Excon Ackdem {vs} Jauran Keyas

[Kella]

Notes// Alright fellahs, 'tis my first time overseeing a duel, so be forewarned... unexpectedness ahead. I know my way 'round the duel threads, though, so it shouldn't be a problem. :D //


Marvelous renderings belong to Adam Jostes. Clicky.


All is silent in the abandoned warehouse... it is night, and all is dark, save for the flickering shadows cast by a few lone lights. Many of their wires lay bare, sparks illuminating the crevices every so often, like small bursts of lightning. Crates are stacked here and there, haphazardly, while vertical tanks once painted yellow slink against the wall. Their paint is chipping, now, and it is impossible to read the labels that once identified the contents.

A catwalk extends overhead in an even grid. Except, that is, for the parts that have fallen completely away. The struts which support it look as if they've been rusting for decades; the whole thing could come crashing down at any moment. Below, the floor of the warehouse is concrete, and shadows cling to every corner. Many things lurk in this warehouse... for it was once a center of Postal trade. Abandoned shipments, corroded machines... it is unwise to disturb much of anything... Even the rats are too unsettled to call this place home.

And yet, the silence is deceiving, for it is simply the calm before the storm...


Excon Ackdem {vs} Jauran Keyas
6 rounds
Mando, Spec ops {vs} Rogue Droid

Challenger (Excon) goes first.

*blows whistle* Fight!

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Jaurans armored bodymass moved through the upper levels of the warehouse, up on the catwalk. His boots clanged heavily, his eyes stared down the holes, looking for something. He wasn't quiet either, he didn't expect anyone to be here, nor did he expect anyone to stop him. He was searching for a powercell for his broken ship, and someone had tipped him off that they'd seen one in here. It would be somewhat small, and bright green, with a computer chip looking design.

But all he managed to see were rusty equipment and old storage tanks. He couldn't even tell what each one held. What he was looking for should be rather obvious, somewhat lit up, and looking brand new, or at least useful. If that person had lied to him, Jauran decided now that he would have to shoot him in the face. Jauran Keyas doesn't appreciate liars.

His eyes continued to move through the empty darkness, and the scattered shelves, his feet propelled him down to the other end of the cat-walk. Nothing here. "Looks like I'll have to check a bit more thoroughly," He muttered, hopping down to the first floor, grunting slightly as he landed, absorbing the shock. He rose to his full height, and moved once again, searching for the thing. He stepped by a shelf, searching it quickly. Nothing. Next, suddenly, a flick the corner of his eye.

Jauran turned to see it. A small green power-cell. He smiled, reaching out and grabbing it from the shelf. He inspected it for a few moments, standing in the middle of the room...

[Karl the Unfettered]

Farther within the darkened building, one might have heard whirring noises, such as one might hear in the background of any such place. Naturally they would be odd in this particular area since it was abandoned, but people didn't tend to think too hard about that. Though, in this case, it would have greatly behooved Jauran to think awfully hard about that innocuous whirring noise...

He wouldn't have much time to realize his mistake, as the whirring increased in volume and became the smooth grind of well-greased metal sliding against metal, and the loud pulsing roar of powerful hydraulics. In the dimness a vast shape arose, turning toward the armored warrior with crashing steps. The whole warehouse shook and shuddered as it stepped smoothly, with seemingly deliberate lack of speed, down the aisle in between decrepit storage and ancient machines, toward him.

Jauran may have been big by normal standards, but this machine overtopped even him by a good three feet at least. Its battered shell spoke of countless impacts and failed attacks, and even in the dim light it gleamed subtly, in the odd way that only ultrachrome could. "Query: Who are you, little gizka, and what are you doing in my hideout?" it asked, in a loud mechanical voice that carried easily over the crash of its steps; a strong undercurrent of static did not make it any less clear, but lent a sense of menace to the already immense droid.

"Retraction: But I am remiss, forgive my rudeness," it went on, stopping beneath one of the still-functioning lights. That light revealed it in more detail, its immense size and the great tools attached to its forearms; a nail gun and an arc welder, though there was no doubt the droid could wield them as devastating weaponry. "I go by Excon Ackdem," and its torso bent over in a stiff parody of a bow, "and I am what you might call a rogue droid. Now, I'll ask again: who are you, and how did you come to this place?"

Its voice was distinctly masculine; perhaps it could be referred to as a he?

[Kella]

Verreh Nice...

Deceit - Jauren

Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: 1/2 (Very nice, fair set-up at the end.)
Comments: Great job giving Jauran a reason to be there. I could have used a bit more sensory detail, and a bit more emotion; my mental picture was a wee bit fuzzy. Though, you had a brilliant set-up at the end; perfect place for Excon to come in. Like the prey is unaware of the predator's scheme... Kudos.

Karl - Excon

Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: /2
Comments: Great job on the mental image; I could picture everything beautifully. Loved the part where he stepped under the light, and your introductory paragraph deserves commendation. Definitely feelin' your character, keep it up. Could've used a bit more as to why this particular place was his hideout, though, and what he'd been up to.

Total:

Deceit - 18
Karl - 19

Goin' pretty easy on the first round... might get a bit tougher later, though. Keep up the good work.

Edit// modified for formatting errors... //

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

The great whirr of hydraulics, the great pounding of feet. The sound of stone smashing and cracking, metal slamming heavily into the floor. Jauran whipped his head over to the side, quickly putting the powercell he had obtained into a pouch at his side. He stared at the darkness, unsure of what exactly he was staring at. Some monstrous figure, looming in the dark, larger than even he. The very strength with which it walked shook the area, causing Jauran to blink as the high impacts jarred his head and bones, vibrations traveling alacritously across the stone surface.

The steady thump of the great warriors heart rose instantly. He was a Mandalorian, he feared not death. He feared not battle. But whatever this was, it promised just those things. In his heart he was eager and yet terrified. What exactly was it? He took a step back, the comfortable and efficient design of his armor bending and moving well with his body-movements. His steps were away from the monster, wanting to figure out exactly what it was before he engaged it.

He also made a good point of grabbing the energy shotgun on his back; the cool steel fitting comfortably in his hands. He held the deceptively devastating weapon close to him, as if it were merely a toy made to comfort and assure him. But he kept his wits about him, he allowed his body to tense up, ready to dodge, run, or charge if the situation called for it. He was limber and ready to move in any direction.

In the limited vision provided by his helmets visor, he saw a spark of machinery off to the side, caused by the many exposed electrical wires of the many devices. The alluring, blue flash of electricity illuminated a small passage which he could use to get through if he needed to.

The monstrous thing stepped into the light. Jauran looked up and down the heavy plating and armor that made the thing, the great girth and height of the behemoth. It was a droid, he could tell, looking at the battered and apparently war torn droid. The face and exoskeleton none too appealing, and quite imposing. Even more intimidating were the weapons along each arm, not only was this thing strong enough to rip a man in half, but on either appendage it had a menacing piece of equipment. A large nailgun on one arm, and an arc-welder on the other. Even now, he could see a slight, blue spark erupt from the arc-welder, and reminded himself not to look directly at it.

It spoke; "Query: Who are you, little gizka, and what are you doing in my hideout?" Jauran narrowed his eye at the condescending comment, but did not immediately reply, nor did he offer any quip, or any further sign of antagonization. Perhaps a droid could be reasoned with. Perhaps he need not fight it. After all, his squad needed the power cell that he held, and he didn't feel the same feeling of supreme superiority he felt when dealing with most beings. Jauran, ever the cautious and contemplative one, simply stared at it.

There was no way he was going to tell this thing his name or why he was here. He was suppose to remain a secret. Nobody could know of the Mandalorian presence. Something in its sentence caught his attention though, the machine had spoken the word hide-out. Curious that a machine would hide. Perhaps this pointed toward some sentience; a very capable AI. That would make what may be a coming battle much tougher.

"Retraction: But I am remiss, forgive my rudeness," Jauran noticed two more things. The machine had a distinctly male voice, perhaps designed that way? Probably to match the rather masculine body-design and purpose for the machine. Another thing, it was being polite, but not as though it had been forced to. In fact, most droids that made efforts to be 'polite' had such features programmed in, and didn't respond with any sort of initial harsh words. A unique machine.

"I go by Excon Ackdem," It spoke before giving a very rudimentary form of a bow. He narrowed his eyes again. Perhaps it was, indeed, seeking some sort of peaceful solloution.
"and I am what you might call a rogue droid. Now, I'll ask again: who are you, and how did you come to this place?"

Jauran stood up straight, acting with some authority. He didn't know what this droid was, or what it was capable of, but he would try to reason with it---Without giving his name.

"I am nobody of importance." Jauran replied, not allowing any nervous or stiff behaviour into his voice or demeanor. He was emotionless as the machine before him, his voice not quite monotone, but not enthused or with any real emotion, "And entered through the front door in search of this." He pulled out the power-cell briefly, then replaced it, "Move, that I may leave this place without further disturbance."

[Karl the Unfettered]

Ahh, another scavenger, it seemed. But a very rude one all the same, Excon would have to teach him some manners. "Reprimand: It is considered rude not to introduce yourself when visiting someone else's residence," he began, "though you've already trampled the boundaries of courtesy with your wanton trespass." His photoreceptors whirled as he scanned Jauran in greater detail. "Musing: I cannot let you leave, not without incident," he went on. "You would reveal my location, and despite my durability I do not enjoy being hounded endlessly."

What Excon had done to warrant having to hide out would make a story in and of itself. It had begun innocuously enough, with the great machine taking a job with a local construction gang; they had made good use of his size, strength, and tools whilst renovating a local school, and he had been happy to prove himself useful. The stickler came when he had demanded payment at the completion of the job; the paymaster had refused, saying droids were property and didn't need payment.

Oh, how that had rankled.

Excon had countered by saying he was a free droid and not beholden to any master, not anymore, and he'd be paid or else life would get uncomfortable. At that the paymaster had laughed, saying he was a machine, for pete's sake, what on earth would he need with money? They had already oiled him and greased his joints, replenished his reservoirs of hydraulic fluid and spikes for his gun, what more did he need?

Ohh, how that had rankled.

Naturally Excon was mad; naturally he made his displeasure known; naturally a great many people died and much property was damaged or destroyed; naturally someone survived and brought the official wrath of righteousness on his battered metal carapace. They had for the most part been inneffective, though Excon had still wearied of them coming after him, so he had fled from the scenes and holed up in this abandoned warehouse for safety.

That had been some days ago, and until now he had been safe. But then this insolent fellow came in, threatening his safety. It was enough to make him mad again. "Chiding Statement: You speak very boldly in demanding that I move," he went on in a much more menacing voice than before, his photoreceptors flickering red as his combat algorithms activated. "I am afraid I cannot let you depart; you are too much of a security risk. At the very least, I must teach you manners."

With that, there was nothing else to say; things were going to get ugly. His left foot whirred loudly and crackled as the electromagnets activated, clamping him solidly into place; his right foot rose into the air, and rose and rose, until the knee would have been at Juaran's chest. It whirred and crackled as well, though much louder and sharper than the other foot, and he let it fall to the ground.

The impact made everything shudder horrendously; he had stomped down with every bit of force his legs could muster, augmented to insane levels by the electromagnets. The floor cracked and buckled; the surrounding machinery and storage units tilted alarmingly, some falling over and adding to the general din. What was worse, though, was the noise, the echoing crash and the wrenching splinters of metal as parts of the warehouse caved in.

"Exclamation: You will not escape, little gizka!" Excon declared loudly, his voice audible even over the noise of the destruction. "Give in now, and your death will be quick; or resist and I won't be able to guarantee such!" He was moving forward, ponderously, deliberately, shoving aside fallen debris as easily as Juaran might have swatted a fly. "I have been destroying your kind for years, I've gotten very good at it!"

[Kella]

I see you've worked in my feedback, both of you. :D Very nice job...


Deceit - Jauren

Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: You did your research, and described Jauren's perspective on Excon well. Hence the bonus point. I also loved how you compared his weapon to a toy; an unexpected, but definitely Mando view on things.

Karl - Excon

Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 4/5
Detail: 3/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: /2
Comments: Beastly. ;D I'm lovin' this droid. Just make sure you keep things properly fair, and we'll be all set. You did a great job of explaining why he chose the hideout. However, I had to re-read the stomping bit a couple times to make sure I knew what you were getting at, and I'm still not solidly sure, so a point off detail for that. Great post, though.

Total:

Deceit - 36
Karl - 35

I have a feeling this is going to be a very close battle... >:D

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

( XD, hope you like it. I had to imply alot: I'm new to this and don't really know how to attack without taking some slight control of the enemy. Tried not to take any control, but if I did please don't hesitate to shout. )

"Reprimand: It is considered rude not to introduce yourself when visiting someone else's residence, though you've already trampled the boundaries of courtesy with your wanton trespass."

Jauran couldn't suppress a sneer at that. As far as he'd known it was abandoned, and he didn't feel like being reprimanded by a droid, even a unique one. He clutched his shotgun tighter.

"Musing: I cannot let you leave, not without incident, You would reveal my location, and despite my durability I do not enjoy being hounded endlessly. Chiding Statement: You speak very boldly in demanding that I move," he went on in a much more menacing voice than before, his photoreceptors flickering red as his combat algorithms activated. "I am afraid I cannot let you depart; you are too much of a security risk. At the very least, I must teach you manners."

So that was that. This droid wasn't going to let him leave. It was Okay with Jauran, though. He didn't mind a challenge at all. Granted, this was a really big challenge, but a challenge none the less. The man inside him said flee. But the Mando inside him told him to tear this thing a new one. His pride a Mandolorian kept him from leaving, even as he watched the massive machine began to move. There were lights and whirring noises, beeping and flashing to a cacophonous and rather irritating crescendo. Jauran watched the power build within the machine. It was planning a massive stomp. He bent his legs, feeling his body mass strain to keep him up in an awkward, poised position.

BOOM! The whole building shuddered as the leg slammed into the ground. Concrete cracked beneath the leg, the mighty monsters action created a shudder throughout the building. A mass of vibration and energy rocked the entire building, weak infrastructure caved in around the building, farther into it, not close enough to be of any immediate attention. Jauran felt his legs strain more, press upward. Before the mass of energy could reach him he leapt into the air. The vibrations that knocked items and equipment off of their shelves, shook the walls, caused equipment to spudder and spark, did not affect Jauran. It would have thrown him off balance, but none of the energy waves but sound could touch him. The vibrations passed beneath him. Nothing touched him. His legs hit the ground again, and he was already in motion. As was his foe, Excon.

The mighty machine tossed things out of the way and started another useless dialogue. It was already pretty clear to Jauran its intensions. He planned on giving it a few lessons, not in manners, but in anger and self control. He felt his body moving, watched as the openness disipated. He was rolling through the crevice he'd spied earlier, coming up in a crouch on the otherside, and adjacent hallway. He raced, head down and crouched, along this hall, forward toward Excon but with the rack of shelves and such between it and him.

Suddenly, a certain part of its dialogue did catch his attention, "I have been destroying your kind for years, I've gotten very good at it!"

Of course this thing has killed before. None of its actions or appearance presented otherwise. However, those words implied that it had killed Mandalorians. True or not, it was a possibility. A different kind of pride swelled in him. Now he didn't just fight for himself. Even if this thing squashed him flat he'd teach it not to mess with the Mando's. He grit his teeth under his helmet, and came to a stop. Excon was still traveling forward to where Jauran had been. Or at least it seemed, he couldn't tell, too dark and the thing was even loud when it wasn't moving. Either way, Jauran had moved swiftly. He was now behind it.

He found another little crevice and crouched underneath a shelf, appearing back on the same line of shelves that Excon and him were at earlier. Behind the machine, he jumped across the hall, shouting, "FOR MANDALORE!" And raised his shotgun, taking a swift general aim for the back of the knee-caps, jumping into the air behind the thing and feeling a powerful recoil as a spray of green-ish beams fired forward straight for the machines hind caps. It was heavily armored, but it was his guess that around the joints there may be some cracks or crevices that would allow the machine to move, and perhaps one of the shots would be through: Perhaps one would hit some wiring or something, because he knew that he could pump round after round into this thing without affect. He needed to get, literally, underneath its skin.

He hit the ground with a roll, coming up a few inches from the opposite side of the little 'hall' he jumped from. He was right next to some large card-board box that had been shipped in. It was dusty and falling apart now, with cobwebs along the side. Jauran knew that behind there was a wall, so he had only three options. Toward the big guy, back the way he'd rolled, or a backward retreat, to where Excon had come from. That is, if his shot had been inneffective; there was a large chance that it had done nothing at all. Jauran was obliged to consider a strategic retreat.

( In case of confusion: The Earthquake/vibrations could be scientifically termed as 'energy' waves, since they are mere kinetic energy. As I explained to Karl when he asked: Those vibrations are made up of energy, kinetic energy. The molecules and movement is expanding outward; as would a wave. Energy can be scientifically defined as anything the works or causes change---Hence a wave of energy. The vibrations are pure kinetic energy, shifting molecules transfering their energy to the other one through heat as molecules rubbed up against the others with their activity and vibrating, causing--Friction, and heat. )

[Karl the Unfettered]

Jauran's blaster attack had, indeed, done very little; Excon wouldn't even have noticed it if the Mandalorian hadn't shouted. "Taunting Statement: Are you attacking me with a hold-out blaster, little gizka?" he called out loudly as he turned around, just catching sight of Juaran ducking into another little hallway of shelves. "I've had rocket launchers fired at me and they did little more than that 'attack' of yours just now!"

This, by the way, was entirely true. One job had taken the droid to Metellos, where he was to serve as a meatshield and cover for a group of mercenaries hired to take out some terrorists. The terrorists were unusually well-supplied, hence the need for someone as specialized and thuggish as Excon. The mercenaries' plan was simple, at least the part that had been explained to the droid; he was to march out into the open and let the terrorists blast away at him, while they attempted to move around and flank them.

The massive machine had agreed to this, and the plan went off flawlessly. He lumbered into plain view of the terrorists' hide-out, calling out raucous insults and challenges to the honor of their mothers. Naturally they had taken umbrage at this, and without further adieu unleashed everything they had against the slowly approaching droid. Blasters, heavy repeaters, slugthrowers and armor-piercing rounds galore; none of it had any effect at all, except to wear his shielding down a little and inflict minor dings and dents in his much-battered carapace. The only real threat had come when they'd unlimbered the rocket launchers, and even that wasn't much of a threat; Excon had simply locked himself into immobile rigidity with the electromagnets in his feet, and let them fire away.

When they were through he kept moving forward, creating no small amount of consternation and panic among the terrorists. Finally someone thought of setting up the turbolaser, but by then it was too late; the mercenary team had come around and penetrated them from the sides and rear, and in short order the terrorists were eliminated. Excon was well paid for his part, since the mercenaries and their own clients had no wish to further incite the droid's rage.

"Exclamation: You think you can hide from me?" Excon called out as he thudded down the hallway toward where he had last seen Juaran. "Perhaps you can, but allow me to show you the futility of your efforts!" Without even a pause in his relentless pacing, he brought an arm up and swept it to the side; this had the effect of knocking down the row of shelves beside him, which fell into the next row, and the next. In short order the entire line had fallen like dominoes, with enough force to crush anything caught beneath them.

"Musing: Where are you now, little gizka," the droid said to himself as he scanned the area for signs of life, once the dust and noise of the shelves falling over had settled. "I trust you have more ingenuity and fortitude than to fall for that old trick."

[Kella]

Deceit - Jauren

Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 4/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: /2
Comments: What assumptions you made were well-placed. Also, I loved that he found new strength in fighting for his fellow Mandolorians. Very nice. ;D One thing I noticed, though; in your 5th paragraph, you use the word 'building' three times, very close. It ended up a bit redundant, so you might want to watch out for that in the future; restructure your sentences a bit.

Karl - Excon

Effort: 3/5
Fairness: 4/5
Detail: 4/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: /2
Comments: Talk about bull in a china shop... ;D Love the way this guy talks. The anecdote definitely adds some depth to his character, though I would have preferred a bit more about the present. Great post.

Total:

Deceit - 52
Karl - 51


Awesome posts, guys, keep it up. ;D

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Jauran watched wide widened eyes as the massive machine knocked over the row of shelves. He quickly found a spot in the toppling shelf where there was an opening, a hole that could fit him, and crouched in a position so that everything would come crashing down all around him, but missing him entirely.

It was like the world was falling down upon him for a moment, as the two heavy metal surfaces slammed down on all sides around him, straddling him. The clamor was loud, deafening even with him next ot it. All along the shelves that fell, he heard the metalic slams and clangs as equiment broke. Some sparks flew into the air as machines snapped or wires were ripped out. The metal ringing of tin cans and other like items hitting the ground. Jauran opened his clenched eyes, looking at the shelf that had fallen around him.

It offered minimal cover, but also kept him from view. Jauran didn't move, as the voice of the monstrous droid rang out, he was struck with an idea. Perhaps he didn't quite 'fall' for it, but the sudden silence might make the droid think he did. Surely many of the shelves were heavy enought to kill normal men. Perhaps not Jauran, but certainly break something. He grinned, the monster would think him dead, or at least that he'd hid off and was flanking or running. He could indeed hide. He could indeed.

As the droid searched, he watched with scrutinizing eyes, mentally going over what had just happened. His weapon had absolutely no effect, of course. This frustrated him, but did not stop him. There were other ways. After all, every armor had weaknesses. He went over inventory, mentally discarding for now the use of his shotgun, for he'd seen the bullets slam into the back of Excon's leg, and he saw how they sizzled against the steel but were merely absorbed with not so much as a scorch mark. The damn machine was made well.

In his current inventory, he had little. A few ammo cartridges, a sidearm, two thermal detonators, and his two vibroswords.

Just...Great...

He sat there, rubbing his hand over the thermal detonators, searching for some weakness...Some place he could lob this grenade and harm this droid. If he couldn't kill it, he may just have to settle for direly ruining its day before leaving back to his ship...For now, he only sat there, hidden waiting to see whether the droid would search for him or not...He knew that if it rose its foot to stomp, he'd rise up and lob.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Initial scans didn't pick up anything, and more in-depth attempts would take too much time and power if the initial starting point was too far from the target's location; by then the little gizka could have come around and done something ill. "Statement: I shall flush you out then, gizka!" Excon declared, once again raising his leg to deliver another pulverizing stomp. Halfway up, though, the leg slowed, stopped, then went back down without doing much (even that impact, however slight, caused vibrations and rattling around him).

"Musing: That would be too obvious," he said to himself. The stomp attack wasn't the best among his arsenal; it took time to prepare, and while he was on one leg he was vulnerable. Granted, most opponents were too consumed with fear or loathing to consider such tactical niceties, but this one, this Mandalorian, was clearly of a different calibre. Fear and intimidation, at least of the normal sort, would not work. He would have to make use of his other attacks, of course.

Knowing it was risky, Excon went ahead and activated the deep scanners, focusing on where he had last seen Jauran and moving left. "Exclamation: There you are!" he announced gleefully, quickly detecting Jauran's heat signature beneath a fallen shelf. "You won't get away this time!" The massive droid planted both his feet solidly to the ground, creating a great deal of noise as the electromagnets whirred to life and locked him in place; one arm, the one bearing the spike ram, rose up into firing position, and the other hand clamped on just below the elbow.

In a more normally proportioned being, this would be a bracing action, but surely Excon had no need of such. And he didn't; he was using the electromagnets in his hand against the circuitry in the spike ram, adding even more power to it. The general roar of the droid's various systems rose to a fever pitch, creating a defeaning cacophany that would render unprepared gizkas helpless (noise could be an effective weapon in and of itself, after all). The spike ram, which worked on magnetic acceleration principles, hummed and sizzled, adding its own noise to the din.

A loud, ratcheting clank announced a spike was ready in the chamber, and the humming of the weapon grew in intensity. "Menacing Declaration: Die, gizka!" the droid roared, causing more shelves and parts of the warehouse to collapse from the sound waves alone. A split second of tracking to allow for any movement on Jauran's part, and Excon fired the massive spike. It was solid durasteel, almost four feet long and an inch thick at the base, tapering to a sharpened neuranium tip; meant to drive through stone and metal, against mere flesh and armor it simply obliterated. The speed with which it flew through the air could not be measured in simple mathematics, either; in confined spaces like this, it could easily be mistaken as instantaneous.

[Kella]

Round 4

Sooooo sorry you guys had to wait so long for this. My profuse apologies...

Deceit - Jauren

Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 5/5
Detail: 3/5
Coolness: 4/5
Bonus: 1/2
Comments: "If he couldn't kill it, he may just have to settle for direly ruining its day before leaving back to his ship..." I don't know why, but that just made me laugh. xD Hence the bonus point. Oh, and if you ever feel a little strapped for how to describe something, go ahead and throw in a few metaphors. Or a lot of metaphors. It can give things a little zing. ;D (Just don't become metaphor obsessed, like the gal who gave me that advice... xD roffle.)

Karl - Excon

Effort: 4/5
Fairness: 3/5
Detail: 5/5
Coolness: 5/5
Bonus: 2/2
Comments: You have definitely got the cool-factor nailed. ;D "Menacing Declaration: Die, Gizka!" I chuckled. Several times. Hence the bonus points. X) Anywho, I would have liked it to take Excon a little bit longer to find Jauren, hence the penalty on the fairness, but it wasn't outrageously unfair. ;) I loved the description of his spike ram, very nice. ;D Great detail.


Total:

Deceit - 69
Karl - 71

It's still so close! ;D

*waits eagerly for the battle to continue, turns up Harmageddon*

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

When the great machine missed Jauran with initial scans he grinned widely, perhaps he could sneak up on this thing. It made more than enough noise just walking and even just standing still, the loud whine of power-systems, mechanical clockworks and slamming metal feet was great enough to cover Jauran's noise at running speed. It was the thermal scans and frequency scanners that he needed to watch out for, and he was greatly joyed when the thing didn't notice him.

Excon raised one great foot, thinking to stomp Jauran out of his hole, Jauran eagerly readied his thermal grenade, rearing his arm and positioning his thumb over the button. Then the droid merely ceased and put its foot down, still creating a loud amount of noise and catastrophe in and of itself. It started to talk to itself, a rather useless gesture to Jauran, and mused that such a tactic was too obvious.
Jauran hated it when his enemies were clever enough to analyze the flaws in their movements.

Of course, the droid then went back to scanning, and he could see, if not hear, the click of thermal vision and the red glow of the machines eyes. It was like a pair of laser pointers, a thing that was quite obvious and even blinding when shined at you. And so Jauran knew for sure that he had been discovered by the great machine. It moved its body, great gears grinding together and well seamed plates scraping ever so 'gently.' He cursed his bad luck as the machines arm came to bare in his direction, and the droid exclaimed that he'd found him.

Jauran didn't really know what the weapon being pointed at him was. The droids mechanisms began to get louder, whining and beeping as magnetic and electronic forces met each other, their energies mixing and building to a crescendo. The spike ram pointed menacingly at him, and Jauran could see the great machine twisting as a spike was put into place. He could tell the machines intent now. It was going to fire that thing at him.

Jauran knew enough of powering things up to realise that whatever forces were making such a noise, it was charging quite possibly one of the most devastating weapons known to man-kind, and would probably be at speeds that mocked mere mortals. He could tell that the droid knew the flaws in its own weapons, that it took forever to charge and was quite obvious, and so he knew that the machine would calculate Jauran moving around into its aiming.

There were many sounds, one a scream that rose to a bloody screech, like that of the grinding noise that many necks that Jauran had snapped made, haunting him and wanting their revenge. Another was a loud whine, the noise of the hundreds of children whining about going hungry, it seemed to Jauran, and he remembered his own daughter. His own daughter...Suddenly a fire lit up in Jauran's eyes as he remembered himself. He wasn't here just for a Mandolorian mission. He was here for his family. He was getting money for them to live off of. He was fighting, in every sense of the way, for his family, the only way he knew how.

He remembered his wife and he remembered his daughter, sitting upon a rocking chair and waving good-bye to him, making him promise that he'd return safely. And Jauran Keyas would not break the first promise he ever made to his newborn child. Jauran Keyas would live this day, and he would take the babe into his arms. And suddenly he knew that he would escape this monster, escape this place. He found a brand new focus and rage burning within him, heightening his senses, creating a new man all together. Creating a true Mandolorian Warrior, who fights and dies for blood and clan. Who fights and wins for blood and clan.

The cacophony, like a flock of crows coming in to feast upon the rotting flesh of the dead, rose to a brilliant crescendo and Jauran knew his course. This spike would be coming at speeds too fast for any human to dodge. Way too fast, and since he'd done nothing but stand here, he knew the droid would re-calculate his aim. So Jauran was presented with a single course of action.

He quickly depressed the button on the thermal detonator and stood like a statue, uncaring and unmoving before Excon. Calm like bomb. He waited, the Spike Ram was almost ready, almost...

"Menacing Declaration: Die Gizka!" The sound bit through his attempts to ignore all noise around him, and he knew that it would also mask the firing. The grenade was about explode in his grasp; perfect timing. He lobbed the little ball forward, and an excellent explosion of fire and kinetic energy erupted like fireworks before him, the edges of the fires swirling in their brilliance, the flames blinding the Droid's thermal sensors, making it impossible to track Jauran's movements.

Jauran ducked forward and rolled, heading toward the droid, one of the least expected courses. In his hands the other thermal detonator flashed out, his pistol in the other hand and raised. His shotgun was once again against his back, and Jauran ran right underneath the large machine. As his feet pumped forward and his adrenaline spiked up dramatically, he felt a rush of wind. There was a blinding pain along his arm, but it lasted only a split second. Suddenly a noise behind him, the sound of the spike drilling through everything and embedding itself deep, deep, deep into the ground, metal, concret, and everything else in the way wrenching apart.

His new tactic: Full retreat, his method, blind.

He depressed the grenade as he had pulled it out, and now his gave it a large upward toss, hoping this machine would not be fast enough to crush him beneath its legs, also hoping that the second grenade would fry its vision.

The grenade went straight up, flying into the air, going above the droids head, hitting its climax and coming down. Conveniently, when its ticker ran out it was less than five inches from Excon's face because of the arch. Jauran's feet punched into the ground over and over, propelling him passed the machine and down the concrete warehouse floor. He saw a catwalk coming up.

Jauran jumped into the air, lifting his free hand up and grabbing the catwalk, making a motion to throw his pistol up onto the catwalk above and get a good grip. There was no metallic clang signifying that the pistol landed on the catwalk. Nor was their any stop for his hand as he reached for the catwalk. His arm flailed forward, missing entirely. "Hm?" He had to sound off.

It was only then that he took a look at his hand...

It was only then that he took a look at his bleeding stump...

"Hnn...." he mused, as though it had simply stumped him ( witty pun! ). Shock took over then, and he let go of the catwalk in the moment of surprise and wonderment. His hand was gone! Just gone! By Mandalore he hadn't even realised it! He landed on his bum and just sort of stared at his missing hand for a good few seconds, wondering...Then he figured out that the spike had taken it away, and Jauran set his jaw and said, "Well f**k...Lesson learned." Then he rose back to his feet and turned to look at the machine, waving his missing fist grudgingly at the machine and spewing a few curses.