Competition: ACC: It's A Trap!

Finished
ACC: It's A Trap!

Prompt: The Combast Master is sly, wiley, and in certain cases, unpredictable. He has organised a test, a trial, a series of obstacles to overcome at a carefully selected venue. Will you succeed, or will you fall like so many others before you?

Rules: in at least 500 words with no maximum, Members are tasked with creating a piece of fiction where the Combat Master has set up a series of obstacles. Members MUST use one of the available venues in the list as their setting. What these obstacles are, are entirely up to you. How you overcome them is up to you.

Submissions: Entries must be done in .word, .pdf, or in the submit text box below. Anything else will result in participation only.

Grading: Grading will be done utilising the Fiction Rubric 3.0

As always, everyone. Have fun!

Competition Information
Organized by
Combat Master "Aequitas" Anderson
Running time
2025-01-15 until 2025-02-05 (22 days)
Target Unit
Entire DJB
Competition Type
Fiction
Awards
First Level Crescents and Clusters of Ice as per VOICE guidelines
Participants
8 subscribers, of which 2 have participated.
Results
Member
Priest Azler Wilder
Textual submission

A steel door slides open as a man enters the room, taking a deep breath to calm his mind and body. It has been many years since the last time he did anything within one of these facilities, and much had changed since then, about both them and himself he was sure. Hells, just thinking about names alone brought a chuckle to his lips.

Entering into the Combat Training Center, Azler glances around the room for a moment in a slight bit of confusion. Where there were previously weapon racks, mats, dummies, and people filling the main area, there was nothing. The lights were dim, save for the bright blue illuminated sign of the Medical Ward across from him. When he had heard of this 'obstacle trial' put forth by the new Combat Master, he was already surprised that this venue was chosen, given that it was possibly the first one that any combatant smart enough to hone their skills would visit, but to see it as bare bones as this? That was a step too far and only made the fighter more cautious. This was his first interaction with the new Combat Master, if indirect, it would prove a good gauge of his personality in its own way.

A light buzzing sound disrupted his attention, and the illuminated sign changing suddenly color to red focused it again as an electronic voice rang out, echoing within the empty arena.

"The only rule is simple. Discover the true path to the opposite side of the arena without triggering a reset." States the announcer.

Once again, the simplicity strikes him. Memories flood the Hybrid's mind for a moment of all the tricks being a part of the Brotherhood brings, and a sigh escapes his lips. No, he supposes that isn't a fair judgment; most living creatures play tricks in their lives, but by the stars does the Brotherhood revel in it. Still, kettle, pot, truly he has no room to speak.

Kneeling down and taking a closer look at the ground, he notes that the rectangle of the entrance seems normal, but beyond that, the entire open floor of the Center is broken into a chessboard-like pattern, filled with squares to the sides and across the way to his goal, each big enough for both feet to be planted but not much room to spare. Directly in front of the entry are 5 possible choices.

"Let's find out just how cruel this man is." Azler mutters after a moment's thought, lifting a foot and moving it forward to the far right and placing it on the square leading to the side.

A deep red light illuminates the square, and the moment his brain registers the color, his body tenses as his leg yanks away, mind already prepared for whatever pain is about to be unleashed on him.

Yet it doesn't come.

The sigh of relief that comes from his lips is audible, as is the soft laugh that comes after. "Alright, no immediate elimination, no loss of limb, seems that the man knows that even the rookies may give this a shot and doesn't wish to raise the medical bills."

Rolling his shoulders and given at least the confidence that he won't die, the man moves back to the center. Most people would try the most forward approach and the center gives the most options for branching out; it makes sense that this would be it.

Taking a step forward with his full body in motion this time, he stands upon the center square, but his enjoyment of the green light that illuminates beneath him is quite short lived as his head snaps to attention, a full-bodied hologram of Anders materializing in front of him and it swings his blade horizontally at the warrior, the man jumping back to avoid the attack. The moment both his feet land on the entrance area, the previously approving light changes its color and the hologram vanishes.

A furrowed brow is the initial response from Wilder, huffing slightly in frustration. "Alright, noted."

Again he takes a step forward, again a green light, again the hologram swings, but this time he ducks beneath the weapon, dodging under the attack by kneeling below it - or so he thought, as another illuminates to his right, the dark blade of the Combat Master stabbing forward and phasing through his shoulder. Again, a red light, again a vanished assailant. Taking a step off the square and returning it to gray, he returns quickly, dodging the first strike and pulling out his own saber for the second, the red-tinted blade phasing through the hologram, stopping nothing, but causing the failure light to shine even faster than previously.

Once more the Priest returns to the Entrance area and thinks. Taking a deep breath as part of this obstacle course begins to click in his mind, he loosens his body, relaxing. "Step in the right spot, don't get hit, don't block, just dodge." Part of him was thrilled; this was a style of combat he thrived in, except for one small detail - his dodges were always designed to be counter-offensive oriented. Each movement was meant to help him step to where he wanted to, not where his foe did. Embrace half of his learnings, rebel against the other, play purely defensively. If the lesson was to play into your opponent's hands, it was one that was not going to be easy for him, or anyone really. What was this test?

Letting his muscles take over to a degree and embracing his connection to the Force, he steps forward for another attempt.

A wide horizontal swing that he kneels under, a piercing stab that he turns and backs away from - another green light below him indicates progress, but another hologram is his only reward, another stab but now from the front where he just was, he kicks himself backwards another step to another green light, this time the Chiss imitation appears from his right side and sweeps at his legs, forcing him to finally move forward, only to turn to the side and step to the right as another stab thrusts forward. Azler's eyes track the black blade with each new appearance of the man holding it, little time to think as each new movement directs, and unfortunately, overcoming one's instincts proves a difficult ask as the next attack, striking from behind, is dodged, but as the man moves to the right, a red light indicates clearly that it was the wrong direction and so the annoyed warrior makes his way back to the beginning.

"Is he trying to teach people how to beat him?" He ponders as he turns around. "No, even ignoring how foolish that’d be, it'd only be teaching this specific scenario, and very few people wouldn't counterattack for this long."

Another attempt, more fluid this time, but a hiccup in his movements causes another failure before he gets back to where he was. Onto the next, he manages to reach his previous point, then the next step, the step after, even the third, but the fourth once again resets him as his reaction speed is just not fast enough against the Combat Master's quick and precise movements. Memorizing the pattern would help, but he had to be fast, rely on his instincts more than his thoughts.

It is in this next attempt, as he bends, pulls, pushes, and spins his body in the directions he knows to be correct, that his body begins to fall into the rhythm, the next hologram barely stabbing forth before he is already stepping to the next square, and it is in that moment that the realization dawns upon him - unfortunately disrupting his instincts and causing another fail.

But this time the frustration is gone, a smirk on his lips as he shakes his head and returns to the starting area. Rolling his shoulders, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, exhales, and opens his eyes as he steps forward once more. Memories of when he first joined the Brotherhood come to mind, and key among them, the brutal teachings of a man who spoke with his fists; a lesson in letting the flow overtake you.

Bow, turn and step back, the same again, twist and sidestep to the left, step forward, step to the right, turn and step back, the black saber stabs, swipes, and slashes again and again as Azler's body continues to weave and spin, each foot moving to a new square, never sharing the same one, always in motion, his body being pulled along with it as again, a step forward, a turn to the right, a twist to the left, a side move to the left again, right, left, forward, right, left, back, forward, left, right, forward, right, the motions continuing endlessly as the emotionless program proceeds with its constant new illusionary attacks from every angle.

Until finally, with one last stab forcing him to step backwards, a blue light illuminates nearby and no new hologram appears.

So lost in his instincts that it doesn't quite register to him, the wanderer shakes his head to snap himself out of it before looking behind him and seeing the Medical Ward door and sign behind him.

"Congratulations on your success." The electronic voice rings out, hollow and unrewarding sounding, yet the Krath couldn't care less.

A smirk upon his face, Wilder looks back to the floor plan before him and though he did not have a hologram to display it for him, in his mind's eye he can see the pattern and the movements he just partook in. Never had he been more glad that he had looked into someone's history, what little there was to be gleaned anyway. A dedicated master of Form II Makashi with a splash of Dun Möch, possibly the best hint to this whole show the Combat Master had put on.

"He isn't just looking to maybe teach some people how to dodge better; he taught us how to perform a waltz..." Azler mutters in dry amusement. "I'd be more pleased by this if the phrase 'dancing in the palm of my hand' wasn't likely an inspiration."

Placement
1st place
Member
Team Leader Syrena Valkar
Textual submission

Venue:
Arx- The Colosseum
The Jungle
---------------

The scents of wet earth and mixed flora filled her lungs as she trekked through undergrowth, a light blue lightsaber poised at the ready, slashing through thick tangles of vines. The very soil beneath her feet was growing stickier by the hour, with the high levels of humidity that saturated the air. Her determined silver gaze focused on the treetops. Syrena had never been one to prefer ground travel anyways, when it came to traversing a landscape.

She secured her lightsaber back to her side, as her vision honed in on a tree branch. Extending her arm, the clawed end of a fibercord whip suddenly shot forwards, ensnaring it's way into the wood of the tree. Syrena gave a careful tug, ensuring that it was firmly set into place, before carefully making her way up along the tree in a few nimble motions. She perched herself atop the branch in a lowered crouch and retracted the fibercord, her gaze carefully surveying the landscape to search for the clearest path through the jungle.

Syrena drew in a deep breath to herself, focusing her mind on the task at hand. She sprang from the gnarled branch, soaring through the air. Leaves and vines whispered past as Syrena twisted in midair, reaching for the thick limb of a kuvara tree. Finding her mark, rough bark scraped against her palms, which were offered an extra layer of sturdy protection thanks to her gloves. Syrena swung forwards, momentum carrying her in the graceful form of an arc before she released, flipping once before landing on another branch.

The jungle thrummed with movement and life. Amidst her surroundings, a low, rippling growl began to sound from the shadows that teemed along the trees. Syrena held her breath, dropping into a defensive crouch, hand instinctively going to the hilt of her lightsaber. Suddenly, a blur of brown fur and razor-sharp fangs exploded from the foliage– the massive form of a Nexu, leaping from the shadows with claws outstretched.

Syrena managed to twist in time, landing lightly down on the ground, the beast’s claws raking the air where she’d been perched only a heartbeat before. Before she could recover, a second Nexu emerged from the other side, its rows of beady eyes narrowing with malice. She braced herself as the second beast lunged, it’s massive paw swiping towards her torso, tail lashing. Syrena twisted, narrowly avoiding the first blow.

Yet just as she did this, it opened a window of opportunity for the first Nexu to leap forward, large front fangs sinking into her thigh. She managed to hold back a scream as searing pain shot through her leg, and yet Syrena refused to fall, now that the Nexu was in such close proximity. Her silver gaze burned with a look of defiance, as she drove her elbow into the first beast’s jaw, chanelling enough force into the blow to send it stumbling back. With her free hand, Syrena clenched a tight fist, slamming it down repeatedly against the eyes of the second Nexu, sending fourth blasts of energy from the knuckles of her shockboxing gloves with each hit.

Fresh blood slicked the exterior of her white chrome armor, and adrenaline surged through her veins. As the first Nexu lunged again, she dropped into a duck, using the beast’s own momentum against it, yanking on its foreleg and swinging herself onto its back. Syrena drew from the force once again, summoning a burst of strength though her form, as she slammed both fists down into the base of its spine. There came the crackling sound of splitting bone, the beast letting out a low screech, clawing at the ground before falling limp.

Breathing fast, Syrena locked her gaze on the one remaining Nexu. Yet just then, a small form of pastel pink fluff slithered free from the sleeve of her armor, letting out a soft squeak. “You ready, Zap?” She cooed softly to the small millicreep droid. The second beast roared, advancing quickly towards where Syrena stood.

In a split second, the millicreep droid launched itself from her arm, legs rippling with silver sparks of searing electricity. Disappearing into the fur of the Nexu, Syrena caught sight of the mere flicking motion of the tiny droid’s tail. And with that, voltage began to burn through the form of the remaining beast. The Nexu's form staggered in place with a series of spasms, yet it still began to claw in Syrena’s direction.

This time, due to the remaining effects of the millicreep’s nearly lethal dose of electric shocks, the beast’s strikes were unclear. Seizing the opportunity, Syrena drew her lightsaber, a soft hum emanating from the weapon as it’s light blue blade severed off the paws of the Nexu, leaving behind only softly glowing burn marks where they had once been connected to the creature.

As the Nexu began to drag itself away into the shadows, howling in pain, Syrena finally breathed out, shifting her attention to her leg. Zap slowly crawled back to her, his tail flicking once again, this time in a gentler manner. The small droid moved to sting Syrena, injecting her with a healing stimpack. Already beginning to feel the effects, she gazed up at the jungle canopy above, just as yet another growl sounded in the distance- A far louder one.

Gathering up a burst of strength, Syrena willed herself to make haste. Her breathing came fast as she sprinted, weaving her way through the thick undergrowth, shifting to clutch onto vines and relying more on her upper body as her leg began to heal. Syrena soared into the air, the jungle rushing past her in a blur of green, momentum carrying her from one vine to the next. At last– there it was. She paused once she came to a set of metal doors at the edge of the arena, pounding on them with both fists.

“I did it! I… managed. Now what I could really use is a nice, long hot shower and a glass of something ice cold…” Syrena breathed with a sigh of relief, finally allowing herself a moment of rest.

Placement
2nd place