Spar: Die Shize vs. Oncaro

[Die Shize]

@Oncaro
The Raging Reaper
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He didn’t know where he was. Some industrial plant? A planet? A ship? He supposed it didn’t matter. The room was lit well enough, lighting provided by fluorescent bulbs fixed vertically into the walls and emitting a pale yellow light. They were cylindrical in shape, measuring four feet in length and running from floor to ceiling. In all, there were nine hundred and sixty bulbs that Regin had counted. He could count, and he had the time. A bulb was placed every ten feet around the base of the room’s circumference, leading upward in columns of six up toward the ceiling. No matter the quantity, each bulb was neither too dim nor too bright to result in either when combined.

The room itself was circular in shape with a diameter of fifty feet. Its walls were barren save the lights spread around, though they were metal in form, straight and smooth, much like the ceiling and the floor that Regin stood upon, there in the center of the room. Though, whether he had walked there or had been teleported there was beyond his current comprehension. There were no doors in the room, and no other living soul beyond himself, but he knew things could change. They already had.

The interior was at a comfortable room temperature (at least for the average human), anywhere between 20 °C and 25 °C, with breathing air aplenty, likely from vents nearer the ceiling. Regin stood attired in his black robes, inner and outer, hood up. He sported black leather boots and gloves, his hands bare of object and arms at his sides, but his lightsaber hilts were clipped at his belt on either side of his waist. Once ignited, he was sure their vibrant humming would be the only noise to break the silence apart from his breathing. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there, but he had a feeling he would soon be putting his weapons to use. The setting simply called for it, and he was ready for it.

 

[Oncaro]

Her eyes opened as suddenly as they usually did when she awoke from sleep, but she was standing, and staring at a blank, curved wall.

What in the Force...? she asked herself, frowning as she looked around. Almost immediately there was a dark presence that she detected in the back of her mind, a stain upon the Force, and it was close. Too close.

Deashe Devoter, Jedi Knight, did not immediately reach for her lightsaber however It was clipped to her belt upon her comparatively much less ominously dressed form: A shirt, trousers, boots with low heels. She blinked, and turned to face the man, a frown on her full lips.

"Erm... Hello," she said, polite even as confusion entered her tone. "D'you... happen to see a door anywhere? I don't, ah..."

She craned her neck to one side, then the other, looking past the man to find a potential exit. Not seeing one, her brow furrowed, then she looked to the man himself. Without even really needing to think about it, she knew just what he was. And it wasn't simply due to his attire. But what interested her the most was his lightsabers.

"I haven't seen very many curved sabers in my time," she said calmly, even conversationally. "But the people I've seen with them are usually trained in Form II. Something about allowing for greater flexibility when dueling. I never really cared for the design... Oh, but I'm being rude. My name is Deashe."

In an ordinary circumstance she might have extended a hand to shake. But these were not ordinary circumstances, clearly, and she wasn't planning on getting her hand cut off.

@Die Shize

 

[Die Shize]

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It seemed like as soon as Regin had closed his eyes and opened them or, rather, had simply blinked, that another individual was standing some fifteen feet right in front of him. That had surely made him blink. At a total loss now, his first thoughts beyond who this other unfortunate soul was and what she was doing here with him was if anyone else would happen to suddenly be emitted into existence in this strange room. Whoever she was, she seemed more upbeat about this predicament than he was.

“Hello…”

The mere oddity of the situation seemed to rob Regin of his usual misgivings about any emotion beyond anger, suppressed or surfaced. Rather, his eyes narrowed and curiosity compelled him to maintain conversation.

“A door?” He looked left, looked right, reminding himself of what he had since already learned. “Nope. No door.” Unless you are the door. Heh.

Whoever this woman was, she had a lightsaber. That caused Regin’s eyelids to narrow even further somehow. You mean you haven’t seen many curved sabers being swung at you enough to care.

“And I am Regin, not that names really matter…”

He might have said something else, settling for a visual scan of the vicinity one last time. Hmm. Hmm. Yes. Yes. Indeed. There was no denying the feeling. Wherever he was, whatever he had left behind, whatever he had lost, the Force wasn’t it. It was still here, guiding him, pushing him and generally aiding him. Oh, that was it. Now I remember why.

“Form I. Form II. Form III and a half.” Regin shook his head dismissively, face void of humor. “They matter only a mite more. For, unfortunately, I’ll be using one of them to kill you with.”

With that, his right hand found the hilt near his right hip and he ignited it, a crimson blade of three feet jutting outward, tip toward the floor.

“You are the door. I know it now. I know it well. Yes, for me to get out of this stagnant pit of nothing,” he sighed. “It appears that I have to kill you.”

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Just like that, Regin raised his blade vertically upward and level with his right shoulder. He then darted forward, intent on ignoring any protests. Fifteen feet would be covered with a dash to the point that, unless otherwise interfered with (granted, this was all based on Deashe’s remaining in her current position; meeting him in his charge would likely alter his plans), he swung his lightsaber diagonally downward from his right to left from a position of six feet from his foe. If successful, the attack would carve a path from Deashe’s left shoulder to her right hip, likely killing her. Though Regin’s blade measured only three feet, he had swung his right arm downward before entering range, essentially moving into it while attacking.

The then distance of five feet would be handled due to the extension of Regin’s right arm, combining to ensure that the tip of his blade would make contact with its target. Furthermore, Regin had not immediately halted his charge. Unless otherwise acted on, his feet would propel him past the left side of his opponent, maintaining a distance of roughly five feet, unless of course obstructed. His left hand, meanwhile, rested on the hilt near his left hip, though had not unclipped it from the belt yet.

 

[Oncaro]

Dea supposed, in the moments between Regin activating his saber and him running toward her with a clear intent to kill, that she knew this was going to happen. And with that in mind her own blade sprung to life, the pink coloration admitly clashing horribly with the red, but that didn't matter as she brought her saber up to meet his. She worked her motion in a manner meant to push both Regin and his block away, aiming to knock him further to her left even as she sidestepped toward her right at the same moment and kept backing away to create space between them; as much space as feasibly possible. She wanted to keep him at blade-length, for obvious reasons.

Dea specialized in the tight, economical, defensive style of Soresu, and as such, she planned on hopefully just waiting Regin out, and taking advantage of any potential slip-ups. He had said she was the key to getting out of here, and perhaps the inverse was true-- she would have to defeat him to get out of... wherever this was.

She simply hoped she didn't have to strike a killing blow to do so.

 

[Die Shize]

Spoiler: OOC:

I’m from a site where specifics are the standard in its T1 combat system, and posts beyond three paragraphs are far from uncommon. This is a result of detail and in depth IC argument, the goal being to create and maintain as close to a precise vision of the combat shared between the combatants as possible, as well as to (similar to here and most places) convince the opponent to take a hit and such. It's a system where almost anything can matter, from the opponent having fasted for two days, the current wind in mph, the distance two feet are spread at, the curvature on a scimitar, etc.

In such a setting, a combatant doesn’t just state their swing; they state the angle of it, and all the better if an exact measurement is given. An opponent isn’t just at striking distance from another; they are at a given number of feet away. A sword isn’t just raised to intercept another sword; it’s stated how the sword moves to intercept and the immediate result upon connection.

All that being said, please bear with me. It's difficult breaking the habit of fighting with such a system and everything I have typed feels vital.

Please only seek for OOC clarification if you don't understand something. On the other hand, if you feel like you can successfully challenge, contest, counter, contradict and/or circumvent the below in an IC manner (and without stating what, I know of bits where you can) then I would prefer you go ahead and do so.

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As soon as the two blades connected, Regin felt a force pushing against his own as his opponent sought to push his blade away along with himself. This would be the moment where Regin’s leading foot would land in his run. Though, with the interruption of his blade reaching its target, Regin had modified his footwork. Instead of continuing to run forward, he pushed off from his right, stepping diagonally forward to his left by a foot. His left foot led the step, covering enough feet leftward to keep his front aligned with his opponent’s even as she sidestepped. This new position would put Regin four feet from his foe instead of five, his own feet spread apart by no less than two depending on how far Dea had herself sidestepped.

Once the blades had clashed, Regin withdrew his saber immediately. This would in turn allow Dea’s saber to instantly continue up toward her left given that she had swung her saber to directly meet Regin’s, but had also attempted to push his and him away. Though Regin’s saber had been a force that had acted against Dea’s upon connecting, she would have counted on this in order to not just connect but to push, applying more power to her swing, meaning that his sudden withdrawal from the bind would cause her sword’s momentum to pull it onward. Furthermore, because Regin had immediately removed his blade, Dea would be left pushing her own against only air, causing her swing to speed up due to nothing acting against it. Her blade would therefore be moving further away from Regin.

While Dea’s saber would be swinging along, Regin had swung his own upon removing it from his opponent’s. Keeping the hilt in his right hand, he arced the blade backward toward himself just enough to pull it away from and to reposition it behind Dea's blade. Regin had done more than arc his blade behind his opponent’s, however. Rather, the motion was part of a seamless maneuver as he allowed his blade to travel to his left before swinging it to his right in a continued arc.

This new actual attack would be performed while the tip of Regin’s saber would be parallel with Dea’s right shoulder in her new position. At that point, he arced the saber downward from the top of her right shoulder toward her left, his wrist more pronated than supinated, his elbow slightly bent. If successful, the blade would bury within her body this time instead of just grazing through it given the new distance of four feet. It would carve a curved path through her chest just beneath her collarbone before ultimately exiting her right shoulder.

Though the combined movement of Regin’s saber after the two blades clashed consisted of bringing it round to the other side of Dea’s blade, aligning it with her right shoulder then slashing it to his right, it would be an overall quick attack, each motion part of a uniformed arc. There was a purpose to the curved hilt, and it allowed for motions such as Regin’s to feel all the more fluid, allowing for more flexible control versus the straight hilt. Additionally, Dea’s own blade would still be pressing upward and leftward before she might attempt to reposition it after the break of the bind. Even a single moment of her blade’s continued path to her left, due to applying more force to push Regin’s away as it came diagonally downward, would present enough time for his new attack to commence and continue without being instantly interfered by Dea’s saber.

All the while, Regin kept his left hand on the hilt near his left hip. However, he was therefore more than ready to put it to use in the event that Dea performed an action requiring such a reaction on his part.