Ask [Voided Roleplay] Electric Dance

[Casany Praxor]

Music IC

Spoiler

Spoiler

Excarga. One more backwater planet in the Outer Rim that was home to a caliber of colorful characters, from the miners toiling the world for an iron crown to the desperate and destitute, all amid the dirty and the depraved. One of their establishments was typical enough with one of those fancy rules: “You do not talk about fight club.”

Well, the truth was that somebody always talked. That silly buyblaster had done as much as he lay shackled and bolted in Anvil’s hangar. “Oh no, oh no, oh please don’t, Madam Mandalorian! I need my fingers for pazaak!” | “But you don’t need your tongue for singing, right?” In the end, the singing gambler had lost nothing, unless one counted information which, in some respects, was more valuable than fingers or a tongue combined.

One side of the story later and here Anvil was, looking up at the night sky of Excarga with a golden hue bathing the atmosphere and clouding the stars. It was likely a byproduct of the mining output that waged war with the planet day and night, the miners never sleeping—much like a little underground underworld where fighting was the game and currency was the name. She pursed her lips at it, that flickering neon sign that read “Blarb’s Bar” in an otherwise nondescript street of a forgotten town, sucking air between her teeth from behind the visor of a Mandalorian helmet.

After entering the cantina, it was a free shot downstairs into the gambling establishment, though eyes were all over her armor the entire way even as Anvil’s eyes were on the establishment. An audience was going wild as two Shistavanen fought each other in a caged ring. Each time their hands connected with flesh and bone, there was a spark of electricity or something-such, indicating that the force field had pushed either opponent back upon the blow while still dealing nerve signals. Cute, I guess. Well, less savage, at least?

There were also guards aplenty, none of them terribly interested in anyone who was not breaking the rules, and Anvil had no mind to as she approached the receptionist—a female Zabrak standing behind steel bars.

“I’m looking for Tresk Nall,” Anvil declared. “I think he’s the Quarren who runs this pit?”

“Yeah?” The Zabrak snorted. “What, you after an appointment? Only way you’re gonna meet with Tresk is by winning a cage match, Mando.” She nodded toward the two Shistavanen who continued to pummel each other. “Or did you miss the sign outside that says the winner gets an audience with the owner?”

Anvil had indeed. She shrugged at the receptionist, following her gaze toward the ring. “That so?”

With that, Anvil headed into the ring just as one of the fighters emerged victorious and both departed.

“Hey!” The Zabrak called out behind her. “You can’t wear armor in there!”

By the time Anvil arrived, standing head to toe in her red-gold beskar, she looked around at the crowd behind her T-shaped visor and blurted out.

“What? No one out there willing to face me?”



@JMSix

 

[Ferus Vúlfur]

Excarga was a planet like countless others. A barren backwater mining world, there was little here that could interest Ferus beyond the minerals themselves. He had traveled to the world with the explicit purpose of acquiring a large shipment of raw materials, hoping to deliver them to the Aranov so that he could begin to work toward rebuilding the ancient forges. A couple of crates of lommite, a crate of carbonite, a crate of chanlon, a crate of guerrerite, several cylinders of tibanna, a small box o durelium, a small box of gold, and a small box of phobium. The shopping list took nearly an entire day to fulfill, and the shipping companies responsible for transporting the heavy material to the Nebula Ranger freighter would take longer.

Momentarily stuck on the planet, Ferus wandered the streets. He gazed at the faint stars, mostly covered by the golden hue that filled the sky. Excarga had grown incredibly polluted thanks to the miners’ rampant industrialism. Thanks to the power of greed, even the light of the stars refused to shine on the forsaken planet. Ferus felt saddened by such circumstances. Excarga reminded him that his people had been equally shrouded. He sighed as his eyes landed on flickering neon lights.

“You can’t wear armor in there!” The Mandalorian heard as he opened the door. The door slowly revealed a large cantina, but Ferus’ eyes were too concerned with something to care about anything else. Amidst a makeshift ring stood a Mandalorian woman donned in red armor with golden details, a finely crafted piece of equipment.

“What? No one out there willing to face me?” Ferus smiled as his thoughts were interrupted by the bravado of the other Mandalorian. He faintly remembered the sparring sessions with his father, and he immediately felt as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. Ferus never particularly liked or had an aptitude for hand-to-hand fighting, always preferring blasterslinging over any form of melee combat. Nonetheless, he could not ignore the opportunity to spare with another Mandalorian.

“Aye...“ he said as he approached the ring. “I shall fight you vod.” Ferus stepped onto the ring. The Vúlfurian almost seemed like a giant standing next to his shorter opponent, but he nonetheless knew that his size would probably be his downfall. “I am Ferus of Clan Vúlfur.” He said, nodding respectfully towards his opponent.

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Music OOC

Spoiler

Vod. The word. The voice. It had taken only instants to register that one of her own had just spoken to her. When she turned to face the speaker, her eyes proved what her ears had suspected. There, standing outside the cage, was a figure garbed like her with a helmet shaped like hers. Albeit a bulkier version. Mandalorians and their helmets—one feat of fortune for wearing them was that not only could no one see your face but they could not see its expressions; could not see when you smiled or frowned. Unfortunately, this was a moment where Casany Praxor wanted her grey and red counterpart to watch those corners of her lips curve upward.

As the juggernaut entered the ring, donning a duster against Cass’ cape, she received her opponent with a tilt of her head. He was big all right, with the top of her helmet leveled somewhere at the middle of his. Wonder how loud of a bang you’ll make when you hit the floor. As he introduced himself, Cass tried to place his name and clan somewhere but nothing was jumping out. It was no surprise that she had not heard of him, given the scarcity of their people, and the notion was probably mutual.

“Anvil,” she nodded in return. “Morutar.” [“Welcome.”] She spread her arms with invitation while her hands were seized. A Zabrak secured a device over either hand; a metal ribbon like a bridle which covered the knuckles and wrapped around the forearm. While the two fighters were being fitted by arena assistants, a Duros entered the ring to stand between both, trailing fingers across the brim of a black trilby.

“In all my years I’ve never seen anything like this…” The audience called and whistled when the referee trailed off. “...Two Mandalorians in the ring, standing head to toe in their beskar iron… Let’s hope the iron walls on all four sides are enough to contain them!”

Cass flexed her fingers, getting a feel for the glove-like devices that cradled them as she listened to the cheering crowd and the ref.

“Here we have Ferus of Clan Vúlfur on one side and the simple “Anvil” on the other… Fighters, Mandalorians, the rules are simple:
One) This is a clean fight—you might be armored but those new knuckles you have will send shock signals right to the bone—and expect to be knocked out at worst;
Two) On that note, you win by KO, forfeit, or highest score after time’s up; three-minute rounds for five rounds total;
Three) The only way you leave this ring is as a winner or a loser;
Four) Try to kriff the rules and you’ll never leave this establishment; follow the rules, prove yourself a winner and you’ll be toasting your victory with this establishment’s owner and the prize credits.”

Cass nodded at everything that was relayed, especially that last part. She had no idea why her fellow Mandalorian had stepped in with her, whether for the same pursuit or just to relish the rare opportunity, but for her there was only one outcome she could settle for.

“All right, bucketheads…” The referee looked between the two contestants. “...Give us a show we won’t soon forget! FIGHT!”

With that, the assistants left the ring while the Duros stepped well and away from the two Mandalorians, of which the one in red and gold hesitated to strike first as she remembered her place.

“Win or lose, fight well and maybe I’ll share my full name with you, vod.”



@JMSix