt had essentially strolled up to two of the scariest people in the room and chatted them up on her way over here. The fact that one of them was a giant dragon and the other a pretty boy with a perpetual sneer seemed a little strange in retrospect, but that was how it went. Dragons and telekinetically deified pretty boys were sometimes all it took to inspire fear in the mortal men of the galaxy.

"Please tells me ya not still tryin'a collect on Shorn still." Hannibal said, putting his drink back down and ignoring the outrageous scream that just came out of the viewscreen.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Lucien had been watching the duel with some interest both sides where fighting well. A servant had since joined Lucien holding an umbrella over him to shelter Lucien from the rain, the servant however was quite wet. Lucien was slowly draining a glass of fine and was lazily holding said glass out in front of him. Then an ungodly scream erupted through the air the glass shattered in his hand and Lucien was sent reeling onto the wet floor. His ears rang and blood trickled from his nose. "Kark that hurt" Lucien exclaimed Pulling himself up. The servant also got up. Lucien turned to him "Don't stand their looking stupid go fetch something for my hand and wine" He snatched the umbrella blood pouring from the ribbons slashed across his hand when the glass smashed.

 

[Onrai]

There was a distinct loud ringing in her ear as the loud, witch-enhanced scream went towards her ears. For the moment, she heard nothing as she was briefly shocked by the sound, but recovered somewhat quickly. While Rave would have been able to prevent Circe from twisting her wrist ninety degrees and causing the blade's long edge to likely strike her once again if she had bones in her wrist, the dexterity of having no bones again allowed her to likely make a strike.

Either way, she would drop the dagger and pull her arm away, reciting a short and simple spell as a sphere of the hatred she felt - oddly enough, not towards Rave - formed, sent towards Rave's vulnerable area - her face.

"Sutta Chwituskak!"

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Rusken Shaxx]

Zius walked into the bar with his visor up and blackened trench coat draped around the shoulders of his exoskeleton armour. His eye catching the television first, slightly intrigued by the brawl taking place, smirking a bit. He walked over to the bar, said coat covered most of his features and made it difficult to know what was on his person at a glance. He took his spot next to @[member="Alen Na'Varro"] with a brief nod as his visor split apart, revealing a head full of long white hair and a metallic jaw. One eye would be covered by a blackened strip of cloth wrapped around his head, and the other glowing dark red, possibly a transplant. Not bothering to really associate with someone unless they deigned it appropriate to speak to him first, he glued his eyes to the screen, continuing to observe the fight.

 

[Velok the Younger]

Rave grunted as the knive sliced her armorweave and inflicted a shallow cut beneath the ribs on her right side, but her traumatized left hand, bolstered by Revitalization of the Whuffa, snatched the falling knife out of the air.

@[member="Circe Savan"]'s ability to conjure a Sith magic manifestation of that calibre was impressive, given the sonic bomb that had just been dropped in her face. Rave grunted and slammed her rightmost Derriphan's Eye into the path of the blast. Sith Magic met a near-masterwork product of Sith alchemy, and the long, serrated, nigh-indestructible blade shattered -- the cost of deflecting the blast.

Her motion broke the blade lock, and as Circe's lightsabre now had the chance to push toward her, she slipped in very low and to the left. Circe's sabre hissed over her head, cutting hair free. Her left arm hooked out and in again around Circe's waist, attempting to punch the long knife into small of the Vinithi's back and sever the cable of fibers that served Circe's plant form as a spinal column. Conscious that her back was exposed to the lightsabre, she attempted to make the most of the moment with an attempt to jam her broken, half-melted right blade into the meat of Circe's forward thigh.