Korriban: Where Madness Reigns - Fight Four

[Sapphire Storm]

Credit for the image goes to Tiberius Viris on ArtStation​

It was the middle of the day on the Sith world of Korriban. The sun sat high in the sky, beating down upon the red, rocky surface of the planet mercilessly. The air itself seemed to shimmer with the heat, unable to withstand the harsh gaze of the sun without losing its integrity. In the distance stood the temple, claiming the lives of the unworthy even now, as two contestants made their way to the battle location and prepared to fight until one was victorious over the other. Rocky outcroppings rose all around, forming a natural arena of sorts. Paving the ground of the makeshift arena were rocks, most of which were little more than pebbles. One, however, stood above all the rest. It stood at waist height and made up the centre point of the rocky, uneven fighting ground, serving as a focal point for the bout.

Two combatants stood on opposite sides of the arena, rock outcroppings rising around them in every direction. Both combatants were members of the Lords of the Sith. Corvo Vis and Garrik Corva were both members of the Sith and considered to be of equal rank, but by the end of the bout, one would be shown as clearly superior to the other. Would it be the assassin that triumphed? The one that considered himself to be but a shadow? Or would it be the warrior? The front line fighter of the Sith, whose very domain was battle and bloodshed? Only time would tell.

@Phœnix @Jack

 

[Phoenix]

The sun was beating down on the arid and barren landscape of the Sith world. It was no beautiful sight, that was for sure, but it was where the tournament was. He'd entered into this championship tournament in an attempt to re-hone his skills. It had been some time since he had last faced down another warrior in saber on saber combat and although he hadn't lost his edge, it could always be improved further.

He walked onto the field, many of his standard weapons left behind. Instead he wore his robes - vest, gauntlets, helmet, and all - with both of his sabers strapped to the back of his belt, a brace of throwing knives on his right hip, and a tri-shot - which he likely wouldn't use, but meh, it was there for him to get used to the feel balance and just in case - on his left hip. Primarily though this was a test of skills in CQC and that's how he preferred it to stay.

He flexed his right hand, the crack of his knuckles barely audible through the gauntlet. His opponent, Garrik Corva - he chuckled slightly at the similarity of their names - looked to be a man of serious disposition. Although he'd never meant the Sith Warrior before, his initial observation of the man was that he was fierce and athletic. Comparable in height and weight - although Corvo was slightly shorter - it didn't appear that either man would have a considerable advantage in either strength, speed or reach. Interesting.

With a distance of a good 20 yards still between the two men, Corvo stopped walking, and let his right hand reach back for his saber. Thumbing the activation switch, the black and red blade shot out of the handle. His right arm was extended downward at his side, saber pointed toward the ground, right foot held slightly back. He nodded his head, indicating he was ready to begin and awaited his opponent's opening attack.

 

[Jack]

Each begrudging step carried the warrior forward, his mass rolled forward through the barren wasteland like a dark cloud waiting to unleash a storm. The souls of the long dead festered deep beneath the soil his feet tore through, even upon the battlefield atop the surface their corruption nipped at him, testing his will and probing. Their rot lingered in the very soil and the shifting winds as what little breeze wafted through the shimmering sands hoping to grasp on to some weak individual and sap him of his strength. The sun itself felt to be carried in the breeze, the warmth sneaking into every nook and cranny that it possibly could. Garrik himself had worn a black vest and long, loose fitting pants. His boots were standard, reaching to the top of his calf and above that a sash tied the pieces together around his waist. On his right hand side a single lightsaber remained at peace.

His pace carried him until he was only twenty yards away, his first instinct when his opponent arrived and established himself was to bow his greetings. Arms dropped to his sides as his feet came side by side, his top half dropped. His lips remained tight as he came back to full height. Before him the snap and hiss of an activated lightsaber meant that his opponent was ready to begin their soiree. A small smirk developed on the warrior's face, his own body shifted in response to the invitation. His right foot swung wide and out in an arc, hovering over the dust covered dunes by an inch until finally planting itself firmly into the ground to his rear right. Both hands rose to hover before his face, his elbows kept tight to his ribs while his wrists crossed to form an 'X'. His fingers curled in their relaxed state automatically, his palms facing outwards to their opposite directions, his left palm furthest away from his face. His head nestled down into his body and his eyes locked onto his target with fierce precision. When his entire body had settled into his stance his knees dropped a fraction, his height shifting down but his entire center of balance had shifted and suddenly the Warrior was ready.

Only whispers amongst the rank of the Sith had entitled Garrik to information on his opponent. An Assassin by the name of Corvo. With little information and no experience to go on, the warrior had to keep his senses sharp and wits sharper. Assassins were filthy to fight and had more than enough tricks up their sleeve to turn the tide of a fight in their favor. Poisons and hidden weapons being the primary threats. That said, Assassins weren't typically as experienced in actual confrontation. They had the unique skill of dispatching opponents before the fight could happen. A unique and useful talent, but in a flat brawl between two opponents and typically the Warrior would have the upper hand. Typically, because that wasn't always the case. Talent was hidden in ranks by the shadows of the popular. Neither of them had sought nor found fame amongst the Sith and so their talents and skills would remain obscure for now. This tournament would likely change all of that.

For now, the warrior remained, his eyes watching his opponent and his weapon.

 

[Phoenix]

Corvo preferred to defend during the opening blows rather than press the assault, but it appeared that this man wasn't going to go for that. Fine, if you're going to make me attack, I'm not going to hold back, he thought to himself as his left hand reached for his II saber, activating it in his other hand.

He moved at an even pace toward his opponent, covering the 20 meters in about 10 seconds. He took advantage of his opening attack and the lack of need to worry about initial recourse and opened with a quick flurry of strikes. He rotated his left wrist so that his thumb moved clockwise and his closed fingers faced toward his opponent. The blade came upward from his left side at about an 80 degree angle to the horizontal. The blade would cut from from the outside of the man's right thigh to the inside as he brought it up, and the slight angle would prevent a quick side step to avoid the blow.

With his other hand, he would immediately bring his right saber in horizontally at waist height, and drive forward with his feet as he moved so as to prevent backwards retreat. The swing would come across his opponent's side from outside to in cutting across the stomach. With the positions of the sabers, despite being on the offensive, Corvo had managed to control most of the midline and always keep a saber free to defend himself for whatever pending counter attack might appear. The move boxed his opponent in preventing any side steps and with only one blade to defend with, was almost impossible to block. Add to that the fact that there was no available retreat and it presented quite a nasty predicament for his opponent.

 

[Jack]

His opponent had seen the Warrior set his own stance, his understanding of their roles in the battle kicked things off. Garrik was unnarmed, but he would not be heading face first into a bladed individual. He may not know the man personally, but he knew Assassin's and he knew their tricks, offensive was dangerous and uncontrolled half the time. It would appear his message had been clear. The battle had started, now it was just a matter of time until someone had to be eliminated.

Apparently fighting against his opponent unarmed wasn't enough. A second saber hissed to life moments before the assassin propelled himself forward at a pretty average rate. Garrik remained motionless, instead counting and watching to predict the movements coming as he rocked onto the balls of his feet. The distance was closing but not in any record time. With an almost casual nature, the approach wasn't difficult to read, his opponents hand twisting to flip the blade outwards for the first strike was also easy to watch for. The rest of his body would soon follow to accommodate the strike and actually put force behind of it. As soon as his hand started to twist, Garrik launched himself forward. Closing the last of the distance near instantly. His right arm dropped down, aiming to maim his opponents left arm through the elbow, stopping the strike. His left remained in position until he was on top of the Assassin and simultaneously shoot through with his movement forward aiming for the man's neck.

The closed distance and rapid, assisted strikes performed by the Warrior would prevent his opponents right strike from even happening. His speed wasn't so casual.

 

[Phoenix]

Corvo felt the impact of the strike through his left arm. It had stopped the blade in its path and hurt like crap, but the nonstationary nature of the arm saved the elbow from shattering and instead would leave a nasty bruise and no small amount of pain.

As his opponent's second blow came in, aimed for the neck, Corvo tilted his head downward slightly and the strike met the chin of Corvo's helmet instead of neck, as the gap had been closed and the hand would instead impact the metal of the helmet and might even serve to break the knuckles of the attacker if his hands were not protected. It certainly knocked Corvo back and off balance, but it wasn't lethal or psuedo-lethal.

Meanwhile, even with loss of balance, nothing stopped the right blade which would now for certain cut across his opponent's side. Even as his body recoiled from the pair of strikes, the blade connected at the perfect distance, perhaps with less power given his inability to follow through with full body weight (perhaps the only thing saving the man's life) but given that it had no impediment, it would be quite a bad injury for his opponent.

His enemy's blows knocked him from his feet and he landed squarely on his rear-end with a thud.

He would then release a blast of kinetic force energy from his left hand at his opponent to create space between them once more. It would be very quick and not powerful enough to break bone or the like, but with enough energy to create a few meters of distance between them.

Assuming his opponent didn't press the attack, which was unlikely in his new state, he would disengage for a moment and allow them both to assess their injuries. His left arm throbbed, its power levels likely diminished for the next few moments at least, but that was life, he supposed. It had been worth it to trade blow for blow.

 

[Jack]

The warrior's strikes hit true, though his left was slightly off aim. His left hand clipped the mask brought to his opponents defence and continued over his left shoulder. This changed little in the Sith's plan, his original strikes were only the intro to a more complex set and the hits would trigger the next to immediately begin. The strike to his opponents head would likely throw his vision off for a moment, giving the warrior a little extra time. As his opponent was thrown backwards off balance, before he could leave arms reach, the warrior would grasp both his opponents left arm with his own right and his opponents upper left shoulder with his own left, where his hands already were. With a quick twist to Garrik's own left and a hard yank, combined with the imbalance of his opponent, he aimed to pull Corvo through his left while turning with him.

This would prevent the blade from continuing into his own side, and force the assassin forward instead of onto his rear. Garrik would be to his opponents left while the Assassin would be stumbling in front of the warrior, using his opponents left arm in an upward twist to keep his upper body low and balance off. The grasp still held, the warrior would launch a powerful force assisted knee into his opponents lower rib cage. Potentially breaking a few ribs if not winding him at the least.

 

[Phoenix]

The blow that Garrik landed was – by the man’s own analysis, although Corvo didn’t know what he thought – a mere glancing blow, and it showed in the results of the strike. Given that he already had to spread the weight and power of the punches over two entire blows, the impact that struck Corvo’s face was only 50% as powerful as a normal strike, at best.

In fact, this was clearly seen by the lack of damage that it did to the man’s hand, which was unscathed after punching a metal helmet with an un-gauntleted hand. This was perhaps the truest testament to the lack of power the blow held. Most of the remaining impact was absorbed by the helmet itself – as that was its role. The man’s glancing redirection of the blow in an attempt to grab the assassin and save his hand combined with the helmet’s own insulation turned the blow into little more than a hard slap to the chin.

A hard slap would do nothing to lessen Corvo’s swing, which had moved unimpeded and now struck home, burying into the man’s hip. It burned deep into skin, muscle, and most importantly, the bone of the hip. The man’s attempted “grab and knee” was brought to a rapid end, as he would collapse onto the ground, unable to walk. He hadn’t lost his leg outright, but he wouldn’t be standing on it until after huge quantities of bacta.

It would be the match for sure as the man would be unable to walk. Even so, he was wary in case the man tried to pull some trick out of his sleeve before conceding. He backed away, ever wary of the final desperate lashing of a wounded animal.


Edit: OOC for ruling.