Second Sith-Imperial Tournament - Tsisaar Taral vs. Kaine O'Doran

[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="Tsisaar Taral"] | [member="Kaine O'Doran"]
Terrain: Tundra
Variables: N/A

 

[Kaine O'Doran]

[SIZE=13.5pt]Knight, Sith Warrior[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Location - Tundra, [/SIZE]Shâsot Skyhook Arena, Lorrd
[SIZE=9pt]Allies - The Sith Empire[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Enemies - [member="Tsisaar Taral"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Status - Alert; Confident[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Armor - Durasteel Curiass & Armorweave Underarmor[/SIZE]
Equipment - Crimson Lightsaber (1x) | Vibro Sword (1x) | Vibro Spear-Javelin (1x)
[SIZE=9pt]_____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/SIZE]

"And I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death..."
~ Revelations 6:7

The sound of the crowds of people cheering, yelling, screaming, from above, was deafening to the ear, to the naked and untrained ear of the civilian. To the ear of the warrior, to the ear of the soldier, such noises they had become accustomed to. They had heard such voices, such sounds, such auditory stimulation from days on end, a constant reminder of where they were. A lowly poem, a lowly song which rang through the head of both the hard-borne warrior and the well-disciplined soldier. Both knew the call of the song, it repeated itself constantly without any meaning to stop, it was on a constant, trivial, obstructive, loop. Such a song, however, became mesmerizing. It was the sound of fighting, of war, of battle, of killing. Kaine O'Doran was such a listener to this song. He was the hard-borne warrior, stubborn and unyielding from years of battle. His enemy...the soldier, the well-disciplined and well-educated saint of battle. Warrior and soldier, barbarian and priest, hunter and scholar.

The male Gurlanin had come to this place, to this tournament for one reason, and one reason alone. He was here to test himself, to test his own self-worth, his own determination, his own strength. If he ever would be able to return home, he needed to do such a thing. His strength and size compared to other Gurlanins was something which had set him apart from them. And as he had thought of such things with the input of one Marriskcal Lati, his friend, another possible reason for his banishment was his freakish nature and how his presence alone challenged the elders. It didn't make O'Doran feel any more comfortable with what had happened to him, if anything, it had made him angrier and more upset at what had happened. Perhaps it hadn't been the suspected murder of his brother that had led to his banishment...perhaps it had been his possibility to overthrow the ruling authority due to his own genetics, something, he could not control.

Kaine's blazing orange eyes carefully watched his opponent through the T-shaped, hoplite helmet that sat fixated upon his head. He knew what he was going to do already. He knew how he would defeat, decimate, kill, his opponent. There was not thinking needed for it, something which was perfect for the uneducated and unversed individual to a Galaxy which appeared all new to him. Everything around him was strange, foreign. The land on which he stood himself felt as though it was fake and an artificial construct. The ground felt uneven and loose underfoot as he shifted his stance, the metal boots he wore clunking noisily as he moved in such a small movement. The feeling of metal against his skin disgusted the Gurlanin, the weight of it felt strange and unnatural. Though, he would manage for this tournament. His right hand clenched in it a vibrosword with a hooked shape at the end resembling that of a scimitar of Qiilura. His other hand held aloft a straight and pronged spear, its edge pointed towards the ground as though it were a flag, a flag to represent the male's determination to stand there and take anything that was thrown at him.

Kaine's eyes narrowed venomously towards his enemy, his knuckles tightening, his shoulders relaxing, his mouth splitting into a predatory grin for bloodshed. He refused to back down as he always would. Instead of striking first like had become tradition of his fighting style, the man remained to stand there aloft as a statue, unyielding, unquenchable, unmovable. The only movements he made were the subtle moves and degree changing of his feet, bouncing his weight against the ground for leverage and support encase of an attack.