Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Affiliation: First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Aug 28, 2013 16:46:16 GMT -8
Alkor v. Ashrah
Run what ya brung.
Armor is cool.
Top 10 Force.
Give us the AoDC, please.
4 - Airine na Comhrac Dorchadas
A dull wind blows the sand in waves across the arena floor as the crowd stamps it's feet in impatience to see this match. Normal people taking time out of their day to watch as two men fight and die for their pleasure. There was intensity in the air, an electric feeling of surging bloodlust running through the audience turned mob. The Durasteel walls stand high and strong with Togorian Headhunters standing atop them, more to prevent rioting than to keep cowardly fighters within the arena. Spreading inward from the walls the sands are riddled with rocks of all sizes and shapes, potential weapons or hiding places for some. And in the center sits the emblem of the Xendorian Guard, polished and smooth, visible from any corner of the arena. At either end of the arena doors open to elevators which lead below to the armory and storage area for the arena. Standing out from the seats the judges dias looks down upon the field, obscured in shadow but lurking figures sit in waiting, holding the lives of the competitors in the palm of their hands. This was a place of blood and combat, a place where fate was tested by those who dare to challenge it. This was the Airéine na Comhrac Dorchadas.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 28, 2013 18:38:24 GMT -8
Around him, the cogs that churned to make the world turn seemed to screech to a halt. Alkor's lambent, violet gaze fixated on the sand-blasted floor beneath the arena, his hands folded, crossed at the wrists, in his lap. He wore nothing in the way of proper armor- black robes with gold trim that hung loosely off of him blended into the shadows swirling, crawling, creeping beneath the attention of the ever watchful flames.
The Dark Jedi- that was what he was, wasn't it? Lost, forever lost, in the shattered sea that was the Force- rose in silence, reaching up to loosen the robes at his mantle, and let them drop to the floor behind him. Tattered, torn, his toned torso glimmered pale as he stepped into the elevator, bowing his head, eyes slowly shutting. He could feel the world in the heartbeats that followed. The galaxy itself, screaming for justice, for a reprieve from the unjust wars.
And Alkor said nothing.
The two blades resting at his waist in a pattern crossing his back, the dark hilted lightsaber at his left side, the duranium vambraces on his arms. The low growl of the elevator as it rose toward destiny. Everything was a part of the coming storm. Even things that Alkor could not perceive in the Force. Things yet to come, and things that seemed not to exist at all. He had heard of this Mand'alor, this Intalbo, and yet, Alkor held no fear or excitement. Both of these creatures were Demons. Neither of them ought exist.
And all for their own, separate reasons. As the servos ground to a halt and the doors opened, Alkor's gaze rose, his mind seeped in the Force, watching, waiting, like the flames standing sentinel above the shadows. His arms hung at his sides, and he let out a harsh breath, like the world was converging all on him.
And perhaps it was.
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Ashrah on Aug 30, 2013 6:12:42 GMT -8
Elevator rides. He was getting tired of them. Todays elevator ride would bring him face to face with yet another Jedi. Or was he a Dark Jedi? It matter very little to Ashrah. All Forcies were nothing more than Preening Warlords, all alike no matter what 'side' of the Force they resided on. The part that was funny to Ashrah was that they titled themselves with names. Jedi. Dark Jedi. Sith. Gray Jedi.....All the same colour. The elevator hitched to a stop and Ashrah stepped out. Today he wore black cargo pants and black combat boots, the toes capped in Beskar. On his right arm he wore part of his black armor, extending from shoulder to wristm strapped across his bare chest with leather straps. In his right hand he held his beskad. In his left he held the 2 foot Phrik handle of his chain, the Chain detached.
He stepped into the oppressive heat of the Arena, the dust particles floating in the sun light. He squinted up at the crowd, the sky, and then across at his opponent, the green orbs seeming to pierce the distance. He nodded once, then started across the grounds, headed towards his prey
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 30, 2013 20:01:26 GMT -8
How little any of it truly mattered.
Through the lens Alkor glanced at reality from, the Force itself writhed and turned, whining as it swirled around Ashrah like a maelstrom, but never dared touch the man. The Jen'jidai tilted his head most curiously- he envied the Mand'alor in that. Never once to feel the shackles that bound most mortal men, never to listen to an ambient, eternally echoing chorus of the damned swallowed up and sung back and forth through history. His ravaged eyes set on the creature known as the leader, the voice of the Mando'ade, and Alkor sighed.
There was to be a convergence. Not the sort that could be avoided, either. Where two creatures, braided in destiny, met at last, there could be only one outcome. Words held nothing between them- he saw that in the other man. Oh, the Force may have been blind, may have heard nothing from the creature on the other edge of the arena, but Alkor had known a thousand men, and in the most intimate way. Alkor had known them exposed, bowed down before all their fears made manifest. In the face of death, Alkor had seen through heartless eyes, and men screamed up at him for justice.
Ashrah was just like any other warrior. Poised. Ready. Deadly. A pulsar of death, emanating outward, an indelible, black stain in the pages of history. Sliding his lightsaber into his palm, igniting the bloody blade, seething with lustful malice as he silently stalked forward. Violet met green in understanding. Twin dealers of death, destined to dance.
And so, as the distance closed and Alkor drowned in his own darkness, his breath became shallow, his being hollowed out by enmity. The first steps, ancient, measured. And the blade whipped through the air in a practiced arc before him, ending with the tip bare inches above the sand. He would defer the first movement to the famous Mand'alor.
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Ashrah on Sept 3, 2013 6:38:08 GMT -8
The other mans light saber lit, and Ashrah wasted no time in moving. His legs pumped, churning up the dust and small rocks of the Arena as he burst into a run. Straight forward was the best attack here. His eyes were focused on Alkor, watching the mans body as he moved towards him. As he came at Alkor, his swept his right blade across from Alkors right to left, his left handed weapon following suit, just behind and below, looking to slam the 3 inch hooked blade into Alkors ribs. Our Author didn't really think this would work, but goddamnit it looked cool....
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Sept 3, 2013 17:12:34 GMT -8
So, the distance closed.
Alkor's blade twisted to a halt milliseconds becore Ashrah closed the gap- the other man was quicker than most creatures lacking the Force, and deceptively so. Alkor, however, was no stranger to inhuman quickness. Weapons and combat had been his way of life for so long, now- before the Force had stolen him, before he had picked up a lightsaber, there had been a dagger. A weapon bereft of elegance or grace, full of little more than efficiency. Brutally so.
From the dagger, he had moved into longer blades- the kind that Ashrah used now (though not quite as well crafted or magnificent as anything that the Mand'alor might boast- and the men behind them. All men were bodies. Forceful, Forceless, all men bled. All men breathed. All men had the same damnable, inevitable fate.
So Ashrah came from the right. Alkor's blade- in the left hand- came up quickly, his wrist like a painter moving his brush over canvas. So the blade, accordingly, rose perpendicular to the sand as Ashrah's weapon screamed home. The resistance of a lightsaber is next to nothing, when not accompanied by sufficient weight and momentum. Alkor's movements capitalized on that knowledge. His arm slid above Ashrah's blade- his body separated from the weapon by just that much distance, enough that the chill of the blade whispered far too close, hairs on the Jen'jidai's chest standing on end.
But the follow through was perfect. A mirror of Ashrah's own opening strike, inches above, cutting a swath of crimson energy toward his opponent's outstretched arms and his chest. Thin, as opposed to deep, in order that the blade would not catch on protective surfaces and stall his pursuit of blood. His right hand shot up at almost the same time as his left had, an almost fluid and practiced motion.
Ashrah's second blade-in the shadow of the first, though lower- would go unseen by most, and unaccounted for, but Alkor knew the lore of twin blades. The closed fist, protected by Duranium, punched up from beneath the weapon just as it would have dug into flesh, and Alkor attempted to collect the blade against his lightsaber at the apex of his counterstrike.
If that worked, well... we shall see.
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Ashrah on Sept 4, 2013 6:53:07 GMT -8
His blade was intercepted by Alkors Saber, as he figured it would be. The man was good, and had Ashrah'a right arm lifted, and as his left arm came across, it encountered Alkors right arm in defense. Ashrah twisted his left wrist so that when the gauntlet contacted the handle, the 3 inch hooked blade could do its work. He attempted to hook the blade on the inside of the gauntlet, at the tumb, and using his swinging momentum, pull in a slight circle and back down to Alkors right. As he did this, he angled his right wrist so the blade laid almost flat against his forarm. He lifted his elbow up and shoved himself forward, trying to drive the mans lightsaber into his own face and chest, and Ashrah's armoured elbow into the bridge of Alkors nose. He was prepared if Alkor used Trakata as well. He was well versed in Forcie fighting styles.....
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Sept 4, 2013 10:17:52 GMT -8
Ashrah had engaged in earnest; the lightsaber now pressed upward, back toward Alkor's body, and the hooked blade on the edge of the handle pressured inward, seeking to hook Alkor's thumb and drag the defensive hand out of the way, to probe for some manner of opening. Alkor rolled his right wrist as the handle shifted against the weight of his punch, turning his hand away from the blade, pushing with the back of his hand against the weapon. His fingers had curled together to form a single point, his thumb tucked behind them.
The handle and Alkor's gauntlet were deadlocked- Ashrah was, after all, strong as an ox, even against tempered aggression. It would have been foolish to commit solely to that method. Instead, as he held the arm of Mand'alor in place, Alkor flicked his left wrist, probing for Ashrah's face with the tip of his saber as the man drove himself forward, Alkor's left foot taking a step back, and slightly to his right to steady him, as well as reinforce his right hand's defense.
This way, as Ashrah struck forward with his elbow, the Mand'alor would find himself- quite possibly- with a face full of plasma.
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Ashrah on Sept 4, 2013 11:09:29 GMT -8
With his blade laid across his forearm, Ashrah was relatively defended from eating the saber of Alkor. He was, after all, on a strict no plasma diet. As it was, he smelled singed hair....Poor Adi would have died of a heart attack had it been his hair. Twisting his left wrist slightly, he unhooked the blade of the handle, and jammed his left arm forward, using Alkors gauntlet as a guide, attempting to slam the flat end of the handle into the mans ribs. As he did this, he continued to attempt to drive his armoured elbow into the face of the other man, shoving as hard as he could
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Post by Alkor Centaris on Sept 4, 2013 11:59:39 GMT -8
Alkor twisted his hips and stepped his left leg back further to the right, behind his other leg. As he did this, his torso slinked backward, out of the way of the striking elbow. Compounding that motion, his saber slinked backward, over the top of Ashrah's armored arm, putting the stain of crimson light between himself and a bladed reprisal from the genetically altered freak.
In a single motion, Alkor pressed his right arm forward and across his body, angling the hooked blade away from his ribs. As it was, Ashrah's arm now dangled like a piece of meat in the retreating path of Alkor's saber. And all he had to do was let the blade follow it's preexisting path, right toward Mand'alor's outstretched elbow.
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 329
Affiliation: Mandalorians
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Post by Ashrah on Sept 5, 2013 6:07:57 GMT -8
Ashrah did two things as Alkor deflected his left handed strike and began his backwards step. He twisted his left wrist to the blade was now facing Alkors stomach, and deftly pulled his arm out to his left and forward slightly, looking to eviscerate the man. His right arm was not idle. He pulled his right arm in and slightly to his left, flipping his blade back to it's proper grip and swung in a circular arc back towards his right, intercepting Alkors blade before it had a chance to slice his arm off. As the plasma met CNT, Ashrah looked to push the offending saber almost gently out of his way. He then reversed his slash, going back to his left, aiming the end of the blade at the fingers holding the saber hilt, stepping forward with his right leg to keep the two men within striking distance
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