Ot Juda Vs. Sbm Zandro

Sashar glanced around the newly created Arcona Arena, a swell of pride threatening to spill out into a smile over his features before he regained composure and turned to the two combatants, both standing before him, the tension veritably bubbling forth from them in the force.

“Juda, you have brought a lightsaber and an A280 Blaster Rifle. Zandro, you have brought a lightsaber and a WESTAR 34 Blaster Pistol. Remember, no fatalities. Go!” The Consul ordered, stepping back, giving the two Arconans room to move, and to fight.

Juda Kodiak flashed a grin across to his Arconae opponent, the two men had fought as brothers and as enemies countless times before, on the frontlines and in the skies, they knew each other inside out, the respect they held for each other was unspoken yet evident in the way they held the other’s gaze while the Consul read the rules of play.

Zandro took a step forward and snapped his lightsaber from his belt, twirling it between his fingers while moving into a solid Shii-Cho stance as Sashar turned to leave and gave a wink, his dishevelled hair embracing his scarred features. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Juda nodded from under a hood that wrapped tightly around his skull as he beckoned his own lightsaber from his waist and into his palm. The pair’s shadows shuddered under the atmospheric light as the weapons snapped to life in a haze of red and yellow. The pair mirrored each other by rushing two strides forward before Zandro shifted his weight behind his attack and struck with three rapid hammer blows that Juda bounded off, shifting his torso with each attack.

The Sith Battlemaster sustained his assault, twisting his wrists causing his blade to strike low in a vibrant hum, Juda swiftly manoeuvred his own weapon to deflect the attack while jerking his strong leg behind the other, pushing down and twisting his body and interweaving under Zandro’s arm into a counterattack. The Black Hammer Lieutenant struck in an arc of yellow that his Sith adversary matched with swift precision, resulting in the blades to lock together with a searing crunch.

The combatants pushed against each other, digging their heels into the yielding sand that slowly surrendered from under their boots. Sweat traced Juda’s forehead as he grimaced, his nose wrinkling under stress as his visage bathed in the warm glow, his eyes suddenly widened as Zandro puckered his lips into a mocking kiss and deactivated his lightsaber causing the Obelisk Assassin to stumble forward as Zandro thrust a sharp knee into Juda’s solar plexus. The Battlemaster connecting a final punch to the back of his head before he hit the ground, blasts of sand splashing up as the Templar sprawled to the floor.

Juda rolled onto his back with a pained grunt and grasped a clump of sand as Zandro activated his lightsaber with a hiss and as he readied to strike, the Madalorian Templar hurled the grit into his attacker’s face, buying him enough time to backwards roll to his feet and bring his A280 around from his back and into an aim.

In the split second it took Zandro’s pupils to dilate he had switched to the Soresu form and deflected the barrage of shots with ease, the final reflecting off of his red blade into Juda’s unprotected thigh. “Gah!” Juda winced as the shot knocked his leg from under him, landing awkwardly onto the familiar sand. The Obelisk gripped his thigh tightly, the stench of charred skin emitting from the crisp, black wound.

Rolling over, the Mandalorian called upon the Force to ease the intense burning [CTP] and as Zandro stalked closer, the taunting of the crowd bellowing throughout the arena played out in an energetic echo.

Zandro moved swiftly forward, his lightsaber sgpinning in a lazy arc as he reached his downed opponent and slammed his blade in a powerful vertical strike that, if it had connected, would have split his opponent straight down the middle. However, despite the pain that Juda had to be feeling, he still managed to muster the strength to block Zandro's strike and hold the crimson blade away. The yellow and red blades pressed into each other as both of the Dark Jedi attempted to overpower the other and break the saber lock, and suddenly it was broken when a lanced strike from Juda's foot impacted sharply with Zandro's groin, illiciting a yelp of surprise and pain as the Arconae fell backwards, his eyes streaming with pain.

"Chakaar!"

Focusing on shunting the pain away from his brain [CTP], Zandro switched his saber over to his left hand and grabbed the westar-34 pistol from the holster on his right thigh. Swinging the blaster up to shoulder height, Zandro began tracking after Juda as the Lieutenant stumbled towards the scant cover provided by the pillars that littered the arena. The Arconae opened fire and his blasts missed his target by mere inches before Juda managed to scramble behind the pillar and gain a brief reprieve from the irate Sith Battlemaster.

Not so fast Juda, you won't get away from me that easily.

Holstering the blaster, Zandro ran forwards as quickly as he could and as he came close enough to the pillar he focused some of his Force power into his legs and leapt upwards, soaring up into the air to land in a crouch on the pillar that his opponent had been hiding behind [LEP].

"Surprise cockfag!"

Zandro leapt forwards and looked down at his opponent, striking out with all of the Force power he could muster at his opponent as the Arconae moved through the air towards the ground below [OBL]. The unseen strike was not quite on target thanks to Zandro's awkward trajectory, skimming his opponent's face and causing no permanent damage apart from some bruising on the impacted areas. Landing in a crouch on the floor, Zandro sprang forward and his arm darted out in a swift stab at the Templar. However, the attack failed to find it's target as Juda managed to parry the strike aside despite the damage that the Sith's previous attack had just caused. There was no longer any hint of humour in Juda's viridian eyes as he glared at his opponent, his face twisted into a vicious snarl as the two men stared each other out. Zandro's mouth curled up at the corners as he grinned at his opponent over the two interlocked blades.

"Use that anger Jud'ika and you might just win this one."

Pirouetting away from the Obelisk, Zandro brought his lightsaber up into a brief salute before leaping forward once more, blade swinging forwards as the Sith started on another offensive, the crowd roaring their approval as the tempo of the fight moved up another gear.

The warriors seemed to almost dance around each other, vigorously unleashing blow after blow; releasing static crackles into the ethos. Juda breathed through his pain, his body slightly profile towards his brother, as he pressed forward, lowering his centre of gravity as he unleashed a volley of strikes in a blaze of yellow. Zandro switched his footing as he struck the attacking blade with his own, the red and yellow blades clashing with a flustered hiss, the combatants kicking up sand as they navigated the periphery.

Zandro lowered into a coil and struck with a stab, knocking the Templar off of balance before pressing forward with a charging attack, twisting his wrist while stabbing forward. Juda deflected the attack but continued to reel backwards, the red-haired Shadesworn grimaced as he was pushed back further into a pillar, sweat stinging his eyes as he released he was about to lose the defensive if he didn’t think and act promptly.

With a choked whimper, Juda swiftly deactivated his lightsaber and launched the weapon at his comrade, the hilt smashing into Zandro’s face, splitting his eyebrow.

“Osik!!” Zandro cursed as he shook his head, shuddering goblets of blood to the sand before grabbing Juda’s face with his open palm and violently ramming the assassin’s head into the column, leaving behind a hairline crack in the granite and a crimson trail as Juda slithered to the ground, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull.

“Jud’ika!” Zandro agitatedly spat as his forefingers traced across his split eyebrow before the Sith hooked his own lightsaber to his belt and clenched his fists, sending his knuckles white before swinging viciously into the jaw of the fallen Lieutenant, the connection ringing out a sickly crack that sprayed a scatter of blood across the ground.

Juda groaned as he looked up in time to observe another furious clout connect with his eye, the arena rotating into a blurred spiral as the drone of the masses entwined with his thumping heartbeat, his neck jolting to the side from another snap.

Dragging his brother to his feet, Zandro propped the Templar against the column before beckoning for Juda’s lightsaber [PUL], the cool metal slapping against his palm as he flicked the weapon to life almost unanimously with his own, taking a step back while rotating the lightsabers 180° and flashing a charming grin to the crowd.

As Zandro surveyed the crowd, he could feel that something was not quite right with his opponent. Turning around, he realised just how much damage his friend had taken and dropped his opponent’s saber to the ground and clipped his own to his belt. Using his now-free hand to yank Juda’s leather hood clean off and throw it to the ground, the Sith recoiled in shock at what he saw.

Not good, need to get him medical attention.

Juda’s eyes had rolled around into his head thanks to the previous blow and the blood that gushed from the wound in the back of his skull was dripping to the sandy floor of the Arena far too regularly to be safe. Zandro knew enough about the abilities of a human to realise that without medical attention, the Lieutenant could face the very real possibility of permanent damage. Lowering Juda to the floor, Zandro turned around and reached out to his half-brother and Consul with the Force [COM].

Need help, Juda danger. Medic. Now.

Zandro focused on the simple thoughts that he was transferring over to Sashar and attempted to emphasise them as much as he could and convey the urgency of the situation. As the Sith watched, he saw Sashar rush from his seat only to emerge onto the Arena floor moments later, striding purposefully over to the Battlemaster and his prone foe.

“What the hell Zandro, we need to end this match now.”

“No.”

Sashar stopped in his tracks and straightened up a little, anger flashing across his face as he glared at Zandro.

“You don’t disobey my orders, Battlemaster.”

“This is not what I signed up for; I wanted a match not a rout. Heal him and we will finish this like the Dark Jedi we are.”

Sashar looked over at Zandro sceptically but said nothing, instead moving over to Juda’s prone form, reaching out with the Force and proceeding to heal the wounds that seemed to litter Juda’s body [HEO]. Zandro waited as the minutes ticked by and he could feel and hear the impatience of the crowd as they started to shout abuse at both Zandro and his rapidly recovering opponent.

“We came here for a fight, if we’d known this would happen we wouldn’t have bothered.”

Although a multitude of different things had already been shouted at Zandro so far in the match, for some reason that comment was the final straw. Plucking his blaster from its holster on his waist, Zandro raised the weapon and aimed at the man who had just shouted, firing two bolts that caught the man full in the face. The man dropped like a stone to the ground, his hair aflame thanks to the blaster fire and a deathly hush had descended over the Arena. Turning around in a slow circle to look at the crowd, Zandro shook the blaster in his hand slightly as he surveyed the audience before shouting out to them.

“He got the fight he was looking for, anyone else looking for one?”

The silence seemed to get even heavier as Zandro shook his head in disgust and holstered the blaster before turning around to see Sashar on his way out of the Arena and Juda on his feet. The Templar looked awful, bruises and blood splashed about his person with a large pool of blood on the floor and a small spatter of it on the pillar where he had smashed his head.

“This ends now Zandro.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s do this.”

Unclipping his lightsaber and igniting it with a flourish, Zandro whirled the blade in a formal salute at his opponent before leaping forward in a horizontal flash, vowing to finish the match in style.

Juda:
You use 'the pair' a few times, which catches the flow slightly. Careful with your grammar here, in a fight as close as this one, you can't afford not to (you guessed it) check your work before posting.

You made a bit of a cockup, Jay. You damaged your character beyond the ability to continue the fight, which is a big no-no in the ACC, which is a shame, because, whilst realistic and artistically written, it does count against you.

Zandro:

'surprise, cockfag!' - heart!

Try to avoid the cliché internal monologue: if you're going to include snippets of what your character is thinking, try to make them more original. I know, minor quibble, but it does let you down occasionally.

Likewise to juda, re-read your [Expletive Deleted]. Getting sick of typing that, but hopefully the concept will be hitting home by now =P

Well done handling Juda's injury inventively, you actually salvaged it quite well, and I'm always one for random maimings in the crowd.

overall:

This wasn't as close as I originally thought it would be. In terms of writing, you two are good. Equally so, and if it was based on that I'd have to say it was a draw, however Zandro edges Jay out because of the tactical error Jay made.

Good fight guys.

Zandro = 12 points

Juda = 4 points