Interlude – Know your enemy, know his sword - Conclusion
by (G) Arrain - Lieutenant Arrienye t'Merek & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
OLD:
Tharek was know stuck. Was Arrienye an assassin? If so, she had the perfect opportunity. But, Tharek wasn't going to let some lackey of a higher power kill him. Or a Bolian. He would deal with Arrienye afterwards.
The compere shouted "Fight!" and the entire maintenance bay seemed to hold its breath.
NEW:
::ON::
Tharek stood and smiled, shifting the blade in his hands. Assassins behind him, armed Bolians in front. He was enjoying himself extremely. "Your move my dear," he stated loudly and clearly to the blue-skinned combatant.
The Bolian grinned, and action the stretched her scars into razor thin white lines. For a moment they circled each other, the Bolian as wary of Getal as a mongoose was of the cobra. Then she exploded into action, jabbing at his face with the strange polearm/sword hybrid with one hand, whilst casting the net at his legs with the other.
He jumped to the side, rolling away from the net. The curved sword defending his face as the Bolian began her attack. In response she pressed forward, sweeping the net around and up to whiplash at his own weapon whilst her short-spear swung under it to scythe at his belly.
Just at that moment, something shiny caught Tharek's eye. Arrienye was back in his line of sight, off to the side. Her blade was out and she slid it slowly up her leg as she unsheathed it. She met his eyes again for a moment as she brought the blade forwards, running the tips of her gloved fingers along the very sharp blade of the dagger.
Tharek caught sight of Arrienye, and in the split second he lost concentration on the fight, the Bolian had caught his legs and thrown him to the ground. She swung her weapon down on Tharek, but he was quick to regain himself, and rolled out of the scythes path.
As Tharek rolled aside, the crowd hissed bloodthirsty disappointment at his narrow escape. For a moment Yolanthe had turned a bright green as the Cardassian had hit the ground. She watched him move in silence, hugging herself tightly to control the urge to step forward and defend him, and chewing on one knuckle.
His opponent wasn't giing him much time to rest; the blade of her own weapon stabbing down again and again as he rolled, missing him by hair's breadths each time. Not to be thwarted, a cuff connected to the net hauled it into her hand in barely a second, and she cast it again, this time entangling his own sword. She hauled hard on the net, intending to drag it drag his hands.
Nearby Arrienye was holding the dagger by the tip of it's blade while eying Tharek very closely as seemed to weigh the weapon in her hand.
The sword fell with the net, and Tharek was left defenseless. Or appeared to be defenseless. He charged forward with blinding speed, and struck a firm, solid blow into the Bolian's stomach.
She made an unpleasant grunting sound as the air left her lungs, but didn't lose her wits. She grabbed Getal by the shirt, hooked her ankle around his and used his own momentum to throw him over her hip and send him staggering across the ring.
As Tharek staggered he saw that he was heading in Arrienye's direction and the woman had a very deadly look in her eye as she toyed with her dagger, a rather menacing looking thing with carved symbols on the side. She suddenly seemed to shift the dagger, tip first, into her other left hand and moved as if to throw it straight at him.
Tharek was now stuck between a rock and a hard place. A very hard place. The Cardassian flicked himself up, and had a mental kick up the ass to get himself in gear. No more mistakes, focus. He thought, as he made a diving grab for his blade.
The sword was still tangled in the bolian's net. As he lunnged for it, she made to flick it away. She wasn't quite fast enough, and hie was pulling away. The two weapons were now tangled together between them in a tug-of-war. The Bolian strained against Tharek's strength, hoping to pull him off balance once more.
Tharek was ready this time, and reversed her pull, bringing the Bolian off her feet and laying at Tharek's. In return she didn't hesitate to jab awkwardly at the Cardassian's groin with her half-spear. The tip of the blade caught the leg of his pants and ripped it open, missing him by a hair's breadth.
"You blue bitch." He said, as he stomped down with all his might onto her face. The impact alone made a sickening noise that would turn the strongest stomach.
Arrienye was close to the ring. A little too close for most people's comfort. And as Tharek stomped onto the woman's scarred face, there was a burst of blue blood that promptly splashed onto Arrienye's shirt, with a small amount staining her otherwise pale neck. She winced in disgust, looking away from the ring. She swallowed hard before turning back to look at Getal, the blue color of her eyes matching the color of the dead Bolian's blood as she looked at Getal evenly, seemingly unaffected by the monstrous display.
In a way, she found it comforting. It only strengthened the argument that, Tharek, like most rabid animals, has to be put down without doubt or mercy.
The crowd, bloodthirsty as ever, had echoed the Cardassian's words with shouts and howls of their own, either supporting his own sentiment, or screamed encouragement to the Bolian, urging her to kill him, gut him, make the pig suffer. With her death, some cheered, and some booed.
Yolanthe did neither. Throughout she had watched with her pulse pounding, alternately olive green and cobalt blue as the tide of the duel had ebbed and flowed. Now, with the host loudly proclaiming him champion, she threw her arms around Tharek, hugging him tightly for a moment, and surreptitiously checking for broken bones and lacerations. Finding no serious injuries, her body changed color again, from bright blue to a hot magenta. "That was worth watching."
"That was worth doing." He said. Taking her with him to the centre of the ring, just a few feet from the now dead Bolian, he stood with Yolanthe in one arm, and raised the other to the crowd. He roared as loud as possible, towering over the deceased body.
The part of the crowd that had made money on him cheered again. The Bokkai wrapped one arm round his waist and rested a hand in the small of Tharek's back. "I'm going to get my winnings before the bookie does a runner for the night." Her hand dropped lower, "Then I'm going to take you home, help you work out any... kinks." She gave his butt a squeeze, kissed him hard, then slid away.
As she passed t'Merek, she gave the Romulan a friendly nudge. "Should have put a bet on!"
Arrienye frowned, reaching up with her gloved hand to wipe at the blue blood on her neck, staining the leather. "I would rather die than profit from such an unnecessarily animalistic display."
Yolanthe was taken aback by the venom in the Romulan's voice.
"Then why are you here, Arrain? This is gladiatorial combat, not flower arranging." She was genuinely puzzled.
"Please, don't insult me making this into a situation where I end up as a sweet, innocent little girl that has no idea what a fight to the death is," Arrienye shot at Yolanthe. "I came here to watch a fight to the death, after all. But I know how to tell the difference between a just, sporty kill and a gruesome display of sadism that had nothing to do with winning, but had everything to do with enjoying the sight of someone let out their last breath and hearing their skull break apart, doing it for mere, perverted satisfaction." She said this last at Getal.
Tharek strode over, and stood above Arrienye, looking down at her. "Then you know nothing of what that death stood for. A warrior's only honorable death is received through battle; any other death would have brought shame to her name. She fought well, and died well."
"She may have died well in battle and that alone is an honor to her, but the manner of her death will be slur on your honor for the rest of your pitiful life. You weren't thinking of her when you snuffed the life out of her. All you were thinking of is the feed it gave your twisted, morbid ego that can never get enough of that power trip you seem to constantly be on." Arrienye looked up at him, her disposition unwavering as she met his dark eyes with her, unafraid of the towering figure in front of her.
Tharek smiled, and laughed gently. "A slur on her name? Power trip? My dear, you know nothing of me, or death. She was a gladiator, as the ones before her. They give pleasure to the crowd, and that is their only purpose. I merely helped them along."
"We who are about to die..." Yolanthe murmured in agreement. There was something else going on here. The Arrain's anger at Tharek was about more than his fighting style. She looked like she wanted to put a knife in him.
"Exactly." Tharek smiled at Yolanthe's reassurance toward him.
Arrienye shook her head at him, almost patronizingly. "You really have problem following the flow of a conversation, Getal. At no point did the honor of the death of your opponents come to play, or the idea that they're involved in this fight for something more than money. My point, and I'll try to put this in the simplest terms possible, is that you personally know nothing of honor and you certainly know nothing of discipline. You fight like a rabid dog. Even the use of your pain neutralizer suggests you'd rather be an insensate animal than to harness the adrenalin pain would produce..." She was bluffing on the last part. She'd heard about Cardassian members of the Obsidian Order having these implanted and, seeing the high tolerance he'd exhibited during the fight, she was risking it. Fortunately, he probably had no way of knowing, her gaze steady and her eyes betraying nothing.
Tharek laughed yet again. "Pain is what keeps me going. Without pain, I would be nought but a shell." He decided not to tell her about his implant. He didn't like her at all, and her making a blind shot in the dark and getting it spot on made him a bit more wary. "Discipline is for Vulcans. Emotions are for the strong."
"Emotion without discipline is for animals," Arrienye retorted calmly.
This Romulan had something. Tharek didn't know what, but he knew this was not common for most of her race. Even Rh'vaurek did not send a shiver up his spine once. But she did it all too well. "Step into the ring with me. No deathmatch. Just first blood."
Her arms remaining crossed over her chest, the Romulan studied him, contemplating. Then, as if coming to a conclusion, she lowered her arms and shook her head. "I don't think so. My skills are too precious to be used in some run down slum on a Federation base. Especially not against you. But believe me, when you and I step into a ring, rest assured, one of us will not be stepping out." With that, Arrienye walked towards Tharek to pass him and his color-changing floosy by.
"I look forward to the day." Tharek said. Turning to Yolanthe, his face brightened with a smile. "Come, let us not forget, you did promise to take me home... "
::OFF::
JP by
Yolanthe Ibalin
Shamelessly profiting on unnecessary violence
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dictator
Arrain Arrienye t’Merek
The moral center
by (G) Arrain - Lieutenant Arrienye t'Merek & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
| Title | Know your enemy, know his sword - Conclusion | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | (G) Arrain - Lieutenant Arrienye t'Merek & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal | |
| Posted | Sat Jul 31, 2010 @ 10:44pm | |
| Location | Very lower decks | |
| Timeline | SD27, small hours |
Tharek was know stuck. Was Arrienye an assassin? If so, she had the perfect opportunity. But, Tharek wasn't going to let some lackey of a higher power kill him. Or a Bolian. He would deal with Arrienye afterwards.
The compere shouted "Fight!" and the entire maintenance bay seemed to hold its breath.
NEW:
::ON::
Tharek stood and smiled, shifting the blade in his hands. Assassins behind him, armed Bolians in front. He was enjoying himself extremely. "Your move my dear," he stated loudly and clearly to the blue-skinned combatant.
The Bolian grinned, and action the stretched her scars into razor thin white lines. For a moment they circled each other, the Bolian as wary of Getal as a mongoose was of the cobra. Then she exploded into action, jabbing at his face with the strange polearm/sword hybrid with one hand, whilst casting the net at his legs with the other.
He jumped to the side, rolling away from the net. The curved sword defending his face as the Bolian began her attack. In response she pressed forward, sweeping the net around and up to whiplash at his own weapon whilst her short-spear swung under it to scythe at his belly.
Just at that moment, something shiny caught Tharek's eye. Arrienye was back in his line of sight, off to the side. Her blade was out and she slid it slowly up her leg as she unsheathed it. She met his eyes again for a moment as she brought the blade forwards, running the tips of her gloved fingers along the very sharp blade of the dagger.
Tharek caught sight of Arrienye, and in the split second he lost concentration on the fight, the Bolian had caught his legs and thrown him to the ground. She swung her weapon down on Tharek, but he was quick to regain himself, and rolled out of the scythes path.
As Tharek rolled aside, the crowd hissed bloodthirsty disappointment at his narrow escape. For a moment Yolanthe had turned a bright green as the Cardassian had hit the ground. She watched him move in silence, hugging herself tightly to control the urge to step forward and defend him, and chewing on one knuckle.
His opponent wasn't giing him much time to rest; the blade of her own weapon stabbing down again and again as he rolled, missing him by hair's breadths each time. Not to be thwarted, a cuff connected to the net hauled it into her hand in barely a second, and she cast it again, this time entangling his own sword. She hauled hard on the net, intending to drag it drag his hands.
Nearby Arrienye was holding the dagger by the tip of it's blade while eying Tharek very closely as seemed to weigh the weapon in her hand.
The sword fell with the net, and Tharek was left defenseless. Or appeared to be defenseless. He charged forward with blinding speed, and struck a firm, solid blow into the Bolian's stomach.
She made an unpleasant grunting sound as the air left her lungs, but didn't lose her wits. She grabbed Getal by the shirt, hooked her ankle around his and used his own momentum to throw him over her hip and send him staggering across the ring.
As Tharek staggered he saw that he was heading in Arrienye's direction and the woman had a very deadly look in her eye as she toyed with her dagger, a rather menacing looking thing with carved symbols on the side. She suddenly seemed to shift the dagger, tip first, into her other left hand and moved as if to throw it straight at him.
Tharek was now stuck between a rock and a hard place. A very hard place. The Cardassian flicked himself up, and had a mental kick up the ass to get himself in gear. No more mistakes, focus. He thought, as he made a diving grab for his blade.
The sword was still tangled in the bolian's net. As he lunnged for it, she made to flick it away. She wasn't quite fast enough, and hie was pulling away. The two weapons were now tangled together between them in a tug-of-war. The Bolian strained against Tharek's strength, hoping to pull him off balance once more.
Tharek was ready this time, and reversed her pull, bringing the Bolian off her feet and laying at Tharek's. In return she didn't hesitate to jab awkwardly at the Cardassian's groin with her half-spear. The tip of the blade caught the leg of his pants and ripped it open, missing him by a hair's breadth.
"You blue bitch." He said, as he stomped down with all his might onto her face. The impact alone made a sickening noise that would turn the strongest stomach.
Arrienye was close to the ring. A little too close for most people's comfort. And as Tharek stomped onto the woman's scarred face, there was a burst of blue blood that promptly splashed onto Arrienye's shirt, with a small amount staining her otherwise pale neck. She winced in disgust, looking away from the ring. She swallowed hard before turning back to look at Getal, the blue color of her eyes matching the color of the dead Bolian's blood as she looked at Getal evenly, seemingly unaffected by the monstrous display.
In a way, she found it comforting. It only strengthened the argument that, Tharek, like most rabid animals, has to be put down without doubt or mercy.
The crowd, bloodthirsty as ever, had echoed the Cardassian's words with shouts and howls of their own, either supporting his own sentiment, or screamed encouragement to the Bolian, urging her to kill him, gut him, make the pig suffer. With her death, some cheered, and some booed.
Yolanthe did neither. Throughout she had watched with her pulse pounding, alternately olive green and cobalt blue as the tide of the duel had ebbed and flowed. Now, with the host loudly proclaiming him champion, she threw her arms around Tharek, hugging him tightly for a moment, and surreptitiously checking for broken bones and lacerations. Finding no serious injuries, her body changed color again, from bright blue to a hot magenta. "That was worth watching."
"That was worth doing." He said. Taking her with him to the centre of the ring, just a few feet from the now dead Bolian, he stood with Yolanthe in one arm, and raised the other to the crowd. He roared as loud as possible, towering over the deceased body.
The part of the crowd that had made money on him cheered again. The Bokkai wrapped one arm round his waist and rested a hand in the small of Tharek's back. "I'm going to get my winnings before the bookie does a runner for the night." Her hand dropped lower, "Then I'm going to take you home, help you work out any... kinks." She gave his butt a squeeze, kissed him hard, then slid away.
As she passed t'Merek, she gave the Romulan a friendly nudge. "Should have put a bet on!"
Arrienye frowned, reaching up with her gloved hand to wipe at the blue blood on her neck, staining the leather. "I would rather die than profit from such an unnecessarily animalistic display."
Yolanthe was taken aback by the venom in the Romulan's voice.
"Then why are you here, Arrain? This is gladiatorial combat, not flower arranging." She was genuinely puzzled.
"Please, don't insult me making this into a situation where I end up as a sweet, innocent little girl that has no idea what a fight to the death is," Arrienye shot at Yolanthe. "I came here to watch a fight to the death, after all. But I know how to tell the difference between a just, sporty kill and a gruesome display of sadism that had nothing to do with winning, but had everything to do with enjoying the sight of someone let out their last breath and hearing their skull break apart, doing it for mere, perverted satisfaction." She said this last at Getal.
Tharek strode over, and stood above Arrienye, looking down at her. "Then you know nothing of what that death stood for. A warrior's only honorable death is received through battle; any other death would have brought shame to her name. She fought well, and died well."
"She may have died well in battle and that alone is an honor to her, but the manner of her death will be slur on your honor for the rest of your pitiful life. You weren't thinking of her when you snuffed the life out of her. All you were thinking of is the feed it gave your twisted, morbid ego that can never get enough of that power trip you seem to constantly be on." Arrienye looked up at him, her disposition unwavering as she met his dark eyes with her, unafraid of the towering figure in front of her.
Tharek smiled, and laughed gently. "A slur on her name? Power trip? My dear, you know nothing of me, or death. She was a gladiator, as the ones before her. They give pleasure to the crowd, and that is their only purpose. I merely helped them along."
"We who are about to die..." Yolanthe murmured in agreement. There was something else going on here. The Arrain's anger at Tharek was about more than his fighting style. She looked like she wanted to put a knife in him.
"Exactly." Tharek smiled at Yolanthe's reassurance toward him.
Arrienye shook her head at him, almost patronizingly. "You really have problem following the flow of a conversation, Getal. At no point did the honor of the death of your opponents come to play, or the idea that they're involved in this fight for something more than money. My point, and I'll try to put this in the simplest terms possible, is that you personally know nothing of honor and you certainly know nothing of discipline. You fight like a rabid dog. Even the use of your pain neutralizer suggests you'd rather be an insensate animal than to harness the adrenalin pain would produce..." She was bluffing on the last part. She'd heard about Cardassian members of the Obsidian Order having these implanted and, seeing the high tolerance he'd exhibited during the fight, she was risking it. Fortunately, he probably had no way of knowing, her gaze steady and her eyes betraying nothing.
Tharek laughed yet again. "Pain is what keeps me going. Without pain, I would be nought but a shell." He decided not to tell her about his implant. He didn't like her at all, and her making a blind shot in the dark and getting it spot on made him a bit more wary. "Discipline is for Vulcans. Emotions are for the strong."
"Emotion without discipline is for animals," Arrienye retorted calmly.
This Romulan had something. Tharek didn't know what, but he knew this was not common for most of her race. Even Rh'vaurek did not send a shiver up his spine once. But she did it all too well. "Step into the ring with me. No deathmatch. Just first blood."
Her arms remaining crossed over her chest, the Romulan studied him, contemplating. Then, as if coming to a conclusion, she lowered her arms and shook her head. "I don't think so. My skills are too precious to be used in some run down slum on a Federation base. Especially not against you. But believe me, when you and I step into a ring, rest assured, one of us will not be stepping out." With that, Arrienye walked towards Tharek to pass him and his color-changing floosy by.
"I look forward to the day." Tharek said. Turning to Yolanthe, his face brightened with a smile. "Come, let us not forget, you did promise to take me home... "
::OFF::
JP by
Yolanthe Ibalin
Shamelessly profiting on unnecessary violence
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dictator
Arrain Arrienye t’Merek
The moral center