Post by avayl on Aug 13, 2012 13:33:11 GMT -5
The tips of his trench coat dragged across the filth that covered the marble floors. He moved the tip of his left boot across the ground, testing how the layers of dirt and dust would interfere with the grip to the marble. He stuck his blue hands inside of the coat pockets and dig out cigarette and lighter. The red and blue fire ignited with a hollow metallic clink. He took a long drag to light the tip and extinguished the fire.
He stepped father into the arena. Beyond the waiting room was a small bridge across a moat of water that never stopped moving. This moat held unknown member of the small aquatic life.
It had been a very long time since he had fought anyone. He looked to the spectators above. Their dim intoxicated eyes surveyed him, sizing him up for their wagers, assessing the odds. He wide brimmed hat covered most of his face but he let them see his hard lined jaw and thin stretched mouth. His mouth was dry, the adrenalin was just on the edge of flooding his system. Non-vital systems were temporarily shutting down; digestive, rectile. Everything that didn't matter to keep him alive for just a while longer.
His mind wandered as he waited there. What was his opponent going to be like? Was it someone he knew? For many years he had traveled this galaxy. Wandered the stars, drifted through nebulae, raced comets and destroyers alike. Drug running very rarely had its fun and that was only when sh*t hit the fan. More often than not he sat in a cargo vessel passing from one system to the next. The blur of hyperspace forever in the sights. It had been a very long time since Avayl had worked for the old Sith regime. Little existed of that now. Nothing that he knew about power, domination, conquest meant anything to him now. It was almost indescribable to see the extent in which he fell. All those people, bent on defeating the Jedi. What now?
He snapped back and looked down at his hands. They were gloved with the fingers cut out. hard metal plates covered his back hand, first knuckles and extended down his forearm. It attached solidly to his bracers, the primary defense in any knife fight. On his chest, the tactical vest held only minor protective armor. The best compensation for how much freedom of movement he wanted to retain. The greaves on his legs covered from boot to knee and all the way around.
The weapons on him were not what we would normally choose. His blaster holsters were empty; no projectile weapons inside the arena. Oh well, he had on him instead lightweight Tremor Swords. ((http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sith_Tremor_Sword)) The long blades curved to an end at the tip, the wide guard curved down around his hand and the large pommel made for a great two-handed weapon if he wanted. Besides that he had two smaller knifes strapped to his legs.
He looked up again as the announcer began his intro of the oncoming opponent. The crowd stirred.
((Everyone/anyone is welcome to join in))
He stepped father into the arena. Beyond the waiting room was a small bridge across a moat of water that never stopped moving. This moat held unknown member of the small aquatic life.
It had been a very long time since he had fought anyone. He looked to the spectators above. Their dim intoxicated eyes surveyed him, sizing him up for their wagers, assessing the odds. He wide brimmed hat covered most of his face but he let them see his hard lined jaw and thin stretched mouth. His mouth was dry, the adrenalin was just on the edge of flooding his system. Non-vital systems were temporarily shutting down; digestive, rectile. Everything that didn't matter to keep him alive for just a while longer.
His mind wandered as he waited there. What was his opponent going to be like? Was it someone he knew? For many years he had traveled this galaxy. Wandered the stars, drifted through nebulae, raced comets and destroyers alike. Drug running very rarely had its fun and that was only when sh*t hit the fan. More often than not he sat in a cargo vessel passing from one system to the next. The blur of hyperspace forever in the sights. It had been a very long time since Avayl had worked for the old Sith regime. Little existed of that now. Nothing that he knew about power, domination, conquest meant anything to him now. It was almost indescribable to see the extent in which he fell. All those people, bent on defeating the Jedi. What now?
He snapped back and looked down at his hands. They were gloved with the fingers cut out. hard metal plates covered his back hand, first knuckles and extended down his forearm. It attached solidly to his bracers, the primary defense in any knife fight. On his chest, the tactical vest held only minor protective armor. The best compensation for how much freedom of movement he wanted to retain. The greaves on his legs covered from boot to knee and all the way around.
The weapons on him were not what we would normally choose. His blaster holsters were empty; no projectile weapons inside the arena. Oh well, he had on him instead lightweight Tremor Swords. ((http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sith_Tremor_Sword)) The long blades curved to an end at the tip, the wide guard curved down around his hand and the large pommel made for a great two-handed weapon if he wanted. Besides that he had two smaller knifes strapped to his legs.
He looked up again as the announcer began his intro of the oncoming opponent. The crowd stirred.
((Everyone/anyone is welcome to join in))