Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Jul 31, 2014 18:41:09 GMT -8
The history is currently unknown.
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Dec 21, 2014 21:38:11 GMT -8
The training grounds of the citadel were very large and provided means enough to train over a great deal of skills and forms. In the center, a battle circle was defined with gun ranges and similar fixtures assembled around the outskirts. The ranges for rifles and blasters had moving droids that offered target practice for many skill levels. For solo training in the hand-to-hand combat styles, there were static dummies set about as well as an area where a vode could test their hand-to-hand skills against a pre-programmed droid. The training grounds were overall red clay and stone, with some coarse sand.
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Cathaoir and Samael established positions on opposing sides of the circle, about ten paces from the middle, so thirty paces away from one another. Cathaoir held himself in a guard style stance ad Samael had a more aggressive one.
First, Cathaoir allowed his opponent to press the attack and himself to fall back into a defensive position. Sammael began swinging wildly, mostly utilizing horizontal left and right strikes. Occasionally he would throw in an odd upward sweep or a knee, but when he had pressed Cathaoir to within three feet from the edge of the circle, Cathaoir started to attack back.
In response, Cathaoir ducked as Sammael tried to connect with with a backhand, left to right motion. As he was ducking, Cathaoir managed to pivot backwards around his right foot and at the end of his move, he ended up behind Sammael and slammed the flat side of the blade into the man's back with both hands. He swung the blade like a baseball bat from his right to his left sending Sammael tumbling forwards, but not from the vicinity of the circle. He, Cathaoir, retreated away from the man to allow him to get up and then again allowed Sammael to press the attack.
Sammael had been overconfident, as was usual for him with anyone he squared off against. He turned to face Cathaoir, knees slightly bent, shoulder width apart. He held the sword in front on him, both hands on the hilt and approached slower this time. He stabbed at Cath, straight forward, aimed at his diaphragm, just below his left pectoral muscle.
Cathaoir watched Sammael carefully, noticing his slower, more deliberate motions. He continued to watch, bringing his sword up to a low, defensive position, the blade pointing upright with both hands holding the hilt. As the thrusting motion of the stab began, Cath began to step toward Sammael and out to the right, leading with his right leg. It was a simple move by technical means and one that worked well against a stabbing attack. As the stab came, seemingly toward his chest, Cathaoir pushed the sword toward the stabbing blade diverting it from its desired course. (This would happen in one fluent motion as the stab came toward him, including the stepping motion).
Once he had diverted the blade, Cathaoir quickly took advantage of his fortunate positioning and swung his right forearm toward the shoulder and head of Sammael in a backhanded motion, fist aiming straight up into the air.
Sammael lowered his right shoulder and head, causing the forearm to glance off then swung his sword, in a right to left motion across his body, in a baseball type swing aimed at Cathoir's midsection hoping it would hit under the raised arm of Cathaoir.
Cathaoir's swing of his forearm had been heavy and he followed its momentum over as Sammael managed to dodge his attack. It was definitely a foolish thing for him to do, especially in his doubting of Sammael at this point. As the swing of his right arm carried him over, Cathaoir spun with it. Unaware of what Sammael was preparing, he dropped to the ground with the spin by instinct, extending his right leg in a leg sweep motion, barely dodging Sammael's swing.
Sammael managed a short crow hop, avoiding the leg sweep and once the sweep had passed he immediately brought the sword downward in a two-handed strike at Cathaoir, aiming for the head/neck area.
Immediately realizing the that his leg sweep had missed its intended target, Cathaoir quickly brought his blade up into a defensive position, the sword parallel to the ground, blade pointing to the left. Once he noticed his opponent's blade coming downward at him, he braced himself for the inevitable impact of his opponent's blade clashing with his. Cathaoir was still in a kneeling position where he ended up after the leg sweep.
Sammael kicked out with his right leg, aiming at Cathaoir's ribs.
It its mark, nailing Cathaoir right in the ribs and knocking him backwards. It took some of the breath out of his lungs, but not as much as intended. Using this to his advantage, Cathaoir used his momentum gained from falling backwards to roll back up to his feet. There he stood for a fraction of a second before he decided it was time for him to press the attack. He stood upright, knees slightly bent, left further forward than his right, about 70% of his weight on the right foot. His feet were pointing so that the side of his feet were facing his opponent. He quickly kicked up some dirt toward his opponent's face with his left foot which should cause some kind of momentary disorientation then quickly followed up by lunging off of his right foot, up through the dusted air and, using only his right hand on his sword, came down with a oblique slash from his top right to the bottom left. When he landed, as if all in one motion, he spun on his right foot and threw a spinning back kick toward Sammael's chest region.
The dirt and dust hit Sammael in the face, momentarily blinding him. He turned his back to Cathaoir and took a few steps away while trying to clear his vision. Cathaoir's slash missed due to his relocation but the kick hits him square in the back, throwing him forward and off balance.
Cathaoir then heaved himself toward the stumbling Samael, bringing his leg up, knee to his chest. He intended to help Sammael with his fall and shoved his foot forward toward the Mando's now exposed back sending him tumbling to the ground. "Sammael, if I recall, this is the exact same way this all played out the last time we fought this out in the circle." Cathaoir spoke in Mando'a, his voice full of experience; it was powerful and carried a sense of authority with it. "Guess the sayings are true. You just can't teach an old dog new tricks." Cathaoir let out a laugh and extended an arm down to where Sammael lay, helping him back to his feet.
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Ka'ra Ordo
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Post by Ka'ra Ordo on Dec 22, 2014 0:22:13 GMT -8
*This was far from the first time Ka'ra had watched others duel or otherwise train in the grounds, especially not when it came to the aliit'alor himself; who better to observe and learn from than the clan leader? The technique, stances, attacks, defenses, and counters, she studied it all. Many of the attacks she had at least practiced, though hadn't quite mastered yet; a beskad was a mighty weapon that took some time to master, especially for a child. Still, she absorbed every bit of it she could, hoping to pick up some new abilities she could practice later.
As expected, Cathaoir won the duel, making a comment to his opponent that the tactic he'd attempted was similar to a previous duel. Come to think of it, Ka'ra did have some sense of deja vu while watching the duel; if everything was the same, how was she going to learn new tricks? Regardless, she grinned as she stepped into plainer view; while she hadn't exactly been hiding, she was partially concealed behind a railing she was leaning against as she watched. As she approached, she let a giggle loose before she spoke.*
Yeah, how'm I supposed to learn new moves if you keep using the same ones!
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Post by Deleted on Dec 22, 2014 17:38:31 GMT -8
Ka'ra had not been the only one observing the training bout between the Aliit'alor, Cathaoir Ordo, and the clan's friendly, neighborhood drunk, Sammael Ordo. Clad in his freshly painted black and orange beskar'gam, Conall stood a few paces behind the mandalorian child, his buy'ce held leisurely by a hand at his left side, while his right hand cupped the hilt of his beskad sheathed along his right thigh. His DC-15s was holstered in its case the was strapped diagonally across his chest so that it could be easily drawn with his right hand. A cape the held a green hue about it hung from his left shoulder.
Conall's face had a youthful look to it, with a blonde beard, which had not yet fully filled in, covering his jaw line and upper lip. A scar graced his face above his left orbital socket, angling down to the bridge of his nose.
He began towards the edge of the circle, letting out a healthy laugh as the young Ka'ra through out teasing jest at the drunk. When he finally came to the circle, he was by Ka'ra's left side. Removing the hand from the hilt of his blade, he patted her of the back in a rather strong fashion. "If you don't start at least scoring a reasonable hit, we'll have to start putting you in there against the kids still sucking at their mom's tit," he let out harshly, speaking completely in Mando'a. "Maybe they'd offer a more suitable skill level for you." He crossed his arms, knowing all to well that Sammael would have something to say back. Conall and Sammael were always at each like this; one always trying to outdo the other. Conall was the up and coming hot shot while Sammael was the grizzled old vet of forty or so years now. Still a drunk, but also a vet.
Conall leaned down to whisper into Ka'ra's ear. "Bet you could take him right now. Bet he couldn't even land a blow on you." Conall spoke softly but was purposefully loud enough so that Sammael would be able to hear him
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Dec 22, 2014 22:44:16 GMT -8
During his bout with Sammael, Cathaoir had noticed, initially, Ka'ra standing by the wayside of the circle, observing what was unfolding - no doubt trying to sharpen her own skills in the process. Later, Conall had appeared, more or less in time to see Sammael's inevitable defeat. After helping Sammael back to his feet, Cathaoir turned to the audience all of two vod deep,removing his buy'ce in the process. It fell to his left side, clutched in his left hand while his right hand sheathed the beskad along his back.
Cathaoir was about to speak but before he could, Sammael chimed in, immediately pressing toward Conall. "So you think you're funny, do you? How about you and I go toe-to-toe now?" Sammael voice was labored and carried an anger with it. "No weapons. You. Me. And our fists." By this point, Sammael had already thrown his buy'ce to the side, though he didn't press any closer to Conall. Instead he backpedaled a but towards the center of the circle once more. His fists were balled up tightly now and he let out a string of curses in Mando'a. He bared his teeth like a rabid animal, stronger breathing now hissing through his yellow stained teeth.
Meanwhile, Cathaoir had approached Ka'ra inquisitively. He left Sammael to try and convince Conall to settle things with him in a one-on-one engagement, but there was no telling how that would end. Truth be told, even Cathaoir had a difficult time predicting what Conall would do next. Either Conall would accept Sammael's challenge and fight him, more likely than not, toying with his opponent throughout the entire match, or he'd goad him further, poking fun and intentionally making his temper flare until the point that Sammael would recall his own challenge and most likely head out of the grounds toward the pub/cantina to let his head cool as he drowned away the days events behind a bottle of tihaar. Cathaoir shook his head. They were grown men, and loyal mandalorians; they could handle themselves in a fight.
"You still taking care of that rifle?" A smile briefly made an appearance on his face as he spoke to Ka'ra. He remember not too terribly long ago, he'd given her his old DC-17m.
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Ka'ra Ordo
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Post by Ka'ra Ordo on Dec 24, 2014 0:30:32 GMT -8
*Conall, who had also been watching, had his own choice words to say to Sammael, notably harsher than her own. Still, she grinned at his suggestion that she herself could take Sammael in a fight and he couldn't land a blow; that was quite obviously not the case, but she decided to play along. She even continued grinning when Sammael took offense and challenged Conall to a duel right then and there.
Ooh, this oughta be good. More technique to observe, plus it would be funny if Sammael lost again. She was about to goad Conall into it when Cathaoir approached her, asking if she was taking care of that rifle. In a reverent manner, she lost her grin, stood up straight as though at attention, and nodded.*
Elek, aliit'alor. I train with it every day and keep it polished and well-kept, sir!
*She glanced over towards Sammael, then back at Cathaoir and grinned again.*
Good job kicking his shebs again by the way!
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Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2014 16:53:21 GMT -8
Conall let out a short, sharp laugh, at first, but it soon proved to last much longer than he had originally been intended. Before too long, though, the laughter faded and he locked his eyes upon the older Mandalorian, yet not in any kind of threatening manner. "Why?" Conall responded sharply. "You enjoy getting your ass kicked that much? You're old now. You're a drunk and not worth the light of day for me to waste my time on." He spoke to Sammael condescendingly and mocked him. Conall was cocky and arrogant in his young age, especially when it came to comparing himself to Sammael. "But . . ." Conall paused for a moment, fully expectant of an interjection from his challenger. ". . . but, it will give Ka'ra something to watch and learn from." His voice had dropped to a point of near sincerity when he spoke of the younger vode. Where he would come across as childish and maturity and a jerk, he sincerely cared for the improvement and well being of the younger members of the clan. The younger members of the Mandalorian people in general.
"To make this interesting for myself, though, you will use your bes'kad and I will best you with nothing but my bare hands." Conall took off his gloves and gauntlets as he spoke, tossing them to the ground beside him.
Going in to give Ka'ra another pat on the back, he also went to slide his buy'ce, obviously much to large for the young girl, over the back of her head. "Watch after this for me, will ya'?" he said with a wink before walking over to where Sammael stood in the circle.
"Let's add a wager to this," he said, "loser buys the other a drink."
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Mar 10, 2015 7:57:05 GMT -8
Sammael was already panting heavily at this junction, obviously exhausted from ass kicking from the aliit'alor, but tried not to allow it to phase him. With how tired he was now, it'd be tougher for him to fight but with an advantage of have his blade and Conall being absent his, he wasn't about to let it pass. He spit the blood that had filled his mouth from his prior fight with Cathaoir out and onto the coarse sand. What was it with this family. Cathaoir fought in training scenarios without his beskar'gam and now the man's nephew fought unarmed against a man who carried a weapon, blunt or not. Did it have something to do with their blood? Did it make them all crazy and ludicrous or something?
Sammael had known Cathaoir for decades, but never understood why he did the things he did in training fights. Sure . . . Cathaoir had explained it to him many times as to why he fought that way, but it still managed to be beyond him. Perhaps the countless years of drinking and cigarettes had done something to his mind and its ability to think straight but none of that really mattered.
He stood in the middle of the circle now, beskad held tightly in his right hand and blade angled to the sand around his feet.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 10, 2015 15:21:10 GMT -8
Conall stepped into the ring now, after having handed his Buy'ce off to the small one, Ka'ra . . . yet another means at a gloat and a jeer at Sammael. Not only was he going to do this with only his bear fists against a Vode and his beskad, but he was going to do it without a helm now too. His demeanor now shifted, almost instantly. The cocky and arrogant prick had now become calm and controlled, focused on the task at hand. It was him versus Sammael a much larger man than himself, but with that, Sammael was slower than the his smaller and more nimble self. Where Sammael garnered brute force and strength to his advantage, Conall had elusiveness and speed, something he planned to exploit upon his foe.
Taking in a deep breathe, he let it out slowly, centering himself in the heat of the moment. Yes, he taunted the man consistently, but that did not take away from the fact that Sammael was a very capable warrior, with many years of seasoning and experience, having fought side by side with Cathaoir the majority of him life. "Your move . . . " His words were short, crisp and frank as he dropped himself back into a defensive stance, centering his body weight between his feet though not exactly evenly. His left foot lead, pointing directly to his target with the toe while his right leg trailed, both knees bent slightly though roughly eighty percent of his 260 pound frame sat back on his right foot, while the other twenty percent got distributed to the left. His hands were brought up in a sparring pose, right tucked to his chest while the left extended slightly, leaving his elbow bent at about a ninety degree angle. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breathe in, exhaling it slowly, only at the end of which he opened his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come.
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Mar 10, 2015 15:40:02 GMT -8
Sammael charged forward like a mad man toward Conall, the harsh dessert sands of the training grounds sloshing outward with each step. The ground seemed to shake slightly as each foot crashed more and more violently into the coarse sediment. The Beskad was held in his right hand with the weapon's blade dragging the ground initially only to leave it as the weapon was brought above his head as he neared his opponent.
He looked and rushed hastily, as if thrown into some uncontrollable rage, the same rage exhibited when he faced down the man who had long ago killed his wife and daughter in cold blood. It was a berserker's rage, unable to be tamed and harnessed properly and with that, made his movements predictable. Always going for the finishing blow, the knockout punch so to say, made certain actions sluggish as one would need to rev back to be able as much power into a move as they possibly could.
He brought the blade down at an angle, from his own high right, down and to the left as if to strike the younger Mandalorian where the shoulder meets the neck on the an unarmored area of the man. If the blow hit, it would likely kill the man but if not it would leave Sammael wide open to be countered.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2015 6:30:30 GMT -8
Conall watched as the brutish attack came barreling in from his opponent. Sammael seemingly had let control give way to anger and frustration, a mistake that would likely be his undoing in their bout. Even so, Conall had to watch himself or Sammael would cleave his head from his shoulders, something he rather liked where it was currently situated.
Just as a batter in the game of baseball might see a pitch come in slowly, Conall saw the same thing with Sammael's attack. Feinting to the left while not moving his feet, he threw a left left uppercut to the right armpit of his attacker followed quickly by a right cross to his neck region, both areas of which weren't clad in beskar armor and only a body glove. The punches were lightning fast it seemed and should be able to hit their marks with precision accuracy.
Following the attack quickly, Conall would sweep with his left leg at the back of the legs of his attacker as a means to knock the legs out from under him inevitably causing him to fall backward.
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Mar 15, 2015 6:45:33 GMT -8
Sammael's attack fell short of his opponent. Missing by mere inches, his blade came crashing down into the coarse sandy terrain below. Boom! Crack! A sharp pain jutted through him as first his left armpit was struck, followed nearly instantly by the side of his neck causing him to stumble awkwardly to his left a bit. It wasn't much but it was just enough to be out of the reach of the leg sweep which followed from Conall. He heaved then spit downward from beneath his buy'ce, only just missing spraying the instead of it in the process.
Damn Conall was a lot faster than he remembered, possibly faster than Cathaoir was. This match was lost for him as there was now way he could in his already exhausted stated level the playing field with such a quick and powerful opponent but he was too stubborn to acknowledge it.
Finally, he regained himself, throwing his helm from his head with this left hand, tossing it that direction. It came crashing down into the sand below, causing the coarse sediment to spray outward upon the impact in the process. Thump! Thump! Thump! He charged, his feet landing heavily on the ground as he did so, beskad carried overhead in both hands. It was a violent and barbarous charge. Uncontrolled and predictable. His stride slow and heavy from exhaustion carried only by his will to fight.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2015 6:56:12 GMT -8
Typical. Slow and predictable. Every attack pressed upon him done so exerting as much power and brute force as he could muster the energy for. The match was over, clearly, but Sammael knew not when he was defeated and should concede, driven only by a mad man's rage and aggression. "Why," he would ask himself of Sammael's oncoming attack. Truth was he didn't want to hurt the man; he was kin. He was family and that was something that meant more to him than all the woman and booze the universe had to offer. He may not have often given that appearance to people, seemingly having a lust for life and its pleasures but the cold, hard truth was that his family and clan was at the top of his list of priorities. Something he'd picked up through the years from his literal uncle, the clan's Al'verde.
Pivoting on his left foot, he struck out with his right leg and foot in a rigid fashion, aiming a large right boot for Sammael's chest. If the hit were to land, it would likely knock the man to the ground and knock the air from his lungs. If not, however, he would be in an awkward position, a position he would not like to be in.
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Mar 15, 2015 7:03:53 GMT -8
The kick connected sending Sammael straight to the ground, back first and knocking the air from his chest. He heaved and cough before rolling to a side holding his arms close to his chest. At this point he would not carry on. There was no reason to. He was exhausted shaken up. He'd lost his will to continue and with it the fight. Conall was the better of the two and that was something he was simply going to have to live with from now on. Tired or not, he hadn't stood a chance since the get go and now that was two fights in a row now that he'd yet to land a blow on an opponent.
It was evident to him now that his prime had long passed and he stood no chance against younger, stronger, faster vode like Conall or Cathaoir.
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