Fenn Soran vs Murdock Reyes

[Dutch]

Seems lion is DUELRAVENOUS as he challenges Murdock Reyes to a bout in SWU's lauded DUUUUUUELLLLLL ARENAAAAAA

-fans scream in adoration and excitement-

Representing the Blue Team is lion's Fenn, Bothan Jedi fury in one compact furry package!

-cheers from Blue side-

Fighting for the Yellow Team is Murdock Reyes 's namesake, The Nerve-wracking Nautolan you all know and love: Murdock!

-cheers from Yellow side-

---

The Venue

Alarms blare deafeningly loud within the metal halls of the massive reactor. Whether guilty or framed for the crime of terrorism, Murdock Reyes finds himself on the run from Jedi. A knight and an apprentice, Murdock has already killed the knight out of self defense. But to a young, inexperienced Jedi those lines are hard to notice. Fenn continues the chase, for duty and for honor to bring the Jedi killer to heel. Now trapped within the core room of the reactor, the bothan faces down the nautolan to finish this once and for all...

---

The Dutch has deemed this be an unprecedented THREE ROUND death match!

Make it quick, make it brutal, and make it fun boys!

lion's banana skills have lead to Murdock Reyes going first, whenever you're ready murdie, begin.

ROUND ONE

Begin!

[Murdock Reyes]

Murdock's heart beat loudly in his chest as he searched the room quickly. He had to escape, but it seems there was little to do, there vents but he didn't have time to be stealthy. The humming of his already active lightsaber reminded him of that. He had been wrongly accused, had even cooperated, but he wasn't going to be locked away. He had to escape, and resistance was expected, but...Murdock hadn't counted on killing today. The images flashed through his mind, a sour look on his face. He did have a choice, it came down to him or Murdock, and he knew it had to be him. As he came back to his senses Murdock realized a grim truth, this was a dead end.

All to late, but now was time to make a stand, the question was how? Thoughts of hiding or catching the other one off guard crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. There would be confrontation, and Murdock couldn't avoid it. So he walked calmly, slowing his heartbeat in the process, towards the opening again. A calm came over him, a calm needed as Murdock took his stance, his lightsaber pointing to the ceiling as he watched the hallway, allowing the blade to fall. It was now or never, and there might as well be no better time than now. With his left foot forward for more agile motions, Murdock's lightsaber was prepared to receive flesh or blade.

"Luck, be with me."

[lion]

Beads of heated sweat trickled down the furred brow of the Bothan padawan as he sprinted down the corridors leading to the reactor chamber, practically leaping as far with each stride as his five-foot-two body could allow along the durasteel walkways, the salty fluid dampening his golden-hued fur into disheveled patches bringing a painful sting to his eyes that begged in vain for but a few moments pause to be rubbed clear. Breaths puffed through broad nostrils and sharply exhaled from between grit teeth, the young man's lungs joined in the protest of action, burning as they worked hard to fuel the muscles that pushed the boy on, crying out for a few seconds worth of deep gulps of precious air.

But beneath the storm raging within the young man's mind, the whirlwind of chatterbox thoughts and a veritable tidal wave of emotional shock that left his blood hot and his heart aggrieved, pain had little room to slow the Jedi or even make its point; merely another factor to crush down and put aside, to shove away and ignore. A great crime had been laid bare before the Jedi, treason against the Republic and its citizens, its perpetrator cornered and left with little recourse but to face justice at the hands of the Order; there was no room for pain, not now.

But it wasn't just the charges laid by the Senate that spurned Fenn on, as the young boy rounded a left corner at the behest of the Force, sensing the direction he needed to take long before his eyes had laid sight on the signs marking the way, it was far more personal than that. Theft; the traitorous scum had taken from Fenn the one moment that had plagued his dreams since before his ascendance into adulthood, since the day of his acceptance under the tutelage of his Master, to be Knighted with his Master alive to witness it. Master Torell had been, for lack of a better word, a father to the young Fenn Soran, a wise adviser and educator, confidant and closest friend; someone the Bothan had hoped even in his Knighthood would have some words of wisdom, of guidance, that the old man had always seemed to have in abundance; to chase away the concerns of a young and troubled mind unable to see with clarity a solution.

Now? Now the old man was dead; a stroke across the chest from a lightsaber having all but put the elder Jedi Knight down for the final time. Fenn had seen it all in slow motion; a horizontal cut across the belly from the dark-skinned Nautolan, his black-hued eyes seemingly the gaze of Death itself as his lightsaber carved its wicked path through flesh and bone, and rather than face the horrified youth, the man had fled deeper into the complex.

The decision to leave his Master, wounded and surely to die without treatment, for the sake of the Republic and the mission, wrought a knot in Fenn's stomach that had only grown worse with the brief time he had spent giving chase. The wound was treatable but required time, beyond what a mere apprentice healer such as the Bothan could have provided, and whilst he carried medical supply enough to at least stabilize the aged human, it wasn't near enough to get him mobile again.

The moment the Force rippled, echoes of Master Torell's death, Fenn did all he could to shut it out; the crippling wrenching and knotting feeling in his stomach practically made him feel weak enough without the risk of turning into a blubbering wreck. Jedi Code or no, requirement for non-attachment or no, it was hard not to feel as if his chest had been trodden upon by a Ronto for the level of emotional impact his Master's death had brought the boy.

And with the source of his grief so close by, practically feeling the Nautolan bastard through his tentative probing of the Force, sorrow quickly ignited to anger, sharpening his senses. The shrieking klaxons of the reactor chamber, mingled with the heat, only served to agitate the boy further; his sensitive ears folded back against his head in hopes to dull the effect of the wailing sirens, his discomfort fanning the flames in his chest that demanded more.

Coming to a stop before the doors of the reactor chamber, the Force immediately guided Fenn's right hand to his lightsaber, plucking from his belt the metallic tube with an upward stroke as the durasteel portals hissed open, bringing with a sudden flash of light and a grating snap-hiss the orange-hued blade to life. Buzzing with each micro-motion brought on by the Bothan's shaking hands as they gripped the lightsaber, Fenn stole into the room, his eyes catching and locking onto the dark orbs of the Nautolan with absolutely no pretense to hide the emotional turmoil going on beneath them; the Bothan was pissed off and he was damn sure blatantly so.

And with his blade shifting to a high guard to intercept the blade that had taken his Master's life, threatening to do the same to him, Fenn wasted little time in making his intentions known, swiftly meeting saber to saber before breaking off to the right with a swift sidestep, swiping from right to left in a mid-level horizontal cut aimed for the Nautolan's waistline, looking to slash the man open and end the fight swiftly.

There would be no offer of surrender, not now.

[Dutch]

Yesssss ya'll will both receive a bonus point for replying so quickly

---

Round 1


Murdock Reyes
Effort: 2/5
Fairness: 4/5
Detail: 3/5
Coolness: 3/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: Starting the duel is never the easiest part, but you did well here. Could use a couple rereads before posting, noted a couple spelling/tense errors. Being clear of those is a good way to bump your effort score.

lion
Effort: 3/5
Fairness: 3/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: Great follow up, but be careful to watch for run-on sentences there slugger! Really enjoying your exploration into Fenn's dark-side already.

Total:

Murdock Reyes: 13

lion: 15

---

Niiiiiice first round there boys! lion is off to a small, early start. BUT THINGS CAN CHANGE SO QUICKLY

Care to show us murdie?

ROUND TWO

[Murdock Reyes]

Murdock took in slow breaths as the man appeared, the sabers clashing. There seemed to be some power behind it, but what form? He watched, analysing the moment, it seemed slow to Murdock, everything in place. A step followed the blades meeting, and like that the threat had moved, not unlike what he expected. As the saber came back a quick and small hop backwards saved Murdock from being sliced open, however, his shirt couldn't say the same. The blade's color matched the heat he felt touch at his skin. Thankfully he had indeed avoided the swing, but that meant little, Murdock needed to see how this would play out, but would he have time? Then something poked at the back of his head, an emotion was very evident, anger.

Murdock felt to see if it was indeed himself, only to find he was far to calm now. As he collected his footing, Murdock jabed at the male with the tip of his saber, his right foot forward. If the male was angry, then let him be, it would only make him sloppy. When his jab would be countered as he knew it would be, as Murdock hadn't fully put himself into it, Murdock would smile. The sense of calm was complete now, nothing but the battle was dominating him at the moment. So why not poke the sleeping bear a little harder?

"Surely you can do better? Your master put up a much better fight, and he was easy."

Murdock remarked in his deep voice. It was a gamble, there was no lie in that, but he hoped it would pay off. Finally, Murdock made his move, one to put himself in. A step forward as his body turned sideways, his saber swinging towards the males thigh. Murdock didn't want to sever this leg, merely cut it, to show that he could. Calling to the energy around him, Murdock channeled it into his free hand, sending a light push. Murdock would use tactics, attempt to off-balance the man, to find and create an opening. Murdock's intentions were pure, he wouldn't be killing twice in one day, not of he could help it. A flash of the older mans face came to his mind again, and Murdock fell lost to it for all but the breifest of moments, but he knew that was all it took.

[lion]

The sensation of resistance running through his wrists as the point of his lightsaber cut through cloth, for the briefest of seconds, brought a feeling of surprised elation that was swiftly cast down by rational thought. The blow had indeed landed, but rather than sever the dark, smooth skin of the Nautolan's abdomen, the lightsaber had instead carved its way through the taller man's clothes; the white-hot edge leaving a tidy tear lined with the blackened strands of singed fabric as easily as a pen stroke upon flimsiplast.

Fenn's recovery from the stroke was swift, transitioning from the horizontal swipe into a middle guard by backstepping with his right foot, turning his hips slightly to favour his now leading left foot; both legs shoulder-width distance apart. The Bothan's lightsaber descended, held forward with the pommel hovering just over his right hip, the blade tilted forward at a forty-five degree angle from his chest to offer a good level of vital protection but to also threaten the space just beyond his footsteps.

It was fortuitous, for no sooner had Fenn recovered, his adversary counter-attacked with a sudden thrust; the Bothan clearly watching the white point of the beam spear through the air in its deadly journey. Even with such a close blow, the Nautolan's form was clean and careful, that much was evident through his footwork and choice of strike, but for all the compliments Fenn could have offered the man's technique, the words turned to ash in his mouth.

The man was only deserving of a lightsaber, not words.

Turning his wrists clockwise, Fenn half-stepped backward as his lightsaber whirled into action once more, quickly and cleanly turning a half-circle to invert the blade; meeting Murdock's linear attack with circular defense to push away the Nautolan's threatening thrust before it could reach its target. Riposte was quick, true to Form V's focus on defense and rapid counterattack, as Fenn short-stepped forward with his right foot; stealing distance to decrease range as his lightsaber lunged forward and upward toward Murdock's throat, looking to force the Nautolan back to the defensive.

It was a pity the orange beam hadn't found its mark, Fenn had thought as he once more recovered, for the Nautolan's taunting voice was far worse than the wailing klaxons could ever be. Forget kindling upon the fire, Murdock's words might very well have been starship fuel; the boy's sweaty fur rippled and shuddered in a flash of anger before the young Jedi could even think to stop it, his teeth bunched in his jaw and his knuckles nearly white as they clenched the metal tube in his hands. There was no response Fenn could offer, unwilling to trust his voice to be strong enough not to waver, unable to find words to match the Nautolan's jibing, and in his anger, the Bothan's focus broke just as his opponent had intended.

A thrust came low and, turning his weapon to defend the strike, Fenn could feel the resistance of blade striking blade and a vivid heat blossoming in his right thigh; the white-hot pain registering in his brain just a half-second behind the curious smell of burned cloth and, for some reason, hair. Whilst Fenn's defense had caught the Nautolan's blade, the thrust had nevertheless landed; piercing the boy's trousers, fur and the upper layers of epidermis within heartbeats, burning deeper into the boy's leg and leaving a nasty wound in its wake.

With a yelp of pain, his eyes screwed shut as his body tried to cope, Fenn was left wide open for follow-up; sent stumbling backward about two steps by Murdock's force-push before his right leg gave out, shuddering as it struggled to bear weight. Tears welled in the Bothan's eyes, between heartache and the burn in his leg it was beginning to become all too much for a twenty year old to take, but the sense of vulnerability and hurt swiftly turned to anger again.

Throwing himself forward and calling upon the Force to augment his strength and try to shut out the pain signals flooding his nervous system, Fenn advanced, his teeth grit in grim determination to cause harm; unknowingly allowing his emotion to dictate his strategy, leaving him open to the Dark Side.

Lightsaber flashing wildly, practically screeching as it carved through the air, the attacks came quick and heavy, backed by the Force; two overhead blows followed by a mid-level right to left swipe with aggression enough to match Djem-So's power strikes, seemingly abandoning the more technical mindset of its brother form. Momentum carried the Bothan through a rapid counter-clockwise spin as he switched grips upon his lightsaber, letting his left hand control the blade alone, and whilst pain still tore away at his conscious thoughts as his leg begged for rest, Fenn completed the barrage of offense with a high right-to-left backhand sweep that threatened to not only disable the Nautolan, but literally take his head off.

(I had to edit to catch an error; a grip transition had been left off in the final paragraph. Apologies for the mistake thar)

[Dutch]

Way to turn up boys! Great round 2 there!

---

Round 2


Murdock Reyes
Effort: 3/5
Fairness: 2/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 3/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: Ooooooo snap, bonus point for talking smack. Gonna take that lion? The many 'but Murdock expected the attack, as usual, cause he's awesome' -ish quotes did take from your fairness and coolness score a bit. More fun to read about someone in a struggle! Again, you would have benefited from an edit or two, marring your effort a bit too. Great detail work though, kudos there.

lion
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: 0/2
Comments: Nice details in there bud, great imagery. Full fairness for injuring Fenn! No need to apologize for edits either, they're fine until someone posts after your last one

Total:

Murdock Reyes: 26

lion: 34

---

lion pulls away with a very solid second round, though it's easily arguable Murdock Reyes is about to win the fight!

AND AS IF THINGS WEREN'T HEATED ENOUGH

---

The blaring klaxons suddenly turn into the high-pitched shrieks of total core failure. From high above a massive explosion rocks the room, raining molten shrapnel down upon the duelists. Another explosion, this one across the room. Then another. And another. Faster and faster the core meltdown begins to tear the reactor chamber apart, rocking the floor and increasing the temperature exponentially...

For the final round, the amount of bonus points that can be earned has been bumped to 5

But the only way to earn these points, is with liberal use of EXPLOSIONS in your final round!



FINAL ROUND

BEGIN

[Murdock Reyes]

Murdock watched as the events unfolded, the battle had gone well so far. Murdock only wondered how much time he'd have before Murdock's train of thought was instantly lost as the male came back to meet Murdock with furry. A twinge of fear crossed his face as the onslaught began. They were fast and powerful, Murdock didn't have the proper footing, and it showed as his own saber met the other. They were overbearing to Murdock, forcing him to begin to bend, the heat touched at his head, one of his head tresses screamed from a burn due to his own saber. Murdock paid as little attention as possible though, as hard as that was, he had to focus.

The third swing caught him off guard, all he was able to do was dodge. As he moved, barely in time, Murdock heard the humm of the saber pass his ear, cutting into his shoulder a bit. The fabric dissolved beneath the blade, exposing his blue skin, now becoming charred and cut into, a thin layer being removed as he moved. Murdock instantly dropped his lightsaber in pain causing it to deactivate, his right hand clenching into a fist. He had played with fire, but didn't expect this kind of backlash, he deserved it though, and Murdock knew it. Was it worth his life? Did he really want to die? No....not yet, he had to fight. Calling upon the energy around him, Murdock pulled his saber back to him, igniting the blade once more. He had been lucky, he thought as he saw the other blade coming towards his head once again. Raising his saber to meet the blade, he felt the power behind it, threatening to push Murdock to his back.

As he held the blade for a brief moment, he felt his strength waver, and his blade's hold loosened. His opponent's blade sliding down as Murdock's own blade angled. The orange blade cutting through the metal and emitter of Murdock's own saber, causing it to be useless. Panic overcame him as he jumped back as far as he could, managing only a few feet. He was safe from the blade though, thankfully. Options ran through his head, what was really left? Surrender and be imprisoned for life? Use the energy around him to handle the male? No, he needed a distraction, something to get the attention off of him. A moment later explosions were heard by Murdock, along with the sound of falling metal.

'I think that's as good a sign as any..'

Murdock thought to himself as he attempted to calm himself again. The noise began to pound at his head, Murdock was barely able to take it. He hadn't noticed it quite before, he had been too focused on the battle. Murdock's eyes found the ground as his hands found his head, holding tightly to it. What now? Murdock's answer was given when a piece of hot metal landed on his already injured shoulder. A scream escaped him and he pulled at it, the metal burning his hand. This place was going to blow, did that mean they would both die? Could they escape? Murdock had to try, and the energy would be on his side.

Murdock focused as best he could, feeling the energy being pulled into his hands, his mind still drifting to his wound. There was no way it was going to be a devistating blow, but he hoped it would do. The energy built to a head and Murdock put both hands together and released the energy towards the male. Looking around, Murdock searched for things to throw before his attention was broken again by another explosion from overhead. As he quickly looked up Murdock saw more metal, and with a building of energy, he quickly threw three pieces of shrapnel at his opponent. He didn't like this, there wasn't much he could do. Pain wracked him again, and Murdock cried out. He couldn't go on, the throbbing on his shoulder and the pounding in his lungs showed that. Perhaps...he had one more.

A deep breath was inhaled by Murdock as he began to run at his opponent, leaping into the air, energy building up again. Murdock tucked himself into a roll straightening out with his feet forward into a dropkick. Using the last of his energy to pull his opponent towards him Murdock hoped it was strong enough to work. He knew this would be the last move he would be able to make.

[lion]

Like a mynock struggling to remain airborne with only one wing, so too did Fenn struggle to remain upright, carried as he was through his offensive flurry's demanding footwork solely by the momentum that the aggressive attacks generated. Every motion brought pain in fiery waves from his wounded and burned right thigh, and even without needing to look down, the young Bothan knew the extent of the damage; the fibrous cloth of his Jedi trousers having singed and burned to the charred outer layer of skin, mingled with blackened hair, tugging at the cauterized skin with every step as if threatening to rip it open.

But it was pain the young man took, pain he had to take, for the sake of his very life; one misstep would spell his doom at the hands of his blue-skinned adversary and the end of his lightsaber, much as it had sealed the fate of his Master.

Leading with his left foot into the final backhand sweep, Fenn pivoted his hips at the last second, throwing just that bit more of himself into the strike as his upper body turned slightly in response to the sharp motion, lightsaber meeting lightsaber with a grating clash and sputter of electric discharge. The air stank of burned flesh, sweat and ozone; a nostril-burning acrid tang that could have made the stench of a hangar bay seem like fine cologne, only to be made worse by the now sizzling white-hot blades shuddered against each other, cooking the air in their efforts to cut through the other.

So close now, afforded just a few seconds worth of time practically face-to-face with his target, Fenn couldn't help but stare into the Nautolan's dark eyes with a most un-jedi like of expressions; devoid of the senses of mercy or serenity that the Order held as expected constants, leaving only focused aggression.

Leaning forward, unwilling as he was to place weight on his wounded dominant leg, Fenn pressed into the block of blades all the harder, releasing through clenched teeth a long exhale as his fingers wound tighter against the sweat-slicked metal of his lightsaber. Those few moments of wordless contact, silent aside from grunts of effort, seemed to simply stretch on and on as if time itself were unwilling to proceed, and it wasn't until a slight shift on the part of the Nautolan that the world seemed to move at full speed again.

Fenn wasted little time in capitalizing; a sudden shift of pressure from Murdock's blade gave the Bothan a lease for motion, sliding his menacing orange-bladed weapon down the Nautolan's own at swift speed. The lightsabers screeched as friction caused the two beams to rub, discharges of power bringing small flashes of white light along the path of contact as Fenn's saber raced downward, only to loudly hum through the air as it suddenly changed course.

A quick snap of the wrists and, rather than lop Murdock's hands off as they clutched the weapon, the Bothan's lightsaber instead found the Nautolan's hilt; the metal tube offering as much resistance as the air as the sharply-defined edge of Fenn's lightsaber sheared clean through the weapon, just above the crystal-chamber. Sparks, the result of continued pulses of energy from the still active power cells, sputtered and died from the now bisected hilt as a result of Fenn's successful sun djem, and as the Nautolan backed up in panicked fear, Fenn advanced, holding his lightsaber point out threateningly close to his opponent.

"How's that for better?" Goaded the Bothan, his tone hissed through his canid teeth, grit in anger. There was no offer of surrender in either his words or tone, sweaty fur rippling upon the youth's body in a display of hostility and belligerence that could only point to a desire for revenge. For the first time in his life, Fenn felt powerful, as if he finally understood the nature of the Force, how easily it came to him in his time of need where it had at other times abandoned him; how simply in his hands things now seemed to move.

Unsuspecting, the boy toed the edge of the Dark Side as one dipped their feet in the waters of a river to test the temperature; the prospective Jedi Knight unaware of the threat that laid beyond the promising surfaces of power and potency. Another step brought him closer to Murdock; the point of his lightsaber hovering less than half a foot from the Nautolan's chest, ready to thrust forward and snuff the life from the blue-skinned man in one swift movement...

"I hope whatever Hell you end up in is cruel enough to match what you took today, you bast-." The Bothan growled, his voice low and practically saturated in intense aggression, only to be cut off by a sudden shudder. Klaxons wailing and screaming, the core began to reach critical mass; the reactor room shook as if in the hands of a frenzied giant, causing a cascade of explosions that sent shivers through the facility.

One such detonation, a coolant pipe beneath the walkway pressurized beyond even its theoretical maximum limits, blew Fenn backward; the sudden blast beneath his feet off-balancing the angered Jedi, too blinded by his focus on Murdock to take his surroundings in properly. Of course, the core; how could he have been so foolish? The core would overload, the facility would go up in a fireball; an explosion guaranteed to take out not only the blue-skinned traitor but the Jedi and, more than likely, a good portion of the surrounding area.

Another explosion shook the chamber and brought Fenn stumbling for the walkway handrail, screaming as habit brought his right leg to bear the load. A shard of white-hot agony pierced the boy's brain, and without even the slightest thought to wonder what had happened, the Bothan felt weak again; his stomach weak and churning, his head foggy. Adrenalin was one hell of a fuel but even it had its limits, and with his sense of concentration shattered between the failing reactor and the pain in his leg, the tentative funneling of the Force to feed his beleaguered body had been shattered, leaving the Bothan alone once again.

No, not alone; he was left with his fear, and his opponent.

The first wave of Force-power from Murdock sent Fenn sprawling, unable to take the blast as it slammed into his side, sending the furred wolf-man flying back-first to the walkway floor with a meaty thump with enough power behind it to force him to roll over himself, unwittingly bringing Fenn up to his knees. His lightsaber, however, had been sent along another path; equidistant between the two adversaries upon the walkway floor, blown out of Fenn's hands and sent flying upon impact.

Startled, his mind struggling to process the tumble he had been subjected to and failing to block out both the nerve-raking screams of the klaxons from his ears and the pain in his leg, Fenn barely had time to register the first rush of metallic doom hurtling toward him; hastily shoving out with every bit of strength he could muster through the Force to stuff the metal shards in their flight. Slowed down just enough by the feeble Force-push, the sharpened shards were still able to pierce the outer layer of cloth over his chest, just barely avoiding penetrating the fur and skin beneath, leaving surface-deep scratches along Fenn's left shoulder and side as they struck and bounced off.

Shuddering as he staggered to his feet, his right leg threatening to make him black out as the enmeshed fabric tugged at the skin once more, the Bothan watched in equal measures awe and panic as Murdock charged and leaped for him; his eyes wide as the Nautolan tumbled and prepared to kick him. It was fortuitous, perhaps even a miracle, that the blue skinned man hadn't noticed the absent lightsaber; Fenn desperately splaying his hands out and calling to his trusty weapon with the Force as if it were his strongest ally. Feeling himself connect to the metal tube, his only lifeline, the Bothan desperately pulled with all of his might, all of it that remained at his command, desperate to get the weapon in his hands in time to save his life.

For if that kick landed, Fenn knew there was little enough in him to get back up again in time to protect himself...

[Dutch]

Aaaawwww yisssss that's what I'm talking about. Way to go boys, that was a great read all around.

---

FINAL ROUND


Murdock Reyes
Effort: 5/5
Fairness: 3/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 3/5
Comments: Great final round there murdie. Bonus points mostly for wrecking your own lightsaber. One was given for explosions (i wanted moar *_*)

lion
Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 4/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 3/5
Comments: Good use of explosions there bud, def earned a good chunk from them (moooar *_*). A fun read, lots of groovy details and imagery. Though I'd recommend you try reading a post or two out loud next time you edit around SWU Run-ons made reading this a little hard for my ADD brain to pay attention xD

Total:

Murdock Reyes: 46

lion: 55

---

A truly wonderful little duel you boys had here. Was tons of fun for me to read, and you both took to the venue swimmingly. Loved the narrative ya'll wove together here, should consider plotting together in the future!

At the end of the day though, only one can be crowned the winner:

Congrats to lion for winning his debut practice duel!

Now...

FINISH HIM

[lion]

It were as if the motions of their intense confrontation, now that the conclusion was in sight, were choreographed rather than the results of two men desperately fighting for their lives; the result of which hinged solely upon the flight of a metal cylinder upon the wings of the Force. Weakened in the throes of adrenal withdrawal and practically crippled from his leg wound, Fenn could almost see his short life flash before his eyes in the reflection of his lightsaber as it flew toward him.

His ascension through the ranks of the Jedi, the formation of friendship and its later destruction, the fear and uncertainty of the trials that would define him as a man and as a Jedi for the years to come. All of it came down to a practical cred-toss; life and death hinging on the flight of an object made by his own hand, versus that of the man whose blade had already taken far too much than it had the right to.

But death, or the contact of Murdock's boots to his chest, was not to be, for with the slap of metal to flesh, Fenn's palm found his trusty lightsaber; a rush of energy surging through the Bothan's wounded and exhausted body for what he knew would be a final, grim push. Years of practice of the Shien form had granted the Bothan a semi-instinctive knowledge of its rote form, and so used to dealing with the threatening flight of blaster bolts and defending against them, the thought of a living body flying toward him seemed absurd.

If Murdock's choice of attack had seemed absurd, surely Fenn's response would have been nothing short of morbid. At the last moment, the lightsaber-toting jedi sidestepped to his left, twisting ninety degrees to his right in a sharp quarter-turn, his lightsaber blade humming violently as it flew downward from a high guard into a two-handed diagonal sweep, right high to left low.

The hair-thin, white-hot edge of the Bothan's lightsaber sheared indiscriminately through air, flesh and bone with little more than a flash of resistance; a slight jolt of feedback through the hilt traveling through Fenn's palms to let him know the strike had landed. Intercepting Murdock in mid-flight, Fenn's lightsaber tidily amputated the Nautolan's legs in a single stroke; separating the man from his lower extremities just above the knee joint, letting the blue-skinned man fall to the floor with a metallic thud.

Fenn did his best to block out the blood-curdling scream that followed; his sensitive canid ears unwilling to deal with the pain that would ensue.

Standing over the fallen Nautolan, blade hovering just above the still-living Murdock's sternum like a doctor's scalpel waiting for the incision, it was clear the young Jedi was hesitant. Even among the explosions that threatened to tear the facility apart, the whirlwind of emotional torment that had swept the boy up into rage enough to defeat the man, there was still the semblance of Jedi mercy, the unwillingness to kill.

Or so it seemed.

It started with a simple shake of the head, Fenn's gaze low to meet the Nautolan's to make sure Murdock could see the gesture; the refusal to grant a finishing blow, instead deactivating his lightsaber entirely. Reaching out with the Force to call for the destroyed hilt of Murdock's own weapon, the Bothan was quick to catch and pocket the pockmarked hilt, proof of the battle and attempted apprehension; ducking his head for a brief moment in flinching reaction to a cascade of detonations as failsafes protecting the core began to falter.

Without a word further, without a single gesture of acknowledgement, the Bothan turned and staggered; moving as fast as he could with one savagely injured leg toward the core chamber's exit, using the handrails of the walkway to guide him along. The Nautolan was as good as dead; there would be little time to escape for even a healthy man, letalone a now double-amputee. Even Fenn doubted his own chances, but with a hollow and fearful sensation gnawing at his stomach with each step, the boy could only wonder as to just what his future would hold among the Jedi.

He'd tasted the Dark Side now; every warning, every teaching said the first time was the hardest, that succumbing to the temptations now would only become that much easier. Driven by pain and grievance, the Bothan had taken one step closer to attaining his Knighthood, but likewise, one large step closer to his downfall to the Dark Side of the Force.

The thought was terrifying.

[Dutch]

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