Bloodshot
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Affiliation: Chaos and credits, baby.
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Post by Bloodshot on Aug 28, 2015 16:45:14 GMT -8
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Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Kaine Australis on Aug 28, 2015 17:01:42 GMT -8
Not since the Yuuzhan Vong invasion of the galaxy, three decades earlier, had Kaine Australis felt such apprehension before going into battle. There had been countless conflicts, many fights where he thought he might die, but death had long since ceased to be something to fear. This was about honour, about demonstrating to himself and to his people that he still had what it took to go up against the best.
For years, he had faced down Jedi, Sith, mindless beasts, even some of his own people, and had bested almost all of them. Today, he would face one of his sternest tests, going up against one of his own. Another aliit alor, the head of the redoubtable Clan Ordo. He carried the weight of the whole of Clan Australis on his ample shoulders. His Clan barely two decades old. Clan Ordo, millenia. The ancient and revered against the young and new. He had to prove his clan's worth, and he would do so, or if nothing else, die proud.
Clad in a loose tunic of black and green, with short pants that left his shins bare, his bare feet feeling the hot sand beneath them, trusty beskad held in his right hand, Kaine Australis strode out into the Arena to a loud roar from the crowd. Shielding his eyes with his left hand, Kaine took in the crowd. Tens of thousands of Mando'ade, both armoured and not, packed the tiers above the sand. Kaine walked slowly out into the middle of the wide, sandy expanse, and raised his weapon in salute to the crowd, which prompted a resurgent cheer. He let it go on for a few moments, before lowering the weapon and turning to await the arrival of his opponent.
This promised to be a glorious battle, and most interesting combat. Mentally steeling himself for the trial to come, Kaine was as ready as he could be. He let his mind empty of all extraneous thought, and focused himself on the singular goal of defeating the opponent to come...
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Aug 29, 2015 8:30:38 GMT -8
So this was it. Two Titans among their own about to commence in a kind of brutish dance with a harmony sung by by the ringing of blades atop a bed of coarse, hot sand. No armor and but a single weapon for each to be had; a glorious event was sure to unfold. Already in the field and cry sediment; Kaine, the Aliit'alor of the young Mandalorian clan Australis, had taken his entrance; yet his opponent had yet to arrive. The crowd was already roaring in a thunderous commotion of varied intrigue only to be elevated once the other Titan took to his own entrance. That man's name would be none other than Cathaoir, the Aliit'alor of the millennia old clan of Ordo. Not an over muscularly built man at six feet and four inches in height; had the strength of a powerful beast so to speak. He wore no shirt nor shoes, though bantha skin pants cut off just below the knee clothed areas that would otherwise be inappropriate to be shown in a public place, much less an arena meant for the shedding of blood. His torso was marked with scars received through years of battle and training and a light scruff blanketed his jawline in the way of a natural beard. His eyes shown a blue and his skin was of a copper toned, turned to that color by the Ordo sun.
As he entered, his beskad was held low in his right hand, his stride confident, yet humble. As he neared the center of the sand covered arena, he too raised his blade in the form of a salute to the hundreds of Mandalorians that lined and filled the ample seating on the stands. Ordo's, Ausralis', Vhett's, and more were all present and anxious to see what would come of these two icons among them clashing in a glorious game of wit, strength, honor and death. Who would be victorious? What clan would need to seek new leadership? Whose blood would inevitably bath this desolate place?
Cathaoir lowered his salute after turning so as to eventually have looked upon the entire crowd, taking a few steps back as to put some space between himself and his opponent before the match would begin. His attention on Kaine, and his resolve in full effect, he spoke to that man before him. "Hwa mhi redalu ra mhi shi slana at tayli tyatr at solus ashi?"1
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Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Kaine Australis on Aug 30, 2015 15:25:58 GMT -8
So here they were. Kaine assessed his opponent, taking in Cath's height and build. He figured he had the edge, slightly, in reach, but judged he gave up a few pounds to the other, bulkier built Mando'ad. The differences were negligible. They would fight as near equals, as it should be in an honour duel between Clan champions.
Kaine listened to Cath speak, and smiled at his opponent, looking directly into his eyes.
If you want to dance, ner vod, im sure the twi'leks can find you a job. FOR CLAN AUSTRALIS!
Bellowing the last three words as a challenge and statement of intent, Kaine advanced determinedly on Cathaoir. He gradually raised his beskad from resting position low and right, to high and central as he advanced, preparing for a heavy overhand blow. If he made it all the way to Cath without Cath moving, Kaine would strike downward at Cath's head intending to make him react. The blow would be enough to end the fight if it landed unchallenged.
His mind clear but for the competition of single combat, all Kaine's attention was on Cathaoir, watching and waiting for his opponent's response to his aggressive opening.
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Sept 4, 2015 10:49:57 GMT -8
Always so aggressive.
It seemed to be a common trait among Mando'ade these days. Wanting to press the attack immediately and not allow the fight to come to them, a much different approach than the one Cathaoir often took. He smiled as the man charged though he didn't move in any large fashion other than to shift his weight slightly putting more back on his right foot than his left now. Pad, pad, pad. The sound of the man's bare feet impacting the sand as he rushed was highly reminiscent of that of warriors of his own kin.
His eyes never fell from the charging vode in front of him, waiting until nearly the last second to shift his weight from his right foot to his left and bring his beskad with two hands up to intercept the downward driving blade of his foe. As the blades would impact, their musical chime would ring out abruptly, driving the crowd into an even more chaotic torrent of hype and cheer. The y would meet in a crossed fashion Cathaoir's own blade perpendicular to that of Kaine's and parallel to the sandy ground beneath their feet. However, Cathaoir's counter was not completed yet as he drove his right knee toward his opponent's rib cage along the left side. If it were to impact, the knee would be strong enough to knock the wind out of him and potentially break a rib or two depending on how much calcium the man had in his life. At the very least would definitely paint a bitter bruise on the man.
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Kaine Australis
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Post by Kaine Australis on Sept 4, 2015 23:42:08 GMT -8
There was no chime.
With an experienced eye, Kaine noticed the shift of Cath's weight in preparation for the counter, and shifted his attack. Cath's blade was sideways, and thus was very unlikely to be able to be returned to the right position to counter Kaine's true attack. While Kaine respected Cathaoir as a Mando'ad and as an aliit alor, he would show that respect by giving this fight everything he had, and that meant doing Cathaoir no favors.
Cath's blade came up to block Kaine's, even as Kaine slashed sharply at Cath's left hip with the tip of his blade, striking diagonally downward, going underneath, below the height of Cath's upraised horizontal blade. His momentum wasn't great, as he hadn't been running, just steadily advancing, this allowed him to strike quickly from an unorthodox angle. It would also take him past Cath on the left side if he continued his motion. The tip slash, if it connected, wouldn't be enough to hit anything vital, but it would, Kaine hoped, open a bleeding wound, and distract Cath. Kaine kept ready in case Cath struck back instead of trying to avoid or counter the hit, prepared for swift vengeance. He didn't speak further, seeing little need in the distraction from the sweet art of combat.
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