Battle Arena

Here we see a large arena, perhaps fifty by one hundred meters, The arena is amphitheater-like, with rising tiers of seats along the sides. A barrier of nearly invisible energy separates the battle field from the crowd. The ground is sandy, and small whirlwinds send sand spinning across the field. There are obstacles placed sparingly about the arena, from relatively small objects in the form of oil drums to much larger obstructions in the shape of three-meter-to-a-side blocks.

At each end of the arena there is a large portcullis with a gate beyond. It is from these gates that the fighters enter the arena. The arena is brightly lit; the light shines in overhead from an artificial sun. The temperature within the arena is hot, heat waves can be seen shimmering over the sand. Here and there lie discarded weapons and armor from fights long past.

Scattered throughout the arena are a dozen automated repulsorlift holocameras, which broadcast the battle to displays in the bleachers from multiple angles, in real-time. There is no announcer. No announcer could keep up with the fights that occur within these walls.



The northern gate to the arena rises slowly, revealing nothing but deep shadow. After a moment, the portcullis begins to rise, and as it does a form begins to take shape within the shadows. Striding forward, a figure can be seen approaching out of the gloom. He is clad in fairly nondescript pilot's clothing, consisting of well-fitting, well-worn dark brown trousers and a simple, dark green shirt, with a light black cloak over his shoulders. A holstered blaster is slung low at his right hip, the worn but well-kept nerf-hide holster strapped to his upper thigh.

At his other hip hangs a weapon for a more civilized age. A dull, matte black durasteel cylinder, perhaps 30 centimeters in length. It is a Jedi's weapon; a lightsaber. His dark blond hair is long, nearly shoulder length, and brushes against his collar with every step. His handsome features, already weathered beyond his years, bear no expression as he surveys his surroundings with a keen, wary eye.

His nerf-hide boots, scuffed and worn, but well-suited to a variety of terrain, come to a halt a few meters outside of the portcullis. The harsh sunlight, shining into the arena from the east, as is appropriate at this morning hour, casts sharp shadows against the sandy ground. Carefully studying the lay of the land, Kyp Degal's blue eyes dart over the field in front of him, taking in every detail.


Satisfied, he waits.

Mercutio strode calmly into the arena, through one of the numerous iron gates around the amphitheatre. He looked around noticing possible points of cover, blind spots, environmental traps and any choke points that may come in handy.

He stood watching his opponent, assessing the danger. Merc noticed the odd choice of weaponry the stranger sported; a futuristic gun, and most oddly of all, a metal tube. He realised that the danger was great and that this person was clearly a skilled warrior. Merc did not worry though, he had been in many fights before and was confident of his ability.

The environment was not in Mercutio's favour, the sun was too bright for his remaining eye and the ground too soft for quick movement. However, he would persevere. He slowly slid his rifle off from around his back and into his arms. It felt so familiar in his hands that he barely noticed it, the wood panelling smooth against his hands. Dropping to one knee, he raised the sights to his eye. Aiming carefully, he waited until his lungs were two-thirds empty, when his aim was at it's steadiest, and fired off a single round at the soon-to-be-assailant's head, as a test: to see what he was up against.

Kyp Degal watched as his opponent stepped into the arena from the opposite gate. He took in the man's intimidating stature, the eye patch, the gaping hole in his cheek. He judged the man to be nearly two meters tall, several centimeters taller than his own 1.8 meter height. Kyp's sharp eyes sought out the man's weapons with an expert glance. The only visible weapon was a long rifle on a sling across his back. A primitive slugthrower, by the looks of it. As Kyp sized up the man with his thoughtful, alert gaze, his opponent was wasting no time doing the same.

After a quick but careful assessment, the man confidently slid his antiquated rifle into his grasp, and, dropping to one knee, carefully sighted the firearm in on Kyp. Just as the man squeezed off his first round, Kyp allowed himself a slight grin. There was no way this guy thought it would be that easy. It was a test. Drawing on the Force just that tiny bit needed to speed up his already quick reflexes, Kyp dove to his right, hitting the sand shoulder-first and rolling. As he rolled, he drew his modified heavy blaster pistol, a BlasTech DL-44, from it's holster and fired off a quick trio of shots at his opponent as he came to a halt behind a meter-high durasteel block he'd chosen for cover.

So far so good. He highly doubted his shots had hit home, but it would provide a bit of distraction. Kyp breathed deeply, glancing briefly behind him to note the neat hole in the wall beside the gate, where the projectile from his opponent's shot had impacted. He wondered what other weapons the man had under his long, dark blue coat.

As soon as Mercutio fired off his shot, he knew he had underestimated his opponent. Using reflexes nearly rivalling his own, the strange man had dived out of danger, as well as shooting at Merc three times in rapid succession. Merc used his quicksilver reflexes to dodge all three rounds. The first came in low aiming at his shins, the second posed no threat; too far to the left but the third came in at chest height directly above the first. Merc turned and dived to the right, the third shot missing him by inches, but that was alright; Merc had calulated for that.

Hitting the soft white sand he rolled onto his feet, ending up behind a tall stone pillar. The pillar looked either Ionic or Doric in origin; Merc didn't know or care though. He was too busy reloading his rifle, as he did this he contemplated the man's weaponry. Obviously he now knew the capabilities of the gun, however it was the metal cylinder that was puzzling Merc. Was it ranged or melee? Either way he was sure to find out soon enough.

Mercutio leaned out from behind his pillar, sighting where his opponent was. Merc also noticed something else. The man was hiding directly beneath one of the numerous floating screens. He saw that keeping the six by eight foot screen suspended were two small jet engines. Bringing his rifle up into his shoulder, he looked along the barrel. His finger curled around the cold, metal trigger and pulled it. The gunshot echoed loudly around the silent amphitheatre.

Mercutio's aim had been true, his bullet had clipped the rocket, sending the screen into a downward-spiral directly towards his enemy.

Kyp didn't have to wait long before his opponent's next attack. He was pretty sure none of shots had hit home, though one should have been pretty close, if he wasn't mistaken. And when the attack came, it was a clever one. Kyp had to hand it to the guy; he thought outside the box. When the meter-wide flatscreen that was one of several distributed around the arena began to spiral downwards, Kyp was left with only a fraction of a seconds time to decide what to do. If he rolled to the side to avoid the plummeting electronic deadfall, he would be right back in his enemy's sights.

On the other hand, if he didn't, he would be so much blood and guts smashed into the sand. He did have a card in the hole, but he didn't want to play that this early in the game. So he did the only other thing he could think of. He jumped straight up, with all the power that he could muster, both his own and that he drew from the Force. As the screen was coming in at an angle, due to the one remaining engine, he just missed hitting the bottom of the bulky object, instead passing just in front of it, then landing briefly atop it before quickly pushing off, jumping clear just before it impacted the ground.

Knowing it was important to stay moving, Kyp landed on top of a three-meter high column nearby, then smoothly but hurriedly hopped down, rolling as he hit the soft sand. He knew that he had only a moment before his opponent realized what had happened, and he needed to make good use of that time. Pinpointing the man's location, behind a tall pillar across the battlefield, Kyp broke into a weaving, darting, juking run, heading his way, but never straight on. He hoped he'd be able to dodge if the man fired another round his way, because he wasn't sure his lightsaber would effectively block the metallic slugs the projectile weapon fired.


OOC: I'm sorry I took so long to reply.

Mercutio watched with a calculating eye as the attacker leapt nimbly out of danger. "No ordinary man could make that jump" he thought to himself. He made a mental note to try and avoid hand-to-hand combat with such a powerful and quick enemy.

As the assailant jumped gracefully from the screen to a pillar to the floor, Mercutio had already reloaded his rifle and had slung it around his back. Making sure that he was in cover, he scaled the pillar he was hiding behind. He climbed quickly and confidently, his arms and legs easily supporting his weight. His hands grasped the top of the pillar and he pulled himself up, standing atop the pillar, poised like a cat. Mercutio was in the perfect position, he could see around the whole of the amphitheatre with ease. The pillar was slightly unstable, Merc could use this to his advantage.

His enemy was running towards him in such a manner that Mercutio would never be able to fire at him with any degree of accuracy, that didn't matter though, Merc had another plan. As a decoy he swung his rifle around into his shoulder, he pretended to look down the sights, but instead had his one good eye trained on the man. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. The opponent was close enough for the plan to work.

Merc took a step backwards so that one of his feet was on the edge of the pillar. He leant away from the pillar, looking as if he was going to fall to the soft sand. At the last moment, he pushed against the pillar and into the air. He brought his legs over his head, the world spinning around him and landed. It had been a perfect back somersault which had brought him swiftly to the ground. He landed on one knee and had planted a fist into the hot, white sand to aid stability.

Looking up he saw that his back flip had caused the thick, stone pillar to topple towards the man; just like Mercutio had planned. Watching cautiously to see the outcome he stood up, and paused. His rifle held in his right hand, it pointed down to the sand. The bright sun gave everything a bleached look apart from the long, impossibly dark shadow that stretched out before him.

As Kyp grew closer to his opponent's location, he saw the man suddenly appear at the top of the huge pillar, pulling himself up easily. Kyp's brow furrowed as he wondered what he was doing, but he kept up his pace, closing quickly on the pillar. The man slung his rifle back into his grasp, and, bringing it to his shoulder, sighted down the barrel at Kyp. Great. If he fired a shot now, though, he would almost certainly miss, as Kyp was moving fast, and never in a straight line. Deciding not to worry about it too much, as the Force would alert him if his opponent shot, Kyp continued his zig-zagging sprint.

Kyp was within ten meters of the pillar when it came. With no warning, the man in the trench coat suddenly performed an acrobatic backflip off of his high perch, at the same time pushing the pillar with just enough force to cause the huge monolith to begin to precariously topple. Right at Kyp. "Oh, kriffing nuts. What is it with this guy and falling objects?" Kyp mumbled to himself, under his breath. He sped up, hoping to pass underneath the massive stone pillar before it hit, but it soon became obvious that wasn't going to work, as it seemed to gather speed as it fell. It was toppling over at an angle, and as best he could calculate, he and it would meet in exactly one point eight seconds.

So he stopped. Skidding to a halt in the loose sand, he slid onto his back as he lost his footing. With a thunderous Whump!, the huge stone monolith hit the sand not two centimeters from his feet. Shaking his head, Kyp rose quickly to one knee, then sprung lightly to stand on the side of the pillar, which was perhaps two meters thick. About another fifteen meters away, his opponent stood, rifle in his right hand, pointed at the ground. Kyp nodded to the man, and spoke, cheerfully, "Pretty day, wouldn't you say? Though the sun is a tad bright, I think. And this sand gets everywhere."

He then hopped down in front of the fallen pillar, landing on one knee, and drew a small knife from his boot. Standing, Kyp began to clean from under his fingernails with the tip of the finely honed blade, its polished surface reflecting the sun's harsh light.

Mercutio smiled grimly, the hole in his cheek opening into a pumpkin-esque leer. As far as he could tell the man had been crushed under his pillar. Just as he was about to turn and walk away, a blonde head popped up from behind the pillar. The opponent hopped to his feet, apparently unharmed.

"This man is proving to be rather difficult to kill." mused Mercutio to himself, enjoying the challenge he presented.

"Pretty day, wouldn't you say? Though the sun is a tad bright, I think. And this sand gets everywhere." The man said cheerfully and proceeded to clean his fingernails with a knife he had withdrawn from a boot. The man was obviously trying to antagonise Mercutio into making a foolish move.

"I'm here to fight," Merc called across the amphitheatre, his voice heavily slurred due to his facial disfigurement, "Not exchange inane pleasantries about the weather. Now draw your weapon and let us battle."

"Well, if you insist..." With these words, the small knife left Kyp's left hand in a blur, it's spinning blade reflecting flashes of light as it cut through the still air of the arena, aimed right at Mercutio's neck. Even as the blade flew through the air, Kyp's right hand was a blur, drawing his blaster in a movement nearly too quick to see.

Kyp raised his pistol to point directly at the man's forehead, drawing a bead on a spot dead center between his eyes, and holding it there.


"Drawn enough for you?"