Galactic Tournament: Ghorua The Shark vs Ebon

[Sirak Kolar]

The soft whur of the starship filled the silence of the ship’s arena, hidden deep in her durasteel belly. Mere hours before, each contestant was blind folded and taken not only aboard the ship, but into the room itself.

The stands near them were all black, not a person in sight, but the more force sensitive of the bunch may feel a presence, over-watching the fight with sinister intent, while others may feel the energy dampening fields around the arena to ensure a safe battle. Above them, a small cube with four screens, one on each of it’s faces, each lit up with nothing more than a quiet buzz.

The arena itself seemed to have a downward slope to it’s center floor, various blockades made of durasteel erected for cover dotting it’s contrasting elevations. At the arena’s edges, stood a tall energy barrier that could only be disabled from the outside.

Suddenly, a pre-recorded voice, masked by a simple changer, would erupt from the loudspeakers;

“Congratulations, Gladiators! Today, the fight between [member="Ghorua The Shark"] and [member="Ebon"] shall take place. When the screen counts to 0, you may begin.”

And as the voice went quiet, the static of the screens was replaced by harsh digital numbers, starting at 10.

Another moment would pass, and 9 replaced it.

8…

7…
6...

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

LOCATION: ???
EQUIPMENT: IN BIO (minus the Massiff)
CURRENT MOOD: ANTSY

Black, pitiless eyes surveyed the surroundings, taking in possible strategies and dirty maneuvers. The arena felt a lot like home to Ghorua. He had never been a gladiator, or a pit fighter, but his surroundings reminded him of his many games of Dejarik. The board was set. The pieces are in place. His mind was prepared. This battle will require strategy and brute force. Two very different things, which most men would chalk up to being opposites, but when applied in tandem are a force to be reckoned with.

Ghorua the Shark was a monster by all definitions. 10'5'', plated in his Koodan-Class armor, standing tall and proud like a sentinel. A bandolier snaked it's way around his waist, holding various grenades, his two pistols, his rotary blaster cannon, and his saberstaff. He stared across the arena, dark eyes hidden by his helmet. He knew his opponent. They had worked together in the past, and Ghorua knew of his prowess in battle, as well as a few of his tricks. Ghorua had been meditating. Quite the strange past-time for one obsessed with war, but it sharpens the mind, and may have given him the edge. Or it could've been pointless. Who knows?

The monster that was Ghorua looked to [member="Ebon"], and grinned. He felt exhilarated, terrified, and enraged all at the same time. But he respected his opponent. "Good luck, Zabrak. You're gonna need it!" He chuckled under his mask, then pulled out Trident. The saberstaff activated with a powerful zapping sound. His other hand hovered over his bandolier, debating what to pull from his bag of tricks.

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Location: ???
Equipment: Bio
Current Mood: Serene

Ebon’s sat in a quiet meditation, either hand resting on the worn lightsaber in his lap. His eye’s quietly opened as the announcer began the countdown, watching the giant with little more than a quiet regard to their temporary alliance long ago. Curiously, the whale seemed bigger than before. Odd.

In one fluid motion, Ebon moved to stand on his feet, a single edge of his massive saber igniting in preparation for the soon to come fight. Standing nearly seven feet tall, he was still dwarfed by his opponent, and was easily outmatched in one of his most powerful categories;

Strength.

Despite this, he knew he could outdo the massive goliath in one particular region, something even Sargon himself seemed to amplify in the primeval warlord;

Speed.

Ebon’s serrated teeth began their intimidating ritual, grinding against eachother as anger grew inside him. He felt the vibrations of the giant’s words to him, but whatever they were he didn’t care to listen for, only hate filling his vision.

Amber gilded eye’s watched through whatever dark visor the Shark had, Ebon’s own breathe increasing in anticipation for combat, his muscles tense as the single-edge blade seemed to stir in painful patience.

3…

2…

1…

And his footing broke loose in a rampage of destruction. His rear footing, where his weight lay, dented the ground as it had before the republic base’s assault months prior, either hand wrapped around his lightsaber as a pike. His speed was unnatural, enhanced by the force, his power arguably on par with the whale himself.

It seemed that Ebon struck for a quick victory, his blade rushing through the air for the whale’s heart, backed by the nearly 300 pound package behind it.

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua had expected power. He expected speed. He expected explosive ferocity from the Zabrak Sith. Which prepared him slightly for what was to come. But even with all this in mind, he couldn't have prepared himself for Ebon's bull-rush. Thankfully, Ghorua didn't have to prepare for anything.

The geneticist that had worked on Ghorua, Grudge, hadn't only enhanced his Herglic strength. Ghorua had super-tough skin, bones the strength of Durasteel, and rows of long, sharp teeth. What had come in the most handy to him, however, was his genetically modified reflexes, which immediately took over.

Much faster than the colossus had any right moving, Trident's phrik shaft had pushed Ebon's blade away from his body. The impact sent Ghorua a few inches back, boots sliding on the floor. Grinning, Ghorua held the saberstaff close to himself, his left hand grasping around a couple of metallic objects. "Nice hit, Thorny-Brow." Without a moment's hesitation, Ghorua swung the blue blade of his saberpike low, as to cut his opponent's feet clean off. As he did this, he threw one of the metallic objects to the ground, a little ways behind Ebon. He chucked it quick, too quick to see with the naked eye, but it could be assumed that it was a trick of Ghorua's design. The other metallic obect, he kept in his hand, hoping his opponent hadn't seen it.

In a game of Dejarik, surprise was an ally, but you had to make your own surprises. He had sent out his pawn, hoping the opponent would take the bait.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

The warlord hadn’t expected such a gargantuan creature to respond so quickly, and his mind rushed for a moment as his feet felt the touch of the durasteel beneath him. In his sargon infused mind, his eye’s caught two movements the shark made, one being the low glow of the saber spike moving for his heels, and the other a metallic object far behind him. If it weren’t for Sargon’s blessing, he’d of moved directly towards it with no more than a second thought.

In a single fluid motion, Ebon dug deep into his Ataru based agility, and his knowledge of Teras Kasi, and flung himself over the beast in a magnificent display of force augmentation. As he spun overhead, either of his heels would move to strike the back of Ghorua’s head, a variant of a legendary technique generations past of hand to hand fighters had done. Each heel strike held small amounts of the force in them, and durasteel would be no match for their force.

His second motion, was to land, and bring the single edge of his ignited blade backwards into the sharks hip. It’s hilt already had begun to smoke from maltreatment, but it’d do little to stop him hopeful assault, but while a simple strike, it was meant more as a distraction.

His true goal, to grab the device that was thrown using the force, and throw it against the massive creature’s broadside, hoping to turn whatever dastardly trick it was against him. He was not sure if it was a thermal detonator, or a mine even, but he hoped it’d break whatever exterior the whale put on.

Already impressed, between his movements a small smile could be seen on Ebon’s face despite his menacing yellow-teethed grimace. Who knew this tournament would already be worth the effort?

- [member="Ghorua the Shark"] -

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua's mind was moving faster than it possibly ever had before, and he had faced off against a lot of scary Force-users. Against such a high-intensity target, one had to think on their feet. Which is why he was expecting Ebon to simply jump over his low swing, kick what the Hunter had thrown, and go in for the attack. Well, he was a little prepared, at least.

As the Zabrak sailed over him, he crouched down, trying to keep his eyes on his opponent, but instead saw the heels of his opponent's feet. He tried to move his head to the side, but was still struck with both feet; one on the side of his helmet, the other on his shoulder. The move would've broken any lesser being's neck, and possibly their entire skull, but Ghorua simply got pushed back again, perhaps a foot. His tough shoulderplate was now severly dented, and his helmet had a little dent, but he was still alive. Ghorua recovered quickly, and deftly blocked Ebon's swing with one hand, his other clenched into a fist. He frowned under his helmet, thinking hard. Then he felt a ding.

One usually wouldn't refer to Ghorua as cheeky. No one as large as the Herglic usually is. But as the little mundane phrik ball Ghorua had thrown bounced off of his battle armor, he couldn't help but smile. He wanted to set his opponent on edge. He wanted to say, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Hopefully, this would put Ebon on edge, always fearing the Herglic to be a step ahead. And at the moment, he was.

Ghorua smiled scandalously, and backed up a few steps. He brought his saber-pike high into the air with one hand. A low rumble in his chest, he brought the weapon whistling down overhead, with enough force to literally destroy a small speeder. Anyone blocking that would either suffer major damage, or have to call upon a lot of Force. Now is when he planned ahead.

Ghorua expected the Zabrak would dodge such an obviously fatal attack, so Ghorua prepared himself to charge in whatever direction the Ataru practitioner would go. He had something ready he was dying to show off. Plus, his hand was getting tired.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon’s face became a painful representation of his emotions, completely disappointed in the phrik ball’s seemingly uselessness. Despite this, the resounding kicks he landed had serious effect on the monster before him, which was enough to keep the Zabrak focused.

Although not the smartest creature in the galaxy, Ebon had a strong foundation in tactical ingenuity, and this situation would prove no different. At the moment, he knew the creature's armor to be far too thick to perform blind straight assaults, especially with the power and speed this… thing, held. His eye’s watched as the saber-pike began to rush downwards with a massive force.

“What a rudimentary strike.”, the youthful sith thought, but he quickly reminded himself not to underestimate this beast again. He knew this wasn’t just a power stroke, but had lethal intention behind it in ways he could only guess at.

Dodge, or Block? Which was the right move?

Before Ebon knew, it was too soon to block the strike, and as the shark had predicted, he had rolled out of the way; but unlike what the shark predicted, it was towards the beast himself. Lurching forward into a somersault, Ebon crossed the durasteel floor beneath him with hard thud, all before untucking himself with a force imbued foot cleaving it’s way to Ghorua’s crotch.

Ebon’s face cringed as he realized what he had done, but he knew a fight was a fight, and there was nothing so dirty than not giving it your all. A force imbued kick to the groan was Ghorua’s fate, regardless of genital makeup, which may not have been Ebon’s entire intention, but worked well enough for the moment, hopefully staggering his opponent to give him a moment to collect his next move.

Ebon pushed himself off the floor in the direction he came, lightsaber in hand for a likely charge, still only one edge lit up. He watched Ghorua’s movements, trying to find a weakness in the juggernauts swagger, something that could give him an edge.

- [member="Ghorua the Shark"] -

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua's Koodan-Class armor had taken plenty of hits for him over his year of owning it. Various lightsaber slashes, more blaster bolts than one could count, a few particle beams, and even a form of Force-induced toxin. But never had it blocked a groin-shot before. Thankfully, this armor was meant to defend against kinetic blows, so it wouldn't pulverize his... whale parts.

Ghorua had expected him to dodge to one side, perhaps try to vault over him again. But going low... Ghorua could use that. He felt the foot connect with the tough plate protecting his waist, and moved his hips back to minimize the force exerted. He still felt a tear at the corner of his eye.

In minimizing the damage, the repositioning of the hips also made it so Ebon didn't get launched back as far as the Zabrak would've wanted. He came up ten feet from the Herglic, ready for a charge. Well, he was half right.

Ghorua's fist began to leak a yellow vapor, barely visible in the air to his side. As soon as Ebon had stood up, Ghorua had tossed the gas grenade, which he had already activated in his closed fist. As soon as he opened his fist, the nerve gas sprang out in a 20-foot radius. The Fex-M3 toxin was extremely deadly, and prolonged exposure could kill any regular man in ten seconds. It was most effective when breathed in, but could kill just by skin contact as well. Chances were that one strong in the force could counteract much of the neurotoxin, but it would still weaken the Zabrak. Ghorua was protected by his suit, which had a built-in air supply, but Ebon? Not so much. Now for the next part of his plan.

The Herglic deactivated his saberstaff, and rushed a few feet forward. The gas completely obscured him, a shark lurking under the surface. The Sith's form was highlighted by his lightsaber. Using it's light to see in the murk, Ghorua crouched low, and reached out with one gargantuan arm toward Ebon's leg. He would attempt to use a move he saw in a holovid once.

https://youtu.be/rFvw_qVP0lE

Whether it would succeed or not, Ghorua didn't know. Either way, the damage was done with the toxin.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon barely managed to get the inertia needed to roll back onto his feet, but he did so just in time to watch the nerve gas spread like wildfire through the air, almost instantly clouding his vision. His blade lay ignited by his side, and he had to act quick.

His muscles went tight, knowing this couldn’t be the only part of the whale’s plan. He felt the sting of it’s potent toxin brush through his open armor, his teeth gritting as he forced air from his lungs, holding nothing in his reserves. Despite the smoke screen, he could sense the monster’s intentions, and he already thought ahead.

Ghorua’s hand moved low through the gas, hoping to grab Ebon’s leg, but met nothing but air. The lightsaber lay floating, just as it had been when Ebon held it, highlighting a ghost in the murk. Despite the deadliness of the toxin, the hunter, became the hunted. In a blurry mix of gas and Zabrak, the warlord struck from Ghorua’s side, lightsaber shoto pointed outwards like a spear headed directly for a joint connection in the vacuum sealed suit’s knee.

A massive creature was nothing more than a building ready for it’s destruction, and it’s destruction would begin at it’s foundation. Although a direct slash from the shoto may not have cut through the armor, a directly pointed jab would, and if it failed to cripple the beast, it would break it’s sealing to the neurotoxin he had intended to use against the Zabrak, turning his own trick against him.
Still, Ebon could feel the gas on his skin, knowing as well as the shark that if he kept fighting in it, he succumb simply out of asphyxiation, let alone the poison now seeping through the surface of his skin, his body working tirelessly to keep it from killing him outright.


[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua was happy to see that the first layer of his plan had succeeded. Nerve gas goes for the neural system, and would at least distract the Zabrak for the rest of the fight, even if he got out of the cloud. Ghorua was happy he had a pressurized suit. Well, he had a pressurized suit.

Ghorua was immediately wary when his fist closed around empty air. Where is he? Ghorua noticed the lightsaber floating in mid-air, so he grabbed it in that same fist, and brought it close. Unfortunately, this distracted him from his enemy's ploy. Too late he realized the trick, and felt the white-hot pain of the shoto stab into his lower thigh. Again, this move would've crippled any lesser being, but Ghorua was no lesser being. But the Zabrak's desired effect happened. A small hiss erupted from his suit as it depressurized.

Ghorua laughed a little in his helmet, admiring the Zabrak's quick mind. Sacrificing his main weapon to use the Shark's weapon against him? Perhaps a stroke of genius. But that left the Sith a few disadvantages. FIrst, Ghorua had Ebon's lightsaber in his possession. Second, Ghorua wore a body glove under his suit, which would protect him from most of the toxin from entering his system. Third, his air supply wasn't connected to his knee, so his breathing wasn't effected. And finally, using the shoto to stab meant the Zabrak had to have gotten close. Ghorua hadn't planned to use his next trick in this fight, but he had practiced it time and time again for this exact situation.

In the blink of an eye, the Herglic moved his hand with the lightsaber to his bandolier again. Ghorua hit the lightsaber against his belt twice. Looking down to Ebon, he smiled. A blue pulse shot out from his belt, hopefully engulfing the close Zabrak. Ghorua had activated a stun grenade while it was still on his person. It stung where his suit was compromised, but it would probably be pretty effective against the already-weakened Ebon. With that same hand, Ghorua slipped something onto the lightsaber. The mist around him obscured all of these actions.

Ghorua kept the lightsaber in his meaty fist, and his saber-staff in the other. The Hunter brought the staff forward with a blindingly quick side-swipe, lightsaber deactivated. This would obscure the weapon in the smoke as well, make it harder to place the exact whereabouts of the swing. If he was hurt by the leg wound, he didn't show it. He had another trick up his sleeve, but it required a few things to go right for him.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon failed to retreat faster than the stun grenade, but his motions were already put into place by his muscles. As it’s blue aura found the majority of it stopped by his mostly undamaged armor, he drew back fast enough to avoid the saber strike, even if he didn’t entirely mean to. His goal was to get the distance between them that he needed, even if it meant losing his primary lightsaber.

This beast had pushed Ebon farther than any other fighter so far, excluding his late and great master. Still, he refused to fall to easily, and if there was one thing he was exceptional with, was standing back up after a taking a blow. He was a juggernaut of a sith, practicing self scarification for the sake of his gods; he wouldn’t let a nerve toxin and some fancy dohickey’s to do him in.

Quickly, his focus came back to the fight, his body fighting his mind for another breathe. Already, he had a plan in action, and his hands came forth through the clouded darkness to enact it. Eminating from both his own aura, and Sargon’s infinite body, was massive pressure on the whales legs, choking the blood from them.

This creature, this whale Ebon was fighting, he may have had him in strength, even matched him in reflexes and cunningness, but his size would be his downfall. The suit he wore was already heavy enough to slow him down, lacking any servo motors a powered armor may have, but even worse was the weight of the creature himself, his legs force to carry the massive burden of his strengths.

Ebon’s eyes watered as his teeth tightened. As long as he could avoid taking a breathe, he’d resist the effects of the cloud for a few seconds longer, just enough time to get his own plan into action.


[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua had done what he wanted: force back the Force-User. But he had forgotten something important: Force-Users can use the Force.

The Herglic felt his legs instantly fall asleep, pins and needles itching their way into his muscles. The smile under the helmet melted into a slightly scared expression. Of course, he'd trained tirelessly to combat force powers, but all of his training didn't do anything to ease his mind.

Ghorua tried to keep on his feet, but his own weight was too much. The Herglic fell back on his behind, and unleashed another stun grenade at the Zabrak, hoping that would be enough to break his concentration. Ghorua dropped Ebon's saber in front of himself, and whipped something large off of his back. In another blur of motion, the Spinster spun into action, the rotary blaster cannon spitting out a wall of red blaster bolts. The Sith only had a shoto. That would make blocking the bolts difficult. This, including the stun grenade, including the gas, might break the Sith's concentration.

The second Ghorua could feel his legs, he would move. Until then, he would be patient, and observant. His time would come.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon grinned wildly as he watched the bounty hunter succumb to his plan, and follow it up exactly how he wanted, by pulling out his weapon. Although powerful, it was two handed and cumbersome; combined with the fact he could not move his legs for a short time made it all the more perfect for what the Zabrak had in mind.

Still, he despised the use of the force take on an opponent, but the situation dictated trickery to fight trickery. As the grenade and wall of lasers flew towards Ebon, his shoto’s glow would disappear in the darkness of the cloud, the would be deadly barrage meeting nothing but the wall behind them. With his force enhanced prowess, and his exceptional skill in Ataru, it would easy work moving out of the way of the blindly shot assault, which set up him up perfectly for a counter.

Now, he would go on the attack.

It would be some time for the herglic to be able to stand once more, with out without his use of the force, and Ebon realized he had a small window to hopefully finish this fight. As Ebon moved through the dark smoke screen, his mind focused on the belt of grenades around the whale-terrorists belt, activating each of the grenades together.

With the whale not able to move from his spot for a few seconds longer, and the weapon he held taking two hands, he’d have a very short window to pull the belt off and rid himself of the new burden, all the while Ebon hiding in the cloud the beast had created to attack him.

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua's attack, although not scoring any hits, was beneficial, as it lit up the foggy area. So Ghorua was more than a little surprised when the Zabrak's movements slowed slightly, and the pressure on Ghorua's legs lessened. I didn't hit him... What is he up to?

When Ghorua heard the activations of various grenades on his person, he cursed. In one hand, he reattached his blaster to his back. In the other, he ripped his entire bandolier off, and threw it to where he saw Ebon last. Of course, it didn't matter. Ghorua had plenty of explosives on that belt. Including flame projector liquid. The Sith obviously didn't expect what was coming, but Ghorua did, and he protected his vitals with his arms.

The explosion easily enveloped the entire cloud of vapor, and a few feet further in each direction. Ghorua was nearer to the blast, but was also covered in tough durasteel. Ebon had exposed skin, and was also feeling the effects of the nerve gas. His reflexes and fortitude wouldn't be up to snuff. That didn't mean Ghorua was spared from the blast. Far from it, actually.

He was blasted yards away, landing on his back. He quickly righted himself, and stood up, his legs already almost recovered. He then realized the state of his attire. His Koodan-Class battle armor was rent, one arm-plate completely blown off. His helmet was cracked and dented. He ripped off his helmet, and then his chestpiece, which was almost completely destroyed. This left him with only limb armor. Under his plate, he wore a dark wifebeater, showing off his powerful muscles.

Ghorua snarled, his rows of serrated teeth twinkling sharply. His dark skin glittered in the now-clear air. The blast had dissipated the gas. Ebon still probably had enough in his system to slow him down considerably, perhaps even pass out. And Ghorua's load had considerably lightened. And he was angry. He pulled out Trident again, and growled.

This fight wasn't over. In fact, it had only just got serious.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon stirred as he let out a soft groan. Whatever blast had gone on, forced a rush of air in his lung, clouded by the nerve gas. One good hit seemed to get him afterall, but the explosion wasn’t his worry. His lungs hacked and sputtered as he caught his breathe, burning in his chest with hesitated stutters.

Damn tricks.

Still, he had gained an advantage, angering the beast. Now, he would be on Ebon’s level, on the level of a Sith, but he failed to realize just one thing, close combat was the warlords speciality. Shoto or not, Ebon trained day in and day out with excrutiating effort, and the size of the opponent mattered not when Ghorua now was missing key points of his armor, and Ebon had a strong foundation in Djem So, a style notorious for turning it’s opponent strength against them.

One of the greatest assets a Zabrak had, was their notorious metabolism, and their rigid endurance. Ebon’s was ten fold that, tested in thousands of battles in Primeval space, and pushed to the very limits of mortal limits by his rigid self disipline. He could feel the pain of the combined nerve gas in his system, and the likely dislodged rib in his chest, but it was pain that gave passion, and passion that gave power to a sith.

Ghorua knew not what it meant to enjoy battle as he had, revel in it as a home. He used it for money, for livelyhood, and perhaps fun, but Ebon found purpose in it. It was all he was, is, and ever will be.

He was the direct manifestation of Balagoth himself, sent to reek destruction and purify the galaxy. What was a little tournament to him, than a plaything?

Ebon smiled back at the beast, his own yellowed, nasty serrated fangs mirroring Ghorua’s own. He ignited his red shoto, it’s red glow glowing enveloping his side in the now clear air of the arena. The warlords skin seemed to burn, his muscles aching to twitch, but it gave him pleasure with each cry for healing his body gave back.

“Ready, Shark?”, he offered.

Silly question, he didn’t really care for the answer. Once more, he jerked his foot back, whatever hinderence the gas would have caused to his movement, canceled by the amplification he presented in the force. Still, his body was working it’s way down, and in due time, it’d likely give up before his mind.

Ebon’s shoto came from beneath, foot to Ghorua’s opposite shoulder. A simple strike, but one dependent on the follow through, it simply depended on the shark’s response, all quietly regarded in the sith’s amber gilded eye’s reflecting the massive form before him.


[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua's rageful moment ended when he heard Ebon talk. In the moment, the Shark had forgotten that the Sith was still a living breathing soul, that had dreams, desires, and goals, just like him. The Zabrak wanted to win this little game just as much as Ghorua did. As long as Ghorua kept his head, he would stand a chance. But first, he had to keep himself intact. That was important. "Let's go, Thorny-Brow!"

As Ebon rushed forward, Ghorua was briefly reminded of their first saber clash. Trident's butt flew down to the shoto, stopping it in it's tracks. Again, Ghorua's body was pushed back an inch. Using the force of the blow on it's bottom, the saberstaff fulcrum'ed towards Ebon's head. The Sith may know how to use Ghorua's power against him, but he still had a few tricks he was dying to perform. Hopefully not literally.

He snapped his maw together, generating a sick cracking sound, trying to ward the Sith back from any silly saber attack. This was the closest Ghorua had come to defeat in a duel, and he wasn't even afraid. The fear had dissipated, given way to a weird sort of respect. But that didn't mean he would fight any less hard. He would fight for his life. And he was still armed to the teeth. So to speak.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Fulcruming the saberstaff, was the wrong move. It only took Ebon on a second to side step the strike, bringing his heel down on it’s handle with hopefully enough force to bring it just a slight bit downward. Using his heel strike as leverage, he launched himself up and around, bringing his opposite heel rounding about towards the shark’s would be tightened jaw.

Still, Ebon could feel the poison forcing his lungs into a recovery state, his diaphragm refusing to bring in anymore air. He had hit his limit, even if he didn’t want to believe it. All it truly meant was he had to get stronger…

And keep a gas mask on hand.

Regardless, the strike was impressive, likely to destroy reinforced droids artificial skulls. Still, regardless if it hit or not, Ebon needed to create space, even just for a moment. If he kept pushing himself like this, he’ll cripple his training for weeks, and likely lose the fight.


[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua's reflexes vaguely realized what the Zabrak was doing as he side-stepped the blow, and sprang upward. The exchange went too fast, and the Shark's bestial instincts took in. The mindset of various genetic strains told him one thing in that split second: Say AH!

Ghorua's massive jaw unhinged, rows of pearly-whites waiting for lunch. His head turned as Ebon's foot came smashing in. The collision broke several of his teeth, but he didn't feel it. Whatever beast genes were floating in his system kept tooth pain minimum. He gagged as his head whipped back from the blow, but again, his instincts were doing all the work. Now, he bit down, hopefully around the Zabrak's leg. All through this, he kept his staff up, ready for a counter-attack.

Ebon had probably expected him to move away, to not take a hit like this. If his maw was shut around the Sith, he would have a firm grip on Ebon's muscly calf. It wouldn't be enough force to snap the leg off, but it would be very uncomfortable. Ghorua had never bitten an enemy before, that's how desperate this fight had become. He had also never lost half of his armor in a battle before. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

- [member="Ebon"] -

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon might’ve expected a quick counter attack, perhaps even taking the hit and slamming Ebon down. Both of those he expected, even planned for mentally.

But he didn’t expect getting bit.

Still, there was a time he had been bit as a child by a hugglepup. He clearly remembered the pain, the clammering for his elders, the blood falling from his arm. That memory’s pain may have faded into time, but it couldn’t have compared to this.

Ebon let out a vicious cry of pain and anger, something he rarely ever did. He felt disrepected, amongst disgusted he had such a thing draw his blood from him. Teeth may have been missing, but a large amount of this stuck through his calf muscle, tearing at the very meat that was used to strike back at the shark.

The warlord’s vision went blurry, not from pain, but from exhaustion. He hadn’t had a chance to catch his breath in a long time, and it was taking it’s toll. His nerves were racked with signals to rest, take a moment to collect himself, but he had not the chance, nor the will to do so. He was a forceful fighter, one who pushed until he or the enemy broke, but this may have been his limit.

While one foot lay half in the massive beasts mouth, Ebon harnessed the anger he still held, dipping his emotional reserves in one massive outpour. Perhaps his strength alone wouldn’t pry the creatures jaws open, but this wasn’t just Ebon’s strength.

The air around the two seemed to suck inwards as the warlord cried out in anger, reaching to grab his exposed leg. His eye’s opened wide, amber eye’s meeting black ones in a fierce lock, and Ebon could see the shark had descended to nothing more than a creature.

Unfortunetly, so had he.

As Ebon clenched his jaw, pushing his other foot against the creatures nose with a krayt leather boot, the area around them erupted in a gargantuan force. Ebon’s desperation was obvious, his control of the force disapearing in favor of unadulterated, raw power. Their position became ground zero, the ground’s dursateel plating crunching under the force, while nearby barriers rushed to the arena’s walls.

Distance. It was all he needed. He needed to get away.

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

The ultimate paradox was beginning to unfurl before the two. The unstoppable force versus the immovable object. So much raw power behind both players, the mindless animals inside finally getting the chance to break free of their bonds of sentience.

If Ghorua had a nose, it surely would have been broken. One of the many perks of having a blowhole. A tense second of both sides fighting for dominance, the plates underfoot cracking with the exertion. Finally, the Force was too much for the Herglic, and Ebon shot free. But serrated teeth were designed to not let food go that easily. A few of the pearly-whites went with the Sith, firmly embedded in his calf. Chunks of flesh sliced off of the leg, a shower of blood covering the Shark. The metallic taste lingered on Ghorua's tongue as he spat out a glob of brackish blood and skin. He wiped his mouth with his arm, and smiled, rows of teeth now red. He held Trident up in front of him, the blue blade shimmering with a summer light, contrasting the grim visage behind it.

The arena had dimmed slightly for Ghorua. His head hurt. Perhaps he had a mild concussion. He didn't know. But one thing he did know was that he needed to get close. His biggest disadvantage was his Force-lessness, and as long as he could keep the Zabrak disoriented, he would have more success shrugging off Force-attacks. Smile still peeling his face, he rushed forward, trying to close the gap Ebon had made. Ghorua was still there, his mind still calculating, but his senses were sharpened. An unfamiliar rage settled itself into his chest. The feeding frenzy had begun.

- [member="Ebon"] -