Sith-Imperial Tournament

[Orion Darkstar]

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

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

[SIZE=10.5pt]

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The motion of her blade swiped into the open space his feint created. There were only milliseconds to correct her futile attempt at parrying his deceiving attack. Orion's wrist snapped and the blade connected with Jantar's forearm. The smell of singed flesh rose to meet his senses. It was a familiar scent, one that he had grown to like through the course of his loyal service to the Empire. His body shifted wide, providing space between them as her saber hit the sandy floor. The disarm tactic was a success. Capitalizing on his opponent's vulnerability, Orion stretched his right arm forward. The tingle sensation that slithered to the core of his palm meant one thing. ​

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Orion willed the force to obey him. The invisible energy that ruptured from his right hand aimed for her saber. The spreading wave of sand and dirt rose to the air. Along with it, Jantar's saber was flung violently against the stone wall. Orion calculated the distance. ​

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Ten feet..​

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In normal fashion he proceeded forward, his steps slowly forming a dance. The gap he created began to shorten, leaving Jantar wide open for another strike. Composed, the crimson blade hummed sideways as he slashed low and at the knees. This would force her backwards or to jump. Either way, she was stuck. Although, even with the upper hand, Orion still showed the same cold face. He knew that a trapped opponent would eventually find a way out, it was just a matter of how and when.​

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

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHgCuGJhGP4

Opponent: [member="Orion Darkstar"]

Gear: Standard Sith robes, borrowed saber (yellow blade)


On reflection, there were many choices available to you. Second-guessing was almost a sport of its own. But right here and now, in the thick of the action, you didn’t even have seconds to decide.

They were separated by two metres of chain. There was nowhere to run to to catch your breath, no terrain to hide behind to collect your thoughts. On these occasions, you went with your gut instinct, your first thought.

Jantar was lucky enough to manage two thoughts before the blade would hit her. Fortunately he wasted time pushing her saber away, granting her that extra split-second to make a decision.

Jantar was no expert at any Force ability and counted the number of skills she had on the fingers of both hands. Competent abilities required just five digits. So when up against it, you always go with what you know. That’s what her master told her.

So as the saber swung towards her knee, Jantar did not jump — or even try to leap backwards. She grabbed the blade.

They were toe to toe and her abilities with Tutaminis meant her hand hurt — in truth it hurt a karkin’ lot — but she fed off the pain and used it. In truth, she didn’t just use the sensation, she used the energy of the saber against her opponent.

Her master was nothing if not thorough. Countless vagrants died so she could learn Force lightning and by the end of her weeks of training, she could say she was a competent practitioner.

Her master always droned on about it being a purely offensive, energy-based attribute that pulls the Force into the body, then channels its energy down your limbs, before hurling arcing bolts of electricity from either your fingertips or palms. She also taught Jantar how other energy could be used. Like that of a saber.

So Jantar channelled both the Force and the energy of the saber through her body and into her free hand. This hand she placed on her opponents shoulder and let Force lightning flow into him. She knew she couldn’t kill him — or rather she wasn’t supposed to — so she reined back on the power. It should be non-lethal but powerful enough to stun.

 

[Zef Halo]

Scipio followed suite, circling around the arena observing the Mandalorian. It was like two predators analyzing each other, looking for a weakness. Now, what was rolling in Scipio head was, what was the fastest way to get through this guy? You always wanted to be as efficient as possible. It's what the Airborne taught you since you almost always ended up against much greater than yours.

He twirled the Ooga Booga in his hand feeling its weight. There was a difference between it and the machete but not as much as he initially expected. Maybe things might work out, who knows?

Abruptly, the lieutenant dashed forward and feinted an overhead swing with no follow up behind. Just a test to erase at least a bit of the fog surrounding the Mandalorian he was facing.

[member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

[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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[SIZE=10.5pt]

[/SIZE]​

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The scarlet red flew through the closed space. Inches from her knees the blade came to an abrupt halt. The clenching obstruction nothing more than Jantar's bare hand. Orion's eyes slightly widened in excitement. It was the first tale tell sign of amusement. The young girl had talents that not even he could preform. Saber to hand, he felt her flinch. The pain must have been close to intolerant. Orion could feel the resistance from Jantar's pale hand. Trying to push the tip of the blade away from her knee. Energy absorption was quite a handy tool in close quarters combat. What came next almost surprised him entirely. ​

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Jantar shifted her free hand upward, the saber of his blade caught in the dead grip of her Tutaminis tactic. He felt the light grip of her hand breach his private space. It lingered on his shoulder. Something wasn't right. He adjusted his body to inch closer. He calculated the possible outcomes of her unnecessary grip. His mind churned for the answer and like a scientific formula he began to asses the possible outcomes. He could feel the resonating particles of heat swell within her palm. It was a dead give away. ​

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Force Lightning.​

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Orion was a practitioner of the same technique, in fact throughout his months of training he had merit in its several different uses. At such a close range the user would have to be careful of all the moving parts taking place. In his studies the arcs and multiple paths that electrical currents could take were a huge factor for users of such a deadly technique. The first and only path that naturally mattered, was the path of least resistance. It was the very first fundamental of electrical bonds. It would apply here just as it always had. Of course, there were a few other factors. In order for Orion to properly pass the shock back to the conductor, he had to be smart and fast. ​

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There were mere seconds before the energy she built up would cause a harmful stun. In retrospect, the latter would probably still force his arm to become inoperable. Regardless, action had to be taken. The final gear in his mind clanked and he stepped into her attack. The arm she gripped onto, lifted to the air and grabbed at the back of her head, just along the base of her skull. Orion felt the burning arcs of her power surge into his arm. Seizing up, his hand latched to her harder. The electrical shock wouldn't only damage his arm, but her central nervous system as well. The outcome could mean temporary paralysis, or worse, shutting down her systems completely resulting in unconsciousness. ​

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The searing burn that funneled through his affected arm, made him clench his teeth. The two of them were closer than they had ever been during the entire fight, forcing him to deactivate his saber. He would hold the base of her skull till the results came to life. ​

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

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UajuBAUkBs

Opponent: [member="Orion Darkstar"]

Gear: Standard Sith robes, borrowed saber (yellow blade)


In ruth it lasted longer than Jantar could have hoped - but the outcome was a foregone conclusion before the hoods had been removed — only the timing was up for debate.

The young Sith had given it her best shot and come up short. Against a much stronger opponent she never stood a chance - but gave it her all regardless.

She’d played every card in her hand, but whatever she was dealt, it seemed her opponent had a counter just that little bit better. An eight to her seven. A Mistress to her Commander. There may not have been a lot in it - but it was enough.

And she was sloppy. The hand on his shoulder slipped to his arm - and the energy she pumped into him, that would have stunned a mere mortal - simply passed through him and back into her. She was not so fortunate and immediately fell limp to the floor.

The bout was over.

 

[LT-137]

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

Drinking in the elements that comprised the entirety of his opponent, the Thyrsian Gladiator scoured the figure’s inscribed and bronzed flesh; finding little beyond the surface. While it was true that there was much to learn from a newfound foe with a studious gaze, it only bore fruit when they were in motion. If they were to remain still, nothing but wild speculation would be gleaned. Who could ever fathom if the lumbering Xenos clung tightly to unseen agility, where his towering form would bend like reeds in the wind? Nevertheless, as his hooded eyes flicked towards the bandages that shrouded much of his opponent’s face, Khonsu allowed himself a moment to concern his thoughts with what horrors laid beyond those cloth trappings. Could it be that he was disfigured, and sought to hide his wounds behind thickly woven fabric?

The Sun Guard couldn’t say, nor did he wish too, as the thought alone had already begun to sour with the implications of being pitted against a cripple.

Instead, the desert-born warrior diverted his attention towards the man’s accoutrements and found himself at a loss. The man bore more than a single weapon, and what was doubtlessly a shield gauntlet - one that would be able to withstand one, if not several, blows before it’s capacitors were taxed beyond exhaustion. While that would be troublesome, just as the taloned claws that tipped his artificial fingers, it wouldn’t truly be an issue. What would prove to be the greatest threat, was the exotic weapon grasped between his fingers. It reminded the Thyrsian of an ancient weapon from his homeworld but was vastly divergent in how the blade and the haft came together as one. Khonsu silently cursed, as he guessed that the entirety of the weapon was slightly shorter than his own sword, giving the man the advantage of altering his combat styles on the fly, and countering any move the Sun Guard would make from various spheres of defence.

He’d have to fight with his head this time around, as before the man would’ve relied on the plethora of weapons that his armour had borne. Now that he was bereft of everything, save the sword in his hand, well, it sufficed to say that there was a sudden urge to give into the chill that began to work it’s way up his spine. Clamping down on the sensation before it was given purchase, Khonsu hardened himself for the battle to come. The man would need to be quick and would have to rely on the cutting power of his devious blade in order to claim victory in this bout. While his vambraces would’ve been of such use against a foe armed with a lightsaber, against a metallic edge they were robbed of their true defensive boon.

It was of little matter in the end, as they’d still find their use to either lending strength to his blows, or defending his flesh from them.

When the signal to begin had projected itself above the Grand Arena, the Gladiator’s thoughts were dispelled of the lingering doubts that sought to despoil his focus. Rather, Khonsu flexed the fingers of his unburdened hand and stalked forth towards his prey. While others would circle about, seeking to find a weakness as they studied their foes, the desert-born knew that there was no greater test of a man’s worth than through the fires of combat. No, the man would eschew such trivial matters in this contest of skill, and instead cut to the heart of the matter.

With the sword gripped tightly in his dominant hand, and the left balled into a fist, the Sun Guard approached the hulking Xenos at speed. Wisps of sweat and sand were thrown into the air behind him, as he charged towards an uncertain future.

Let the man prepare himself for what would come next.​

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| [member="Xevek Rakama"] |​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Round 1​

Post 2​

Opponent: [member="Khonsu Amon"]​

Gear: Vambrace, Cybernetic Arm, Pike​

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

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It was likely that the fool that stood across from him had wished to hide his hesitance and doubt from view, more than likely really. And, yet, such emotions clung to him in ways that the bronze-toned warrior did not think to consider. For one such as Xevek, whose sight was more than just physical and peered through the heavy veils of the Force to bear witness to its ebbs and flows, emotion was less registered in facial expressions and body language and read, instead, in the ways the Force would twist and bend in response to the emotions that burned within the hearts of the living. If he were someone want to do so, Xevek perhaps would have cackled in the face of the act playing out before him. However, instead, he left such thoughts drift away from him until all that was left to guide his thoughts was the sound of his blood within his ears.

Like the drums of war, the rapid tattoo of his dual hearts invigorated with the promises of bloodshed and challenge. Here, in this moment, he could indulge once more the primal ferociousness that had been bred into and honed by his people. Here, he could let the beast that stirred within his mind free, unshackle it from intellect and let instinct rule.

Old habits and lessons beaten and forced into his head since he was a young reasserted himself and he found his gaze wondering across the form of his foe, attempting to categories and acknowledge every facet of pre-battle knowledge he could claim as his own, all for the purpose of making his conquest easier. From how the man stood as he readied for combat, shoulders back and slightly tense, the idea of him being used to the weight of armour tickled at the Iridonian's mind, the potential for him leaving opening within his guard, confident in armour that was not there, being present but not something to rely on. Like Xevek himself, the man had chosen to forgo a shield in place of vambraces and clasped within his grip was a longsword, marginally longer in length than his own pike was. The longer handle and short length of the pike would lend itself well to close combat, however, for that to even come into play, Xevek would have to pierce his foe's defense.

Grunting to himself, Xevek paced forward towards his enemy, the grace of a predator present in every stride, just as his foe chose to stalk towards him. Unlike others, neither of them were willing to spend time circling and debating when to strike. Both were the hunters in this situation, now was the time to find out who was superior. The sound of his hearts beating strengthened within his ears, the chorus of chaos singing strong within his blood as a snarl pulled at dry lips to reveal pointed and blood-stained teeth as a low rumbling growl sounded forth from the depths of Xevek's throat.

As his victim charged towards him, left hand balled into a fist and right hand flexing around the hilt of his blade to the point that Xevek swore he could hear leather creak, Xevek too flowed into action. Surging forwards to meet his opponent, dust and sand was kicked up behind him, dust and sand that soon twisted and shaped itself unnaturally within the air as the Iridonian exerted his will upon the Force. The cloud would be pulled around his form, the feeling of sand tearing at his flesh doing nothing to make Xevek flinch having weathered the brutal sandstorms of Iridonia, and directed towards his opponent's face, aiming to cloud his vision. In the same beat, Xevek's stance would shift, widening as becoming much more solid as the muscles lining his torso flexed and curled, bringing the blade of the pike up towards the sword's blade from bellow, the natural rotation from his action diverting the sword harmlessly to one side should the block make contact.

Following through with the block, Xevek would step forwards as his blade ended up pointing behind him, lunging forwards and seeking to drive the pommel of his pike into the throat of his enemy. At the same time, his right foot would sweep out, the long and deadly claws cutting through the air and seeking to sink into the flesh of his enemies thigh. All the while, the rumbling growl within his throat continued to grow in volume and ferocity.

 

[Progflaw99]

Subject: Sokar Azad | Round I
Affiliation: The Golden Company, Stellar Centurion​

Opponent: [member="Dok Varuut "]| (Note: [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Ao Xian"])​

Weapons: Light Whip Hybrid | Force Pike | Light Shield/Buckler​

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Foot in front of foot, Sokar closed the distance rapidly - even so he found himself slowing to adjust his angle. The enemy before him at first appearance hardly scaled against the likes he'd fought before though still sent his mind stepping forward, ahead again. The space between them enough to keep them from engaging but close enough to clearly see the determination in each other's eyes, Sokar noted the man's movements. Subtle though the stratagem was, it was one that phased him not. This Dok was neither the first, nor likely the last to attempt putting the Centurion of balance, limiting his striking ability and forcing him to jab across his own body. It could only be expected. He would play the game, that's what they were here for in the end, wasn't it? Entertainment.

Gladiatorial games were no stranger to the dark skinned man, muscles straining as he pushed himself harder, towards his opponent. For the moment he would let the man feel confident and grant him the benefit of residing along his 'weak' side. Sokar knew the truth. His strength lie not in his ability to strike, but his ability to feint, duck, dodge, and wait for the proper timing. Brute force hadn't been his preferred method but on the battlefield one learned to discern when such a tactic was necessary - on the sands of the arena against an unfamiliar foe? Like a serpent stalking its prey, he would bide his time. Hazel orbs locked on to the other man, warily observing the dual sabers wielded, and as the distance shrunk further Sokar slowed and adjusted his stance as he held ground several meters away. His initial charge had been diverted, the foe not one to stand ground but to divert - and so Sokar would adjust his tactics, one possibility struck from the list.

A step forward with his left, the pike held firmly in his grip found itself thrust forward. Balanced, quickly extended then retracted. The strike was made with lightning speed, precision driving the tip towards his opponent's left shoulder. There was no doubt in his mind that the hasty jab would be deflected or knocked away, but the objective hadn't really been to impale the foe, had it? As his arm extended Sokar kept his left raised, the gentle hum of the light shield sounding as it burned away at several stray grains of sand yet risen in the air. A grunt of exertion escaped his lips as Sokar drew back into a defensive stance as his strike returned - just like a viper. *Strike. Observe. Assess. Repeat.*

 

[Vaylin]

Round One
Opponent: [member="Elani Zambrano"]
Equipment: Sith Lightsaber x2 | Shoto Lightsaber x1

Vaylin immediately darted forwards the moment Elani brought her hand up. The Zabrak was not overly familiar with the more mystical side of the Force, but she was knowledgeable enough to not allow a wielder to cast their spells. It was futile however, as the moment Vaylin had reached the spot Elani was on previously, the darkness had fallen around her; and its caster had moved.

"Witch." She breathed out the word, carrying across the area slightly.

The illusion reminded Vaylin of her brief stint with the Primeval, of their rituals and incantations. The Zabrak swung her lightsaber around, but it did nothing to carve through the shroud. She sent out a small pulse of the Force, but that did nothing to it either. Ultimately it led Vaylin to assume she needed to strike the caster to break the darkness.

Question is though, is this effecting me, or is my opponent also shrouded in darkness?

Vaylin figured she wasn't lucky enough for the latter to be true.

It was moments like these that the Zabrak wish she had her Oculus on hand to dispel the illusion. But she none of her trinkets, so Vaylin fell back on her senses. With her sight now limited Vaylin focused on her hearing, letting both the hum of the lightsaber and the roar of the crowd to shift into the background.

Then she began to stalk, prowling like a Maalraas as she followed the footsteps Elani had left in the sand.

 

[Lemon]

BASTION

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ARENA, THE CAPITAL

The Bounty Hunter kept a keen eye as Scipio dashed forwards, lunging towards him with his right foot- stamping it into the ground and kicking up sand with the attempt to fling it into Alta's eyes. The electrostaff, held in two hands, rotated upwards briefly in an attempt to prevent an attack that was merely feigned. Upon said realisation, the Mandalorian lunged forwards with his left leg, swinging the staff that zapped with electricity and intensified with each sudden movement with the intention of striking the Sith Lieutenant on his left side.

Even now, when combat was taken back to it's raw basics, that helmet of his ran all kinds of procedures to ensure the best possibly outcome was achievable for Fett if he only reached out to touch it. However, there was a certain pride that came from fighting with your raw instincts. Perhaps it was that feeling of unreliability, one of trust in oneself rather than the technology he wields.

---

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[member="Scipio Alta"] | [member="Ao Xian"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Bo Lin]

[member="Jorryn Fordyce"] [member="Adrian Vandiir"]

The sand struck his face and bore into his large green eyes. He closed them on instinct as tears welled up to try and expel the nasty foreign debris. His eyes pressed shut tighter as the pain of high speed silicate dwelt in his ocular organs.

He roared.

Pain and anger swelled in his mind to the point that his only thought was to kill the source. He clutched the huge saber in both hands and swung wildly in huge arcs at chest level, for him but didn't dare wander far from where he landed.

He continued to roar and swing blindly as his anger grew to rage at his blade not finding purchase on anything but air. Where were the little bald monkeys!? When the sand was gone they would pay.

 

[Bo Lin]

You get two post for being so patient. XOXO

 

[AMCO]

Gear: Two VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblades
Opponents: [member='Jorryn Fordyce'] and [member='Bo Lin'] (Glorious Overlords: [member='Darth Carnifex'] and [member='Ao Xian'])
Previous Posts: 51, 17

He sensed the pure, unadulterated anger welling forth from the creature in waves, as it swung its massive lightsaber around, cleaving through the air with a ferocity that made him doubt its commitment to the "no murderous intent" restriction. Perhaps that fury could work in his favour. He felt the grip on his form as the Echani began to slow him down, bringing his cautious retreat almost to a standstill. He had intended to deal with the beast first, but if the Echani wanted in on it, then who was he to deny her. Reaching out with the force, he flung more sand at the creature's face... only this time from the direction of the Echani.

Moving as slowly as possible, so as to not make any noticeable sound, he continued to try to provoke the beast towards the Echani. With any luck, that would catch the creature's attention. If not... he was already gathering every ounce of energy he could muster. If the creature charged him, then it would be met by the most powerful blast of Force Lightning he could muster. Considering how he focused on improving his abilities over his martial skills, as well as Force Lightning being one of his two specialities, that was quite a lot of voltage indeed.

Of course, actually unleashing a blast of such magnitudes would leave him drained, likely easy prey for that damned Echani, so he really didn't hope it came to that.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Round 1
[member="Ao Xian"] [member="Darth Imperia"] [member="Darth Carnifex"]

Easily confused for a puff of air - Yes, but only if one was not paying attention to the air currents around them. Sometimes, such little notices could make one alert of what was coming or who you fought. It was not so much an intellectual observation as it was instinctual and fleeting. Her opponent had some experience, she could tell by the way she moved. Oh she bounced and danced, but there was a point, a purpose to the seemingly random and fidgety movements.

Joycelyn never truly expected the weapon go connect with her opponent. It set the game of move and countermove in motion, and she was seizing the initiative.

As Imperia came charging in for Joycelyn's fingers, the Vahlacanthix shifted her weight. Her left foot, previously at the back, passed the front diagonally as she nearly skipped to the side. The length of her stride made for a considerable change in angle. While her left foot made its side-step, her hands pulled back and up, rotating the shaft of her weapon around the axis of Imperia's blade, thereby turning the parallel trajectory into a perpendicular one. As the right foot followed the left, she pivoted to face Imperia. The spear followed in her pivot, turning to maintain a diagonal barrier between the two champions.

Sparks flew as Imperia's blade sheared away parts of the decorative inlay. Sand was kicked by Joycelyn's feet as she pivoted. The critters in the sand scurried, some away from the flying sand, some towards her exposed flesh.

With her hands at her own head height, and judging from the previous strike, it looked as though Joycelyn was about to bear her stick around to attack the back of Imperia's head, the part furthest from her weapon. It wasn't like she could give a powerful concussive blow at this range, right? Joycelyn made sure it looked like that was what she was about to do as she clicked the activation button of her lightsabre pike. A red blade and two angled prongs burst from the head of the shaft. The weapon's range had now extended and its ability to harm increased manyfold. The blade of her pike scorched the sand to black glass as she made a quick sweep for Imperia's foot.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Witch Doctor
Round One | Spear | Braith Achlys v. Ara Zambrano
Confidence.

Like her grandfather, its excess would be her downfall. Her expression remained amused as the younger woman struck out at her, a strike at her left shoulder that was met with empty air as she rotated her body parallel to the strike, and then a second at her right that she parried with the tip of her spear that she had simply lifted up and swept to the left. The second was, of course, followed immediately by a third, towards her torso, which she smirked at with a twirl of her wrist to bring the weapon in her hand spinning back in a clockwise motion in order to bat the saber away. "Amusing that you wish to move to a dance that you do not know the steps." Braith remarked, her left foot sliding back as her right knee bent slightly.

"Allow me to educate you."

Immediately she slid her left foot forwards, sending a burst telekinetic force and a shower of sand flying outwards in three-hundred-and-sixty degrees from around her feet to both destabilize her foe with the miniature shockwave and disorient her with the sand that came down like a curtain - a curtain that was pierced by several jabs made from an outstretched spear. The strike was followed through with a step back, removing [member="Ara Zambrano"] from the reach of her spear but also ensuring that any further attempt to strike at the witch would result in her stepping back into her reach, keeping her spear held at the left side of her waist with both hands, tip tilted slightly up and towards her opponent's chest.

 

[LT-137]

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

​

With one sandaled heel pounding into the sand after another, the Thyrsian Gladiator felt a measure of elation burst through his chest as his eyes once again befall his opponent. His foe had eschewed tradition, just as he had, and stalked forth to meet his quarry with a rumbling growl upon his lips. It was good to know that this wounded beast held some measure of courage within his muscular, yet ravaged form, as that meant this would be a fight worthy of remembrance.

Well, at least until either newfound foe had carried on to the subsequent bout, where all memories of the past would be smothered in favour of the present.

As the two figures came closer together atop the loosely packed sediment, the trained martial eyes of the Thyrsian bore witness to a curious sight that began to trail after his opponent’s pacing stride. The sands and dust slowly began to swirl about his form, rising with every lumbering step he had taken. It was evident what was to come, as there was only one sound reason for a creature such as he to shroud himself in a cloak of sand. The man wished to deny the desert-born Gladiator of his sight, to force him to his knees as he clawed uselessly at his eyes to see them cleared. A dirty trick, if ever there was one. That notion brought a smile to the Mercenary’s lips, as when the man had directed his will - and the sands thereafter - forward to blind his fellow Gladiator, Khonsu tucked his oiled form and rolled across the sands.

He rose a heartbeat later, coated in the dwindling ochre grains, with the sword in a position to strike; now that the towering figure was within his blade’s grasp. However, where the Thyrsian had seen an opening, one that would’ve rent flesh and spilled the man’s waters atop the sands, the crystalline blade had met steel instead with a resounding clash. One that had harmlessly directed the envenomed edge away from his person, and denied the Sun Guard a chance to follow through with another strike. However, as the thought of claiming first blood had begun to simmer within his mind, the tensile movement within the shrouded alien’s form had foretold of a strike of his own - one that would either see an eye pummeled by the pike or his throat embracing the hardened edges.

With his form in a prime position to take advantage of the awkward shifting stance and the duality of the strike that came afterwards, Khonsu threw his weight backwards. Such an act allowed himself to be thrown off-balance so that the striking pommel of the Zabrak’s curious pike would meet nothing but the Thyrsian’s sand-swept echo. While he had avoided such a crippling blow with relative ease, the one that followed scant moments later proved to be of pressing concern, one that couldn’t easily be dodged - even with the prescience of battlesight afforded to him by his martial heritage. Khonsu could bring his arm up to deflect the errant strike, to force the claws affixed to his toes to scatter across his vambrace - either breaking the toes with the force of the strike or chipping the hardened enamel. If he had followed through with that fateful parry, his sword would’ve never retaken position by his side and was threatened to be disarmed by the force of the man’s kick.

Instead, the Thyrsian had taken to the sands once again, forcing his weight to carry him away and underneath the attack that would’ve buried itself in his thigh.

The man had nearly found himself with a mouthful of sand, as he had sought to give voice to laughter whilst he fell. Khonsu had expected the man to be slowed by his injuries, and his towering figure, but alas - it seemed that this creature was deception personified. It was clear that this man was more than what meets the eye, and that his supposed mastery over the metaphysical realm would prove troublesome. Perhaps this man was worthy of more than a simple footnote in today’s events? Regardless of what the future held, it would matter little if he were caught off-guard and skewered upon the sands. Spitting out what splintered glass had managed to pass his darkened lips, Khonsu spun about atop the arena, swinging his hips and feet to garner position.

Using the momentum of his skittering dance, the Sun Guard lashed out with his crystalline blade - seeking to strike at the sole limb that connected his opponent to the earth beneath and bring his towering bulk down to his level.

| [member="Xevek Rakama"] |​

 

[Ao Xian]

The Emperor's Box
[member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Darth Prazutis"] [member="Arkaitz Zambrano"]

Ao lounged, occasionally reaching into the deep bowl, withdrawing a squeaking (begging) morsel only to gnash it delightedly between her teeth. Sapphire gaze flickered across the various matches, the angle from the box perfect for seeing everything that was going on-

Her brow furrowed.

Why were [member="Kazmai"] and his opponent the Savant Wrath ([member="Darth Voracitos"]) not fighting?

She beckoned to one of the attendants, murmuring something. With a nod, he hurried off.

No longer lax and lazy, Ao'Xian waited with sharp attention, eyes on the far edge of the arena where the pair were waiting. He returned shortly thereafter.

"Lord Carnifex," Ao said, her voice low and purring.

"Did you know that the Organizer did not set up enough rings for all of our fighting pairs? Apparently, he has asked that one of the pairs to wait until the second round." She tipped her chin up, whiskers rippling indicating offended shock. "And that he has claimed that this unsuitable lack of proper planning is not his fault?"

A smile curled over her face, but it was not particularly pleasant.

"He has a deputy who can take over the rest of the event," she purred. "I ask your permission, my Emperor, to teach a lesson in competence."

Ao'Xian's lessons were rarely terribly educational for the person receiving them. That did not mean, of course, that they were noneducational for everyone else.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

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

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The thrashing tendrils of static arcs danced along the sleeves of his black shirt. The display, while beautiful, was just as painful as he remembered. The stinging gashes that tore into his right arm became more and more difficult to ignore. The sweltering heat from the sheer zap forced Orion's entire arm to go numb. His fingers still gripped her, but the longer he tried to fight it the more loose the grip became. ​

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He felt it, a hitch in his shoulder that spelled uselessness. His arm fell dead. The burning sensation seized his muscles. Tiny holes formed along the morphed sleeves. It seemed that the blow had caused more damage than Jantar may have considered. He would need an entire hour, if he was to compete in the next round. He stepped away. Examining the outcome. ​

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As soon as his body withdrew from her, she fell. Her effort to stun Orion, ultimately was her downfall. Still, Orion did not go unharmed. Getting his arm back in working order before the next round, could prove difficult. Without his quick thinking, Orion would have lost. She surprised him, her elegant process of techniques was exceptional. If not for the chain, he felt things would have been more dramatic. He looked down at her unconscious body and smiled. One thought reached him as he turned away the victor. ​

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She was an admirable opponent. Kark, my arm hurts..​

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

 

[Elani Zambrano]

Round One
Opponent: [member="Vaylin"]
Equipment: Grappling boa, Talisman of Transformation


Words were spoken by Vaylin. Words that the darkness carried to Elani's ears. Witch. A term Elani heard a hundred times a day from her prisoners she kept well below the Dark Force temple. One might see it as derogatory, but to Elani, it showed her that her opponent was to ignorant to realize they were against something more. Something worse than a mere witch. A mistake each and every one of her prisoners had made before and now a mistake Vaylin has made as well.

Elani's physical vision was blocked by the shadows, but, the arena was rich with information. The spirits of fallen gladiators spoke to Elani. Broken sentences but Elani managed to decode what was said. Even when they were unhelpful, Durrei provided all the information Elani needed. When he was willing to give it, that is. Elani took this time to use her ring of transformation. This was the best chance she had, so she took it. She chose the form of a sandswimmer, a large spider-like creature that hunts its prey from beneath the sands of Tatooine. Once the transformation was complete, Elani immediately dug into the sands until her form was completely concealed. The shadows dissipated once Elani was below the sands, bringing the daylight back to the arena. She took the time to conceal her tracks, hiding her original position from where she dug below by causing the sand to collapse behind her. From below, she could hear the movements made by the Zabrak from above.

She listened. Listened close as she waited from below. And then..suddenly, the ground began to quake beneath Vaylin's feet. Elani weaved a spell from below. One that would serve as Vaylin's first test of many that Elani had planned.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Round: 1
Opponent: [member="Braith Achlys"]
Weapon: Ba’Vanim // Back-up Weapon: Generic Lightwhip

The light resistance of the head of the Witch’s spear against her own weapon added momentum to every subsequent strike the Master made, the young Zambrano rolling with the motion rather than against it. After all, this was merely the opening volley, an assessment of her opponent that did not fail to satisfy, the other woman moving swiftly and easily to counter each of her quick jabs. The grin she wore widened as the dance began, the blood in her veins thrumming with excitement and anticipation, the tell-tale signs of bloodlust swirling in her gut.

A soft chuckle rolled past Ara’s lips at the taunt, her own step back preceding the shower of sand and power that ricocheted towards her.

”You will find I learn quickly.”

The playful, teasing expression quickly faded into a more neutral, concentrated look as she once again moved with her opponent’s attack rather than against, letting the blast of power push her through the sand, away from the tip of the spear that broke through the curtain of sand, seeking flesh and blood. Silt peppered her exposed skin, the sting of impact running along her arms, legs, and torso, a small burst of power flashing out to form a thin barrier protecting her face and eyes from the dangerous particles. Instinct kicked in, her eyes shutting against the wave of grit, a quick turn to the side narrowly avoiding the tip of the woman’s spear as it brushed by her side, the Force guiding her motions while she fought blind.

As the ring once again cleared, Ara wasted no time in continuing the momentum of the fight, planting her left foot behind her for balance as she let her barrier drop. Redirecting the power in her grip, the Ren lashed out with her own telekinetic attack, hers far more direct than her opponent’s had been, focused on the tip of the spear itself to force the tip up and away from her torso. Moving in again, she dropped into a crouch and snapped out with one leg in an arc, searching to bring the witch’s out from underneath herself. Her blade slashed out and up in tandem with her leg, seeking to burn a train from Braith’s left hip to her shoulder.

Close quarters they were in, the Ren all too aware of the reach of the polearm the witch wielded with expert precision, yet without risk there could be no reward.

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