Sith-Imperial Tournament - Round Two

[Elani Zambrano]

Round 2
Opponents: [member="Sokar Azad"] | [member="Thyne"]
Equipment: Grappling boa, Talisman of transformation, Shield talisman

There she was. Round two of the tournament. She made it this far, why not go even further?

The Panathan master of the dark arts stood there, wrapped in black, eyeing her opponents. Two this time? Twice the mind-altering, fear-inducing fun. She'd make even more of a spectacle for this fight. Elani checked her ring which held her talisman. It's eerie shine flashed brightly in the sunlight. She checked her grappling boa wrapped tightly around her core. She was ready to go.

As her opponents were on standby, Elani weaved a spell that would turn things extra loopy for this battle. Radiating slowly from Elani's position, a malicious smog would spread. It was dark green in color and spread across the arena rather swiftly. The smog was thick and several meters high, effectively blocking one's view unless they were aided by some eyegear of some sort. The smog was so thick than attempts at pushing it away would be futile. Elani needed this cover for the next step in her plan.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

Stomp.

The smol bantha burst into smoke and disappeared when Joyce took a step, incidentally stepping right in the place the bantha had been a moment ago. As expected (and perhaps feared) Kazmai didn't take this very well. He roared and the noise coming from him had more to do with the sound of a dozen engines suddenly roaring into existence than anything else.

But fury, anger, hatred, they had their uses at the right time.

Rather than slow down, Kazmai ran harder while drawing on the Darkside of the Force. He had few skills in the Force, but magnification of strength and durability was one of them. Some Force Masters could walk in acid rivers unharmed without any clothes. Others could summon large storms of lightning. Kazmai? Kazmai could make his skin as strong as rock.

When Joyce thrust her spear his forearm lashed out, dashing the point aside from his core and to the side. Its point ripped through fur and skin of his shoulder, but the many pounded simian of pure malice and strength still barreled on through straight into Joyce.

Ow.

Probably.

On both accounts.

 

[LT-137]

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[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

It was said that in the time before the darkness that dimmed the light of civilization, the martial teachings of the Scions of Eshan had spread throughout the Galaxy, and were taught to the best and brightest of the myriad Faction's that populated the stars. What was once considered an art form that allowed the indistinguishable siblings to express, and perhaps stand apart from their kin; had been perverted and passed down to unworthy hands who only learned the sacred foundations to defend themselves in unarmed combat. In many ways this was but one method that the Thyrsian people took satisfaction against the wrongdoings of their genetic cousins within the Echani; by watching as their most precious forms of communication was deflowered on the galactic stage by undeserving miscreants. This was where the Scions of Thyrsus had taken pride, in secretly keeping their divergences of the Echani martial arts tightly clutched to their chests. Where those moon-worshipping fools had proclaimed that their fists were their weapons and that only the lightest of armours should ever adorn their forms - to allow for the best possible blend of protection and mobility - the Desert-born had known better.

No matter how agile you were. No matter how swift your strikes were. There was always someone better out there, who would be unharmed by your fists and would turn your agility against you. It was there that the Thyrsians had preferred the use of blades instead of their fingers, as the subtle thrill of death and bloodletting that came about with every duel not only honoured the Sun(s) with a martial display of vitality but allowed the practitioner to fully express himself upon the sacred grounds of the arena. The act of drawing blood may have been considered barbaric by many, but the truth of the matter was - that the trappings of civilization were merely a fancy cage that kept the beast that beat within every breast contained by the fear of punishment. This was a harsh lesson that was learned under the oppressive heel of the Echani, and again after centuries of warfare against their overlords and the expansionist Scions of Mandalore. One could learn many things about how their opponent carried themselves in battle; by how they moved and how their muscles tensed in response to another’s vibrant aggression.

In those precious moments before the first contact was made, a well-trained and studious Thyrsian warrior would determine the worthiness of their opponent - seeing if the man had measured up or simply acted out of fear-driven instinct - and would ultimately determine how his movements would flow from one to another.

To this Mandalorian’s credit, with how his rippling musculature sluggishly danced across the sands - no doubt slowed by his gravitic restraints - Khonsu was able to determine that he was pitted against a skilled adversary. The Mercenary Gladiator wouldn’t have it any other way, despite the momentary disappointment that played through his patrician features as the tail end of the man’s electrostaff dragged along the surface of the arena, and sent a billowing spear of sand towards his eyes. Why was it that everyone wished to cloud his vision with these microscopic grains of uncrystallized glass? Did he have something on his forehead that staked he loved eating the sweat-stained dunes? Nevertheless, the dark-skinned man closed an eye and raised his empty hand to shroud his gaze, allowing the sacred ground to coat his freshly oiled flesh - leaving his sight relatively untouched. There were some troublesome grains that had raced past his fingers, and coated his eyelids - but the man was used to such irritants and sought to press them from his mind. It was doubtful that they would become more than a discomfort as the bout carried on, but it was something he had to be wary of in the future.

If he had started to profusely sweat, well, his own body would’ve betrayed him and blinded him thereafter, leaving him open to retaliation. That was something that the Thyrsian couldn’t afford at this juncture and knew that he had to end things quickly before that eventuality had come to pass.

With the billowing spread of sand had begun to settle, the first blows between these two paragons of warrior culture’s had transpired, resulting in a resounding clang of electrified metal against the alchemized crystalline surface of the Thyrsian’s sword. While the blow had been successful in diverting the overhead strike, it had caused a shift in polarity that lightened the restraints about Khonsu’s wrists and sent his arm painfully behind his person, forcing him into a deadly pirouette. This was further enhanced by the rapid shift in gravitic strength in the clasps that were lashed across his ankles, which made moving his planted feet extremely difficult and forced him to follow the momentum of his weighted blade. As a pained expression was slowly adopted by his darkened features, the Desert-born Gladiator shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet and allowed himself to spin in place - which in turn had brought about his weapon in an upward motion - seeking to draw first blood by scoring the man’s sculpted flesh from his presented thigh to the nape of his neck.

In the moments before the blade connected, either with flesh, steel, or air, Khonsu wondered if his adversaries restraints had reversed in their polarity, allowing him the full breadth of his warrior’s stride - or if they too had betrayed him and kept him partially planted in the sands.

All would become clear when his eyes once again laid themselves upon the Mandalorian...

| [member="Koda Fett"] |​

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Round: 2
Opponent: [member="Adrian Vandiir"]
Weapon: Ba’Vanim // Back-up Weapon: Generic Lightwhip (1.5 m length)

The amused smile she wore grew wider at the acolyte’s retort, a soft laugh the only answer she gave to his retort. It was a point in his favor, that her light taunts failed to conjure rage or any semblance of self-consciousness, the personal confidence a benefit for the time being. It was a dangerous edge, the balance between confidence and arrogance, one that many Darksiders, even a few notable Jedi, struggled to walk with success. All too many fell prey to underestimating their opponent or over-estimating themselves.

Only once had the Ren fallen prey to such an assumption, her bravado and pride out-weighting the survivalist instinct within. A lesson hard learned and carved into her being with blood and pain, an angry pink pucker of scarred flesh against her rib cage a permanent reminder painted on her form should her memory fail to serve as testament enough.

Amusement faded into a neutral wariness as sparks once again danced across his form, the match beginning in earnest, her crimson gaze darting from the outstretched hand to his face and feet. His mouth and hand moved in rapid succession, the electricity dying in a haze of purple, the blast soaring towards the Arch-Queen from outstretched fingers. Violet power collided with an invisible barrier, conjured as she’d awaited a barrage of lightning, amber flecks melting into a red tide as she pulled power around herself.

”Impressive.”

Even she could admit when one surprised another, tracks made in the sand as the strength of the attack slid her through the soft grit a foot or so. One corner of her mouth quirked up as Ara let the barrier fall, the blast dying away as wind kicked up around them, centered on the Master within the ring. Time had dulled her precision with the Kro-Varian skill of elemental shaping, but the volatile breeze came to her call all too easily, her braid whipping in the torrent.

One thought sent a tendril of wind lashing out at her opponent, seeking to disorient and distract as her blade easily came unclipped from her belt in one smooth motion. Where her blade would require forward momentum to bring her into range, instead Ara stayed planted, the harsh ochre glow of the lightwhip roaring to lip with the press of a button. A smooth arc of her arm sent the soft curve of the whip sailing through the sand in a half-circle before the Master, sand melting into glass beneath its touch, a glistening path of clear crystal left in its wake.

As the arc reached its zenith, the natural progression of the motion turned it to retrace its original curve, a flick of the wrist sending the yellow plasma sailing upward, seeking the man before her and any exposed appendage.

[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[AMCO]

Opponent: [member='Ara Zambrano']
Gear: Two VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblades
Previous Posts: 24, 20

He felt a growing sense of exhilaration as the purple energy crashed against his opponent's barrier, pushing her back a short distance through the sand. This was the first time he had had the chance to test the ability against a worthy opponent; he was hardly the kind of Sith that hunted down Jedi or fought in wars, at least unless motivated his personal goals, and finding a fellow Acolyte willing to be on the receiving end of Sith Magic was far from easy.

There was no time to rest on his laurels, however. Immediately after the energy from his blast had dissipated, the Ren started forming an expanding circle of wind around her. That was unexpected, but not anything he hadn't read about. Smiling slightly, he conjured forth a barrier of his own, shrugging off the blast of air with without too much exertion. It had done no harm, but it had cost him a few precious moments. As the lightwhip finished its arc he realized her plan, or so he thought, and decided to beat her at her own game. As he prepared to launch the sand-turned-glass at her, he realized too late what he had been too distracted to see.

Leaping backwards, he attempted to get out of her reach but felt a searing pain as the weapon lashed across his left shin, cutting through his pants and leaving a particularly long yet not overly deep gash. Landing on his feet out of her reach, for now, he winced slightly as he put weight on his foot. Curses did that hurt, but he would have been much worse off had the hit been more direct, or had it been a true lightsaber.

"Well played." He said through gritted teeth, before forcefully raising both his hands into the air as he launched dozens of chunks of glass from the semi-circle in front of the Master, sending them flying towards her as quickly as he could muster, but with little in the way of spread.

The projectiles were not, however, guided by him. He would fling them at her position, then switch his focus to conjuring forth a barrage of force lightning, this time for real. If all worked according to plan, she would dodge the projectiles instead of raising a barrier, thus leaving herself open to the strongest blast of lightning he could muster. He would begin to feel the fatigue from using so much energy soon enough, but it mattered little. The only way in which he could possibly stand a chance would be to take her by surprise and end the fight quickly. There was no way he would be able to outlast someone so much more powerful and experienced than himself, of that he was sure.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Kazmai"]

This guy; he fought like a man with no notion of self-preservation, barrelling past her glaive-point and rushing through with mass, momentum and enmity. It was not what she had expected, even from a conical beast like what she saw. The world around her seemed to grow grey and furry as Kazmai came rushing in towards her with murder in his eyes.

Joycelyn tried to shift to the side. If she managed to outmanoeuvre him, then she could probably avoid his charge and land a second slash. No, she was not fast enough.

The vahlacanthix took one step to the right, her weight shifting with it and the shaft of her weapon coming in defensively. It helped. Rather than being pushed right back or being trampled, she could steer her momentum to the side, out of his path. The red blade crashed with sand, turning it into black, dirty obsidian that smoked and hissed. With the flexibility inherited by her Vahla kin, she was able to roll softly along the sand, which now felt like grey fur and angry eyes staring at her accusingly.

At the end of the roll, she quickly rose to a low stance, spear braced against her hip and the tip pointed at Kazmai. He was out of her reach, but she was prepared for another charge this time. As she took a deep breath, fire flickered around her nostrils. Then, with a roaring exhale, she opened her mouth and let loose a roaring cone of flames in Kazmai's direction. It was not enough to kill, but certainly enough to wound and cause intense pain. Especially to one with fur.

 

[Progflaw99]

Subject: [member="Sokar Azad"] | Round II​

Affiliation: The Golden Company, Stellar Centurion​

Opponent(s): [member="Elani Zambrano"] | [member="Thyne"] | (Note: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Ao Xian"])​

Weapons: Hybrid Light Whip | Guard Shoto | Cortosis Shield​

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Even as the air passed across the drifting sand of the Arena, Sokar felt a fell wind gentle against his flesh. Eyes darting from the initial glimpse of his first foe he sought out the figure of another. Only briefly did Sokar catch a glimpse of the form standing there before a mist began to permeate the air around him. Viridescence began to fill the arena, radiating from the third form. With a sneer, Sokar twirled the whip before stepping towards where he'd seen the form of the man only moments before. With each step, the Stellar Centurion called upon the radiance of the sun. Rays incandescent, brilliant even shone down upon the arena. Cutting through the farthest edges of the putrid gloom forming around the shrouded form, a beam of radiant gilded light fell upon the Sun Guard, illuminating the path on which his feet would take.

Cautiously, anxiously, the length of the hybrid whip twitched through the air and across the sand. First one way, then the next. Like the flickering of a viper's tongue it flicked left then right almost as if seeking out its target - but the distance was too far yet. Slowly, surely, Sokar trod forward as the green fog was melted away around him. Even so, his vision only extended a few meters in any direction.

Steady was the walk of a warrior, heart beating rhythmically within his chest. Mind set upon the task at hand, eyes set and focus unbroken. Sokar carried the gait of a predator, the vision of a hawk, the strength of a ram. Every footstep set upon the sand shone with radiance. With whip twirling, a vibrant hum emanated from its length as the blades of corporeal energy mirrored the movements of the physical lashes attached to the hilt. A dangerous weapon in its own right, now it cut through the fog with a visceral cackle, still seeking flesh of the enemy.

 

[Ignatius]

Opponent: [member="Orion Darkstar"],
Judges: [member="Ao Xian"], [member="Darth Carnifex"],
Gear: Orain, Oathkeeper, Scindo,

I smiled brightly as I rushed forward. The growing strength within the man showed itself. Tendrils of the force flowed around his arm and were released at the arcs of destruction I had sent his way. He was attempting to neutralize the power. However, I could see his body brace for impact. He was still expecting a shockwave to hit him. It then registered to me what he was attempting to do. And I loved it.

This man knew I was attacking from a range, yet still wanted to keep me at such. He wanted me to expose more, or to dwindle our powers down at the same rate. It was a game of lasting the longest. If he wanted that, then I would have to change that. I would have to force him to be completely on the defensive, yet still keep control to not overexert myself, or overextend. While he braced for impact, I slid to a stop. Steeling myself through the use of Telekinesis. Keeping my feet firmly planted upon the ground, while using my practices of the Matukai to solidify my body. Preventing jarring damage to be little more than a push. However, it took quite a bit of energy from me.

Deciding to do it again, I smiled. Swinging the sword from left to right. Releasing a wide arc of the ability once more. Yet as soon as that was released, The followthrough allowed the sword to be in prime position for me to hurl the blade directly after him. Even with my own physical strength, it was quite an impressive throw. Sure, I was throwing one of my only weapons at him. Yet, just as I took a step forward to close the distance, I could feel the floor from underneath me start to collapse.

Growling as I had barely been able to push off and land on my knees onto what I assumed was solid ground, I looked up and prepared myself for the worst. Having no weapon, and being tripped up, And well within easy closing distance of the man, it was very likely that he could close the distance with his own weapon and end this. I felt stupid for doing that. I hated myself already.

Yet, I prepared myself.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

When his charge met naught but air Kazmai skidded to a halt, letting his feet drag against the sand until he was no longer in movement.

His momentum stilled.

There were laws at work here- whereas Kazmai needed to only stand still and turn, Joyce needed to finish her roll, let distance be created and reassess the evolving situation. It was for this reason that when she expected another charge from the simian there was none to be found. Instead Kazmai roared: "For Floppy, demon-spawn." After all, the drugs were only starting to increase in strength as they circulated through the large frame of the ape.

Everything was turning and her face was contorted into strange angles. It almost made him throw up- in truth some bile had made it past his teeth, seeping into his fur, but he was well past caring about that.

No, all that Kazmai cared about was the Darkside coursing through him as he brought down his power-hammer against the ground. Augmented with the strength of the Darkside, his own might and the power-hammer itself the ground shook in a jagged line towards the demon. Parts of the ground broke, making it unstable just as Joyce roared her own defiant cry.

This one filled with anger.

Luckily for Kazmai its path was no longer true because of the shaking ground, instead of burning his face, it singed parts of his fur. Kazmai roared in joy as the pain did not come this time around.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

[member="Ignis Imura"]

[SIZE=11pt]War's Edge[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]x1 Sith Lightsaber | x1 Valis Worship Lightsaber (White, No special features.)[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]

[/SIZE]​

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​

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The massive waves of energy connected, the resounding collapse folded inward. Orion hadn't considered the effect to be an explosion. It turned out that his opponent wasn't utilizing energy waves, but destructive piercing energy. As soon as the contact crashed against each other, the force fizzled. There would be no backlash, instead they were each safe. As safe as one could be under the conditions. They each were trained killers, strangled by the rules to prevent further unnecessary losses for the empire. It was a shame, truly this would be closest Orion would get to test multiple abilities in his realm of conjuration. Although, the risks weighed heavier and more strenuous then the last trick he preformed. He sensed another offensive attack through the plethora of tiny grains of sand. ​

​

He thought about all the possible outcomes quickly. The sand parted, and a steel beauty soared through the gap. Orion planted his hand calmly on the ground. The force whispered to him, granting him the cold embrace of his teachings. While he spent minimal time with the practitioner that taught him the arts, he continued to breed his own success in the art of Cryokinesis. So much so, that he rarely used it. However, in the dead of heat, he used his very own droplets of sweat to churn a slender and wide wall of ice to life. It erupted from the sand like a molding behemoth. Standing in the way of the directed blast and Ignis's sword. Orion got to his feet, waiting for the impact. ​

​

The bursting shards of ice shattered outward, the blade that headed for his own head derailed from its target and into the ground. Something else threatened Orion, a small whine slipped out from under him. Losing his footing, he slipped, almost falling into the pit below. Falling backwards, he placed his hands over his head and propelled himself upright. In the meager distance, he found his enemy on the ground. It seemed trap doors were the gimmick this round. Orion shifted his attention below. The dark pit was incapable of showing him what lied at the pitch black bottom. Even with the sun breaching its inner walls for a short time. ​

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Orion sighed, taking note of what could have befallen him. Still, he needed to shorten the distance. He darted forward, pivoting on his back heel and twisting into a ravenous flurry of unpredictability. At the last moment, two sabers hummed to life. A painting of red and white strokes crashing down towards the helpless sith below. Orion counted, step after step he saw potential counters. There were only two, depending on the adversaries agility. Already accounted for, Orion shifted his front foot side ways. It would force him to stop at a perfect distance to still wound his target, not kill. Not only was it to protect the sith knight on the ground, but himself. If the opponent found a way out, Orion could react in time.​

​

If a closer fight was what he asked for, Orion answered. ​

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[member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] ​

 

[Ignatius]

Opponent: [member="Orion Darkstar"],
Judges: [member="Ao Xian"], [member="Darth Carnifex"],
Gear: Orain, Oathkeeper, Scindo,

I attempted to stand up. My leg had fallen down into the bottomless pit as I looked up just for a moment. Watching as ice, had been destroyed by the wave of energy sent his way. The sword had also been thrown too quickly, that the blast sent it down and into the ground. Surprisingly, the man didn't attempt to grab my weapon. Pushing myself up onto the platform as fast as I could, I was barely able to kneel as the man closed the gap. Two lightsabers had ignited with their very familiar snap. I smiled brightly. The man saw that I was essentially unarmed. However, that was further from the truth.

Having climbed up the inside of a Volcano, I learned quickly that Matukai teachings along won't do it. I had to use a combination of skills at my disposal to keep my body from harm. Much like how other practitioners of this particular skill used it on staves, or even batons, I used it differently. I pushed myself up to my feet at the twin sabers came down onto my left forearm. Slamming hard upon my arm, I had pushed up into the arc of the weapons. Closing the distance with a single step forward to prevent any pulling back.

You see, the ability Force Weapon was much akin to a Matukai hardening himself to physical damage. While the Matukai could prevent some, they could not prevent all damage. This ability could do just that. Force Weapon was an ability used by some Masters of the force upon weapons. However, I used it on my body. Yet, as they were masters, and I am just a Knight, I was expending a lot of energy to do this. Even just the second they were on my arms was a lot of energy spent. Quickly pushing my forearm up, and towards him, I took another step forward and let my right hand ball up into a fist. Gathering the force energies as it slung into an uppercut.

Attempting to punch him, it was charged differently. As soon as it got close to his chest, I released a force blast of telekinesis. Akin to a force push that was being shoved out through my fist. While the Trapdoor below me was unexpected, I had been wanting a fight that was very close to the chest. And this is why.

Ever since I was a child, I had always found myself in fist fights. So learning of the Matukai, their superhuman abilities with speed, strength and stamina, was all because of their use of the force. The force was not an extension of them. Their body was a catalyst for the force itself. This allowed masters of their craft to have complete control over their body. To the point of solidifying skin, becoming immune or highly resistant to poisons, healing factors, and strength and speed that could rival force users easily without spending hardly any energy from their massive stamina pools. I, an Adept of this art, had not just wanted to get a sword battle with this man, but a fight that would resort to fisticuffs.

I was in my element. I was using my biggest strength against this man. Yes, he had lightsabers, but should this Sith not trained with hand to hand combat as much as his sabers, then he was in for one hell of a beating.

 

[Thyne]

An unnatural fog fled the arena, obstructing Thyne's vision. Try as he might, there was little he could do to clear the mess, the shapes of his opponents fading to the point of complete obscurity. Hardly something he'd consider a good sign. A moment of panic washed over him, the loss of his eyes being one he hadn't expected. Yet just as all moments, that too came to pass, the boy calming himself before he'd broadcast his location to the others. If they thought to use the fog for cover, he saw no reason why he shouldn't do the same.

Moving slowly, carefully, not a step going unmeasured, he started to move throughout the fog. Lightsaber in hand, his person ready to spring into action at the moment's notice, even the scrape of his boots hitting the ground was minimal. Stealth would be his ally among unfamiliar terrain and combatants. His defense, his mobility.

[member="Elani Zambrano"] | [member="Sokar Azad"]​