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Market Arena


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Post Mon Nov 07, 2011 5:28 pm

Market Arena

The Arena is an open-aired circle roughly 100 meters in diameter. The outside is lined with viewing stands. This is the only authorized area for combat. Pick a fight in the streets at your own risk.
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Post Sat Dec 03, 2011 12:04 pm

Re: Market Arena

At one side of the arena, he stands. His diminutive frame, only five feet, four inches tall, ensures he will forever be physically unassuming. His muscles are not prominent or well defined, but they are there, covered by a thin, ancient-looking set of tooled leather armor that consists of gauntlets, greaves, boots, and a breastplate. A wide, dark blue sash encircles his waist, and thrust through it, on his left hip, is Reikon- his katana.

The weapon is his sole companion. At three feet long, the blade is crafted from folded phrik with a thin core of durasteel, the latter's purpose only to balance the weapon. Its hilt is thirty centimeters long and crafted from wroshyr wood wrapped in leather. A reliable weapon, and one that possessed quite the surprise: beneath the guard separating hilt from blade, there was a simple switch that, when depressed, bisected the katana vertically, allowing the user to dual wield the weapon against their foes.

Of course, that was not the only weapon that the warrior carried. In his right hand was a yari- a shaft of wroshyr wood five feet long, terminating in a blade of songsteel nearly one and a half feet long. In the shaft's center, a core of songsteel resides, ensuring the haft could not be shattered. And, like Reikon, the yari held a surprise for whoever it faced- when a switch on the haft was depressed, two other blades would unfold from the base of the first, as long and deadly as the original, and appearing perpendicular to the original blade.

Adjusting the coarse band of cloth that covered his vestigial eye sockets, Malystrix waited for an opponent to step up and test their mettle. He was here for honor, and that alone, and whether he died in his pursuit or not was of little consequence to him.
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Post Wed Dec 07, 2011 5:11 pm

Re: Market Arena

=Talin'ya=

She stood cloaked at admittance line, ready to pen her name on the arena sign up sheet. Uncloaking so that they could take her dimensions, she was a slender blue woman with purple hair braided up against her head in a tight band. Scrolls of black ink tattooed her bare arms and midriff on her left side. Save for her right hand, the right side was devoid of body art.

The officials took her two vibroblades in order to determine their weight and make sure they were not made of anything funny. She watched him like a hawk as if the blades were her own life. Assured that they were nothing more special than a cortosis and durasteel alloy, the vibroblades were returned to her. She was then permitted to enter into the arena waiting area.

She stood watching the other side of the field wondering where the crowds were. Pulling a pair of fingerless gloves from her back pocket, the wroonian flexed her fingers as she put them on. She eyed the Miralukan carefully wondering how much training he had in the Force. She herself only had some vague understanding of the energy field.

She began to pace in a small circle, biding her time until she could have an opponent.
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Post Sat Dec 10, 2011 1:36 pm

Re: Market Arena

As the woman enters the arena, a small flicker of acknowledgment passes over the Miraluka's features. With a slight nod, the warrior started forward, his stride brisk and purposeful, the fingers of his right hand tightening around the haft of his yari. His left hand, meanwhile, grasped loosely the hilt of his sheathed katana, drawing affirmation of his goal from its wrapped length.

As the distance between himself and his newest opponent shrank to almost nothing, Malystrix raised his yari in an unmistakable challenge, and then turning the spear weapon so that it was horizontal, with the butt of the haft off behind him, and the head pointing towards his foe, and with a burst of speed, propelled himself the last few yards necessary before ending on his right foot at the six foot line. Simultaneously, he twisted to the left, turning his right side towards the area directly to his foe's right, and thrust his yari forward, loosening his grip so that the haft of the weapon slid through his slack fingers, the full length of the weapon darting towards the woman's midsection, his intentions being to pierce her abdomen.

He tightened his grip again just inches above the butt of the weapon and yanked it back- provided it did not become entangled with one of the woman's blades (made plain before his Sight), and was not needed for a defensive measure- out of any confrontation. His left hand came up to grasp the haft about halfway up its length, with the yari in a diagonal position, spearing up from beneath his right hip, all the way up past his left shoulder.

That done, he waited for a response, a counter. There was no point in keeping up the assault, when he didn't even know the capabilities of his opponent, no? Better to hold back, gauge her reaction times, the speed with which she maneuvered her blades, the subtlety or lack thereof of her attacks. When this he knew, he was confident that he would have little trouble dispatching the woman.

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Post Tue Dec 13, 2011 7:32 am

Re: Market Arena

=Talin'ya=

Assuming that each combatant started on the opposing ends of the arena, the Miralukan man started across the field first with katana grasped in his left hand and spear held in the right hand. He had 100meters to cross if the Wroonian stood perfectly still and awaited his strike. The Wroonian woman however did not stand still as the Miraluka first meandered towards her at his brisk pace. Talin├óÔé¼Ôäóya began a lazy circle towards his left side, her right, around the edge of the arena. Her legs did a cross over shuffle as she walked sideways, keeping her body facing his direction during her movement. She kept her movement quick but smooth so as to meet him in the centre of the field.

Her new position required new information from the combatant.
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Post Tue Dec 13, 2011 7:58 am

Re: Market Arena

*Stepping forward one pace, Venin impatiently stood in line to sign up for this stupid arena thing. Toxoid hadn't eat somebody in weeks and he was starting to get cranky. Thus, they were here, standing in line, bored out of their skull.*

You know...I'm not sure why we have to be here Tox...I mean, usually, you just stalk somebody in the middle of the night and eat them in an ally...why haven't you done that?



Wow...that was quite the informative answer there Tox. What? Loose your touch for the stalkerish? Or are you just being lazy and want a legal meal?



You? Awesomeness? Crazy, sure, I can live with that. But the day you become Awesome, I will officially be dead and you will have full will over our body.

*That brought a short bark of laughter from Tox as they stepped forward once again, finally reaching the sign up people. Filling out the paper work, they began to measure Venin, then they looked at the paper work and saw that he had put two names and asked after that. Scoffing, Venin suddenly transformed into Toxoid, his gums receeding from his filed teeth to reveal fangs, the skin around his nails going back to reveal claws, and his height and mass growing by a few feet and pounds. The sign-up guy, staring in awe at Toxoid's metamorphosis, slowly came back to reality and measured Toxoid up as well before, finally, opening the gate directly to the arena, where two other combatants were already "getting acquainted.*

*Grinning devilishly, Toxoid's mechanical tongue extension slithered out between his teeth in excitement as he looked between his two opponents, watching and waiting to decide who to chase after first.*
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Post Fri Dec 16, 2011 1:49 pm

Re: Market Arena

A certain apprehension, not unpleasant, gripped the warrior as his opposition started forward. The lack of hesitation in her stride, the purposeful boldness with which she met his advance, put upon Malystrix a certainty that, at the very least, the foe he faced would be a brave one. And that was good; she was possessed of a warrior's courage, and was, at the least, worthy of dueling. And while such a thing could not be determined at this point, the warrior's confidence in facing her opponent hinted at a competence in the art of battle.

Malystrix's pulse quickened.

Shifting direction, the warrior made a wide loop to his right, the arc of his path shallow, his course meant to bring him to the center of the arena, facing his opponent head on. Crunch, crunch, crunch; the sound of his boots against the hard, packed sand of the arena floor pounded in the Miraluka's ears, matching his slow, even breathing. There is little Malystrix values above this: the gut-wrenching handful of moments spent before the intitial clash between warriors. Once their blades cross, the rest of the battle will no doubt be naught but a blur; now, though, everything is sharp, defined, and moving at a slug's pace.

The distance between him and his foe dwindling, the warrior hefted his yari up, lifting the butt of the haft from the ground, and shifted the head of the thing down to point straight ahead, so that butt extended out behind him, and he was holding the shaft level with his right hip, though not against it. Using his right hand only, he gripped the weapon in its cener, with two and a half feet of shaft extending before and behind him, and the former beinig capped with a straight, edged blade about a foot and a half long. A few inches below the place where his hand gripped the haft, a small activation switch resides, which was capable of releasing the mechanism holding the other two blades of the yari in line with the dominant one.

The woman is nearly in range now, and as he toes what he considers- and, being possessed of his Force Sight, he can adequately judge such a thing- the center of the earthen floor of the arena, he stops, his head bowed, his frame still.


"What is your name, warrior?" And then, coming a moment later, regardless of the woman's response or lack thereof: "I am Malystrix. I hope our duel is an honorable one."

Despite the rather climactic tone of his speech, the warrior failed to move after speaking- an act meant to concede the first move, should the woman desire it. His efforts to draw the force in to him has begun, though he does so at a slow, methodical pace. Its energies begin to stir within him, but for now he did not ackowledge them.

What he did acknowledge, though, was the other sentient who entered the arena. Should he attack, Malystrix was determined to be ready. But engaged as he was, he saw no point in going after another opponent, when the one he was confronted with now seemed to be perfectly capable of giving him a run for his money, if not more.
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Post Fri Dec 23, 2011 5:15 am

Re: Market Arena

*The stands begin to fill with geonosians, as the off duty garrison, GI contingent, hears of the match and comes to watch. A low chittering sound begins to grow as the geonosians trickle in and begin discussing the various opponents and laying bets on who would beat who, and how long the fight would last. Almost 200 geonosians turned out to see the event, all wearing their blaster pistols, but with out their usual rifle and grenades.*
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Post Sat Jan 14, 2012 10:54 am

Re: Market Arena

==aya==
*though she doesn't bother producing an figment of herself, aya makes a note to keep an eye on the arena. just in case one of the fights overspills the boundaries of the ring.*
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Post Mon Jan 21, 2013 1:22 pm

Re: Market Arena

*Bat walked into the Arena fully armoured, usually people entered with no weapons except for those provided. Masterson however had a small aresonal on his person. Anyways he walked in confidently despite the boos being thrown at him and the cheering for his opponent. The winner of dozens of fights, stood before him confidently. Before entering the arena Bat had placed every credit he had on himself, ten thousand he had pick pocketed through the day to replenish his wares. It was ten to one odds that he would win, considering he was going up against the "fastest gun on Dressel" as the spokesperson had told him.

A bell rang high above them and the crowd cheered waiting anxiously for the man to shoot and kill the new comer. Yet nothing happened both stood still, then Masterson flexed his palm and turned invisible. Before his opponent could shoot his blaster he moved his position slowly so as to not make any noise. It would seem as if the an shot would have totally incinerated Bat if someone had blunk. Walking up slowly behind the man Bat pulled out his sawed off scattergun and placed it directly below the mans skull and pulled the trigger.

The shot boomed in the arena as the mans head pulped into nothing grey brain matter and bone flying every where flexing his palm again Bat popped the top of the weapon open took out the cartridge and put in a fresh one leaving the other in the tube. Walking out of the arena he collected his 100,000 credits and walked away.*

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