Second Sith-Imperial Tournament - Micah vs. Xevek Nekonis

[Darth Carnifex]

The Shâsot Skyhook Arena
Lorrd

High above the world of Lorrd, and tethered by many reinforced cables and repulsorlifts, was a magnificent skyhook of glittering metal and sparkling reflective glasteel. Recently constructed at the behest of the Imperial Directorate, the Skyhook was made for one purpose and one purpose only.

To prove a warrior’s strength.

Inside was a massive arena, nearly a hundred meters across and almost twice that in length. Around it was high walls, taller than any beast or sentient creature, with an electrified energy field projecting all the way up to the ceiling. The field bowed in towards the middle, curving as it traveled up to form a sort of tapered point when it reached the secondary generator built into the skyhook’s ceiling.

Outside of the energy field was a miniature community, endless rows of seating, private boxes, concession bazaars, gambling hubs, and residential living. Everything was arrayed perfectly to ensure that those who came to witness the looming battles had every convenience at their fingertips. Nothing was more magnificent than the high-rising tower reserved for the Emperor and his entourage, which afforded them the best view of the entire arena and was equipped with multiple commodities not found elsewhere in the skyhook.

As the days counted down towards the grand start of the Second Sith-Imperial Tournament, tens of thousands of wealthy Imperial citizens flocked to Lorrd to partake in the spectacle. Members of the Empire’s military aristocracy were among the first to arrive, themselves afforded a special privilege in acquiring the private boxes closest to the arena floor. Imperial bureaucrats, lesser military, and others followed shortly after to fill in the remaining ranks. For those either too far from Lorrd or unable to travel for any means, the tournament was to be broadcasted live to every member world of the Sith Empire.

The day of the tournament arrived, and the arena was packed beyond capacity.

Anticipating hung in the air like a deathly pall, and a hush fell over the crowd as the massive floodlights dimmed until only one remained to highlight the announcer’s podium. And upon that podium was a sight to behold. A figure, clad in purples, surely a pinnacle of fashion somewhere, the remnants of a laugh as he stepped up to his post. His arms spread wide as if to welcome each and every audience member.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all. It is with my deepest pleasure that I welcome you to this test of ability.” Clasping his hands together, a few of the intricate tattoos that took up much of his arms began to glow. With it, images of the combatants cycled through, the details of each image a bit too exact to be holograms.

“We have quite the treat for you all this day, but enough from me. Why don’t we meet some of our contestants? In fact, why don’t we just cut to the chase? What say you, contestants? Ready for some sweet, sweet, bloodshed? A rush of adrenaline?”

“Let the games...begin!”

Contestants: [member="Micah"] | [member="Xevek Nekonis"]
Terrain: Mountain
Variables: N/A

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Equipment: [ lightsaber ]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcGNqrAtsgg​

​

The young Cathar stepped out into the sunlight.

After acclimating to the humid environment of one of Mon Cala's surface cities, the boy found the mountain landscape to be a welcome change in scenery. Lorrd's topography was certainly a world that was closer in comparison with his native Bastion than was the subjugated planet of the Mon Calamari and the Quarren who now slaved beneath the yoke of the Sith Emperor.

The boy eschewed the wear of armor. For one thing, it was heavy. For another thing, it was a lot harder to move around comfortably in it. Micah liked a great degree of freedom of movement. Sith magic, in particular, relied on some movements and gestures. No reason to encumber himself when size and speed were likely his greatest advantage. Loading himself down with any more weight would just tire him that much faster. So, instead, the boy was attired in a sleeveless tunic that reached down to his knees.

As he strolled out into the arena, the youngling had a HoloBoy Advanced out. With the SplatChat app open, the boy looked down into the camera as he spoke...

HOLONET//SplatChat
@therealmicahtolpowl

"What's up, Mon Cala? It's your boy, The REAL Micah tol Powl, coming at you liiiiiiiiiiive from Lorrd!"

The boy paused a moment, holding the HoloBoy up so that he could pan it around in order for the holo-cam to take in the grandeur of the arena. As the boy's cat-eared head panned back into the frame, the child added, "This skyhook is SICK!"

Easily impressed youngling was easily impressed.

"I want to give a quick shout-out to the crew holding it down in the Confederacy, [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] and [member="Jerek Zenduu"] with the low down on the BEAT DOWN out on Eschan," the boy said, pausing a moment before tilting his head back and belting out in a sing-song voice, "Mandos SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

With that, the boy cradled the HoloBoy as he started to wrap up the SplatChat holo-vid. "Lorridians, remember to like, subscribe, and show some love down in the comments. We're gonna keep it real out here on Lorrd. This is the REAL Micah tol Powl, aka your NEXT Sith Tournament champion... uh huh, that's right, you heard it here first."

Leaning into the camera, the child added, "And when I'm done with this match, New Republic, I'mma roll over to Carida and smack the Sith out'cha. Bith ass Jidai!"

​

With that, the boy closed the app and then handed off the HoloBoy to a pit droid to take back over to the locker room that had been made available for his preparations.

The message in the holo-vid had been rather crude, but his image consultants among the Prophets of the Dark Side had indicated that they anticipated some favorable views that might bring some decent publicity to Mon Cala and Pisces Base.

It was not enough to merely rule one of the Sith Emperor's cities. It was not enough to complete a school social studies report through the experience. No, Micah had to crush the competition.

All other watery planets would fail. They would make Pisces Base great again!

...nevermind that it really was never anything great to begin with. Sometimes you just had to fake it until you became it.

Drawing the large lightsaber hilt, the child simply held the weapon at the ready. His stance was relaxed, almost casual, as he stood out toward the center of the arena and awaited the arrival of his opponent.

[member="Xevek Nekonis"]​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Xevek's breaths rang loudly in his own ears as he sat, waiting to be called into the arena to face his foe. Dressed in nothing more than a simple pair of trousers and the accursed mask, the Iridonian's Jat'i tattoos were visible to all as the curled along his torso. Each twisting line of black ink spoke of a story, personal successes or failures that had served to either change his life, teach him a lesson, or had been a major moment in the story he was weaving across the fabric of the Force. In his hands, the wooden shaft of a simple spear was clenched within his fingers and the finely shaped claws that adorned that. On his waist hung a single lightsaber.

For the Iridonian, the whole event reminded him of his life back on Iridonia, of the time he had spent with his Clan before he had been eventually swallowed up into the abyss that was the Sith Empire. The roaring crowds and the heady atmosphere that hung heavily with a sense of anticipation for a fight, the rush of adrenaline and the rapid beatings of his hearts as he fought to contain his bloodlust. All of it harkened back to the times he had fought before his Clan, proven his worth as a warrior with the sacrifice of flesh, sweat, and blood - claiming it with the strength of steel. With every moment the Acolyte was reminded more of his past, the more he fell deeper and deeper into the call of Darkness, animalistic instincts clawing at his mind in an attempt to be free.

And he loved every second of it, revelling in the memories it brought to the forefront of his mind.

Eventually, however, Xevek was disturbed from his focus, roused from his meditation by a pit droid. Amber eyes snapping open to glare through the shadows that clung to the eyeholes of the bone mask, the prayers and mantras that he had been whispering under his breath came to an end sharply and suddenly. The world around him solidifying and pressing down upon him with even more pressure than before as he was pulled from his thoughts and back into the material, an unseen smirk filled with a primal rage and eagerness. Nodding his acknowledgement to the droid, Xevek pushed himself to his feet, the final whispers of his mantras falling from his lips as he did so, joints cracking and settling.

Prowling forwards into the arena, the crowd fell away from Xevek's awareness as soon as his amber gaze settled upon his opponent, a rush of heat flooding through his body as his hearts continued to pound within his chest and his anticipation grew higher and higher. He had been forced beneath the boot heel of his Master, shackled by the mask he wore, the very mask that he was now unable to remove due to the alchemical enchantment woven into what had once been a prized possession of his. The rage that had slowly been building, the resentment that he could not do anything with beyond simply condensing it and shoving it into the depths of his soul, could now be let loose, could now be put to use.

The fact that he was facing a child did not matter to Xevek. And why would it considering that he had fought children before back on Iridoinia and had been fighting against those much older than he back when he had been a child himself. All he saw before him was his prey, the bloodlust he was fighting to control slowly being allowed to seep through his grasp and settle along the edges of his awareness.

Settling his feet into the mountainous terrain that was to be their battleground, Xevek held his spear in his right hand, down at his side, while his left hand was held slightly in front of him, the Force being pulled and shifted to coalesce, unseen, before him. Crouching slightly, the muscles within his legs coiled in preparation, Xevek froze in place, his eyes never leaving the form of Micah, as he waited for the Cathar to make the first move.

From behind his mask, as his hearts thundered within his ears, a low, steady growl sounded out from Xevek as, slowly but surely, he became more beast than man, a predator leering at its prey.

| [member="Micah"] |​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Equipment: [ lightsaber ]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzRhcnN-2XQ​

​

The appearance of Darth Skeletor should have come as no surprise. Spikes. Claws. Garish skull mask. It was as though someone had run down the checklist of Dark Lord stereotypes when assembling the approaching challenger. Just once, the boy would have liked to have faced a Sith who defied the norms of their religion.

Why couldn't a Sith be an adorable Kushiban? Hopping around with yellow fur and pink hued cheeks, chirping something easily trademarked and then obligating its enemies with the Force Lightning that no one saw coming.

No?

Skulls and spikes it was then.

Further playing to archetype was the deluge of emotion that seemed to permeate through the Force like a miasma of raw, emotive energy. But that passion belied an eerie calm. Darth Skeletor did not push his attack. Instead, he seemed evaluating. The spear at his side, seemingly held in reserve. The forward hand outstretched, as though grasping at air.

No, not air.

He was manipulating the Force.

​

This was an ambush bug. Bringing the lightsaber hilt up in his right hand, the boy casually activated the double-bladed weapon and then swung it down so that his stance mirrored that of the Zabrak -- lightsaber down by his right side and his left hand just above waist level.

Through the Force, the kitten was probing with his preternatural sense. Scying along the edge of conscious thought for premonition and instinct. He would need to assess and anticipate if he was going to challenge this opponent.

[member="Xevek Nekonis"]​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

As the seconds ticked away, a sense of stillness settling between the two Acolyte's, Xevek held his pose, glaring out at the Cathar with a burning gaze. The longer the stalemate lasted, the longer that the pair waited for the other to make a move, the louder that the growling noise coming from the back of his throat grew, his bloodlust rising higher and higher as he remained unable to slake his thirst. Finally, however, Xevek decided to move, choosing to take the first step if his opponent was unwilling to do so.

The ground beneath his feet buckled every so slightly, cracks appearing where none had existed before, as the Iridonian pushed himself forwards with the aid of the Force, crossing the distance in a blink of an eye. As he approached, the tip of his spear came up and around, directing itself towards Micah's chest with a sense of accuracy and grace that spoke of years of training and practice with the weapon. And, indeed, Xevek did possess that experience, having hunted, fought and trained with the spear as his main weapon of choice back on Iridonia.

Despite the deadliness that he tried to impart upon the spear strike, however, it was not the Iridonian's true opening strike. A feint more than anything, a way to draw the Cathar's focus away from his true intention. But, if it did hit, then, all the better.

As he lunged forward with the spear, his left hand, the one that he had held outstretched so as to begin manipulating and plucking at the threads of the force, fell to his side, fingers tensing and twisting so as to impart the same behaviour onto the Force. Strings of telekinetic strength would form and wrap around Micah's throat, singing with hatred and wrath, seeking to choke the younger of the two until no air could be drawn into his lungs, until his vision darkened, and the spectre of death began to loom. If they were allowed to continue unopposed, the Darkness within the Zabrak would continue to urge to threads tighter and tighter.

[member="Micah"]​