Tournament of the Blade Round One: Krest vs Meanken

[Ashin Varanin]

Rules: No armor. No Force (you're on Myrkr). No tech. No lightsabers, vibroblades, extra weapons -- nothing but a sword or two of good metal, in whatever reasonable shape and size you prefer.

Participants are strongly encouraged to read this, this and this.

The setting: An abandoned docking bay, circular. A long cable or pipe, as big around as your leg, runs more or less across the middle of the bay from east to west; it is not fastened down, but is quite heavy. A trio of parallel, empty shipping containers, too heavy to move, sturdy enough to climb, but a good eight feet tall each, sit near the north wall of the docking bay. A tangle of cables and wires rests against the south wall of the docking bay. There are four doors -- north, south, east and west.

[member="Krest"] [member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

The Chiss man had been looking forward to this tournament for a while. Last time had been fun. He'd made it to round 3 after two hard fought rounds against a giant wolf.....thing and a Sith Lord, only to lose to a mando. The irony, considering his general view of mandos, which was that they were overrated and overhyped, was stunning. But that was then. This was now. This tournament had been interesting. It was a blade only bout. No armor, no guns, no force, just two dudes and their blades. Right down Chaff's alley. In his hands, he would be holding two simple 9 inch knives. Nothing fancy here. Usually he used blades built into his armor, but as this was a no armor fight, these would do as fine replacements. As for clothing, today he'd be sporting his trenchcoat he usually had on in private when he wasn't rolling with the armor on. Fancy, but hardly anything that could be called armor. He would begin by searching for his opponent, blades up in a guard position as he walked forward and searched.

[member=Krest]

 

[Darth Ferus]

And here we go. Once more a bout for the fittest. Perhaps this time I won't die..

The thought traveled through the Zabrak as he entered from the North door. Last time he had been apart of a tournament, he got ganged up on. Which was really over kill by the end of it. He was easily killed by the one he chose to fight without the assistance of others. But that seemed like a lifetime ago. Literally. At least this area was.. Well. More suited for a real sword fight.

Speaking of. No armor. No tricks. All swords. This was his -ideal- match. No scrounging around trying to find someone, no trying to deal with range and get in close. For once he would get his one on one fight in a tournament. He wore nothing but a pare of slacks. Why bother wearing clothing at all is what he wanted to ask, but he did have some decency. His bare red chest was bright against the darker area.

In his offhand he carried with him a sheathed blade. Katana in style, the blade itself facing upwards. The blade was Saki-Sori, with an O-Kissaki tip, making it ideal for thrusting, rather than cutting. The sheath was a hardwood of some kind, always within his hand. After entering the room his once free hand was set upon the hilt of the blade itself, and he would call out for his foe, a faint smile on his face.

"Are we going to be doing this behind the shadows or out in the open?"

[member="Meanken"]

 

[Meanken]

Chaff chuckled at the question. Clearly the opponent did not know him very well.

"I've never been one for hiding."

He would say as he stepped into the center of the room. Always nice to be able to skip over the 'find the target' part of the duel. That was always highly annoying. If the opponent wanted to do this straight up, Chaff was more then down. He'd crack his neck and stare in the direction the voice had come from with his blood red eyes, waiting for the opponent to show themselves.

[member="Krest"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Krest, in truth, had never seen, read about, or generally heard of [member="Meanken"] in any way shape or form. But as soon as the man came into view Krest began to size his opponent up. With a slight smile he'd not to the Chiss. Interesting. A man of blue with red eyes versus a man of red with blue eyes. And then a sword versus a dagger. They were opposites in all sorts of forms.

This will be a good fight for sure.

"Another who hates the hide and seek game. I am Krest." The red head dipped down in a respectful bow. This was a tournament, but there was no reason to not be respectful. He'd stop near the center of the room, slowly spreading his legs to put the left only slightly behind the right. He carried his sword on his left side after all. But, that was all he would do for now. No reason to rush right into a man you knew nothing about.

 

[Meanken]

There were two ways a fight went down, usually, once the opponents met face to face. One, the two started going at it right away. He who attacks
first wins and all that. Or, as seemed to be happening now, a standoff happened as the two sized one another up.

"They call me Chaff."

First impressions he saw, a full sword, looked to be made for quick jabs rather then cutting limbs off. Probably meant he'd be of the jab and dodge school of swordplay. Try and win by letting him bleed out slowly. Best way to counter that in Chaff's experience was to hit em hard, pressure em and don't give em room for fancy swordplay.Given that they didn't have armor on here, chances were high that the first to score a major hit would end up winning the fight. Chaff would remove the trenchcoat, letting it fall to the ground as a chest that had almost no area unscarred by something was revealed. He would start to spin his daggers between his fingers, waiting to see if this Krest would make the first move or not. He also was in no hurry to jump right into combat. Easy way to end up dead.

[member="Krest"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Scars. They were the one way to tell someone's life story. A life about many battles well fought, many battles won, or at least survived. But, there were no more words from the Zabrak as he brought his eyes to the Chiss's. Eyes told a lot, of feints, attacks. Where the man would really go. His grip would tighten on his hilt, slowly pulling the blade itself free. Yet, it was only a small flash of metal he would show.

Left foot over the right. That's how it began for Krest. He would being a circling movement, ever watchful of the possible attack. Until he slipped. The Zabrak's eyes shifted to the side as his left leg slipped backwards, putting him in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position. His blade slid out more from it's sheath, he trying to stop it. But his eyes, save for the slight and faint slip from [member="Meanken"] never left the red orbs.

 

[Meanken]

[member="Krest"]

Chaff was a predator, first and foremost. Any sign of weakness an opponent would show would be taken advantage of immediately. This was ingrained in him, and not something he was typically capable of stopping, even assuming he wanted to, which he did not. The weak deserved to be cut down. That was just nature in action. So when he saw the foot slip, he made his move. But he wasn't gonna be stupid about it. He had the advantage in numbers. Number of blades, that is. With two daggers, he could both block, or more likely deflect, and attack at the same time.

That, of course, assumed he was gonna use em right away. Last thing ya wanna do is be predictable in a fight, and the opponent would be waiting for em to make a move with them. So Chaff sprinted at the target. But before he got into range of the sword, he would drop down into a slide, clearing the last of the distance on his side as he tried to knock the man off his already unsteady footing and onto the ground, where he would be able to follow up further with more of an advantage.

 

[Darth Ferus]

And there it was. His eyes had never left [member="Meanken"] for the same reason his foot slipped. To see what the man would do. If he would fall for the trap and rush in close. The blade, which had been sliding out throughout his slip, came completely out by the time his Chiss friend came close. To follow through with the feint, the Zabrak shifted right as the man came down in a slide. The leg would slide out of his way as soon as the mans own foot would come, and the katana would flash downwards in a single handed grip.

But Krest would remain still as he began to dance backwards, his feet sliding away after his slash. The slide would be enough to take his foe away from him, and perhaps enough to injure the blue skin with the blade. He held aloft the sword in one hand, and his sheath in the other, waiting for a potential counter attack.

 

[Meanken]

Ok, so maybe that hadn't been the best first move. Dude jumped away from the move easily. He'd apparently not been as off balance as he let on. Typical, just typical. Chaff tried his best to deflect the blade away from him so it didn't completely skewer him with the closer dagger, but it still got him in the side a bit. Now somewhat angry, he leaped to his feet, the wound starting to bleed as he ran at the target. He would launch a hard and fast series of attacks at the man's midsection with his knives, using lots of spins and twists to try to keep the man guessing while keeping one of the blades ready to deflect any counterattack attempts the man may make with the sword, assuming he wasn't too busy blocking with it in the first place.

[member="Krest"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Krest continued to slide back from @Meaken as he charged forward, but no where near fast enough. There were two hits that came at him. One he knocked away with his blade, but it left him exposed. The Zabrak gritted his teeth as the blade entered his flesh, his eyes wincing as his blood would be spilled. But the cut was far from fatal. As he used his sword to knock away the first hit he slid to the side, letting the Chiss's dagger run across his bare chest. And letting the Chiss go on by.

He went to move out of the way of the running man, letting the dagger cut through him so he could counter. But not with his sword. The hard wooden sheath would come around for the back of the blue species head as he hopefully stumbled by. It was then he'd make his distance, on the chance that he either missed with his whack or if the whack worked.

 

[Meanken]

Chaff chuckled as he saw one of the blades impact the target's chest, only to find a hard whack hitting his head as the dude whacked him in the head with the sword sheath. While it did not do horribly much in the way of damage beyond disorienting him somewhat, the head being one of the hardest parts of the body, it did succeed in making Chaff angry. In his mind, the last move was a mild insult, as he expected the guy to take the fight seriously, and fight to his fullest extent. Using the thing you hold you sword in as the weapon instead of the sword itself did not, in his mind, qualify as real fighting. He would flip around in a rage and gave a savage yell.

"You punk!" He would yell loudly as he threw one of the daggers directly at the man's chest. Was throwing the weapon a smart move? Probably not, they hadn't let him bring extra blades with him, so he'd have to go get it back later if he wanted to duel wield more, but he was clearly not thinking completely rationally anymore. Still, the unexpectedness of the move might catch the other guy off guard and give him an opening. Ya never know.

[member="Krest"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

The Zabrak kept sliding back, as he was going to. Truthfully, the whack was meant at first to be a killing blow. There was a small bone on the back of the head that if broken, would separate the head from the rest of the body. But there was no way he would kill someone in what was meant to be a friendly competition. Luckily, he missed, and instead of killing his opponent, he only pissed him off.

Which lead to something unexpected. He moved, but not in time to dodge, and had the dagger tear through his upper shoulder. While it didn't remain in his flesh, a large gash formed, bleeding out. His arm, though he still clung to his sheath, was mostly limp at his side, and his face was twisted with pain. Growling from the adrenaline and the pain, he'd hold his blade up in one hand, still focusing his gaze on [member="Meanken"] . He wasn't going to charge in just yet, but he certainly would remain between the man and his second dagger.

 

[Meanken]

Having now been successfully enraged by his opponent, Chaff would no longer be thinking tactically like he had at the start of the fight. He wouldn't be moving to attack while still being ready for his opponent's counterattack. Now he'd be reverting to base instincts. Thus, his reaction to seeing his opponents bloody shoulder was predictable. With another savage yell, he ran at his opponent, Blade swinging wildly now, not with the swift and defensive combos that had scored him a hit earlier. Now he would be swinging for whatever he could get at. The attacks would probably be slightly more difficult to parry with a single arm, but no doubt a skilled opponent would be able to find a few openings in the savage attack pattern.

[member="Krest"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

There was a pause for Krest as he slid back again. [member="Meanken"] , as he could see, wasn't thinking anymore. A rage. He certainly didn't expect to see a rage in this sort of fight. It was unsettling, but not enough for it to interfere with what the Zabrak wanted to do. When the man got close, he only had one dagger. And Krest had his sword. And his sheath. The seemingly disabled arm came up and around to smack the dagger with the wooden sheath.

And thrust his sword out for the hopefully exposed chest of a crazed fighter.

 

[Meanken]

Had Chaff retained any sense of mind, he'd have probably realized what the guy planned to do and dodged out of the way or did something else to avoid the blow. As it was, he did not, and so the blade went into his chest. Luckily for Chaff, it didn't hit anything vital, so he'd probably live to see another day, since presumably the officials had medics standing by, and it was amazing what medicine could do for ya. But it would undoubtedly spell the end of the fight for Chaff, really. Now coughing, he made a last desperate slice for the man's head. Really, thow, that was just a formality at this point, and would probably be easily blocked and disarmed.

(Good move, and fun fight.)

[member="Krest"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

(I'm glad you had fun! I also mistyped above. Not hilt. Sheath x3 Sorry about that)

Panting. That's what the Zabrak was doing. He leaned back enough to not take the dagger to the head, but the cut went across his nose, biting deep under his eyes. He'd forever have the scar going across his face, a reminder of a good fight. Krest would stumble backwards from the Chiss, leaving his sword and dropping his sheath. While the Chiss wasn't able to continue, the red skinned man wasn't far from that either. He too hoped for a good medic.

[member="Meanken"]
[member="Shule Windspeaker"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Krest"] [member="Meanken"]

OOC/ The judges are [member="Matsu Xiangu"] and [member="Reverance"]. Sir, madam, have at it.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

[member="Meanken"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Shule Windspeaker"]​

​

[member="Reverance"] and I have reviewed the fight and the winner is...​

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K R E S T​

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REASONING:

Meanken: No specificity of attacks in some posts (see Post #10 & #14 specifically) - flurry of random movements. Hard to follow since there is often no description on position/which hand is being used. Good opening post denoting gear & clothing.

Krest: More creativity and specificity of attacks. Same as Meanken, hard to follow at times.

This fight was very close and it came down to the Krest being more specific. Overall, both competitors took fair damage and had equal levels of spelling/grammar mistakes. Would caution against length of opening in the beginning - almost half of this thread was one waiting for the other to make a move.

Congratuations to the victor, and good job to both! Glad you both had fun.