Ak-Akari vs Ornik

*The Nature of the arena our combatants find themselves in is one of strict usefullness. A flat square floor, 50 feet by 50 feet, open on all 4 sides. 15 feet back from the tournament platform is a 20 foot wall, and behind that wall are the arena seats. They are filled with spectators screaming and cheering, booing and carrying on*

*Ak-Akari sat at his end, meditating and centering himself into the particular Force energies of the arena. The hard and immovable stone, the faintly stale air all around them, even the rowdy people in the crowd, baying for blood. All were part of the Force, and would provide a source for any who are able to tap into it.

Some say the Force has a will, some kind of mystical direction, and that it was divided into Light and Dark sides. Ak-Akari himself didn't believe in such things, though in some cases it was difficult to ignore the seeming sentience of the Energy field he consistently drew upon. His view was that energy was energy, whatever colour it may be, and the difference between good and evil, Light and Dark wasn't in the Force itself, but how it was used by those who bent it to their will. The sentience some seemed to view was simply a side effect of drawing on the energies of life itself. As one who specialised in illusions and mind tricks, Ak-Akari knew how easy it was to dip into the mind of another, so perhaps to use the Force one had to touch upon a sort of collective mind.

Theory wasn't important. The importance was that despite the bloody battles fought here, the general bloodthirst of the crowd, there was still energy here and lots of it. The spirit of the hunt, one of the most basic parts of life all throughout the universe, was very much alive here. Ak-Akari was tapping into that, his own cold calculation distilling the frenzied energy into a knife's point.

He would use it as a tool to defeat his opponent, preferably keeping the other alive. As much as he did not believe in morality in the Force, he was still no killer. The Force may or may not have light or dark sides, but the universe did, and Ak-Akari held himself to very strict rules. Still, if there were no way to keep the opponent alive, his loss would be... regretable but necessary. Ak-Akari had to survive, he was the last member of the Emerald Order, he could not allow this distraction to stop him from returning the Order's influence to the Galaxy.

Finally he stood.*

"Lets get this done."

"As you will."

The voice was processed by the helmet filters, rendering it mechanical and crackly. Ornik was walking towards his Jedi opponent from his side of the ring, implacable as ever in his black armor - only now, with his last victory, Ornik had painted a golden stripe along the center of his shin plates. The Mandalorian was carrying both his Ripper and his blaster, both knives, and his axe - no rifle, however, nor any grenades, nor was his missile launcher activated. That, however, did not mean the man wasn't packing a punch: he still had his flamethrower.

As he walked forward, Ornik drew his pistols: Ripper in his right hand, blaster in his left; and opened fire. Three shots from the blaster. One was aimed at Akari's right hip, the next to his left at about head-height, and the third split the difference between the two, aiming at for center mass. The idea was to bracket him on either side and hopefully hit him square on - but if not, there were other ways.