Public Showcase | Adumar

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Tag: Open | Join How You See Fit​

---

The time of the nobles of Adumar had long passed, but still the old fools clung to tradition. With so few of them left, they had become sorts of celebrities to the people; only mildly involved in the governance of their nations. They still espoused the ideals of honour and used their archaic social structure. Adumar's people often watched the nobles duel in the Grand Arena of Cartann City, though rarely was it filled to capacity -- the elders often mused about how much more exciting the duels to the death were; the struggle for honor and triumph over one's enemies were the most brilliant things on their quiet little planet. Some would still watch on the HoloNet, wager on who the greatest fighter was...

But rarely did a stranger ever duel one of their nobles.

The reasoning behind the gathering that day at the arena was nebulous. Most accounts stated that a stranger had approached the young, headstrong son of one of Cartann's foremost noble families and mocked him in public. He responded by drawing his blast sword, but instead the stranger challenged him to a duel. The man might've been a foreigner, but the young noble was not one to turn down a chance to showcase his skills and humiliate the one who had dared mock him.

The rules of personal combat on Adumar had changed since the old days; the duelists could bring any weapon they so chose, though those who used blasters were often looked upon with disdain. The stranger, of course, needed only one weapon -- the Force. Well, his spear also, it was rather useful.

The young noble was skilled and had never lost a duel, and it showed in his speed and grace as the two warriors danced across the stone-floored arena. The foreigner had kept on the defensive thus far, giving his opponent the advantage of attacking first. Most of the onlookers applauded their native champion. Those who looked more closely could see the truth -- the gladiator who wielded the crimson spear had been fighting at this same pace for several minutes now and had yet to take a blow, but his opponent was beginning to slow, not used to this sort of endurance test.

After a short exchange the gladiator leapt away. The noble paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, but when he looked back at his opponent, the gladiator's stance had changed. He stood tall, holding his spear in his right hand, his feet together with the left pointing at a right angle away from him. Like... a dancer. "My my, getting tired already? Little boy, I'll call your mother to tuck you in and read you a bedtime story," the gladiator said mockingly, his words laced with the Force. A crude application of Dun Möch, though he appeared to enjoy making fun of the man just because.

The noble would not back down; his honour was on the line as it always was. He charged, slashing and thrusting, but each strike touched nothing but air. The gladiator's body seemed to bend and twist in abnormal ways as he dodged each slash and thrust. He moved with unnatural speed, keeping his weapon out of the way as the nobleman tired himself further. Until, finally...

Thwack.

The duel had ended. The noble's body slumped to the ground unconscious -- yes, the blood duels were quite missed -- and the gladiator stepped forward, facing the crowd with a brilliant smile and confident tone. He was sure his intended audience would be reached. "My name is Dorian Sicarrio. I ask you -- who's next?"

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

The noble on the ground raises a shaking hand and points into the crowd, speaking through bloody teeth.
"Mercenary...do your job....reclaim....my....honor." and with that falls well and truly unconscious, hanging halfway on the stands. A man clad head to toe in black steps forward with a robotically modulated sigh. He picks the noble up and simply tosses him to his retainers, who catch him with a look of shock as the mercenary turns to face Dorian Sicarrio , the smooth expanse of his black visor giving away nothing.
"Well, considering you just beat my employer to a pulp and he has yet to pay me, I suppose I am."
He steps forward from the stands and drops into the arena with catlike grace, and raises his glove clad fists, a combat knife clenched in one of them. On his back is a slugthrower carbine and at his side is a slug pistol, but he doesn't look as if he intends to use either. suddenly, with no warning, ceremony, or even introduction, he darts forward with an almost feral speed as he stays low to the ground, and attempting to disrupt the young mans focus to keep him from accessing the force or at least from using it offensively for the moment, throws the knife in an upward arc towards his face...

 

[Xzaien]

A figure stood in the crowd watching the battle below from the blood drenched steps of the arena. A figure, clad in robes of blood-like scarlet. Their face, entirely within shadow. Their hands were concealed beneath their robes as they watched on. The death and bloodshed seemingly slating the sadistic glee that this individual was likely to have. Obviously, this figure had been given a bit of space by the nobles around them. Out of fear? Or some pointless local custom that standing near a complete stranger could have a bit of them rub off. Tainting them.

Whatever this enigmatic figure did, was to watch this battle unfold. And perhaps join in on the festivities themselves. All those around them, whispered mumurs, listening to the silent which was this figure, who's face was drenched in an invisible shadow of darkness. To those accustomed to the Force, a dark seeping presence was felt. Unlike any other. One of pure bleakness seen no where except on the wastelands of Katarr, or the sun choked toxic mess that was Nathema or Balmorra.

The figure stood up, their gloved hands emerging forth from their robe in a steady if calculated fashion as the Noble Man was cut to ribbons. They clapped, alongside the crowd. Perhaps they knew more about what was going on than meets. Once the applause has stopped, the Figure stood from their seat, standing full height now before the arena, and those in the crowd. The figure stepped forth, heading to the Bloodpits, perhaps to join in. After a few minutes they appeared again, out of the same challenger hole that the Nobleman appeared from earlier.

They made eye contact with Dorian Sicarrio as they lowered their hood. The sight which was beneath was moderately startling to say the least. A Cathar, not one of the more feral, animalistic ones that grace the Galaxy today. No, she was of the more ancient types of Cathar. Ones who looked more Human, save for a layer of thin fur across their bodies which gave them a catlike appearance. Now that they stood there, they were rather short for even a human. Around five foot two in height. Her face, was one of which force nightmares were made off. Completely still, and expressionless. Save for a small permanent smirk which seemed to crest off her lips like a sun-drenched dawn. Her eyes, her cursed eyes were those of Blood Red. Glowing slightly in their splendor. A clear sign of the highest form of Dark-Side Corruption ever recorded. The eyes, which pulsated with a dull glowing orange red, seemed to be all that those in the crowd, and perhaps what the duelists saw. They could see the hate behind it, they could see the horrible things this Cathar has done.

The impression of an extremely Old School Dark-Sider was given off by this relatively unassuming individual. She was alone, and bore no visible weapons. Yet Dorian would likely have to face this rather enigmatic being in close combat. Perhaps so...

Mazrim Caide/Taim ​

 

[Josiah Navollius]

" Moff Navollius, It seems there is some new action in the arenas." Spoke a black armored man leaning close to the man. One of the Moffs personal guard no doubt. Sitting within his private office, a suite that was just as big as a mansion. Josiah sat comfortably inspecting a large datascreen on his desk. Scanning through each digit of info he sighed reviewing the imports and exports for the planet, its borders and the trade routes near it. Everything that came in and out went through his eyes.

It seemed he was expecting something.

" Do tell. " The moff raised an eyebrow and made no further expression. Any action in the dueling arena's naturally gained his interest as a warrior. After all it was how he came to his position on Adumar. " Thank you for informing me. Do yourself a favor sergeant and take your leave. Ive reviewed your requested leave time. It is approved. Go see your family soldier."

 

[Kaleleon]

I had decided to take some time for myself.

Even though I had only just put myself back into the field, trying to find work while being a former Jedi of the Order, I found that places where Nobles herded, were likely the best places to be. Good food, drink, and most of all, honor. The Nobility of Adumar was known for their almost religious battles using a weapon that seemed quite different. Using a weapon called "Blastsword." It was interesting to be honest. A sword that had a barrel running down the length of the spine, and had an emitter to fire a short ranged blast. Seeing as how I seem to be collecting weapons now, I kind of wanted to get one just for the hell of it.

However, finding one was difficult as hell. If there was one being sold, it was an heirloom and thus expensive due to the name attached to it. Taking a reprieve from my searching, I had found myself just outside an arena. A crowd cheering loudly. Many were still filing in. Taking off my helmet, The purple line down the faceplate shut down. Holding it under my arm between my side, and bracer. Of course I carried a Shotgun weapon on the small of my back. But a Lightsaber was a sign I was a Jedi. Walking up to the guards who tried to stop me, I pulled out a signet ring. Identifying myself as a Jedi of the Order. While recently they have been under the rule of an Imperial Order, A peacekeeper Jedi was allowed in. However, I was told to behave myself and all would be well.

I forego the chance to sit. Instead, find myself standing at a railing that overlooked the arena itself. Finally as a majority of those who came were seated, it began. A Nobleman facing a Stranger. Right from the gate, I knew that the man with this curious Red Spear would be quite the individual. Swords and Sabers were easy to learn. While many could become masters of such a blade, Spears, and polearms, were a trade unto themselves. Having the ability to twist and twirl it with a grace that in my opinion, could outclass any Master Saberwielder.

It was in a word, Beautiful. Seeing this dark haired individual move with such finesse and grace. Opulence in spades. Yes, this Nobleman would have been quite the foe for any Jedi. Should they not use the force that is. However, what made me take a second look, was their mouths moving. Speaking. Within the ebb and flow of the force, the rivers that formed it, I could feel it drawn to the Spearman. Force Sensitive, and was adept at using it in a very subtle tone.

Dun Moch? I think it was called? An application of words influenced with the force to make those you are facing make stupid decisions. It had been used against me in the past. While the first time it made me fail, when I encountered it again, I bested it. Here? The Nobleman had no chance. He was done as soon as he charged that last time. A single strike felled the man. Knocking him down. While he was dazed easily two other men walked out and escorted the failed nobility off of the field when the Spearman proclaimed himself another match.

However, what transpired was different. As soon as the proclamation was uttered, a being charged the spearman. Yet, on the other side of the arena, A female Cathar showed up. Only producing herself from underneath a hood and cloak. They were bold. I could feel the force flowing through and around them. They commanded it as a Master of such traits. However, I just shook my head. The Adumar people were about Honor, and facing your foe head on in bouts such as these. So seeing one strike out with no real exchange, then another come up, it was quickly becoming a Two on One scenario.

I just shook my head before placing it within the crested helmet. Leaping over the railing to have my boots thud loudly to the ground below. A hand easily thrown out in the direction of the assailant with the blade. Shimmering barrier formed around the individual. A Protection Bubble. One that permitted his blade from reaching the flesh of the spearman.

"No this won't do. A Two on one Fight is not honorable according to the Adumar people."

My faceplate shifted to the Cathar woman. She was clearly powerful in the force, and I hoped against everything that I could feel from her, that she would not attack at the moment.

"I would hope that a being of your stature would honor the code of the people here. However, I have a suspicion you will not."

Of all that were here, it seems I would be the one most heavily armored. Mostly because I always had my armor. Secondly, as a Former Jedi, and now a Spacer, I have to be prepared for anything. Releasing the small sphere around the attacking individual, I rested my back against the wall behind me and folded my arms.

"Now can we just enjoy a good dance, or will this resort into a death match?"

Josiah Navollius Xzaien Mazrim Caide/Taim Dorian Sicarrio

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Tag: Mazrim Caide/Taim Xzaien Josiah Navollius Kaleleon​

---

The mercenary was quick, the kind of quick that came with extensive combat training. But he was limited by his body. Dorian, of course, had no such limitations. As this new challenger shot towards him, Dorian leapt back, keeping his distance. Even moving backwards it seemed that he could keep pace with this agile mercenary. He was just getting warmed up, too...

"Hiring some goon to do your fighting for you? Rather dishonorable I'd say," the gladiator jeered. The comment served a double purpose; to further humiliate the defeated noble, but equally to annoy the mercenary. He wasn't truly worth Dorian's time. Anyone could kill, but only the talented could fight, and Dorian was the most talented of them all. "And you, mercenary, if I can even call you that -- you fight for someone who has yet to pay you? Quite the fool you are," he mocked. Dorian frowned as his eyes focused more closely on his new opponent. The black visor was annoying; without the telltale movement of his eyes, Dorian would have a little more trouble predicting his movements. Relying on his danger sense wasn't as convenient... then again, not like this goon could keep up with him.

The close-range knife throwing was an odd -- though potentially effective -- choice. It gave the attacker a little more reach, and it was certainly surprising. But even before Dorian could react a barrier had formed between the two of them and the knife clattered to the ground. He turned and glared at the man who'd cast it. It would've been simple work, putting the man in his place, but instead Dorian had been interrupted. The woman across the other side of the arena seemed to be prepared to attack as well. Really, a duel was a duel because there were only two...

With the barrier released, Dorian stepped away, returning to a relaxed position. "Well, it hadn't been what I had in mind, but I'm up for anything really. Still, I'd rather real warriors over this rabble," he said, gesturing to the mercenary. His gaze turned to the Cathar woman. "You're just as bad. At least introduce yourselves." Maybe there'd be someone worth beating among this lot.

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

If the Mercenary is at all bothered by the disrespect, he doesn't show it, merely takes stock of the situation. One force user he could beat. They tended to be arrogant, and most were reliant on their connection to the force. Two, on the other hand...He picks his combat knife up and sheaths it.

"I have done my job. I'm leaving." His voice allows no room for argument as he turns his back to Dorian and the Cathar and simply begins walking leisurely away, towards the arena exit.

//tags: Dorian Sicarrio Xzaien