Log:Natunda Night Shockball 1!

Natunda Night Shockball 1!

OOC Date: November 17, 2022
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Frexl, Mandl, Lightfoot, Black Krrsantan, Tamsin Cas, Tal Tazak, Herglic Referee

It would not be strictly accurate to call the mostly-vacant space where the Undercity's denizens have set up a Shockball Court a 'Community Center.' However, what is a community center if not a place for members of a given community to... stand around in. In a sort of lazy semi-circle?

Seems close enough to a 'community center' to not quibble over, right?

Some of the Undercity's denizens have assembled, and most of them are standing around the various trash barrels that are currently burning at roughly even intervals around the squared-off area that will apparently be the court for today's participants.

A line has been drawn through the center of the area, and just about all of the trash has been removed. The residents of the Undercity are notorious for not picking up their trash, so this must be important to someone.

They're also notorious for all the stabbings.

Near the center line, a couple of Dugs are currently setting out the relatively innocent-looking spheroids that will soon be used to inflict trauma of both the physical and emotional variety on today's contestants.

One of the Dugs in particular looks gleeful about the prospect.

As he straps on one of his pairs of gloves, the Dug mercenary that some call Frexl does a bit of multitasking by stretching in place. Don't want to go into a round of Shockball cold...

"Come on... whassa holdup? Let's get shockin' already!" The crude gesture that he makes is probably intended to relate somehow or another to shocking.

"Uh... can't start yet Frexl. We got like... uh... one... two... uh... it's like... the teams aren't even yet." Slowly, the massive Herglic in the red and yellow striped shirt explains the basic premise of Shockball to the Dug who's nearly as slow-witted as tonight's referee. Apparently you need even teams in order to start.

This might be a long game.

"So... uh...everybody who's... uh... If you're playin', then like... go stand near the line." It takes the Herglic Referee a bit to get the instructions out, but he gets there. And that's beautiful in its own way.

Mandl, they-of-sporting-dilettante-wealth, has stepped down from their street racing in between televised races. Whether they are competing in unsanctioned underground shockball to debut at the pros sometime soon, only Nerys knows. Glopball!! may never have taken off, but some companies will sponsor *anything.*

Oh boy! A shockball tournament! Just the thing to pass the time for this traveler. A gangly, tall human woman wanders in with her slightly-not-connected gawky gait. Lightfoot wraps her hands around herself and rocks back forth on her heels while she waits for the game to begin. Looking round, she spots Mandl. "Hey! Mandl!" the teen says and heads over to him. She has an inner-rim accent.

From the darkness emerges a very, very large black Wookiee. Long black hair with silvery accents covers him head to toe. Krrsantan looks to weight in around 600 lbs and is garbed only in a pair of bronzium bandaliers and a matching belt. A satchel and a long gun are slung over his back.

If one has especially sharp eyes they might also notice that he has bronzium spikes coming out of his hairy knuckes on the back of his hands and a scar through one brow that might have been put there by a light saber.

The Wook comes to a halt near to the Dugs and eyes them. His deep baritone rumbles, "HRRRRRrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRR!" He bares his teeth.

The Undercity was no strange place to the Good Doctor Cas, who worked often here with and without the aid of her team. And, as was often the case, the doctor put in a showing whenever there was some sort of sports event that might result in injury. yes, Tamsin believed in an ounce of prevention, though, in many cases, the ounce came after the injury and prevented worse injury. For now, she waited off to the side to see who might need her sooner rather than later.

Mandl nods to the Wook, apparently assigned the status of 'YOUR OPPONENT.' This'll go well. "It is indeed the contest-of-sport location. Remember to keep arms and legs with their designated torsos at all time, please."

A tidily dressed man, Tal, comes strolling towards the site of the game as people prepare to commence play, providing a sound case study for anyone wanting to write a guide on how not to fit in, his gaze flitting about to take in the perhaps rather questionable range of local sights. He draws to a halt eventually and tucks his hands away into his coat pockets, with a toothy smile to anyone who might be nearby, before turning his attention to the team-picking.

In the middle of a truly impressive finger stretch (really, his little handfeet must have like... four knuckles) Frexl is suddenly confronted with a Great Roaring Beast. This is how about half of his jobs start, but today he's wearing what could generously be called 'sportswear.'

Never seen a Dug in a sweatsuit? Well, cross that one off your Bucket List, buddy.

It actually looks more like a prison jumpsuit, but for Dugs. It's hard to find Dug clothing.

The referee, puts one of his fat fingers in his mouth, and tries to whistle. A bunch of air comes out of the blowhole on top of his head like 'Plbltbtbt!'

"Okay... uh... let's have a clean fight. I mean, nobody stab nobody! And don't throw the ball so hard that it breaks, and don't set no fires."

He folds his arms in front of his blubbery chest and makes a 'Hoom!' sound through his blowhole.

"Team captains are... you" He points at Mandl. "And... you." Black Krrsantan.

"Okay, Team Captains! Pick your teams!"

Frexl looks confused. "But... it's just me and this human lady. We really gotta do a whole..."

"SHUT UP I'M TALKIN'! HOOM! NOW PICK!"

Mandl pulls Lightfoot over by the shoulder. "Come, compete. Together we will..." (and here they look nervously over the towering Wookiee and the scheming Dug) "have participated. Perhaps there will be a ribbon."

Lightfoot jerks when Mandl pulls her, one leg swinging out, arms flailing. "Urk!" She complains. She eyes the Wookie warily. "How... how hard do you reckon he can throw?"

The huge Wookiee doesn't offer a name. Krrsantan, Santos to his close associates, eyes the Biff who chooses the human female. That leaves him with the Dug. The walking carpet doesn't look like he cares. He does however bare his teeth at Mandl's humor concerning arms and legs staying with their original torsos. "Hrrrrr!"

Tamsin and various spectators are noted. A hairy paw of a hand lifts to beckon the Dug to join him if he's the only other who is daring to compete in this risky venture. The flare of his nostrils might suggest he's quietly eager to get started and see how amusing this might be.

Tamsin, lifting a hand as the Wookiee looked in her direction. She did not need to wonder if he saw her in the crowd. Towering Wookiee was Towering. But she paid just as much attention to His Bithness, though whether it was to cheer on her one true friend, or to ponder taking bets on how many pieces of him she would have to reattach, well, to-may-toe, to-mah-toe.

"You're pickin' me LAST!?" The bloodshot, orange eyes of the Dug flash with something akin to fury. Cold fury. The kind of fury one carries for decades which causes high blood pressure leading to complications later in life.

His left eye even twitches as he gets on line next to his team mate. This'll go well.

"Pfft! I don't care. You think I care? It don't matter to FREXL! I woulda crushed whoever I played against, and now I'm gunna crush YOUZE!" He points ominously at Mandl, and then runs that finger across his neck. Then he runs that finger across his chest, and makes stabbing motions in his torso, then his genital region, and then makes a close approximation of a gun with his fingers, and repeatedly shoots in the direction of the other team.

"Then after I crush youze, I'm gonna take your nice lady friend out for dinner, and MAKE HER PAY FOR IT!" And I'm gonna order EXTRA GRAVY!"

Apparently gravy is a hot commodity on the Smuggler's Moon. Or at least the kind of gravy Frexl orders.

The Referee chimes in "Hey uh... pretend stabbin' is okay. But don't nobody do no real stabbin', or... like... that's disquantifyin'. If you get disquantified, you gotta sit in the Penalty Box." He points over at a dumpster that seems to have a gas leak. You really don't want to sit in there.

"Alright... in your places.... and... 'Plbtbtbt!'"

The sound of the Herglic 'whistling' out of his blowhole is the sign for the contestants to RUN TO THE CENTER AND GRAB THE SHOCK BALLS!

Frexl starts running, but doesn't get a ball...

Mandl's ball sails for the Wookiee as they jink and weave in anticipation-- overshooting, pushing too hard on the evade! As they tuck and roll to avoid a bean, their ball spirals uselessly around their *incredibly massive, hugely muscled snarling target.* Good job there, sportsbeing...

Lightfoot gambols in, long strides and arms swinging. Alas! Too slow to get a shockball. She nips back, trying to create as much space as she can to move.

Tal glances aside to a nearby - and markedly more animated - spectator and asks, though perhaps not loudly enough to quite get the question across, "Just what is the goal of this game? Is it to depart the field conscious or to score a goal of some sort?" Then he looks back towards the playing area, gaze tracking the ball as it goes towards the Wookiee, then, distractedly, he considers the Wookiee for a moment (from this relatively safe distance).

Frexl's fit pissing is completely ignored by the Wook. Krrsantan even refrains from making a greasy spot out of him. For now. Instead he eyes that Biff. Until the signal is given for them to rush for the shock balls.

And they are off! Santos runs forward without grace. Big hairy feet beat the ground, right through puddles. His bronzium spiked knuckles crackle with electricity of their own right before he snatches up on of the shock balls! If his hands are electrified, will the Wookiee even feel pain from the shock of a ball hitting him?!

Teeth bared in a feral grin, the Wook throws his ball /directly/ at Mandl! If it connects, it looks like it'll hurt just from the impact!

The Bith proves agile and dodges, leaping even as the big black Wookiee himself twists and leaps to evade!

Is that the sound of Wookiee laughing?!

Tamsin, looking over from the game to the sharp-dressed man, considered the question, "I believe, if I heard the rules earlier, it is last man standing. I imagine," Tamsin considered, "You either are eliminated by being knocked out by the shock, or being hit a set number of times by your opponents." Was this a commentary on the potential for piling on to take out opponents one at a time? Well, it was Nar.

"I got... nevermind."

Nowhere near close to grabbing one of the balls, Frexl instead focuses on looking as dangerous as possible by raising his weird little handfeet, T-Rex Style, with the palms spread out as he he were ready for some snatching.

Or you know, whatever it takes to get that W.

As the Shockball sails past his Wookiee captain, Frexl's right there with that rebound. Like, right there. He picks up the ball, chucks it at the nice lady who never did him any wrong but apparently owes him gravy.

And... misses. By a lot.

"Nerts!"

Mandl, having missed, rolls and arights themselves! Springing to their hooves, tensed for action! Ready to hit the dirt at a moment's notice!

Lightfoot circles back and, seeing the players are beginning to throw at each other, dashes to grab a shockball. She gets one! She glances round and seeing the squat Dug, decides he might be a smaller target but he's less likely to rip her arms off so she aims and hurls the shockball with all her might at Frexl. It goes wide, so very very wide. And as she throws she overbalances, catching her feet up and lands clumsily. Oof. She sits, holding her ankle and wincing in pain before limping off.

Tal replies to Tamsin with a quick, appreciative smile, "I see! I must have missed them with all the bustle." He quiets as he goes back to watching the game continue, and the shockball hurtling on by a person or two, then he goes on to comment as a sort of afterthought, "Bet this would go pretty speedily in a corridor." Lightfoot's fall elicits a small, sympathetic wince from Tal.

The Wookiee keeps moving, turning to see if he can recover the ball that Mandl threw at him - but the Dug, Frexl, is faster and snatches it up for a throw. Krrsantan watches the toss at the human woman and vice versa.

As neither fling their objects in his direction, he slows, changes direction, and heads for the ball that was aimed at the Dug!

"That is my cue. Excuse me." Tamsin slipped away from her fellow spectator, moving to assist the player who was departing the field. Thankfully, the treatment did not take too long, and her clinic was not far, and the doctor was soon making her way back into the area, hands settling the bag back around herself. Always prepared. It was not just for space scouts.

"Double nerts!"

Squatting back on the larger set of armlegs, Frexl is ready. Ready for something. Ready for what?

Ready to get that W.

"Haw haw! That lady got hurt! Now your ass is MINE!"

He's not the one holding the ball, or throwing the ball, but Frexl makes a Very Vulgar Gesture anyway, chuckling creepily to himself in between sessions of desperate panting every time he tries, and fails, to run in a serpentine formation of some sort.

"You hear that, Bith! You better have my gravy!"

Mandl snorts contemptuously, blue-green sweat beading on their expansive forehead as they sling their next shockball at Black Krrsantan. If they had time, they might recite that ironclad aphorism the Bith have about what's sauce for the Bith of no particular gender expression also being identically sauce for another similar Bith also of indeterminate gender presentation. Put *that* in your hookah and puff it. But alas, their time is occupied with the extremes of back-alley sporting competition! Cheering orphans and/or neglected youth a hairsbreadth away from "a crime" clad in ill-fitting B'rot Salvage and Ores t-shirts. The stuff of which, literally, nobeing's dreams are made!

Balls are flying this way and that! Bouncing, then pounced upon. The big Wookiee gets ahold of the one that had been throw at the Dug and he flings it powerfully back at that Bith a second time! Throwing things that aren't sentients isn't really his thing - the ball goes wide. That and Mandl proves he or she ... it is faster than anticipated. Krrsantan's ball comes no where near to hitting the doctor of mineralology.

On the other hand, Mandl's throw NAILS the huge Wook right in the FACE! POW! There is a crackle of electricity and then the snarl of a pissed off Wookiee!

The former Gladiator slave turned bounty hunter is not a good sport. Santos RAWLS loudly as the ball bounces away, and then he starts to go after that Bith! Like he means to tear Mandl apart!

As fast as Mandl has proven to be, he can probably dodge the Wookiee but it leaves the field of play ...

A bit short on players.

Mandl dives behind the stammering referee, perhaps calculating a furiously-whistling Herglic is the only thing that can arrest the charge of an enraged Wookiee. They may or may not offer to translate BK's... ennnh... 'creative expression,' which is a word for frenzied howling.

"PLBTBTBT! PLBTBTBT! Violation! Violation! Uh.... and uh... that ain't how you play SHOCKBALL!"

The blubbery Herglic waves his blubbery arms in blubbery frustration, making the most threatening noises he can with his blowhole as the game goes completely off the rails.

As the Wookiee runs off after the other remaining opponent, the loose scattering of Dugs that make up most of the 'crowd' erupt into cheers. Nothing that the Undercity Dugs like more than some good violence, and this sort of sporting is a bit too high-brow for their tastes.

All Dug music is drum music, after all.

"Hey! Come back... we're supposed ta have BEER after this... aw man..." The blubbery frustration continues.

Meanwhile, Frexl is ready. Ready to get that W. But he looks a bit flummoxed by the turn this is taking.

"Hey ref! This means I'm the champion, right?"

The ref's blubbery rage blows up, straight out of his blowhole with a loud 'HOOM!'

"Hell no! It means you gotta sit in the Penalty Box!"