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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2013 12:44:02 GMT -8
Location - Small Clearing in the Forest's of Myrkr
Rules/Weapons - Melee only, no armor save for choice of gauntlets/bracers (no wrist blasters though)
Special
Considerations - Use of the entire forest is permitted but start off in
clearing. Use of wildlife is up to the participants.
*The hot sun of high noon shined brightly over the tall trees surrounding the two characters standing at the center of the clearing. A few rock outcroppings and fallen trees fill the clearing but are slightly obscured by the knee high grass. The air is humid and heavy in the summer heat and the forest is, currently, devoid of wildlife, save for the faint call of a distant bird.*
*The two combatants stand at opposite ends of the small clearing, armed with their choice of melee weapon and the cloths on their back, should they choose to wear any. The glint of their forearm armor, should they choose, reflects dully in the sun.*
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2013 12:57:07 GMT -8
*The thick moisture of the jungle heat stuck to Khrogal's scales as he stood in the clearing, giving his glossy skin of his bare torso a little extra shine as his fingers gripped the heavy blade in his right hand a little tighter. It had been too long since he had taken Ashkrik from it's cage and brought its name to reality. He stood wearing only the chains of his shame around his neck and wrists, the dark blue pants of his capture, and the heavy durasteel bracers from his Elite armor.*
*Raising the heavy Chalon metal blade to the Mandalorian Priest across from him, Khrogal growled as he said.*
"I will not hold back, Priest! The Scorekeeper herself watches over this conflict! And I aim to please her with your blood."
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Jul 19, 2013 13:18:20 GMT -8
Kad would be pleased.
That was the forefront of Darian's thoughts as he strode forward into the meeting place, seeing his large opponent racked with chains and beset by the chains of his shame. They had spoken on several occasions, of the duality of their chosen attire. Of the burdens that fell upon men, and the further burdens taken up by those on a more narrow path.
Darian's own chains were rusty gold and black, and a myriad of other colors at random, scraps reforged into chain links, the memories of fallen brothers and sisters, of enemies, of conquests, of a wife, and of a son, of a father, of a brother, of sisters, and of a former life. Beneath his chains he wore the ragged cloak of a wanderer, woven of armorweave and shell spider silk, and he wore loose fitting trousers. At his waist reseted Gorehound, the beskar beast, and his Khyber knife, dormant beneath swathing folds.
He had left behind his Ripper and put the safety settings on his wrist laser and fibrocord launcher- they would not fire, for this fight. His gauntlets remained nothing more than Iron Skin. At the words of the son of the Scorekeeper- some close relative, perhaps, to Kad himself? Darian smiled. "Kad's blessing upon you as well, Khrogal. Fight well."
Taking Gorehound in hand amd spinning it deftly into his practised grip, he raised the tomahawk slowly into a high guard, the left side of his body and the weapon angled toward the gargantuan lizard-man. He watched passively, waiting for his opponent to make the first move, so as to best accommodate to the needs of the battle. Larger opponents were, after all, more difficult to handle.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2013 15:20:41 GMT -8
*Khrogal's thin lips parted in a toothy grin as Darian spoke from across the clearing. The clearing itself wasn't very large, thirty to forty feet in diameter, perfectly suitable to purposes of one-on-one combat.*
*In his time among the Mandalorains, the Khrogal had come to greatly respect the Priest of Kad Ha'rangir, as well as those amongst his order. He had been shocked at the similarities between the Mando War God and the goddess Scorekeeper, leading to many discussions and shared ales between him and Darian as they awaited the hunt.*
*Now...now the fun of the hunt was upon them, the excitement and anticipation flowed through the massive Trandoshan's veins like a bloodlust, drawing from him an animal like roar as he charged forward into the clearing. Using his goddess given sight of infrared, Khrogal effortlessly sidestepped and leaped over the rocky outcroppings, fallen logs and tree trunks, all varying colors of heat in the noon sun, as he made for the humanoid shape in the distance, Ashkrik gripped tightly in his right hand at his side.*
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Jul 20, 2013 16:23:53 GMT -8
A Mandalorian honed their bodies from the time they were very young, until the day they passed in Manda. As it stood, some of their first lessons were in watching, learning, assessing and adapting- doubly so, perhaps, could be said true of Darian Beviin, the once weaponmaster, now Priest. In his youth, his father had preached a litany of preparation, of mental acuity that surpassed simple tactical prowess. Ahjak Beviin had trained his firstborn son to a mastery few Mandalorians in this age still saw as necessary. A man can learn multiple weapons in his lifetime and still never be considered the authority on more than four or five of them. Darian's father, however, drove his son to a pinnacle. Small arms, heavy arms, munitions of the explosive variety, close range blades, spears, halberds, staves, swords, blunt weapons- he had them all drilled into him- literally and figuratively. The scars of his childhood were more physical than mental, though his father's expectations had always given him the delusion of a loveless relationship.
It was not until his father's dying breath that he understood the man only gave him such knowledge out of love. And it was not until the birth, and the subsequent death of Markis that Darian understood the depth of a father's love. Steeled in the armor of his heart, tempered in the hellfire of experience and tragedy, Darian stood fast in the looming shadow of a giant. As the gap between them closed, the Priest made himself ready, eyes lighting up in anticipation, knees bending and preparing for the impact that was sure to follow. Anyone but Darian who was of a height with the considerably smaller Mando might flee direct combat in terror.
But even with diminutive stature, armed with knowledge, training, and the honed reflexes of a seasoned veteran, Darian was prepared. An inaudible breath escaped his lips, his head luring forward as he gauged the speed at which Khrogal closed the distance, and he let his arm sag to chest level, body squaring to face the might of the encroaching chalon blade.
Now, to see how the son of the Scorekeeper attacked...
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2013 18:40:45 GMT -8
*Trandoshan upbringing was surprisingly akin to that of Mandalorian society. Except much more...fatal. Khrogal had hatched into a cluster of six brothers and sisters, he had been the last to hatch, and was assumed disfigured by his large size even for a newly hatched, leading to the others pushing him aside to get to their mother. Left to slowly starve to death, Khrogal did the only thing left to him. He ate all six of his hatchmates. From there his own father had raised him to be the perfect hunter, honing his senses and teaching him how to use his goddess giving abilities to their fullest. At age ten, he was already the size of that of the average Trandoshan adult, who stopped growing at sixteen, and he was stronger then most of them as well. At fourteen, he was sent to Kashyyyk alone by his father and told to bring back a Wookiee silverback pelt. This was his test to become an adult. On the eve of his fifteenth cycle, Khrogal returned with two; along with the corpses of six brownback Wookiees, along with another half dozen pelts.*
*The Scorekeeper had personally watched over the celebration that followed, as Khrogal felt as the members of his clan gathered as he and his father forged Ashkrik, the Dosh word for "bleed your foes dry," Khrogal had felt the name appropriate.*
*Armed with just the sword, Khrogal had entered the elite academy where he earned every individual piece of armor, usually taken as a trophy after killing a fellow student, as was expected. Till the day he turned eighteen, adulthood to the humans, who were visiting Dosha to petition the Dosh Elders to stop ruthlessly hunting their Wookiee rivals. He, as the academy's best student, was hired to take the humans back to Kashyyyk, skin them, and return their flesh to their hairy masters, as a message not to send outsiders in their place again.*
*That had been some time ago. Now, he was here, in the jungles of Myrkr, praying to draw blood for his Goddess.*
*As the Priest of Kad Ha'rangir drew nearer, Khrogal's quick perception saw a rock outcropping a few feet in front of Darian. His yellow eyes narrowing, Khrogal dashed to it and as his right foot met it, he slowed just enough to dig in and leap from it, sending him into the air towards the Priest, his blade rising above his head.*
*As he landed at Darian's feet, Khrogal would bring the sword down and, anticipating a possible dodge, Khrogal shot his right foot out in a sort of "sparta kick" aimed for the Priest's chest. If the sword were blocked, it would be found to not hold much power behind it, obviously a faint for the kick, aimed to hold the power to possibly (pending on how close to the edge line we are) send Darian flying back into the trees.*
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Jul 20, 2013 19:38:46 GMT -8
There were several forces at play here (none of them magical, of course- both Khrogal and Darian lacked the sensitivity that the Jetiise played with in their toils and training), which Darian factored into his on-the-fly synopsis of the Trandoshan's approach. Hulking in size, the reptilian male moved with purposed strides, clearing distance much more quickly than Darian might if he were to match pace. Bulk like that required more focus and consideration to effectively wield, though, and so Darian anticipated a more crafty onslaught from his fellow warrior priest.
And Khrogal certainly did not disappoint. As the bestial man slowed just enough to dig in his feet for a jump, Darian saw the contraction of the joints. It wasn't a perfect notation of such, but then, the monstrous knee joints were hard to miss. And as the Trandoshan went airborne, Darian threw himself out to the right, a compacting dive-roll that would take him out of the direct line of attack, tucking his left arm across his waist to prevent maiming himself or entangling Gorehound in his robes as he went.
"You're doing too much, bur'cya," Darian said flatly as he began to recover from his roll, turning over his shoulders so that he would rise into a crouch facing Khrogal. His hands lifted slowly, the right brushing dust from his chains- clattering as they were wont to do- and the left slowly bringing Gorehound back into guard as he rose to his feet. He watched impassively as the man feinted- assuming he would turn to bring the fight to Darian again, though this time with much more potential to do harm. "Your aggression does you credit- but you must learn to direct it. Rule it, lest it rule you. In Mando'a, they have a phrase for that- Ori'bucye, kih'kovid. All helmet, no head."
He knew the man to be a powerful warrior, and he meant him no disrespect. He hoped Khrogal understood that- most Mando'ade had a terrible bedside manner. Darian was no different. Perhaps, with some fine tuning and some cultural immersion, Khrogal too would come to be a respected verd among the Mandos. The son of Clan Beviin would gladly embrace him as a brother. "Come at me again, ner'tat. This time, controlled. Think. You have staggering advantages. Press them, and make me work hard! Oya!"
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2013 20:53:07 GMT -8
*Khrogal's feet made a soft thud in the tall grass as Darian rolled away to the right. Turning on his right heel to face him, he listened carefully to his words and found himself surprised that he didn't take offense. Instead, Khrogal nodded once respectfully, for he knew full well that he was out of practice after spending six months pissing away credits on sorry excuses for back water cantina's after his capture and escape. Now, he was starting his life over from scratch, and it would do him will to resharpen his old skills, and pick up some new ones.*
*He took a pause to assess their standings, feeling the cool wind evaporate the moisture on his scales, sending a shiver up his cold blooded spine. His muscles were strained and stiff in anticipation and he did his best to focus his mind and relax them to make his movements more fluid. He slowed his breathing and gauged the distanced between he and Darian to be about four or five feet. If he sprinted forward, he could reach that in two strides if he went all out, but the Priest could easily roll away once more, leading to a game of cat and mouse that would surely tire Khrogal faster then the smaller human. His eyes furrowed into a frown as he realized that he was probably over thinking this now.*
*Slowly letting out a breath, he focused his thoughts to one purpose as he thrust himself forward in a controlled sprint, clearing the distance between he and Darian in three strides. As his left foot landed on the third, he brought his left hand down in an over head to swat the Priest's right shoulder.*
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Jul 20, 2013 21:15:51 GMT -8
The bigger man learned fast! Darian smiled in a warped contentment, glad to impart some measure of wisdom to a friend. Stepping back with his right foot as he found his full height, the Priest slipped backward from the direct line of the oncoming strike, the Chalon blade ripping downward inches in front of Darian's face. His shoulder was, thankfully, out of the way, his right hand slapping downward in a quick motion on top of the honor blade. His beskar gauntlet clanged against it loudly, seeking only to guide it's momentum along and into the dirt.
At the same time, twisting his torso, Darian jabbed Gorehound out, underneath the outstretched arm of Khrogal, attempting to lacerate the tendons running along the tricep- a crippling blow, minor nerve damage, but passably nonlethal and easily treated. If it connected at all.
Now, Darian was angled perpendicular to Khrogal, his left foot slightly out ahead of his right. He seemed focused, intense, his green eyes burning like jade fire. "Much better," he murmured, nodding his approval, "much better."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2013 21:48:54 GMT -8
*As his right foot settled into the dirt behind him, Khrogal's thin lips parted again into a slight grin as Darian murmured his approval. A grunt of response answered the Mandalorian Priest as he drove Ashkrik into the dirt at their feet. Khrogal stared down into the Priest's blazing jade eyes, his own burning with the intesity of a yellow star as he let out a, admittedly, putrid breath in the man's face below. Khrogal had a tendency to favor raw meats and never brushed his teeth. As a reptile he saw no point to it.*
*Then, with his free right hand, he balled it into a three finger fist (since Trandoshans only have three fingers) and drove to deliver an underhanded upper cut over his blade towards the Priest's stomach, doing this as the Priest moved to bring his tomahawk into play.*
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Darian Beviin
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Post by Darian Beviin on Jul 20, 2013 22:38:42 GMT -8
Darian's lips split into a maniacal grin as the other man turned in toward him and efficiently rendered the surgical slice useless with his armor, simultaneously turning in to strike at Darian with a powerful sucker punch. Thankfully, as Gorehound's edge ran over plating and sparks flew wildly, Darian leaned backward and pulled his left arm across deftly. This managed two things: first, it created distance between the punch making impact with Darian's chest directly. Instead, Khrogal got a knuckle rapping of beskar chain, and his hand would rattle across it mostly to little effect.
Now, since that was a poor position to be in (lets be honest, if the big guy grabbed that, it'd wreck his day), the second half of the purposeful motion became immediately clear. Gorehound's blade came back toward the extended arm, and the jerking motion brought the crook of the blade- where it's neck stretched down and became the handle of the weapon- at the Trandoshan's elbow joint.
Tomahawks were exceedingly versatile weapons- while not outright as lethal as a lightsaber or a beskad, they became tactical advantages in a way those other weapons simply couldn't. For instance, this little move. Tomahawks can grab things. Manipulate them. Move them, when the hand simply wasn't able. From a reasonably safe distance.
And so, Darian sought to pull his large friend harmlessly past him, rather than being punched in the gut. At the same time, Darian slid his left foot around in a crescent behind himself, his right hand coming up under the bicep of the man's left arm, seeking to strike it open-handed as he would be jerking the elbow. If this worked, he would attempt to push forward and joint lock the much larger Trandoshan.
"Very good, bur'cya," he said gruffly.
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