Log:Senior Smackdown

Senior Smackdown

OOC Date: July 27, 2016
Location: Training Grounds, Resistance Base
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm, Sar Yavok, Oriana

Training Grounds - Resistance Base, D'Qar

This large open area is set aside for the training of soldiers and military personnel. There is a large area for vehicle training through an obstacle course. There's an area for jogging around a large running track. There's an area for weapons testing of small-arms weaponry. There's a man-made lake for water-operation practices and many other things.

This area is a very large amount of acres and its all surrounded by a fence that is monitored by security droids. Beyond the fence is a wealth of tree cover and very tall mountains off in the distance far beyond. (Be aware that this is not a small area. This room encompasses a massive amount of land ICly.) ---

"Alright, kids," Sar begins, walking across a line of gathered soldiers. "You all did well today. Good stamina, good gumption." He stops towards the middle and loops his thumbs through his belt, turning to face the crowd, "But stamina and gumption ain't gonna win you a damn thing when it comes to facing the Order. Only thing that'll win you that fight is a trigger finger, a knife, and a bad attitude." He sniffs a bit and says, "Now, I want you to partner up and get some sparring in."

There's a groan from the soldiers, but, two by two, they begin to break into their group and start mock fighting.

Sar watches with a careful eye, arms crossing over his chest.

They aren't alone, out there. Major Greystorm had spent a great deal of time in that hoverchair...so much so that she might not be immediately recognized outside of it, dressed in loose-legged pants and a thermal tank top that doesn't leave a great deal to the imagination. Fortunately, it doesn't look like she's lost too much muscle tone during those long weeks of immobility. Leaving the running trail far behind in her wake, she's closing in on one of the melee sessions. Rather than flesh and bone partners though, it's occupied by a few dummies, rigged with sensors to give feedback on strike force, speed, etc. She's not moving particularly fast in her stride. Slow. Careful....kinda old.

"Major Greystorm," Sar calls out, no doubt earning the attention of more than a few of the soldiers. The Lt. Colonel tilts his head as he regards the woman, a small smile creeping up at the side of his mouth. "Care to show these kids how it's done?"

The Major slows to a tentative halt, shifting her weight around while she stares at the assembly. Squinting eyes count faces. "Briggs. Rhun. Jerl..." she names off a few names loudly enough for them to hear, identifying a few of them. "They've already seen the show. Some of them." But...she leans into resuming her approach, this time coming to join Sar.

"Briggs, how's your hearing?" To anyone other than Briggs, this may seem like an honestly concerned enough question. Briggs, on the other hand, just barely resists touching said ear in remembrance. It was a lesson in headlocks, with and without trooper helmets. The goal was to destabilize your opponent's footing enough to gain the advantage and drop'em for a straddle-and-shank. Major Greystom hadn't specified too many rules, but he hadn't anticipated the unholy roar belted into his ear to shake his concentration. Her reasoning? Real battles are loud. Blaster fire is loud. Learn to deal with it.

Still, that Major and the one that stands before them now don't quite seem like the same person. This one was run through the base as a corpse. Kept comatose and on display in the medbay for several days. Weeks. She was proven to be just human. Or maybe that's what she wanted them all to think!

Briggs is sweating.

"Feel like showing the troops what two old soldiers can do?" He tilts his head back and raises his eyebrows to the woman. The soldiers, on the other hand, beging murmuring amongst themselves.

Ambrosia narrows her eyes upon the younger - though not by much - Lt Colonel. Her posture still isn't as perfectly erect as it ought to be, spine cocked juuuust a degree to the left. Muscle spasms, maybe. But, the tenacious Ice Queen has never backed down from sucky odds before. Why start now?

"Sure. I assume you're not referring to drinking the other under the table? Because that could be a contradiction to my health plan." Not that it's stopped her thus far. Meanwhile, sher hands are already winding her ponytail up into a knot.

Sar Yavok chuckles softly and says, "Hell yeah." He takes a moment to unfasten the gunbelt around his waist, holding it out for a Private to take, along with his freshly-removed jacket, leaving him dressed down to a pair of leather pants and a loosely-fitting shirt. A moment's consideration and the shirt is removed, as well, and simply tossed aside.

He moves closer to the Major and rolls his shoulders, saying, "Don't take it easy on me, alright?"

It's one scarred up meatbag against another. A cold smirk crosses Amber's face as Sar ditches the shirt. The temptation to do the same is there. Would possibly buy her a half second time, anyway. But she doesn't. Hopping lightly on her toes, she twists and arm swings and tries to get the blood pumping. "No promises," she huffs and settles out into a loose stance. Hands come up just a third of the way, torso twisting aside. A few flicks of her foot as blatantly harmless feints, barely leaving ground. Those are bare toes that dance there.

Sar Yavok cracks his knuckles and shakes his arms out before raising them in front of his face. It's clear that there's training there, but Sar will always be a low-down, no-account Corellian scrapper. The Lt. Colonel moves in quickly, sending a solitary elbow heading towards the side of the Major's head.

As one officer moves, so does the other. The first *crunch* of the match issues from somewhere around Ambrosia's lower back as she arcs in reverse, throwing one arm up to soften the incoming blow while her left heel drives forward...and breezes right by nimble Sar's knee. Her forearm takes the brunt of his strike, acting as a bony cushion to clock her in the chin.

Almost knocks her off balance, but a quick two-three-hop aside recovers equilibrium and she wiggles her jaw, then eyebrows.

As Amber moves to crumble his kneecap, the Lt. Colonel does his best to drive an uppercut into the Major's stomach. It's clea that he's holding back at least a little. It's an unfair match-up to begin with, after all.

Either Oriana is late to this, or she has stumbled upon it. Let's go with stumbled. As she joins the group arms cross while eyes fix on the two fighting. Eyes widen a bit. There is a shirtless Sar, but then she spots to blow to Amber and cringes a bit. "Come on Major show him what you've got!" She calls out.

Abs of steel! Sadly only in the metaphorical sense. A painful grunt escapes the Major's still-ringing jaw. Age is a bitch. It's made her slower. Or perhaps that was the fried spine. In either case, she ain't ashamed to accept the fact that she can't bob and weave like she used to. But she can see it coming, and weather the storm. Let your enemy wear themselves out...then strike with a well-placed cut. That was her survival tactic when pitted against her Shistavenen CO. That's her style now.

Grudgingly.

Ignoring jeers(best not be any!) and cheers from the sidelines, Ambrosia tucks and curls around that fist to turn her crumpling into something more productive. Like trying to entrap that arm with her sagging self while delivering a punch 'round to the kidneys. If only she had a knife...if only.

Sar Yavok is way more dexterous than one would imagine him to be. Forty six years don't seem to have slowed the Old Man down one bit. As he instructed the soldiers, it's all about having a bad attitude, in the end. His torso slips out of the way of Amber's kidney strike, catching her arm in his and sending a good old fashioned Corellian headbutt her way.

As the fight goes on Oriana's attention is drawn away a moment. Seems bets are taking place. Watching the sparring duo a moment she whispers back to the guy, placing her bet.

If only Sesti could witness this...

That thought alone brings a twisted smile to Ambrosia's lips as she gets driven back into a skidding heel by the noggin knocking. She'd have an absolute shit fit and probably order a few brain scans. But Amber knows better - a little more bruising won't hurt an already scrambled head. Well. It /hurts/ but not enough to warrant surrender! (which maybe is her worse character flaw)

Taking a sec to collect her senses, Greystorm Sr. keeps her feet moving, pacing in little half circles around with a sweaty eye on Sar. "See?" she breathes while repositioning. "Don't spare the face. Doesn't matter how nice the tits are...you can't coddle your opponent."

"And the tits /are/ great," Sar remarks with a smirk. "But the most important thing to remember, is never stop advancing," the Lt. Colonel says, before taking a big step forward and driving his heel towards Amber's center-mass.

Any snarky retort on Amber's end gets cut short by Sar's foot and a quiet 'pop'. Rather than trying to scramble out of the way, she's dropped to a knee and met his heel with hunched shoulder. "Thisonesjustlikenew," (referring to the nearest tit) Breath rushes out while she drops beneath it and wraps her arms 'round while her left leg swings across, up and over his. A gravity-assisted grappling maneuver to drop, lock, and roll. Bring the fight down to her level, where the ground feels just a little more comfy every time...

Briggs ought to also recognize this one as the maneuver where he pretend-lost his life's blood from a wooden blade, back handed stab to the groin. Nothing mean about it, she'd said. That's where there's flex in the armor!

OH NO! Sar gets brought down to the ground! There's a little bit of maneuvering involved, but Sar's had his fair share of fights on the ground. Anybody interested, make sure to ask him about that one Imperial officer on Kessel.

In any case, Sar regains his dominance and ends up between the Major's legs, one hand places near her head while the other drives a punch into her ribs.

Hard to tell what infuriating fact is coloring Greystorm's face the most right now – a shirtless man between her legs, or the reality that he's winning. Her diaphragm spasms, ribs quivering beneath the blow and what little breath she can manage comes in the form of little pants between snarling teeth. Still, in the heart of that growl, there just might be a smile. She squirms, one leg hooking around behind his knee while the other jerks up at the knee as a barrier, seeking to slip around the back of his neck. Her hands, meanwhile, have sunk what little fingernails she can claim into his arms in an attempt to keep those preoccupied.

Sar Yavok is wrapped all up in the middle of a Sar/Amber sandwich. And it's not even the fun kind. Okay, well it's kinda fun. The Lt. Colonel does a decent job of slapping Amber's further attempts at entanglement away, and he stands up, lifting the Major along with him, and, in one fluid motion, he powerbombs the woman off of him. "Rule two. Use every advantage you have at your disposal. Be it strength, speed, guns...whatever," he says, just a little bit out of breath.

Oriana, with the others, continues to watch with bated breath. Will she be rich after this, we will see.

The Major...is a lot out of breath. A lot. After that sharp cry upon impact, anyway. She stays down, as her 'advantage' is not within grasp. Well. Her left index finger twitches, thumb rubbing over the nodes at its base. It would be rude to go-go-gadget slice a superior. Or anyone lending two decent hands and half a brain to their pitiful war effort, even.

After a few moment's rest, said thumb angles upward and wrist limply rolls to display her sign of approval. Shaky ribs heave with the breathing effort, requiring the brunt of her concentration while she lays there. Adrenaline's about peaked, and her heart's pounding twitch is visible to the keen eye, beneath that second skin.

Sar Yavok :hunches over for a second, hands resting on his knees as he tries to get more air into his lungs. He hasn't had him a row like that in a while. "Good shit, Greystorm." He stands up straight and stretches out his back, a solitary hand resting on his hip. "But lastly, and maybe most importantly, know when the fight is over." He takes a few slow steps over to Amber, reaching down to give her a hand in standing back up.

"It's never over," whispers the prone rebel. Gritting her teeth, she curls forward and clasps his wrist, wrist-in-palm. Finding more strength to her voice as the power of O2 returns, she pulls up to a crouch and waits a sec. "Just gotta wait awhile for a decent opening." Hurts. Hurts a lot. Shouldn't hurt a lot. Not for a woman who's given birth to four kids, one while under duress, no less. Pain tolerance: activate!

"That was fun," she offers in way of congratulations. Face bruised, muscles screaming sort of fun. Her kind of fun.

Moans and cheers arise from the crowd. Oriana seems to of lost money, and a hand on her shoulder reminds her of this. "Yeah, yeah." She digs into her pockets to count out the credits and hand them over. "Don't go spending it all on some tramp now."

Sar Yavok grins at the Major and says, "You put up more fight than I imagined, Major." He gives her a clap on the arm and turns to look at the soldiers, "Alright. I expect to see you all here the same time as today. Dismissed." There's a bunch of salutes that fire off in unison, before the majority of the recruits move to run off. A handful stick around to continue training, of course.

Sar looks over to Amber and says, "How's your recovery coming along, Major?"

"Not fast enough," Amber half grumps in reply. Her eyes steadily watch the exchanging of credits, making note of whose hands those winnings are piling into. Scheming. When balance is a genuine 'thing' and not just a work in progress, she stands the rest of the way up. "Ditched the chair. Treated myself to a little holiday to chase a ghost. Shared a few drinks. Flew home." Evidently this is 'home', now. "Thought about informing the General, but think I'll sit on it a little while."

Oriana was a bystander so she doesn't leave with the others. Instead she goes to head up to the pair, looking at them both steadily but with a bit if a smirk. "One hell of a fight you guys."

"Well, we'll have to go a few more rounds when you're at your best," Sar says, leaning down to grab his shirt. He looks over at Oriana and says, "You thought it was a good idea to bet against me, huh?" He smirks at the Sergeant and moves to slip back into his top, taking a few moments to tuck it into his pants.

Ambrosia's steely gaze falters off Oriana just a /fraction/ of a second as sweaty Sar becomes modest Sar. She can't help it. Well. She might could, but has learned to treat herself now and again to life's little gifts.

"She's watched the training vids," the Major's attention corrects itself back to her little Sgt and offers a tiny wink. Referring obviously to the close-combat vids unearthed and forced upon the newly budding Dagger Team after her arrival on base. Ambrosia Aderanne, in her prime. Headbutts, throw-downs, kneed crotches, staffs to the throat...the works. Including ten different ways to bleed out an armored trooper after you've wrangled them into a ground-locked position. Or at least have a decent hold on the rear of their helmet.

"You'd have bet against you, too."

"I'd of bet you look better with your shirt off." She says to Sar with an easy shrug, it aint no lie! "Sorry." Is added with a small smile to Amber which follows with a laugh. "Oh yes the videos, those are.. well, I'd rather learn from experience but still interesting."

Sar Yavok grins at the two of them and says, "I'm ashamed. Oriana here is one of the few soldiers on base to have actually seen me in real, bonafide combat. I apparently didn't leave that much of an impression. Should see about deploying sometime soon." He gestures for the soldier who took his gunbelt and jacket to run back over. Once he's back in his normal attire he looks to the two of them, tightening his gunbelt.

"I hear Sullust is wonderful, this time of year," Ambrosia mutters and brushes her hand over her hip. There's not a holster to hook onto though, so...damn. There is an itchy garment tag though. *Scratch*Scratch*

"So I've heard," Sar says with a grin to the Major. Looking between the two he says, "In any case, I've got some paperwork that I need to get back to." A look to Ori, "Keep those recruits in line, Sergeant." To Amber, "And Major, best of luck with your recovery." He smiles to the two of them and begins the long trudge back towards the base.

Ambrosia rubs at a brow with the heel of her hand. There's quite a goose egg forming there. Worth it. Watching Sar hike away, she sighs. Had a 'date' with medical for checkup, but perhaps that's best postponed til tomorrow. Or the day after. Fudged the would-be data with tonight's romp, after all. Instead, might send Kort a little transmission...