The Final Round (we mean it this time): Ashrah vs Zalgo

Zalgo stood in the arena, face hidden behind the black smoke of his Mask of Am Dhaegar. The smoke of it rolled out of his cowl and dispersed a few inches from where Zalgo's face would be. He-Who-Waits stared down his opponent, looking over every last bit of him, deciding whether or not to attack, or even what form of attack would work best to Zalgo's skills.

Last, but certainly not least, Zalgo extended his mind's influence in the Force to his opponent's. That by itself could tell a lifetime of information; of the untrained, their insecurities and their fears; of the trained, how well they can keep out a master mind-killer.

Zalgo scowled beneath the smoky mask. He knew this feeling. There was no Force aura around the man, and his mind wasn't simply closed off, it was for all intents and purposes, absent. Then again, with all the armor, such a reality might not be so improbable. Zalgo wasn't just some second rate one trick pony, however. no one becomes an accomplished duelist without being able to adapt.

Zalgo saw the man charging, drawing his weapon. As he lined up his first shot, Zalgo jumped with the Force, no less that fifteen feet into the air, where he did three quarters of a backflip, and jumped again off the wall behind him. He landed about thirty feet from his starting point, and began gathering Force energy around him.

"I may not be able to touch your mind, but I can already tell the most important details about you. You're weak. Third class at best. It's hardly worth my time to stay here and fight you." Zalgo began pacing off to his left, never taking his gaze from his opponent. He had yet to let his weapons show, but his phrik gauntlets hung from his arms, completely nonchalant.

"You who hides behind impenetrable armor and machines that battle for you. How can you possibly enjoy all this? It must be some sort or miracle you lasted this long. You have my pity."

Still gathering energy, Zalgo wondered how he would use it. Creativity was key, as usual.

Zalgo wasn't sure Ashrah knew he wasn't just some game bird to shoot out of the air. He was much more sophisticated than that. Zalgo kept himself facing his opponent, throwing out a series of wide Force pushes, timed just as the flash from the barrel ignited and sent its payload forward. The two attacks would meet somewhat closer to Zalgo do to the difference in speed, but the shots would fall to the side of their mark, impacting the wall behind Zalgo.

He reached the apex of his jump just before the third shot rang out, though the Force sense he had told him something was different just before the bullet impacted the ground behind him. In that split second of time, Zalgo pushed himself away from the wall with another Force jump, and curled into a cannonball, gauntlets covering his legs. Shrapnel and rock alike bounced off his metallic arms, some impacting and penetrating his thighs and shoulders, but none was too terrible. Zalgo had grown to enjoy pain in any manner, and as his traveled forward, let it seep into his very soul.

He landed a little less than twenty five feet away, bleeding some from the sides of his right thigh.

"I may not be able to touch your mind, but I can already tell the most important details about you. You're weak. Third class at best. It's hardly worth my time to stay here and fight you." Zalgo began pacing off to his left, never taking his gaze from his opponent. He had yet to let his weapons show, but his phrik gauntlets hung from his arms, completely nonchalant.

"You who hides behind impenetrable armor and machines that battle for you. How can you possibly enjoy all this? It must be some sort or miracle you lasted this long. You have my pity."

Still gathering energy, Zalgo wondered how he would use it. Creativity was key, as usual.

Zalgo was waiting for something like this. As soon as the barrel of the man's gun was aimed at him, he had a bit of opportunity if he knew how to take it. Zalgo unleashed the energy in the form of telekinesis, with the intent of flipping the barrel of his opponent's weapon around to break his finger while turning the weapon a little more than 180 degrees. If Zalgo were lucky, the barrel wouldn't be too long, and would end up pointing right at Ashrah's face. If it were, however, it would likely impact with some amount of force behind it.

Zalgo would wait to see what would happen. Likely the shot would fire on the weapon being turned enough for his opponent's hyper extending finger before it reached aiming at his head, but Zalgo wouldn't let go of the Grip he had place on the weapon.

Zalgo snapped his body as the gun barked, twisting his right side out in front to become a smaller target. His cloak tugged as the round slipped past his flesh, cutting through the comparably delicate cloth. Zalgo breathed in, regaining composure as his opponent began walking into melee range. A decision clearly not well thought out.

Zalgo gave himself a moment to relax as the walking pile of metal walked towards him. Once more, though, he readied himself with the Force, much slower than before to reduce the stress on his body. He had a plan alright, something this little whelp won't be so very prepared for.

"Your silence grows weary. You must be so terribly bored. Come now, play my game already, and have a little fun with it."

Zalgo was now gaining energy at a steady rate, but was cautious about expending it just yet. Too much wear on the body through the Force could lead to being unable to use it or, in the case of the dark side, being consumed by it.

Zalgo watched the man with a careful eye. He approached as if he were some sort of unstoppable force, some mountain of a warrior Zalgo should fear. Zalgo cackled suddenly, turning his body to face him.

"Look at you! Little man in a suit of armor! I find it absolutely hilarious. I do hope they have a holocam of this ridiculous sight. Maybe before I kill you I might show you what you look like!" Zalgo laughed again, twirling the unlit light saber in his left hand. Finally, he had been amused by something. Finally, he had been made to laugh. Now that things were back on the battlefield and Zalgo was enjoying himself, it was time to have a little fun with it.

Ah, ranged melee, always a treat. Zalgo ducked his head to the left, letting his body follow through to let the blade simply float by over his head. Tricky thing, those chained weapons; they don't change direction very well, and the slightest error in calculation could lead to a useless attack with no possible follow through.

"So boring. How do you do this? Is this like a job to you?" Zalgo asked as he evaded the attack.

Zalgo quickly stood again, jumping back a few feet, and then skipping back a few more. There was a little more than 10 feet between the men. Zalgo wouldn't wait for another strike, however. He was well prepared now, the energy he had slowly built up was at a rather powerful level.

Thrusting both arms forward, he grasped at Ashrah's armor using Force Grip, attempting to pick the man up by his impenetrable security blanket. Should such a thing succeed, Zalgo would will the man to float 10 feet in the air while flipping the man upside down facing away from him, and, still holding on in the force, slam him head first into the ground. A touchless Piledriver, as it were.

Zalgo wouldn't be sure how his opponent was able to move the weapon so quickly with the pivot being where it was. His hand shot up, the gauntlet blocking the handle from smacking into his head. Instead of just moving back, in his opponents path, Zalgo used his superior agility to dash off to his left, the way he was already leaning. He ran a few steps and then turned to backpeddle.

Thrusting out both hands, he aimed the Force Grip once more at his opponents body armor, intent on simultaneously lifting and flipping the man upside down, and then slamming him down full force on his head into the solid ground.

Zalgo saw the blade in Ashrah's hand coming towards him now. He spun on his left foot, stepping out when his right foot came back down. At the same time, he put his left forearm up to block the incoming blade with the phrik gauntlet.

Zalgo felt the metal on metal as he spun, and he quickly backpeddled, nearly 90 degrees from his opponent's path of travel. Without taking his eyes off the man, he continued the less-than-graceful path of travel for a few more seconds, gaining plenty of ground with his superior agility.

Thrusting out both hands, he aimed a Force Grip at his opponent's body armor, intent on simultaneously lifting and flipping the man upside down, and then slamming him down full force on his head into the solid ground.