OOC:

Due to RL events, Driver is currently very busy, and is not sure when he will be able to get the next post up on the story. As such, I am stepping in as Ranking member of the squadron, and I'm gonna go ahead and open this as our temporary story until Driver gets back with his next post. This post is gonna be very short, but I am in the middle of midterms, and just needed to open this up to everyone, so have fun, don't leave the simulation room, and don't die.

===5 minutes later===

Slasher looks around at the various assembled pilots from Nazgul Squadron, and seeing that everyone is present, he begins to speak.

"Alright, the last mission went well, but it has shown me that one thing that most of you need to improve on is your hand to hand combat capabilities. As such we have put together a bit of a simulation here for us."

Slasher nods to a nearby technician, and they hit a button, opening a set of doors, one for each person.

"Through those doors in front of you, you will find a holosimulation, you will face a clone of yourself, who has been constructed based on your actions and movements in every previous training. Your job is simple, defeat the enemy, using only hand to hand combat, there will be various melee weapons scattered throughout the simulation, which you can use. There are no rules, each time you either kill the opponent, or you are killed, the simulation will restart from the beginning, and you will face the enemy again. However they will have learned from your last encounter. After this happens 3 times, the simulation will change, and you will face each other member of the squadron, one after the other. You will get only one chance to face each of them, and finally you will face me."

OOC:

Ok, everyone, you may fight through as many opponents as you wish, minimum requirements are as follows, 500 words for a post where you are victorious, 350 words for a post where you lose. In this I am going for quality of your hand to hand combat. Have fun.

Walking down the line of pilots, Slasher clarifies his instructions,

"First, you will be facing each person one at a time, so Ruwe, you will not be facing four people. Second, your opponent will have body armor when that is fitting."

Suddenly Slasher whirls around drawing his sword and knocking Ruwe flat on his back with a quick strike with the pommel of his sword, and then standing over him, the blade of his sword against the Senior Crewman's neck. He looks around speaking to all of the assembled pilots.

"Finally, remember that you cannot assume that you will simply be able to overpower your opponent and win that way, I am a master swordsman, and the last person who underestimated my capability in a hand to hand combat situation, no longer is alive."

Returning his sword to its sheath, Slasher reaches out a hand to Ruwe, and helps him to his feet.

"In combat, you must not underestimate the strengths and weaknesses of your enemies, but you must also remember that your comrades also have strengths and weaknesses, and if you underestimate them, you may not live to see another day."

Turning back to the rest of the pilots, Slasher barks out, "All Right, Enough Talk, Get Into Those Simulators. Good Luck."

Ruwe was completely blind sided by Slasher and found himself on his back on the floor with a sword to his throat. The urge to break the blade along with the hand that held it was overwhelming at first. Taking a few calming breaths to settle his more natural instincts he laid there until the blade left his throat. Receiving a hand up by Slasher he noticed that his claws had actually started to protrude from where they were usually stored. Quickly retracting them he hoped no one had noticed. Using his claws in such a way was disgraceful even in defense of himself. Righting his chair he sat down again.

Showing no outward emotion he silently seethed at Slasher for dishonoring him in such a manner as to attack with no warning. Next time I’ll be ready though. Listening though he waited until the briefing was over. It seemed that these simulators learned each time he fought one. I’m going to have to pull out a different trick I know each time. Hopefully there will be some terrain I can work with as well.

After the briefing was finished he stepped up to a door. A last minute thought passed through his head before he stepped through. I wonder how real the attacks the clones give off. Before he could voice this though the door closed behind him. Looking about the room he was in, he didn’t notice much that could help him in the line of scenery. Just as he finished the sentence though the scene change back to the room on Ator where his last mission was. Looking directly in front of him he saw another Wookiee. It was himself really but it didn’t concern himself much as his entire tribe had some similar colouring and markings.

He was about to check what he could use in the line of weapons when the clone quickly advanced on him. The clone didn’t seem to be quite as smart as himself as it tried to immediately dive in to grab his waist. Grabbing the back of the clones head he pushed it’s face into the floor and jumped to the side so he couldn’t get grappled by the clone. The clone quickly got up and faced him. It had a bloody and broken muzzle already and a few missing teeth. I’m going to have to notify them that is not quite accurate. The clone ran at him again but faked a dive at the waist and sidestepped. With himself caught slightly off balance at being prepped for a dive, the clone easily put him in a head lock. Feeling a sense of blackness approaching

Idiot!! Feeling a sense of blackness approaching he grabbed the arms of the clone and throwing it over his head into a pillar close by. Hearing the marble crack under the force of the blow, the clone dropped to the floor. Getting up slower this time it faced Ruwe. Snarling Ruwe charged the clone this time. Slowing down just before he got to it though, the clone had ducked down to ready itself for a dive attack. Taking the opportunity he grabbed the back of the clones head and brought it down into is knee that he brought up. Feeling his knee crunch into the skull he let the momentum of his charge carry him forward to land on top of the clone. The clone disappeared and the simulation ended.

Taking a quick breath he headed out the door. Looking over to where Drac’s simulator was, he seen the Mon Cal head back in. Feeling nothing about Drac beating him in this department he grabbed a quick drink of water. Looking at Slasher and the technicians watching monitors his thoughts formed into words again. “Hey Slasher. If you were watching my simulator, there is a slight miscalculation. A Wookiees muzzle wouldn’t get broken that easily from getting driven into the floor with as little of force that I used.”

“Thanks, Ruwe. We’ll put that data in right now. Make sure your ready for the next one. It knows what your likely to do now.”

“Yeah I know. Don’t worry about me though. Worry about your clone when I get to facing it. Because this time I’ll be ready and I’ll kill it.” Watching Slasher stand up a bit straighter from something, whether indignation or something else he wasn’t sure but he turned around and went to fight himself again.

OOC:

743 word count

Cracking his knuckles, Hunter jumped from one foot to the other in anticipation. He had yet to climb into the simulation, hanging back to watch the various FMs’ fights. He was standing beside Slasher at the monitors right beside the simulators. He was paying close attention to Ruwe’s fight, smiling slightly as the clone feinted and maneuvered the big Wook into lowering his guard, nearly dooming himself. As Ruwe managed to get out of the headlock, Hunter mentally nodded. The furball finished the flight and climbed out of the simulator. As Ruwe went to get a drink, Hunter decided to take a stab at the simulator.

This might be an interesting fight.

As the inside of the simulator faded away and a white landscape appeared before him, Hunter was a little unsettled. Usually when he entered a simulator, he was in a cockpit, but this was a whole new experience. All of the sudden, the ground beneath is feet changed. It turned to a dark, ashy color while a craggy mountain rose up before him and blew its top, showering bits of a red liquid all over the place. A little drop caught Hunter’s sleeve and burnt a hole through it. Yelping he jumped forward, zigging and zagging to avoid the searing lava, Hunter ran into a nearby building that had suddenly appeared. It was nothing more than a simple shed, but it was protection and that was all it mattered.

Jeez. I asked the techs to make the environment different, but I didn’t expect this.

Suddenly, the lava stopped and Hunter emerged. His eyes widened as he realized that rivers of lava surrounded him and the building. He had quite a bit of land on the island that he was now on, but he was trapped.  Stopping, he remembered that he was supposed to be fighting a clone. Whirling around, he saw that his clone was hurtling towards him. Rolling to the side, he come up just as the clone changed direction and made another pass at him. He rolled to the side again and it continued on for some time, the clone charging him and him dodging.

This is never going to end. I’ve got to step it up, get on the offensive. I can’t be defensive the whole time.

As the clone yet again ran at him, Hunter charged him. The unexpected motion caught the clone off guard and Hunter tackled him, knocking him to the ground. Quickly, Hunter wrapped his hands around the throat of the clone and tightened his grip. As the eyes of the clone bulged outward, he went limp. Hunter, thinking it was over, let go and leaned back. He wondered for a few seconds why the simulation wasn’t ending and then it went black for a few seconds. The last thing he saw was an elbow heading for his face. It connected and his nose broke, gushing blood all down his front. He awoke a few seconds later, being carried down a slope towards the lava river. Realizing his immediate fate, Hunter came to life. He moved faster than he had before. Shifting his weight just a little, he caused the clone to get off balance and then he made his move. Reaching down with his arm, he caught the clone under the chin. He pulled up and slid down the clone’s back, bending the clone backwards. Kicking the legs out from under the clone, Hunter slid his knee under the back of the clone and as the clone’s back hit his knee, Hunter buried a fist in the stomach of the clone. Letting go, he aimed a kick at the clone’s back and connected. The clone rolled away clutching his back with both hands in an attempt to rid himself of the pain. Actually angry now, Hunter left the clone and ran back to the building. Searching around some, he finally found what he was looking for, a sword. Not a little knife, but a sword.

Stepping back into the simulator he waited for the scenery to change again. What’s it going to be this time? Just then the scenery expanded into the vast jungles of Kashyyyk itself. Now here I can work with something. Quickly taking in his surroundings he looked straight ahead at himself staring back at him. They were both on a large tree branch about 10 feet across. Looking down, he estimated that it was a 300 foot drop just to the shadowlands, and another 200 feet more to the actual soil of Kashyyyk. Keeping these in mind in case his clone should somehow manage to survive the fall, he would have to follow the clone afterwards. I just hope there isn’t any Katarns and what not down there, simulators or not.

Looking up again at his clone he retreated closer to the trunk of the giant tree. The clone followed cautiously watching his movements. Leaping at the tree he brought forth his claws and started climbing to the branches above. Looking below the clone quickly followed his movements. Climbing until he was at the tops of the tree, around 700 feet above the shadowlands, he went out on one of the limbs. Running out onto the end of it he turned to face his clone. As an afterthought he broke off a smaller branch that was about 4 feet long, about the size of a small club. The clone just pulled itself onto the limb when Ruwe charged the clone with the club in a swinging position. Since it was backed up against the trunk it couldn’t retreat, so it ducked as Ruwe had hoped for. Swinging the club downwards it caught the clone in the side of the head sending it spinning off the limb.

Ruwe watched as the clone plummeted some distance below. Before it could drop into the shadowlands though, it brought its claws out to latch onto the tree and make deep, long rivulets in the trunk. Calculating quickly, Ruwe jumped off the branch and raised the club above his head. With the clone still recovering from the jarring of its own claws being used so roughly, it didn’t see Ruwe bringing down a second hit with the club until it had already connected right between it’s eyes. The hit knocked the clone unconscious long enough for it to automatically retract it’s claws and plummet some more. Chucking the club away Ruwe brought his own claws out to grab onto the tree. Being below the clone though, he couldn’t latch on to the tree or he would have the clone land on him, sending them both further down. Damnit, damnit, damnit!

Retracting his claws, he grabbed the clone just above him in free fall. Not knowing it had regained consciousness though it quickly spun around and punched Ruwe in the face, and then kicked him with both feet into the chest. I’m going to hit the ground first and have him land on top of me at this rate. Rolling over he spotted a branch fast approaching at a rate of about 80 feet per second. 3...2...1...Grab! Grabbing the branch, he held on for all his worth. The branch bent under his weight and was snapping a lot from the pressure but luckily it didn’t break. Looking down at where he hoped the clone would be falling, he instead saw the clone in a similar position as himself but about 50 feet below. Why can’t you just die!? Growling, he hoisted himself up on the main branch where he could get a bearing on his position.

It was darker now because he was on the borders of the shadowlands, where the sun was a rarity even during the day as it was blocked out by the foliage above. Looking down again he seen his clone was climbing again. Looking out at the end of the branch and down he found a branch closer to his clone and still above it. Running at the edge, he timed his take off so that he could get the maximum distance so he would land on the branch below. Landing with some impact that jarred his feet a little he stood up and ran towards the trunk of the tree where his clone had just passed not knowing that Ruwe was behind him now.

Jumping up, he grabbed the leg of the clone and pulled it down for it to land flat on its back. Hearing the whooshing sound of the wind being knocked out of the clone he quickly advanced to finish it off. Just as he was about to attack, the clone kicked him in the stomach making him stagger back into the tree trunk. Snarling he recovered and advanced again. The clone was trying to regain its breath still when Ruwe grabbed it by the back of the neck and squeezed. Hitting pressure points in both sides of the neck he made it so the clone was partially paralyzed. Grabbing the head with both hands he quickly wrenched the head to the side, snapping the neck, and severing the head completely from the body. The clone quickly vanished as with the rest of the scenery. Looking at the room again it looked the same as before the simulator. Grey walls, ceiling, floor, and door. Shaking his head he exited the simulator for some more water.

Looking at the technicians over in the corner, he noticed one of them was looking back with a bit of fear in his eyes. He must have been watching my monitor then. Allowing himself a small grin of smugness he grabbed the water and quickly drank it down. However much a simulator it was, and the wounds and fatigue went away, he still found himself strangely thirsty. A small price to pay he supposed for running a simulator time and time again with no injury. Finishing his water break he stepped up to the door again. One more of me to face. This one is going to be the hardest. With that he stepped through the door again.

OOC:

1015 words. my longest post yet!

Satisfied that everyone else was working on their training, Slasher turns toward his simulator, and taking a breath, he steps inside of the simulation room.

As the door shuts behind him, plunging the room into darkness, Slasher waits for the simulation to start, waiting to find out where he will be fighting.  However as he stands waiting, nothing happens, other than a faint glow appearing off in the distance. Reaching out with his arms Slasher feels for any walls around him, and finds that there are none present. Immediately realizing that this simulation has robbed him of his ability to see his opponent, Slasher slows his breathing, stretching out with his senses of hearing and smell to try and find where his opponent is.

At first Slasher does not find anything, and realizing that his opponent can be as stealthy as he is, Slasher’s hand drops to the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side, and he takes his heavy shield off his back, and looks around once more, straining with all his senses to find a sign of his opponent.

Suddenly there is a glimmer of reflected light off to his left, and instinctively Slasher dodges out of the way as his clone’s sword comes slashing down through the area he had just occupied. Drawing his own sword, Slasher squares off with his clone in the almost complete darkness, the only thing giving away each of their positions being a faint glimmer of reflected light from somewhere nearby, which is reflecting off of their swords.

Quickly taking the offensive, Slasher attacks his enemy with a series of blows, slashing and stabbing at him with his sword, probing for any weaknesses in his defense. However he knows what he is going to find, and as his opponent dodges or blocks each of the blows, Slasher concentrates on the area around them, looking for anything which he can use to his advantage.

Suddenly remembering the faint glimmer of light in the distance, Slasher begins to allow himself to be backed toward it. Then suddenly, as he is being pushed back by his opponent, he sees what he had hoped to see, as they near it, the faint glimmer of light reveals itself to be a control panel, and reaching out, Slasher hits the panel, suddenly flooding the area with light, and revealing his opponent, who staggers back suddenly due to the sudden unexpected light, which damages his eyes.

Taking advantage of his opponent's sudden distraction, Slasher runs a small distance away, setting himself to fight, he holds his sword point outward toward his opponent, ready for anything and says,

"I'm over here, come and fight coward!"

Whirling toward him the clone charged, swinging his head and letting out a loud yell.

When Drac entered the sim the third time he found himself in what looked to be one of the VEA's onboard armories. The square room looked somewhat like a exercise facility's locker rooms, with rows of closed cabinets running up and down its length, mixed with benches and tables. He was standing in one corner of the room, where he could see every avenue of approach. It was as good a spot as any, but if he was going to find a weapon he'd have to go further in.

Kneeling, Drac pulled his combat knife from his boot. This situation was new to him, so there was no telling how they'd program the holo-Drac to react to it. He'd have to be careful. Straightening, he moved forward...and winced at the thuds his boots caused when meeting the deck. It seemed much louder than usual when he walked, but that was probably due to the relative silence of the room. Well, there wasn't much he could do about it, so he'd just have to deal with it.

Now ready to go, Drac stood and made his way along the hallway to his right. He didn't turn until he'd passed three aisles and was about a third of the way down the length of the room, figuring that the best weapons would not be easily accessible. When he did turn he immediately went to the cabinets and began pulling them open. The first few contained vibroknives and combat knives much like his own. He ignored these and continued on. Other cabinets held all manner of melee weapons, but Drac failed to find anything appealing to him. Then the tenth cabinet finally revealed something that caught his eye: a pair of short swords. They were both durasteel weapons like he liked, one with a blade just over two feet long, the other with a blade about eighteen inches long.

Pulling them out of the cabinet, the Mon Cal remembered how he'd seen such paired blades wielded before in holodramas. He held the longer sword in his right hand with the blade coming out on the end where hi thumb was. The shorter of the two weapons he held in his left hand in a reversed grip, with the blade emerging 'down' from the side opposite his thumb.

Drac was testing his grip on his new weapons when he heard a thump behind him. Whirling, he felt a blade slice his side as the holo-Drac thrust it at him. Bringing his left hand around, he knocked his opponent's sword away from his side, overextending his arm as he did so. He instantly came to regret that as the other fighter lashed out a kick into his wrist. He was forced to drop the shorter weapon or risk having it driven into his body as his arm slammed back. Even though he'd managed to avoid that, Drac let out a gasp of pain as his arm broke under the strain. He staggered back, arm falling limply to his side.

Now Drac found himself in a truly horrible position. His left arm was useless and he was left with just one short sword...a sword at least a foot shorter than his opponent's hand-and-a-half sword. The holo-Drac smiled grimly and advanced, driving thrusts at him. The Mon Cal pilot kept backing up, barely managing to avoid his opponent's much more powerful strikes. He could see no way out of his predicament...

Then the holo-Drac stumbled. It had slipped on the other short sword, which had landed some yards behind Drac. Seeing his opportunity, Drca lunged forward with a yell. He wasn't quite fast enough though, as the holo-Drac turned his body and recieved only a long cut across the chest. Once again Drac had overextended, and for the last time this fight. He fell to his hands and knees and before he could rise he felt his opponent's sword drive into his back. He collapsed and the simulator went black.

Stumbling out of the sim, Drac rubbed his back where the 'sword' had gone in. He wasn't happy about losing to himself, but was honest enough to know it was because of his choice of weapons. He just didn't have the skill to wield two blades at once. It'd be much safer to go with a single longer sword like his opponent had used. Looking around he saw several other pilots taking a break as well. Beyond them were the technicians at their consoles.

Drac walked over to the techs, finding the one in charge of his simulator. The man gave him a sympathetic smile as he approached, eliciting a shrug. One never did well to dwell on water already carried away in the current. Instead he glanced around the room again, then back at the tech, "So, who do I get to fight first?"

Checking his clipboard, the tech keyed in a line of code. A holographic rendering of a human male with dark blonde hair appeared and the tech replied, "Your first opponent will be Chief Petty Officer Hunter-Morrell."

Drac looked at the dsiplay for a moment, muttered "Sithspit," and walked back into his simulator. Might as well face the punishment quickly...

Before the sim began it asked him to choose a weapon to begin with. He ran through the various options until he found the sword his holo-self had used that last time. He chose it and activated the sim. The environment Drac found himself in seemed to be a bar. Twi'lek dancers performed on a stage off to one side near a large holodisplay and beings of all types made their way through the crowd. Oh great...how am I supposed to find Hunter in here, much less see him coming?

Getting an idea, Drac pushed through the crowd until he was near the stage. He braced himself on its edge and jumped up onto it. Hardly anybody noticed this. Unsatisfied, Drac drew the sword from its sheath at his hip, turned, and slammed it down into the holodisplay's projector. The equipment fried with a bright flash and shrieks from its speakers. Now he had everyone's attention. Facing the crowd once again, the Mon Cal gestured with his sword, "Come on, Hunter. Let's have this out."

Ten seconds passed...twenty...thirty...Drac was getting nervous and annoyed when a figure jumped up onto the other end of the stage. It was Hunter. He was holding a sword clenched in his fist -a sword somewhat longer than Drac's and wickedly curved. It certainly didn't look like something Drac would like to get a closer look at, at least not in the way the holo-Hunter had in mind.

The two came together, swords clashing and driving the Twi'leks off of the stage. Each stepped back and Hunter swung again, his sword whistling through the air as it came down in an overhand blow. Drac lifted his own blade at an angle, forcing the other weapon to slide off at an angle. He was about to congratulate himself mentally on the good block when a heavy blow to the chest threw him back.

Landing on his back, the Mon Cal pilot looked up to see Hunter putting his foot back on the ground. As further evidence of what had happened, a roughly oval portion of his chest throbbed in pain. Instead of the congratulations he'd planned, Drac kicked himself mentally, Idiot! Don't take your eyes off of your opponent...anyone should have sense enough to know that.

Scrambling up, he straightened just in time to meet Hunter's charge. As the human pilot swung a backhanded blow at Drac's ribs, the Mon Cal took a long step to the left and bent at the waist. Hunter's sword flashed past his side, gently tugging a fold of his uniform. Drac intended to step forward from there and to turn and strike his opponent in the back, but again events didn't go quite as planned. As his right foot swung forward, Drac's ankle locked up against Hunter's, sending both pilots sprawling when their momentum was checked.

Drac was forced to thrust his arm forward in a hurry to avoid landing on his sword...something he doubted would feel very good or do much for his odds of winning the fight. He landed hard, scraping his chin on the stage floor. Damaged barbells sent agonized alerts to his brain, eliciting a short groan. It seemed, however, that he was the better off of the two. Looking over his shoulder as he stood, Drac couldn't see Hunter anywhere. Instead he heard the man's curses from somewhere at the foot of the stage. The Mon Cal just had to chuckle at that.

Before he could turn his opponent's predicament to his advantage, Hunter managed to claw his way back onto the stage. The squared off and charged at each other again. As they traded blows, Drac noticed a distinct difference in styles. Hunter relied mainly on slashing and cutting attacks, due to the curved blade he wielded. At the same time, he himself used more straight lunges and thrusts. Each weapon performed differently, but neither was inherently better. The contest would have to be settled by skill and creativity.

As the minutes passed Drac found himself falling into a sort of rhythym. Thrust. Block. Dodge. Thrust. Parry. Lunge. Dodge. Block. He knew this sort of fighting was more dangerous to him than to Hunter...if he allowed himself to fall into the rhythym he'd lose initiative and creativity, and that might be the deciding factor. But try as he might he could find no opening, no opportunity to land that curcial blow.

As the duel continued Drac saw that, tired though he was, Hunter had finer control of his weapon. Meanwhile, his own attacks were getting wilder as he got closer to desperation. He knew that if things continued as they were he would lose. Gathering everything he had into one last burst of energy, Drac cut loose with a flurry of thrusts and slashes.

Hunter was forced to move quickly, as his sword was heavier than Drac's and not so fast. And as he sped up his grip -of neccessity- loosened a bit. Judging that it was now or never, Drac cut loose with the most powerful swing he could muster. Hunter blocked it, but paid the price. His loosened grip couldn't handle the strain and the curved blade flipped out of his hand. Drac managed to control his weapon, not letting it continue out of line, and drove it forward. It entered Hunter's chest, piercing a lung, and stuck out through his back. Grasping it weakly, he folded over and lay on the floor on his side.

Having defeated his opponent, Drac gave in to exhaustion. He collapsed, falling over backward as the sim ended. A moment later he felt better, but still wasn't at one hundred percent. Pulling himself up, he opened the sim's door and staggered out into the control room. The Mon Cal made his way to the nearest chair, grabbed a bottle of water, and sagged into the chair's welcome support. It was time for a break.

OOC:

Word Count: 1854

Edit: Expanded the fight between Hunter and I to focus more on the combat.

Locked in a grapple, neither combatant could move. Both had tried to pull the same maneuver at the same time and had managed to get themselves stuck.

“How could this even happen?” Hunter said , halfway joking.

“I don’t know, but it did.” the clone replied, giving a grin.

“We have to get out of this somehow, so on the count of three, let go and pull away.”

The clone nodded and Hunter started the countdown.

“One, two, three!” Hunter yelled, pulling away as he kicked out.

Both flew away from each other and rolled across the ground. Regaining his balance quickly, Hunter was surprised to find he was breathing heavily and was covered in sweat. He noted, with satisfaction, that his clone was too. Rushing forward, he leaned down and picked up his sword. His clone repeated his maneuver and was few seconds slower though. As Hunter came running at the clone with his sword held above his head, ready to send a downward chop heading the clone’s way. But as the clone realized that he would never get his sword up in time, he thought of plan. Crouching down as he was still running, he lowered his head and held his arms slightly away from his side with the sword in his right hand pointing behind him.

Wait. What is he doing? Oh je-

His thought was cut off as the clone rammed his shoulder right into Hunter’s stomach. Doubling over in pain, he had at least enough willpower to twist and knock the sword out of the clone’s hand, but it wasn’t enough to stop the clone from getting around Hunter and latching onto his back, wrapping his thick arms around Hunter’s neck. Managing to make a gurgled cry before air supply was cut off, Hunter tried to beat the clone in the head, but found that he couldn’t reach back that far. As the clone increased the pressure, Hunter’s vision started swimming and was speckled with black spots that grew steadily bigger. Knowing that if he slipped into unconsciousness now, he would surely be killed. He still had enough air to be able to form thoughts, but not enough to think clearly. In desperation, he started to form a plan. It had a 50-50 chance of succeeding or failing and was incredibly dangerous, but it was a last ditch effort to win this fight. His sword had fallen away from him after the clone had started choking him, so Hunter quickly looked for it and saw it a few feet away from him. Stumbling forward, he sunk down on one knee and grabbed the sword. As the clone made a questioning noise, Hunter stood up and held the sword in the air with the tip pointed towards his chest.

This had better work.

Plunging the sword into his chest, he let out a sigh as a fiery wave of pain overtook him. Instantly the clone let go, clutching his chest as he backpedaled. As blood spurted from the gaping wound in chest, he slowly withdrew the sword and turned to face the clone, who was now on his knees, trying to regain his footing. Stepping forward, he saw look of dawning comprehension come over the clone’s face as he realized he was about to die. The look was quickly replaced by a peaceful look.

“You have bested me. Make it quick.” the clone said.

“You fought well.”

Sighing, Hunter swung the sword with all his might and decapitated the clone. As the landscape shimmered and disappeared, the inside of the sim tank appeared and the door swung open. Stepping out, Hunter was a bit amused at the looks on the faces of the techs as they saw him. Shaking his head in silent mirth, he walked over the nearest chair and sat down to watch the rest of the squadron’s fights, noting that Drac was fighting him.

That’ll be a good fight.

As he emerged from the corner he had been working in, Albino was breathing deeply and very loudly. He had still yet to enter the sim room. He stopped a few paces short of the door and stood there for a minute, before letting out a deep sigh and striding in, mouthing deeply

I hate optional necessities...

As the door closed behind him, Albino gazed around and saw that he was stood in a small ruined cruiser or frigate, crashed in a ice desert somewhere. The gnarled pieces of metal that surrounded him were wickedly sharp and covered in small gleaming crystals of ice. Albino crouched down and listened carefully to his surroundings but heard nothing save his own deep gasping breath.

Albino wasn't exactly the largest built man in the world, especially when compared to some of the other pilots even though he was versed in many fighting styles, he was too weak to pull off the majority of his manoeuvres. Albino stopped listening as he thought.

I wonder how many of my moves this guy knows and can actually do...

Not for the first time Albino suddenly felt vulnerable and incompetent. Suddenly small crunch of boot on frozen metal followed by a quick curse snapped Albino out of his dream and he realized that he had come unarmed. He began to clumsily feel for a suitably bladed piece of metal. As he was running his finger over a particularly wicked mangled wing shard, he felt a blunt thud in the centre of his back between his shoulder blades.

Albino quickly responded by throwing himself to his right and watching as the clone drove his fist straight into the metal tearing apart his gauntlet. The strange scream from under the helmet almost made Albino feel sorry for the clone realizing that he had very little time Albino threw his fist right at the clone's face.

The clone reacted surprisingly fast by dodging and grabbing Albino's wrist wrapping his other arm around Albino's and quickly turning to the side throwing Albino into the shredded wing slicing up his waist and the small of his back. Albino yelled and used his free hand to clobber the clone in the side of the head.

This prompted the clone To Twist Albino's wrist and yank it, causing Albino further pain. Albino roared and wrapped the free arm around the waist of the clone, so that he could push the clone into a small knee high piece of metal throwing him over it. Upon this, the clone released Albino's wrist and rolled away turning to face Albino. Albino was ready first, and he jumped at the clone, Hooking his arm under the arm and around the head of the clone. he used his free hand to hold the clone's free hand still by crossing his arms.

Albino then began pummelling his knee into the stomach of the clone. Even though it was as hard as albino could do it, it wasn't very hard. Seeing as this had little effect, Albino uncrossed his arms and ran the clone's already damaged hand into a shorn piece of metal. This caused the clone to let out a bloodcurdling roar and begin viciously struggling. Albino cursed then pulled the clone's arm over the back of his neck and wrapped both of his arms round the clone's waist. Albino then pushed the clone into a knee high piece of metal, causing the two of them to fall on the floor.

Albino was up first, but not by a longshot, and the clone was first to attack. he kicked Albino into the mangled remains of a chair next to where he had ambushed Albino, and charged, but albino was ready, he slipped to the side of the seat and double-footed the clone in the shin, causing him to fall and hit his face on the edge of the chair. Albino seized the opportunity and grabbed a small shard of torn durasteel lying on the floor, and sliced into the back of the neck, cutting the armour wide open. Albino slipped the fingers of one of his hands under the helmet and wrenched it off, revealing, to albino's surprise a perfect copy of his own features, save the top of the noggin, which was bald.

as Albino had been doing this, the clone had also picked up something bladelike off the floor and was about to stab Albino when his helmet was removed. Albino batted him upside the head and as he stumbled back, Albino picked up a second disk of razor-bladed metal and threw it at the clone like a shuriken. The clone dodged and retorted with first his first piece, which albino easily dodged, then a similar piece of smashed transparisteel, which flew erratically at Albino and gouged a scar deep into his shoulder. albino winced as his left arm suddenly became very heavy and realised both how cold he was, and how bad the damage on his side and back was. He was going dizzy due to blood loss.

Albino spotted the wingpiece that he had been inspecting when he was ambushed and flung his second piece at the clone and turned to the wing, ripping the remains of one of his sleeves off, Albino wrapped it around a column of the wing and kicked hard at it, then pulled it free, sending millions of tiny shard of prismatic ice everywhere, albino then turned to see the clone diving at him, and onto the makeshift blade he was holding, albino quickly whipped the blade about, lacerating the clone's armour and slicing deep into his chest.

Yet the clone didn't fall. Albino roared and lunged again, the clone simply looking at him blankly. Albino lunged again, to no effect. Again, and again, and again. Finally Albino scowled and swung the humming deathdealer round and put all his strength into the final blow. A small 'plop' sounded as the head of the clone fell to the floor, closely followed by the body. Albino threw his weapon on the floor, then followed it down and went blank.

OOC:

1016 words

The rest of the Nazgul member’s battles went by quickly, with the exception of Slasher’s and Hunter’s last battles. Those were the same as the first, long and drawn out, but in the end the Nazguls won. After Hunter emerged from the sim after his last battle, he quickly jogged to the screens to view the final few battles. One by one, the Nazguls eliminated the clones and climbed out their respective sims. After everyone had finished, Hunter called up the statistics on a display screen and reviewed them, noting with satisfaction that his clone had only been defeated by himself and one other, Drac. Calling up the battle, he read the notes that the techs had prepared and smirked slightly.

According to the techs, the only reason Drac won, was because Hunter was actually fighting with a melee weapon that didn’t suit him. Its center of gravity was too low to effectively make use of its weight, but it had helped that he had uncanny flexibility, enabling him to twist and rotate the sword in his hands to block most of Drac’s swings. The techs had also stated that the sword that Drac had chosen fit him almost perfectly, which gave him an important advantage in the fight. Overall, Hunter was outmatched and if the clone had abandoned his sword and focused solely on hand-to-hand combat, he most likely would of won.

That’s interesting.

“Alright guys. Fighting is over so we can head out. I’ll be sending the statistical reports of each of your separate battles to you whenever I get them ready. Right now, they’re stored in the database and it’ll take a little while before I can get them.” Hunter said, nodding as Nazgul turned as a group and walked out the doors.

OOC:

Simple, but effective. Just the way I like it. Consider this the official end to this story.