Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on May 11, 2013 14:12:34 GMT -8
Nux vs Corr
Rules: Standard GBA. No Force.
Location: Raxus Prime, Junkyard Clearing
The duelists find themselves lost in the planet world of Raxus Prime. The arena is a basic junkyard portion of the planet, surrounded by mountains of garbage on all sides. The opponents will fight in the middle of the four surrounding Garbage mounds, be creative in what you find and use here, duelists.
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Nux
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fixin' to cause some hurt.
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Post by Nux on May 11, 2013 14:36:13 GMT -8
...She had walked a long way, picking her path through a vast array of wreckage until the mind blurred and one pile of debris appeared as any other. Was filthy duraplast sheeting underfoot, or the severed bulkhead of a Ghtroc freighter? Ancient axle grease and metal shavings, or actual dirt? It no longer mattered. As an adventurer climbs rock after rock until the mountain reveals itself, the world falling away beneath the summit, so Nux continued on, covering ground at a steady pace -- for at some point, salvation would reveal itself.
And then, passing through the shattered remains of what might have been the cargo door of a Gymsnor-2 frieghter, long dead and blowing softly on rusted hinges, she stepped out into an area roughly sixty paces 'round -- free of debris. It was as much a shock to the system as finding a lone moisture vaporator after a week lost in the Jundland wastes. The sudden openness gave the warrior pause, and she tested the air, sniffing quietly, tasting for alterations in temperature, humidity, wind and prey.
Something had changed. She dropped her small pack, scanning the horizon...
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Corr
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Post by Corr on May 16, 2013 10:10:55 GMT -8
Into the scene he came, like some glorious deity from a garrulous myth, blazing across the sky on a pillar of orange flame that sat its fiery discharge into the acrid stench of Raxus Prime. The growling shriek of his jetpack punctuating the still air, disturbing any tranquility found in this graveyard of technology. His usual theme tune was blazing as soared through the air majestically, arms spread as if in benediction to all below his towering status.
His arcing flight stopped abruptly as he dropped to the ground, the thrust dropping to a minimal amount, just enough to stop his armoured form from crashing to the ground in a heap, music shutting off as he touched down. Heavy boots hit the ground walking, a deft maneuver that spoke of the skill with which he could manipulate his flight, his helm blazing forth an supernatural green light from its visor. Even at the distance of nearly the entire junkyard clearing Corr Vhett was an impressive sight, standing over six and a half feet high, the bulk of his armour making him appear vast in all aspects as he stalked even closer to the woman who had invaded his domain.He had spied the woman approaching from his vantage point atop the dilapidated freighter, monitoring her through the advanced tech of his visor, her heat signature giving away position even when line of sight was compromised. His hands drifted either side of his blasters as he walked, swaying casually at the easy pace he maintained. The slight girl facing him, bedecked in furs and skins, didn't look that much of a threat but Corr knew better than to judge a book by its cover. That she dared venture here spoke of a determination that belayed the appearance of vulnerability and he'd do well to recall lessons learned in the past.
After all, even a rodent had a nasty bite.
He stopped some thirty paces away, helmeted head tilting slightly to the right as he surveyed his opponent.Usen'ye, ad'ika!The words growled forth from his helmet speaker, a dismissal of somewhat. The words may not be understood but their meaning was clear..."Piss off, kid!"
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Nux
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fixin' to cause some hurt.
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Post by Nux on May 16, 2013 11:35:20 GMT -8
Metal man was broad, tall. Heavy. Festooned with weapons. She let the last strap of her pack slide from her grip, its meagre contents settling on the ground as she rose to her full height. Shorter than him, but not by much. Perhaps thirty paces separated them, and that was more than enough to register as an advantage for the Metal man, who no doubt carried several long-arms. He spoke, in the language of the Fallen she had earned respect from in the Ring. Those she had bled with, and bested. Her own mastery of their tongue was broken, but the meaning would be plain. She raised her voice over the wind:
"Meg Joha? ...what tongue?"
She would speak with him, though he didn't seem the overly talkative sort. And as she had predicted, salvation had presented itself. As she took a single step toward the new arrival, she let her own hand drop neutrally to her side, within easy reach of the butt of her pistol.
...gonna need that jet-pack, Metal man...
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Corr
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Post by Corr on May 16, 2013 12:41:05 GMT -8
Growling and cursing savagely at the proboard for him having to write this bastard post again, Corr frowned at her attempt at basic. Not one for small talk and certainly not one for fouling his own voice with the speech of aruetti he remained silent and reacted to the only language he understood. Action. He would not utter the word of the stupid. The weak. The unworthy. He would respond in the way his people were best known...
Unbridled violence.
She had some guts but she wasn't very smart, her own move towards her weapon hesitant in its application, but enough to fire his own reflexes into action. Perhaps she would have been better keeping her hands neutral until she was ready to draw but alas, that was no longer an option. As her hand twitched towards her firearm his right hand was moving too, the couple of inches barely eating into a microsecond such was the practiced ease with which Corr Vhett could draw his weapon. Snatching the specially modified grip of the Model 434 Deathhammer Blaster Pistol in his Crushgaunt-clad grip the big Mando smoothly raised his right hand as he stepped forward with his right foot. Once planted his advanced right leg turned his body sideways into a classic firing stance, right shoulder and arm advanced, left arm balancing out behind, almost like a fencer. As his blaster came up into position Corr fired, not happy to wait for the perfect shot, or perhaps preempting his on attack?
The first shot blazed forth to attack her left knee, releasing the crimson dart of energy as the blasters sight continued to rise. He added a bit of left hand drift as it rose, pulling the trigger once again, merely a split second after the first. The second shot sizzled forth to streak in towards her right hip and the hand (Assume it was the right but post didn't specify) that was drifting to the blaster there. The blaster then continued on its way, drifting back towards the center and releasing its final shot directly at her center of mass, right at her solar plexus.
The three shots were stacked close together chronologically as well as distance-wise. Corr knew that given their narrow field that it wasn't without possibility that they could be dodged. With this in mind his left hand, concealed behind his torso by his stance, snatched something off his bandoleer. The silver orb fit perfectly in his massive hand, nearly concealed in the Beskar grip, thumb hovering over a red switch.
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Nux
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fixin' to cause some hurt.
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Post by Nux on May 28, 2013 16:13:58 GMT -8
They were poor shots, all things considered. The sort of result she expected from a teenage boy, caught with his hand down his trousers. Sloppy, and too fast. Had she not been the finest fighter in the cages of Rattatak, fierce and bloodthirsty, devoid of fear or inhibition, such shots might have bested her. But she moved with the grace of a dancer, the speed and agility of a 74-Z bike.
Dive-rolling forward and slightly to her left, the warrior came up into a speed kneeling position, snatching the DX-13 into her right hand. The Metal-man's motion had left him exposed on the right hand side, as he finished his arc of fire toward the left, and Nux took advantage of this, snapping off four precise shots: waist, elbow, chest, neck.
Not content to wait for the outcome of the bolts, she was up and moving, circling further to the left and closing distance, until maybe fifteen paces separated them. She was now nearly ninety degrees to her opponent's right-hand side.
...What was that he was holding??
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Corr
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Post by Corr on May 28, 2013 16:51:12 GMT -8
Her evasion wasn't unexpected and Corr was ready for a counter. As the last bolt fizzled from his guns barrel he was moving, using his advanced right foot to pivot on, turning himself in a clockwise rotation, briefly putting his back to her just as she was completing her roll. His twirl brought his left arm into play and the silver orb left his hand, thumb activating the second delay as he flung the detonator forward in a rapid underarm pitch just as he she settled and fired. His step would put them fourteen paces apart should he complete it, silver orb sailing nearly the whole distance before it erupted in a blinding flash right in her face should she not prove incredibly fast.
Unfortunately for Corr her shots were every bit as accurate as stated in the above narration, screaming in to attack him in four separate places...
Unable to match the superhuman speed needed to dodge the shots as well as an unarmoured fighter might, Corr did the next best thing. He presented an armoured front. The first clanged off his hip, tuning the last part of he reverse turn and step into a reverse turn and stagger. Its smashed off the bottom of his armoured torso, roughly where his right kidney was, the bolt deflecting off and smashing into a bit of junk in the middle distance. Protected by his armour it still didn't stop the hit leaving a bruise due to its kinetic impact, making Corr grit his teeth.
The second shot missed as his elbow was no longer in the place it had been ad was now following his body around through its one-hundred and eighty degree clockwise turn. The bolt sizzled past the crook of his arm to roar off behind him and into the tattered remains of a bulk freighter.
The next bolt hit him on his right shoulder, the impact forcing him over and down as the power of the shot sent blazing pain through his upper body. This of course negated the last shot which sailed high as he bent double. Again his armour saved him and he minimised the blow by pitching into a roll over that right shoulder, ignoring the protest from the slightly bruised area. Having not completed his previous movement and only completed two thirds of his turn this had him facing away from and slightly to the left (her left) if his foe. The roll, a bit of sideways lean to his left, would mean that he'd come up back at the fifteen paces and a little further left.
Turning through the roll he came up on one knee with his blaster advanced, left hand scrambling and finding his second as he drew a bead on where she had been before his tumble.
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Nux
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fixin' to cause some hurt.
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Post by Nux on May 29, 2013 6:58:07 GMT -8
Still kneeling, sighting along the barrel as three of her shots found their target, the warrior gritted her teeth as her suspicions were confirmed, and the detonator came into play. Reacting decisively and quickly, several things happened almost at once, as indecision was death in the arena. Nux exhaled, repositioning ever-so-slightly into a braced kneeling position, and squeezed the trigger.
Barely eight feet from the Metal Man (or a quarter of the distance that separated them,) the new bolt pierced the detonator in mid-flight. She barely had time to get a hand up in front of her face as the resulting explosion threw her off her feet and back to land unceremoniously in the dirt, her blaster still clenched tightly in her hand. The left hand, and portions of her neck and torso had sustained first and second degree burns, and when she scrambled to her feet, a sharp pain drew her attention to the left thigh, which bled openly from shrapnel wounds.
Focusing her strength and every ounce of concentration on the situation, and attempting to shake off the tinnitus, she scanned, leading with the barrel of the DX-13, for her opponent. If she was feeling the effects of the blast, how had he fared?
The dust was clearing from the blast, and Nux trained her blaster on the form of the Metal-Man...
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Corr
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Post by Corr on May 29, 2013 7:37:38 GMT -8
The premature explosion of the detonator, the exceptional shot piercing it at the halfway point between them, sent Corr's deft little roll into an uncontrolled tumble. His armour protected him from harm even though it became uncomfortably hot in the beskar shell, and his visor dimmed to protect his eyes from the bright flare of the exuberant discharge. The concussion rattle him despite his armour, jarring his neck and left leg as he was bounced along for a few paces like a can kicked by a excitable youth. Rolling over onto his stomach and using his legs to twist himself around he managed to tear his left-hand blaster pistol from his holster and advance it forward alongside his right-hand weapon as he settled in the dirt along side the remains of a cargo container half buried in the ground.
The result was him lying prone on his belly, roughly eighteen paces now separating him from where his opponent had been, arms extended and resting on their elbows, blaster pistols tracking through the dissipating smoke and dust of the explosion for sign of his enemy. A rapid blink of his right eye switched his imaging to thermal and he soon located the girl, a red and gold blob a bit further back from the rapidly fading heat signature from the explosion. Her own contacts with the extreme heat helped him do differentiate between other object caught up in the blast and, from his position of rest and balance, he squeezed both triggers...
Three pulls with each hand sent six crimson bots searing across the gap between them. Though his aim would be good the distance between them would negate a little of the power of the shots as well as increase the amount of time with which she could react.
Never the less the bolts streak out in a spread pattern, first two wide right and left in an attempt to cage her in, the bolts occupying places where she would be should she jink left or right (Chest-height) while the next four would target her center mass (Chest area)....
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Nux
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fixin' to cause some hurt.
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Post by Nux on May 31, 2013 9:05:08 GMT -8
Her disadvantage, looking through the smoke with the naked eye, became clear right away. Though she was moving as soon as the cracks of blaster-fire tore through the settling silence, it wasn't enough. Nux had turned and made for cover at the edge of the scrap clearing, but one of the bolts caught her in the shoulder, and took her off her feet, landing against the port bulkhead of the disembodied cockpit of an ARC-170 starfighter. Immediately, the pit-fighter swivelled the joint to check for broken bones, and was rewarded with a sick grinding which she blocked out. Thankfully, the would was cauterized, and so, for the moment, it was forgotten in favor of saving her own life.
She didn't wait for her opponent to move, as she knew he would. She was up, vaulting over the high nose of the 170, and back into the jungle of scrap, circling clockwise around the clearing. Holstering the DX-13, she drew her tonfa-style Rykk blade, slowing her breathing and moving as quickly -- and as silently -- as she could. Perhaps a minute later, she had moved to a position at her opponent's 5:00, that is, assuming he hadn't moved too far...
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Corr
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Post by Corr on May 31, 2013 9:24:13 GMT -8
As the last bolt flashed out Corr rolled to his right and behind the half-buried remains of the cargo container, rising up in to a crouch as he paused in the cover of the twisted durasteel cube. His right-hand blaster was hot in his hand and a glance at it revealed a red light blinking to indicate a depleted charge. With a deft toss he swapped his blasters around and smoothly holstered the former right blaster in the left holster at his hip. He risked a peek around the cargo container but saw nothing of his opponent, even on the thermal imaging. While it was a useful asset to have it could not see through durasteel and the amount of discarded spacecraft around here provided adequate cover for someone to use to their advantage. Tactically he knew she'd be moving position, perhaps seeking to flank him, using the debris to facilitate her advance. She could also be dead, the flurry of bolts perhaps finding their mark. He doubted the latter as it would have been unlikely that she would make it to cover perforated with hot light.
Corr hesitated and switched his blaster back to his left hand before drawing his Beskad out of its sheath with a steely his. The blade flashed as he brought it around and rose carefully to his feet. Still utilising the cover of the container he crept slowly to his right (the right as if he was facing Nux's former position), moving deeper into the cover. The corpses of various craft towered above him to this direction in a forest of wreckage that wept rust and decay.
Moving as silently as one could in full armour he amplified the sound receptors on his buy'ce in an effort to pick out her movements. Though he a likely to be making more noise his sophisticated helmet was capable of filtering out his own sounds to concentrate on a specific range.
He was moving to his three O'clock and would likely intercept Nux in her own movements though he couldn't know this and any encounter would likely be one of alarm and reaction...
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Nov 17, 2013 7:34:38 GMT -8
Your three months are past friends, this duel shall be archived with the rest. However due to the excellent writing and there being more than 8 posts this requires a judgement
I give this to Corr. He had the best hit out of all of it. His armour really saving his life.
It may have just been the way I read it but I am pretty sure that the thermal det was thrown before the shots fired and had a one second delay. The time needed to aim for a person at four different parts, track a moving object the size of a fist and shoot it would be close to if not over a second. However as Corr went with it, so to shall I.
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Corr Vhett - puts the "Laughter" in "Manslaughter".....