Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 12, 2014 14:16:42 GMT -8
Who: The Spider vs. the Reaver
Rules of engagement: GBA Standard
Where:
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.
Special Instructions: This match is open to any and all wishing to post as spectators, gamblers, or assorted hot dog salesmen
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Affiliation: The Priesthood
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 28, 2014 15:43:17 GMT -8
The Reaver Lord entered the arena with a gruesome smile twisting his ruined features. Immediately the noise from the crowd swelled until it was nearly deafening, insults and screams of praise mixing into an insensible roar of sound. He didn't acknowledge them; he didn't even glance up at the stands. He had eyes only for the entrance on the opposite side of the arena, and the foe that would appear there shortly.
He'd heard whispers of the opponent he faced today. The Spider, they confided in hushed tones. The assassin. A ruthless killer of peerless skill, if the rumors were to be believed. It wouldn't surprise him; so far the warriors they had brought forward to fight had all been formidable. Yesterday he'd fought a Duros mercenary to a standstill. Disarmed, he'd been forced to beat the alien's skull in with a mailed fist. The day before a Wookiee sage fended off a ruthless assault, one that left Faust panting and exhausted, almost without effort. He'd brought the behemoth down, though, after a misstep had created a gap in its guard. Its scalp hung from his belt, a graying braid nearly a foot long.
He was wearing his customary stripped down 'gam: cuirass, bracers, skirt, and greaves of a light carbon and beskar alloy. His rough, scarred arms were bare beneath the sun, cords of muscle straining as he flexed the fingers of his sword hand. In addition to his light armor, the Priest also carried few weapons. His beskad was mag-locked to his back, as ever, and his Ripper slumbered within a leather holster on his left hip. Aside from the wrist laser built into gauntlet, that was the extent of his armament.
The Priest's muttered prayers were drowned out by the crowd as he advanced to the center of the arena. No matter, he mused. My God hears. His left hand pulled the Ripper free but left it dangling at his side. As the door to the other entrance slid open, Faust could've swore he felt a hand, heavy upon his shoulder.
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Alariyo
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Affiliation: Slaughter.
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Post by Alariyo on Sept 28, 2014 15:59:11 GMT -8
The breeze whispered its wicked voice over the arena, hushing the countless bystanders to silence as a lanky figure trekked into the fray. His look, demeanor, and clothing were altogether unimpressive. Coal black pants and jacket that obfuscated most of his prominent features, Raven hair to match, and rust colored skin that seemed oddly pale, somehow set him apart from the blown sand.
His striking golden gaze seemed blurred, distant. A red scarf hid the lower half of his face as he stared out over it toward the maniacal Mandalorian. Alariyo blinked.
Initializing primary scan...
Accessing... accessing...
The Spider stared intently at his prey as his ocular implant registered the target's armor frequency and tuned slowly, secretly to match it. 'He'll be quick,' the Brosin assessed. 'His kind always are. Fast hands. Faster minds.' What he had learned from many fights with Mandalorians was, their armor was their biggest asset. The mechanisms that made it monstrous were some of the most fearsome tech in the galaxy.
He held no interest or love for armor, but with the technology in some other form...
When the quick beep registered through his nervous system and told him that he was synchronized, Alariyo sprang into action. The claws of his gauntlets sprang out and he dropped into a dead sprint, intent on clearing the distance between them. Beneath his scarf, he wet his lips with a serpentine tongue and his mind lavished the prospect of another victim.
Remote hacking protocol initiated.
He the the weight of his ultrachrome blade fall from his sleeve into hand as he ran. His eyes remained locked on Faust, who's armor would most likely be alerting him to the tunneling virus attempting to upload itself to his HUD. That would either give him the moment he needed to strike, or slow the Priest down enough for Alariyo to get close without getting riddled with holes.
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 29, 2014 15:27:12 GMT -8
In the sudden silence that followed the Spider's entrance, Faust's prayers rose in pitch. A stream of rapid, guttural Mando'a begged the Destroyer God look upon this act of worship. He paused to draw breath, and then the assassin was charging him. His speed was impressive; he was covering the distance faster than the Priest could've believed, but the Ripper came up faster yet. His right food slid back, and his right hand came up to meet the pistol as it centered on the assassin. He'd only gone half a dozen steps when Faust exhaled.
He fired, readjusted his aim, and fired again, both times targeting the lithe figure's center mass. The roar of the slugs fought with the wailing crowd, but just beneath it Faust heard his wrist laser give an urgent beep and then a low whine as it deactivated abruptly. Haar utreekov sabatoged me, The Reaver Lord realized, not unamused. Well, if the Ripper did its work the assassin would never be in range of that weapon anyway. Still, it was irksome to have a piece of his equipment removed. Eventually the automated purge would run its course and the laser would reactivate on its own, but that would take some time.
Sulfuric eyes narrowing, Faust laid his finger back on the Ripper's trigger.
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Alariyo
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Affiliation: Slaughter.
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Post by Alariyo on Sept 29, 2014 20:05:30 GMT -8
Well, well, well, Alariyo mused as the wrist laser of his opponent shut itself down and into a safe mode reboot, attempting to purge the tunneler. It wasn't every day you caught a Mando who didn't use HUD technology to enhance their deadliness. Still, it was not unheard of, nor was it as though the man were any less deadly without technologically enhanced armor.
The thought was just so... exciting.
He wasted no time once the man lifted the gun for the first time. There was no chance to just change his momentum on the fly, but his trajectory could shift at any time. Alariyo turned his entire body so that he presented only his right side to the Mandalorian. Rippers fired with unholy speed, and this sinister item proved to be the genuine article. The projectile raced across the dermal layer of his bicep and tore away the flesh, biting just deep enough to send a splatter of blood out from the glancing wound. The second shot went wide, but only just.
Alariyo seemed disinterested in the pain.
The hacking program hadn't bought him a great deal of time to prepare his attack. The gunshot and his little feat of acrobatics allowed him to get the weapon fully armed, a latch on the underside of his gauntlet spooling thread through the blade like a needle.
As Faust prepared his gun to fire again, Alariyo whipped his hand up and sent the knife skewering through air at the Mandalorian. The small line of thread would have been invisible to the naked eye, unless enhanced by some means. Alariyo continued to run, not directly at Faust now, but past him.
It would take some work to turn this into an even fight.
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Oct 8, 2014 15:01:07 GMT -8
The spray of blood sent the crowd into a frenzy. The sound of their screams reverberated in the priest's chest, and guards all along the walls of the arena were hard pressed to keep errant fans from forcing their way into the arena. Had Faust spared them a glance he would've been disgusted by their behavior, but his gaze never left his opponent. He'd been intending to put the man down with his first shot, but a glancing wound was a start, at least, and it gave him a bit of insight into the man he fought. With reflexes like that it was difficult to believe he wasn't force sensitive, but Faust had a nose for their kind, and decided it wasn't likely.
That makes him all the more impressive, the Reaver Lord decided silently. And all the more deadly.
The assassin moved fast, but Faust's eyes had been trained for battle since he was old enough to walk. As the hand came up to release the knife, the priest's right hand fell away from the Ripper's grip and landed heavily on his breastplate, activating his shield with a careless slap. An electric crackle of energy made the hair on the Mandalorian's arms stand on end, and then the knife was at his throat...
Only to be flung away by the melee shield. The energy field remained visible for less than a heartbeat before dispersing. In that same heartbeat Faust fired again, a hastily, poorly aimed thing. Handguns were not the most accurate of weapons, and Alariyo was closing too fast to line up appropriately. The slug was meant for the man's heart but would find his right shoulder instead, should his path remain unaltered.
And then it was too late to line up another shot, and the Reaver Lord's right hand came up to grasp the hilt of his beskad. His flayed lips twisted into a rabid smile, and his sulfuric eyes shone with manic glee, and the roar of the crowd was the only world he knew. Aye, said a voice in his head. If only everyone held such appreciation for the rites of worship...
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Alariyo
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Post by Alariyo on Oct 11, 2014 16:53:27 GMT -8
The projectile ripped through flesh, sinew, and scraped over bone before leaving through an exit wound perfectly symmetrical to the entry wound. Dodging at this range was not only impossible, it was a waste of energy. When the knife had bound away and revealed Faust's energy shield, the wire cranked and reeled it quickly in. As the distance between them closed, Alariyo tightened his grip around the weapon's hilt.
He never wasted time on firearms for the exact same reason. He'd identified the defenses that the Reaver had adopted in short order, and now, it was time to neutralize them. All bucketheads are the same, religious extremists or not, he quipped mentally. The drugs dulling his mind were rapidly dissipating, countered by the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His heart began to beat intensely, and he let out ragged, painful breaths.
The ultrachrome blade spun expertly in hand, and as Faust drew his beskad, the Spider began spinning his web...
There was a faint crackle that hissed low beneath the screams of the crowd while Alariyo bled from multiple wounds. The assassin seemed uninterested in his own health as he scanned Faust's vitals.
Melee shield still in green.
He smirked beneath the crimson scarf. Now, for my next trick...
The dagger swung quickly and dangerously toward the Priest's carotid artery. Practiced deathblows always drew a target's attention. If Faust looked closely, he might even see the current running through the blade when it came close to his face.
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Faust Skirata
Member
I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203
Affiliation: The Priesthood
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Post by Faust Skirata on Nov 8, 2014 8:01:04 GMT -8
The Ripper roared, another spray of blood filled the air, and still the assassin came. The Reaver Lord's flayed lips bowed in what might have been a smile, and the crowd's screams rose in pitch. An impressive little man, he thought as he unsheathed his beskad. but doomed all the same. His yellow eyes followed the knife as it streaked back into his opponent's hand. So, the Spider came with a gimmick. No matter.
And then they clashed.
His opponent's blade flickered forward in a deadly strike meant to end him in a single blow. Faust ignored it, slipped his left foot back, and brought his beskad ripping up in a backhanded swing aiming to open the assassin from his right hip, up to the center of his breast. The deadly beskar blade sang as it cleaved the air. The blow was lightning quick, but the Spider was quicker. A heartbeat into his swing the dagger impacted his melee shield.
Faust hadn't been looking closely at the knife, and so had not noticed the electric current coursing through it. When the blade slammed to a stop the energy shield collapsed with a deafening, electrical snap. The generator on his breastplate was naught but a smoking, sparking ruin. Teeth gritted, the priest turned into his swing and dropped his right foot back, showing the assassin his left side and falling back. Gimmicks and more gimmicks.
Still clutching his Ripper in his left hand, Faust looked to see what had become of the assassin.
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