Private Punching Upwards

[Nos Voros]

PUNCHING UPWARDS

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Weapons: none

The mat of the training room was stiff, with barely any give to soften a fall or throw. The walls were plain, unadorned and not whitewashed often enough to cover the bloodstains that accumulated with overzealous training. Off the matt, the training room had heavy bags, speed bags, an EM power rack and no shortage of free weights.​

Nos breathed in the familiar smell of the training room. It was smaller than others, less popular and as a result, usually free from other people.

Today, it wouldn't be. Nos met a young Jedi over a game of Djarik - a Zabrak with some spirit it seemed. She didn't prove much of a challenge in Djarik, and had joked about sparring the Zeltron that doubled her weight.

Nos had initially declined, but the Jedi prodded further and his ego got the better of him.

Nos repeated the words in his mind.

"What, you scared you might lose to someone half your size? What a shame”​

​

Nos had accepted the challenge. He rationalized it as taking any opportunity to practice against a force user in the event one should ever be a threat to Lady Sylvia Organa.

In truth, he did hold insecurities of his capacity to protect Sylvia from Force Users. That insecurity combined with the unresolved and unspoken feelings he had for the Senator goaded him on.

Nos thought himself foolish in retrospect, but he made this bed, he’d lie in it. Nos vowed to himself not to go down easy, at least.

The Bodyguard had tried his best to hide news of the spar from Sylvia, but he could already see unread notifications from the senator on his Datapad. She would chastise him eventually, but Nos planned to claim ignorance and answer her after the spar.

He trusted a Jedi not to permanently injured him in a training match, even a Zabrak.
With a cybernetic arm.

Nos finally acknowledged there may be more risk involved than was probably responsible for him.​

Nos finished his stretches, and begun wrapping his knees, elbows, and knuckles as he awaited the arrival of the fiery young Jedi. What was her name again? Azzuran? Azzyrian? Azurine, Azurine Varek , that was it.

No weapons, they had agreed. Azurine had offered not to use force abilities but Nos did not insist upon it. In fact, he hoped to force her hand in using them.

Nos Voros had never faced a force user in practice and unknowns were deadly in the field. Nos didn't care if he lost - if he could put Azurine in a spot that she felt the need to use the force, the experience against a Force User would be more valuable than any sort of bragging rights from a victory.

Nos admitted to himself that he also hoped it may even take her down a notch if she fell back on her powers. Djarik was one thing, but both he and the Jedi knew unarmed combat was a different contest entirely.

Nos steeled himself as footsteps approached the training room from the corridor.

Azurine Varek​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Here I go Fighting Again

Outfit: Clothing | Robe | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Fists/The Force

Sparring with a senator's bodyguard hadn't necessarily been on Azurine's long list of things that needed to be done, but it somehow weaseled it's way onto it. It made her laugh just thinking about it. She'd been asked to help with some minor security measures at the senate building, and just so happened to run into Nos while they were both taking a break. So, she'd wound up playing Djarik with the man given neither of them really had anything better to do while they were waiting. And oh boy was he good at it. It was rather impressive just how good at it he was. In the end, she expected nothing less from the head of security for one of the current senators. She had casually joked with him about how she would love to see him actually fight with a tactical mind like that, which of course brought up their respective training in completely different hand to hand styles.

Had she goaded him a little bit into actually sparring with her when he looked like the only reason he didn't want to was because of her size difference alone? Oh absolutely. It was all in good fun, of course. She wanted to see what he was made of, he wanted the opportunity to go toe to toe with a force user in a situation that was controlled, and a good friendly fight was never something she would turn down without a good reason. Though she had been advised not to given her status as a jedi, she wasn't going to let that stop her. She used to spar with her teammates back in the rebellion all the time, all of whom aside from herself and her former master weren't able to use the force either. To her, there was no harm in it as long as there were solid ground rules set beforehand and both parties involved were honorable enough to follow them.

Those rules had been martial combat only. She'd also promised to limit her use of the force to the best of her ability (some aspects had been engrained into her style fighting since long before she had even understood what she was doing, so turning them off was easier said than done, but she would make the best attempt that she could), even if he tried to tell her not to. No, she would much rather fight on as even of a playing field as possible. There was no honor in making a friendly opponent follow rules that limited them without limiting oneself as well, nor was there any fun in it.

Her goal wasn't to win, it was the joy of the fight and to assess different ways of doing so.

Azzie walked into the training room, the clothing she wore showed off not just large scars on her chest —one of which encompassed half of her right side and another looking as though her left shoulder had been shot with an unnatural lightning— but also the rest of her tattooing that trailed down her neck, across her shoulders and continued down her back. She dropped her external robe for over her martial clothing and a water bottle off to one corner, meeting Nos in the middle to offer him her right, metallic hand to shake. "I hope you know what you're doing, pretty boy," she joked playfully.

Nos Voros​

 

[Nos Voros]

NOW LIE IN IT

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Weapons: none

Nos took in the view of his opponent while shaking her metallic hand. She still was jovial despite the upcoming conflict. A result of a Warrior culture's upbringing unfamiliar to Nos. Nos knew precious little of Zeltron culture as well. Nos was raised by Hutt slavers and derelict buildings. He was raised by switches and lashings, garbage chute dinners and alleyway shelters from the rain.

His face matched none of Azurine's mirth, only nodding agreement to her comment, affirming his consent to the fight.

His opponent was scarred and toned from years of battle. Lethal combat against foes that crush people like him underfoot without a second thought. He could sense her eagerness for battle, the bonding of warriors and testing of mettle. Nos didn't bother hiding his contrasting resolve from his empathic telepathy. He needed to prove to himself that he could make an impact against one chosen by the force.

His telepathy radiated the emotions of a scavenger preparing to fight a predator tooth and nail over scraps. He didn't have to win. He didn't expect to win. He just had to hurt the predator enough to abandon the scraps. The predator could lick its wounds. The scavenger would starve.

Nos stepped to his starting position, bent his knees and offset his feet to keep sturdy balance. He lightly bounced a few times on the balls of his feet. Nos Voros raised his arms open-handed, left hand extended slightly while his right was closer to his chin, prepared to defend his face and torso.

“Whenever you're ready, Ms. Varek”

The scavenger’s hackles were raised, the challenge posed.
He made this bed. Now he'll lie in it.


Azurine Varek​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Here I Go Fighting Again

Outfit: Clothing | Robe | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Fists/The Force

Azurine gave a swift nod, shaking his hand. Her cybernetic arm didn't have any synthetic nerving in it, though, so it's not as though she could assess anything by grip strength. Hell, she probably wouldn't even if she had the ability to do so. She did tilt her head to the side a bit, watching the way his aura spiked in odd ways. Where she was excited for the opportunity and appreciated the knowledge gained from a good spar, he seemed almost on edge.

For a moment, a bit of worry flashed through her mind that he might react to some things in a less than friendly way if provoked given that information. She had to shake the thought from her mind, telling herself that she'd just check in on how his aura changed as the fight progressed just in case. He was the lead security agent for a Galactic Alliance senator, after all. They would be fine here.

"Fair warning, I can't exactly just turn off the precognition flashes. I can try to block them out, though."

Pushing the playfull grin back onto her face, she moved back a bit in order to bow, speaking to him in Zabraki a phrase that would be the equivalent of Strike with Fury, which was given out of respect under her customs. She found herself chuckling at being referred to as Ms. Varek. Of everything she'd ever been called, that was certainly a first. She put her hands up to take an opening stance, one in a fist and the other an open palm. The violet hued fire that blazed through her eyes held only her excitement to learn what she could from this.

If she ever wanted to be a leader worth following one day, she needed to prove that not just to other force users but to soldiers and citizens alike.

She didn't hesitate further, rushing forward on quick feet. Putting her attention on making it seem as though she was aiming a hooked strike for the left side of his face, she waited for the last second to twist her body to the otherside while his gaurd would hopefully be focued elsewhere, striking at his knee with her foot and using the momentum from it to propell her upward so that she could send a jab toward his chest.

Nos Voros​

 

[Nos Voros]

POINT / COUNTERPOINT

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Weapons: none

Azurine warned Nos of her precognitive abilities. He simply nodded, accepting the knowledge of such an ability as enough of a handicap. Precognitive - but it didn't help her with Djarik. He had to think further ahead of he wanted to keep up.

The Zabrak girl was fast, spinning away from a punching feint into a knee kick that buckled Nos’s leg from underneath him.

She was fast. His knee throbbed instantly.

As Nos dipped from the leg strike, Azurine’s chest jab struck true, forcing the wind from Nos’s lungs.

On instinct he managed to retaliate - even as he fell he grabbed Azurine's arm and prevented it from pulling back from the strike.

Nos pulled Azurine's arm closer as he twisted, pulling the Zabrak over his hip and thrown down onto the mat with both of their combined momentum, accented by a loud THUD that reverberated off the plain walls of the training room.

Nos was still struggling to breathe in as he attempted to pin Azurine’s mechanical arm to the floor at the shoulder with his elbow, though he knew he didn't have a strong enough position to maintain the pin.

He readied himself to dive back into a roll the moment Azurine attempted to break free of his grip. He parted, tucking backwards. Nos finally slips a breath into his lungs.

She was agile, fast, precognitive, and that prosthetic was more dangerous than her natural arm.
​

Nos had to go on the offensive - he rose just enough to dive back towards Azurine sending clumsy hook and presenting a false opening, prepared to catch a counterattack if she fell for it.

Azurine Varek​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Here I Go Fighting Again

Outfit: Clothing | Robe | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Fists/The Force

Azurine has spent years of her life training in Iridonian hand-to-hand, long before she'd even known she had an affinity with the Force. It was the fighting of her people and taught to young Iridonians from the moment they could walk. She figured she didn't need to rely on the force to put up a good fight. Of course, she had learned to make up for some of her shortcomings in size by channeling it into her feet for movement before she had actually known that was what she was doing, but she figured that was an easy sacrifice here. She had other combat styles she could fall back on if she needed, and she was fast and swift regardless of enhancement.

She heard Nos's breath hitch in his throat when her punch landed, and she made a mental note not to get overly eager next time with the amount of physical force used. The Zabrak people were known to be more dense than most species, so the same amount of momentum in a hit from them as compared to someone else would still produce a stronger result. This was a friendly match, after all, and he was not Iridonian, so it was much easier for her to ignore her culture's rules of respect when it came to holding back a little bit.

Before she had the chance to take her remaining momentum to flip backward into a more advantageous position since she had managed to take down his height advantage with that strike to the leg, an image flashed before her eyes that she couldn't quite block out. Rather than use it to her advantage, she ignored it, even though it landed her in a position where her arm was caught by him, pulling her down with him.

She flashed a sly grin. Though her arm was caught beneath his elbow, she still had control of her legs from the position she was held. Using the tops of her feet to find a hook around one of his legs, she attempted to wrap them around and pull to knock his balance off, which would give her just enough maneuverability to roll out of the grip and regain her footing.

"You're good, pretty boy, but is that all you got?" She taunted playfully, watching him charge forward. Her grin grew wider, and she twisted her body not to get away from the strike or to an immediate counterattack, but instead to turn into it, taking it full force against her shoulder. It stung for only a moment but presented her the opportunity to attempt to wrap an arm around the striking fist and turn to send her other elbow into his side.

Nos Voros​

 

[Nos Voros]

BY THE SKIN OF YOUR TEETH

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Weapons: none | Loadouts in bio

Varek simply let his feint connect, wrapping his arm with hers and retaliating with an elbow that Nos barely caught in time. As both fighters gripped and tried to throw the other off balance, Nos let himself act on instinct rather than training for a moment.

The Jedi taunted him, but her words fell on deaf ears. Nos's mind was clear; only implementation, action and reaction, no room for banter.

As both arms were locked, Nos brought his head down to Azurine’s face, hard. He headbutted low, aligning the top of his head to the lower cartilage of her nose and her lips.

This was the way a headbutt was intended to be performed - not a bash of brains inside skulls but the use of bone against face to break noses smash lips and teeth together, and ultimately and blind opponents in pain.​

Nos was careful to avoid the natural horns atop the Zabrak’s head with the maneuver.

In the same moment he stepped forward and past Azurine, beginning an explosive twist of his core back and away from her. The way Nos saw it, either she could maintain her grip and be thrown over his hip, or she would disengage long enough for him to step back.

Azurine Varek​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Here I Go Fighting

Outfit: Clothing | Robe | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Fists/The Force

Azurine couldn't tell if he had been thrown off by her willingness to just let a hit connect with her in that manner. It usually tended to shock people who had never gone up against an Iridonian in a fistfight before. Maybe she wasn't the first Iridonian he'd fought before for all she knew. Either way, she let out a laugh when her elbow was caught and held in place. This was turning out to be a great time, at least to her.

Her laugh was cut short when she was flipped around, and the Zeltron's head was headed straight towards her face. She considered the idea of shifting her skull away so that he'd end up hitting her horns instead, but she didn't like the idea of accidentally hitting one of his eyes in doing so and doing much more damage than should be dished out in a spar. If this was any other situation, that would have been her go-to, though.

She knew how hard her own skull was just because of the species she belonged to. Sure, the strike—when it connected—stunned her from the quick, sharp sting, but she also knew he had to be feeling it himself as well because of that.

Man, this guy has some balls on him for that one! I'm going to have to suggest he get a raise.

It took her a quick moment to recover, only to find she was being twisted around once again. Rather than allow him to control the positioning, she flipped herself backward, using the arm he still had as leverage and letting go of the arm that she was holding, aiming a kick at his face while she maneuvered her body to the side and wrapped both legs around the arm that was holding her to twist it to the side in an attempt to force him to let go. If she succeeded, the remaining momentum would be used to put some distance between herself and him.

Nos Voros​

 

[Nos Voros]

JUST A BURNING MEMORY

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Weapons: None

Nos was quick to release his grip when he felt Azurine begin her maneuver. Freeing both parties, he brought his arms together rapidly to brace and block the Iridonian’s kick with his crossed forearms.

Nos slid back from the force of the blow, causing the mat to squeak underneath as the young Jedi's acrobatic disengage proved effective, if a bit more flashy than practical.

“ When you're born with special gifts from the force I suppose you're given the privilege of showing off in combat”
Nos uttered, attempting to banter like Varek despite how unnatural it felt.

Nos shook out the stiffness in his arms from the kick while there was space between them. She had enough energy to waste on banter and acrobatics - likely in serious combat as well judging from the lack of variance in emotion when she performed such things.

Nos felt foolish for accepting the duel.
If he met a sith, he’d die.
It was simple.
He would die, then Sylvia would.

Hopelessness washed over him.​

Nos felt something shift. Concern perhaps? Could be pity or simply confusion.

Something reflecting back from the Zabrak through the empathic telepathy. Nos hadn't intend to project his emotions. However, he had heard Jedi were particularly sensitive to strong emotions due to their connection with the force.

Maybe, just maybe, he could use this. A bit of guilt hit him as he considered the ethics of such a tactic - a Zabrak had their own biological advantages, why not use Zeltron telepathy? Perhaps his species could be useful for him, for once.

Nos fed the despair, letting it consume him and radiate out from within his heart as he re-engaged with the jedi in a boxer’s stance.

Every jab was paired with the memory of a night kept awake from the rumbling of his empty belly. Every hook bolstered by the sting of a slavemaster's whip. The blows he received from Azurine in this state he translated to the pain of his owner’s cruel and demeaning orders.

He continued on in this state, drawing from a wellspring of negative life experiences.

The searing pain in his skull
The endless looks of pity and disgust
The fear of failure and a life without Sylvia A life alone once again​

Every ounce of helplessness, every pound of shame, every Zeltron who's ever shunned him, every time he wished the blaster destroyed more than just the pleasure center of his brain.

Nos felt warm drops on his cheeks. Blood? tears? both likely. It didn't matter, he couldn't see them and he wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. Nos wouldn't permit himself to cease his barrage no matter how much damage the Iridonian inflicted to him with every opening. He would smash his bones to dust and bleed himself dry before he yielded.

He fought recklessly, syncing his movements with every amount of inner turmoil he could muster. His usual technique and tact discarded to overwhelm the Zabrak with emotion, a last ditch effort to find a weakness of the Force. Nos succumbed to his personal demons to draw them out of his opponent.

A name jolted him out of it.
Eivii.​

He froze and failed to steady himself as vertigo washed over him, leaving him off-balance and utterly open. The pain of his physical form hit him all at once, his mind glad to retreat back to his nerves and away from that last memory.

Azurine Varek​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Here I Go Fighting Again

Outfit: Clothing | Robe | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Fists/The Force

Azurine’s expression shifted the moment Nos's aura changed. The spar had been friendly, even invigorating at first—a dance of skill and energy—but now, what radiated from Nos was anything but sport. The waves of despair, pain, and sheer recklessness hit her like a physical force, resonating deep within her empathic senses. She hesitated mid-step, lowering her guard as the intensity of his inner turmoil bled into his aura patterns and outward around them like a freight ship.

“Nos,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, cutting through the sound of their combat.

The Zeltron’s barrage continued, each strike fueled by the agony he was projecting, and Azzie didn’t need to reach for the Force to see the toll it was taking on him. She deflected a wild jab with the flat of her forearm, sidestepped a hook, but made no effort to retaliate. Instead, she held her ground, her amethyst eyes locking onto his with an intensity that demanded his attention.

"I think it's time we take five. Get a sip of water."

Azzie ducked under his swing and shifted back, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Look, I’m not doing this. Not when your aura is like that.” She said firmly, her voice cutting through the haze of his emotions. Her empathy burned in her chest as she attempted to salvage the situation before it took a turn for the worse, though she still tried to use a bit of humor as she continued. “I don’t know what you’re fighting right now, Nos, but it sure as hell isn't me."

She stepped back, giving him space but not turning away, her stance still brimming with quiet strength. Her gaze searched his, her voice quieter but no less resolute. “I can’t hit someone who’s drowning just to do it. That’s not fun—it’s cruel. So, why don't you take a minute and decompress, yeah?"

Nos Voros​

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Weapons: Heavy Blaster Pistol | Vibroknife | Loadouts in bio

Nos's chest rose and fell as his breaths continued. The Jedi has backed off, defensive only. The Zeltron fixed his posture, standing straight and tilting his head, using a hand to sweep his hair hair back.

She could sense it, moreso than just the Zeltron telepathy. Against Jedi, at least there was some merit to flooding himself with negative emotions. A boon he could use. Nos Voros couldn't help but break into a mirthless laugh. A chuckle that turned full chested, almost manic.

He was no force user, so he could wield his emotions without fear of turning to the dark side of the force. The wound in his head was useful for something after all. He felt both relief and a need to push it further, to test how best to wield this. He couldn't lose control like that again, the negatives outweigh the positives. Nos kept that darkness in his heart, but now it mixed with confidence, a hint of relief, and a challenge. He would not be a scavenger, but a predator.

"Come now, things were just getting good." Nos said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He felt sinister. Deep within he acknowledged that this was a youth he was sparring, an ally at that. Despite that, he kept the sadistic feeling within - testing it as a tool, turning his hot fury cold.

"It's not often I get to spar one sensitive to the force." Nos said, turning his head to pop his neck, "and it's better to practice new tactics in a controlled environment." Nos surged his wrath and pain again, keeping it internal, keeping his mind clear. "Do you want to surrender? Or will you finally take this spar seriously? Paint me as a villain if it helps, you'll need to defend yourself in situations you'd rather not fight in regardless." Nos said, intentionally letting his empathic telepathy send a flare of murderous intent before reigning it in, displaying to the Jedi the control he seized of his temperament.

He knew fully what he was doing now and made no attempt to hide it; manipulating his emotional state to keep her off balance. Nos's eyes flashed their challenge at Azurine. Would she end the fight, or test her capability against this unorthodox tactic?

Azurine Varek​