Light Exercise ( Open!)

[Dravenkt]

( Just a fun little fight to shake the cobwebs off my RP skills)

The dueling ring was typical of it's kind. Measured to conform with some sort of tradition or law and soaked with the blood of a great many combatents. Unlike a few he had seen the ground here was hard, rather than being made soft by sand or somthing similer. Landing on it would cause greater inuries than normal. Stripped of his armour and naked to the waist, Dravenkt, with that mile eating soldiers stride marched out to the middle of the dueling arena and surveyed his surrondings. He didn't appeal to the crowd or boast. He merely stood and waited.

He was an impressive sight. His pale skin patterened by even paler scars that criss-crossed his skin. A warrior born, his shoulders were broad, his chest deep and his waist wolf lean. His features were far from handsome, and yet not ugly. Or at least they wouldn't have been if the scar bisecting his lips wasn't present. The cold, winter storm cloud eyes fixed on the entrance, waiting for his opponent.

Most of the time he prefer to be a walking arsenal of weapons but the point of todays duel was to shake the cob webs out of his close quarter combat skills. so only a large combat knife was clutched in one of his large hands. The blade wide and thick, ending in a slightly hooked point, the blade was held in reverse grip. A style that obviously favored slashing and downward stabs rather than fencing grip, which favored forward stabbing.

The entrance was dark, but he saw someone step across it ready to enter. His knife came up and without a flinch, or any sign of pain reading across his features he dug the tip in and cut a long furrow in the flesh of his chest where several other, similer scars had been cut, obviously keeping some kind of tally. When that was done he waited, his stern features were expressionless as he awaited his opponent.

 

[Natise]

" That can't be good for you "

As Krya Strax enters, the crowd goes wild. She is a long time favorite of the arena, and never dissapoints. She had looked into her opponents style before coming, and she was dresses appropriatly, for the most part. She wore a Hutt slave girl suit, and she wore it well. With her she brought a pair of short swords. She swings them to get her wrist warmed up, and then she takes the juyo stance. She gives one last wink to the crowd, aimed towards her owner Zaar, before turning to her opponent.

" Lets see what you got tough guy "

 

[Dravenkt]

The figure that stepped through the door was far less than what he expected. The women stepped on with a cocky smirk and a snide comment. He was insulted they had sent this waif of a creature to fight him. Infact, it was nothing less than a calculated insult against him. The warrior shot a furious glare at the Hutt in the stands, the crowds appreciation for the woman only serving to rub salt in the wounds. While she waved and played to the crowd he paced back and forth, eyes never moving from her. A predatory coil in his movements.

Despite his arrogance he was no fool and studied is opponent swiftly. Her lithe build and those dangerous looking short swords indicated an agile, nimble style of swordsmanship. Short swords were usually stabbing weapons but by the way the crowd reacted he could tell she was probably cruel and would seek to extend the fight with painful but non-lethal cuts. To win he had to take away her speed, crush her with his strength. He had to be tactical and make her weakness his strength. First however, He had to break her confidence. So the first attack in the fight was not one aimed at the body but at the mind.

" They send a whore to war now?" he growled, a smirk crossing his mutilated lips. " Shouldn't you be at your masters feet, begging for scraps from his table?" While he spoke he advanced slowly moving towards her. The moment he stopped speaking he broke into a run, leaping the last few feet towards her and driving his knee up, aiming to catch her under the chin with it and bring a shamefully quick end to the fight.

 

[Natise]

As his knee rose, Krya slid to the side, and while her opponent is in the air, with unimaginable speed, she pivots to be facing his back. She leaves two quick knicks with her suprisingly sharp blades, both at the back of the knees. There small, but they are definatly noticable with each step Draventk takes.

" I'm not a whore, I'm a bitch "

Krya says this with a very sexual tone in her voice, inspiring many male hollers and woots from the crowd, also laughter from the less bravado men. Krya begins to move backwards, leaving space between her opponent and herself.

 

[Dravenkt]

He knew she'd be quick but he'd never have guessed just how quick. She slid aside effortlessly and a sudden, minute pain lashed across his legs. Dravenkt landed lightly on the tips of his toes and tucked into a roll, throwing himself forward on his shoulders to carry his body out of range of a follow up attack. Twisting sharply he rose to one knee and thrust his knife out just in case she followed. She hadn't however and was merely basking in the crowds admiration. He used the moment to gauge his wounds. They weren't deep, but they stung. Perhaps she having to face her was not as insulting as he first antcipated.

Taking her more seriously he rose into a fighting crouch, changing his grip on the knife from reverse to sabre, the tip of the blade pointng out and up towards her. He advanced cautiously. His front leg bent, the back straight and strong, ready to leap back or spring forward however the situation demanded. His free hand was held out, looking to grab, entagle or just looking for an oppertunity to punch.

The crowd was rising to a roar now, whipped into a frenzy by the combination of her violence, and her sexually suggestive tone. Perhaps the only man not worked up into a red blooded heat was the one trying to cut her face off. His movements were slow and even as he stalked her, invading every inch of ground she submitted. A sudden double step brought him within striking range. The tip of his knife thrust up towards her eyes but this was merely a distraction. While if it connectedi it could still do damage the blow was purposly sloppy to invite her to parry it. At the same moment he stabbed his foot lashed out, stamping down towards her ankle to try and smash it and cripple her agility in the process.

 

[Natise]

Krya fell into the splits as the blade came towards her. This led to both her face and foot begin saved from these attacks.

"oops, guess you missed me"

Krya said teasingly, as she was in the splits, she used one sword to slash at her opponents abdomen, and the other to jab directly upwards into the side of his outstretched elbow, hoping to either gut him like a fish, or make his arm completey useless.

 

[Dravenkt]

In a very impressive display of her fitness level she moved into the splits, avoiding both blows, her snidy comment brought a smirk to his scarred lips. She was a perfect example of 'float like a butterfly, sting like a bee'. The only problem with that was neither butterflies nor bee's were known for their ability to take punishment. All he had to do was keep pressing, keep pressuring, wait for a mistake and catch her.

Her attack was rapid, a serious of strikes designed to end the fight. One to cripple, the other to kill. Only instinct and experinced saved him. His knife hand slashed down to smack the blade aimed at his body downards and it instead found a target in his thigh, opening a long gouge from where bood flowed freely. The motion of smacking the blade away brought him lower in his stance and instead of his elbow her other blade sheathed itself in the meat of his shoulder, dislocating it. His arm hung slack by his side, the ifingertips going numb and yet the pain didn't show itself on the warriors face. Quite the opposite actually. " Got you" he grinned at her. " Slippy little bitch, Let's see you jump around now."

Surging forward, pushing himself further onto the blade Dravenkt drew his head back and threw it forward, attempting to smash his forehead into her face. His still working hand meanwhile attempted to drive into her side and wind her with a punch. He dared not use the knife and get it stuck in her, opening up himself to that other deadly blade. He assumed her being in such a painful and difficult position such as the splitswould hamper her mobility.

 

[Natise]

Their heads collide. Dravenkt discovers how hard her head actually is, and begins to feel dizzy. Blood run downs Krya's head, but she does not slow down. She leans back with the force from the headbut, and using her legs, propels herself across the sand arena, a few feet away from Dravenkt. She stands up shakily. And puts her hand to her head. Blood covers her fingers, and she brings her hand in front of her face. She licks the blood off of her fingers very erotically.

" Your good old man "

She then spins her blades and tucks them into their sheaths behind her back. She then pulls out three throwing knives with one hand. She sprints backwards, and as she does so, she releases the blades, sending them flying towards her opponent.

 

[Dravenkt]

Veteran of a hundred combats and battles, violence ran in his blood and his resilance shined through. While her head was harder than antcipated Dravenkt knew how to throw a head butt properly, and indeed with considerable velocity. If he did feel dizzy, it was only for a moment.

She sprung away, the lithe little fey and changed her tactics. No doubt she had learned the folly of trying to fight him fairly and had resorted to a cowards tactic of running and throwing things at a slower, less well equipped opponent, but not before she made a little show to the crowd and licked the blood fron her finger tips before shooting what must have passed as a compliment around here. " The best." Dravenkt agreed, wiping a little mix of blood, both her's and his from his brow with the back of his hand. " For a Hutts slut, your almost a threat." He replied with a smirk crossing his torn lips for the briefest of moments. He ws trying to rile her, goad her into coming closer again.

The three blades arced through the air and Dravenkt reacted on instinct, throwing himself into a foward roll to try and dive beneath them. It did not have the effect he had planned. The first missed him completely. The second tucked itself into his hip and the last into the meaty part of his leg, close to the knee. He landed and couldn't stop the blood-minded roar that escaped his lips. The handle of the knife in the knee brke off, leaving it stuck in his flesh. Sitting upright he pulled the blade in his hip out and hurled it back at her with a growl before surging upright. His wounded leg sat unmoving beneath him, a dead, led weight. He tried to rub feeling back into the muscle but it was in vain. As if he didn't have enough disadvantages. Looking up Dravenkt snarled at her and threw his combat knife aside. It landed somewhere off to the side in the dirt. He spread his arms in a challange, daring her to come closer.

 

[Natise]

The knife flew slopily back towards Krya. She flawlessly side stepped, sending it flying into the wall behind her. What a great change of events. Her knives did more than she could have wished for as far as damage to her opponent. He was now on the ground, weaponless, and crippled. Krya pulled out one of her razor sharp blades. She examined the man. She could not tell if he had actually gone mad, or was hatching an amazing plan.

" Come on, did you get a little scratch? "

Krya said this in a very mocking tone, causing the audience to laugh and weeze with delight. Krya pulled out one more throwing knife with her right hand, as she held her sword ready in her left. She carefully postioned herself, and then threw the knife with pin point accuracy at her oppnents forhead, he would have no choice but to exert himself and move if he did not want to be hit.

 

[Dravenkt]

His leg stung and any effort to knead feeling back into it was met with failure. Without a strong leg to take any impact even a stick like her could knock him down. He snarled at her as she made a mocking comment and merely replied with a single harsh word as she drew another throwing knife and one of thsoe swords.

" Coward."

He spat the word, watching as she drew back her hand and loosed the knife. He knew he had to move away from it but he just didn't have the energy to move his head at any speed. Darkness engulfed his vision, soon to be replaced by searing pain as the knife sunk into his left eye, dropping him to his knee's with an animal scream of pain. His hands palmed at the knife, feeling it buried in that delicate organ. It was ruined beyond repair, he knew this even now. "Coward!" He roared again, his voice shrill with agony. His vision was clouded by tears, the searing pain sending his whole body into a state of shock. Everything hurt, even breathing drew in fresh pain, like inhaling ground glass. He felt the handle and took hold of it with both hands. he wheezed copper-tasting breath as he tried to brace himself for the pain to come. He had felt blaster burns, knife wounds and the pain of solid bullets. This was ten times worse, ten times more painful. He did not draw it out slowly but rather tore it free. Blood and a clear liquid ran thick on the blade, his eye collapsing in on itself as blood flooded in around it. He dropped the knife from numb fingers.

The intelligent, thinking part of him was frozen in shock and pain, btu the animal side kept screaming about the fight. There was still a fight to win, still a fight to win. He had to get up. He needed a weapon. His remaining good eye fell on the knife that he had dropped and clumsily his hands dropped to pick it up. On the first attempt he dropped his hands too low, too quick and broke his middle finger off the arena floor. His depth perception utterly gone. Instead of trying to snatch it up he gently scoped it up, adjusting it's grip untill the blade pointed down. His legs felt shakey and a splitting headache thundered in his skull. Still a fight to win.

His head was pounding, muscles burning and his entire face felt a pain as if wreathed in flames. Slowly, oh so slowly he dragged himself to one knee. it took an epic effort of strength, will and sheer, single minded stubborness to get himself to his feet, but he did. He couldn't see as far as before and he could just barely make out his opponent, though her facial features were now too fuzzy to make out. Dravenkt brought one hand to his face and held the knife out infront of him. He didn't have enough energy to spit another insult or challange. All the energy he had left was saved for carving his name on his opponents heart. His great frame heaved and shudderedwith every harsh breath.

 

[Natise]

Krya was shocked. This man was a true warrior. She had not seen such determenation in a person since her training with the taungs. She did not know people like this still existed. She watched him rip the knife from his eye, ignoring the pain completly as he clumsily tried to stand. Even after he fell, breaking a finger, he still had the will to keep moving. He even had the will to stand and face her with a crippled leg, a missing eye, and little to no consciousness left. Krya heard a voice in her commlink.

" You can't kill him, but he needs to be down, do what you have to. "

She did not recognise the voice, but she had to follow instructions, anybody who had a link to her comm definatly deserved her respect, or at least in her eyes they did. Krya realized that Dravenkt could probably not hear her, or even see her face that well, so she skipped her jeering. She put away her blade, and pulled out three more throwing knives, she then sprinted a half circle so that she was behind her opponent, knowing that he would not be able to follow her easily since she had taken his new bad side. Krya stopped and threw one blade, aiming for his left side. She then threw the other aiming for the center of his back. She held on to the last blade as she watched the other two fly at him, and she realised, that she was a coward.

 

[Dravenkt]

For all the stories of the glory of death and the valour one can find in their end which he had drunk down with near infinite thrist as a child he now came to understand that glory in death was a thing only for poets. There was no glory in this. No honour, no courage. No-one would sing of him nor tell tales of his deeds. He could not hear, nor see, nor taste. His sense's were aflame with pain. He swung the weapon out infront of him when a shadow moved past, but it proved to be nothing but the illusion of an addled mind and his clumsy, sloppy swing connected with nothing but air.

He could hear the roar of the crowd in his ears and cursed his bastard luck that the last sound he would hear would be the jeering of these fools. Not one amoung them would remember his name by the end of the night. His body would be butchered, used as meat for the animals the hutts liked to keep for their sadistic arena games. His gear would be sold, or go to his killer as a reward. It was unlikely he would be denied even a blood-line, for he knew of no sons although there was the outside possibility. They wouldn't even know who they were. Fate had dealt a cruel hand.

The only choice left was how to die. As a coward on his knee's, or as a man on his feet. There was no hesitation in the choice. He weakly beatly his fist against his chest and growled " C'mon" through his blood-thick breath. He thought for a moment somthing moved into his blind side, but he couldn't be sure. Then pain struck him in his hip and back. He collapsed in a breathless heap, laying flat on the floor. His weapon tumbling from his fingers. The crowd went wild with the moment of victory, roaring her name again and again.

Dravenkt could hear them chanting and he did not have strength enough to growl. The knife...if only he could reach the knife. He splayed his hands on the ground and slowly, shakily pushed himself to his knee. The knife laid before him and clumsily he picked it up, Forcing himself unsteadily back to his feet, blood leaking from the wounds in his back. He didn't have the strength left to pull the blades out. On unsteady feet he turned, facing the direction her attack came from. He could vaugly see her against the black. just a coloured outline in the midst of oily black. For one long, terrible moment it looked as if he would come after her again as he took one heavy step towards her, dragging the busted leg behind him like dead meat.

His stength abandoned him at last and he dropped to one knee. This time he did not rise again. The knife tumbled from his hands. His lips were cracked and bleeding from where he had bit them in his pain induced writhing. " You.." He licked his lips, willing his mouth to form the words. " Your pretty good." He nearly managed a smile before falling flat on his chest. Darkness crept in to take him and his great form was still.

"Winner!" The announcer roared, breaking the spell over the silent crowd who roared her name over and over like a mantra.

 

[Natise]

Krya looked down at Dravenkt. She kneeled by his unconcious body and put her hand on his head.

" You are a noble man "

With that, Krya stood up and walked out of the arena. She had a feeling the two would cross paths again.