AWD #224: The Armilustrium Games
The Armilustrium Games
Summary: The citizens of the Fleet hold a makeshift version of the Armilustrium Games on Piraeus.
Date: Day/Month/Year (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Armilustrium Celebration that follows.
Agrippa Arthur Atalanta Bennett Holtz Iphigenia Jax Lleufer Mahasti Maia Phin Sarin Warren Winston 
The Great Beyond — Piraeus
With one main road running north and south, the road parallels a snowmelt river the flows south towards a large lake and the planned site of the CMC Camp. To the north the road runs off towards the future site of the Naval Air Station and the ALS Jolie Point, the First Batallion's landing ship, then past and deep into a narrow ravine that runs along with the river. With the camp located on the west side of the river valley, there is a large bridge built to accommodate the construction crews working on the Presidential bunker out in the mountains. To the east is a mountain range that stretches for more than two hundred miles and quite a bit of the lower altitudes are grassy mountain valleys.
AWD #224

The Armilustrium Games are held in the field just outside the temle to the Lords of Kobol. Sections of it have been roped off and designated for specific events, but first there are the opening ceremonies to be had. Just in front of the doorway of the temple a great cauldron has been erected, and Iphigenia, in the white dress of a priestess with the stole of her temple rank draped around her shoulders, awaits the runners who will come bearing the torch that will light the flame to open the games and honor the gods of battle.

Bennett is not one of those runners, but looks to have a mind to participate in the games themselves. The tall raptor pilot is dressed in her navy-issue tanks, mesh shorts that do not look navy-issue in the slightest, and a hooded sweatshirt thrown over top— perhaps in case it rains. Having wandered in from the landing zone somewhat late, she stands near the back of the clustering of crew gathered to watch the ceremonies, nimble fingers working her long hair into a ponytail.

Holtz stands near the front of the audience, his spine ramrod straight and chin thrust out proudly as he watches the proceedings. He does look a little impatient, however, as he waits for the runners with their torches. He's wearing the most basic off duty outfit - tanktops over a pair of shorts. Unlike Bennett, he did not come prepared for rain. He'll just have to hope the weather remains clear, it seems.

As it is, Sergeant Lleufer arrives with Captain Bennett, her having been late because she made sure he didn't have trouble getting down with a wheel chair from the Orion. The marine MP has his left arm in a sling and uses the chairs controls to find a decent place he's allowed to park so he'll have a reasonable view of what'll be going on. He looks a little tired.

Phin is likewise in a tank top and khaki Fleet-issue shorts, along with what look like civilian trainers on his feet. He's standing next to Holtz, posture straight and respectful as he watches the opening ceremonies. It's not quite attention, but it's not far off.

Mahasti is near Lleu, likely supervising his outting in her off duty outfit. A red standard issue firstaid kit is on her hip, a small duffle on her shoulder. She grins at Lleu for a moment before watching the fire, fingers tightly around her duffle bag. She seems pretty wide eyed at the small crowd, likely because she hasn't seen so many people out at once for a positive reason in months.

Warren arrives in the standard off-duty attire but also seems to be carrying his violin case. He glances around for the runners, and through the crowds, seeing who's here and whats going on. It is hard to miss Lleu and company, slowly making his away over that way.

A cheer starts at the back of the crowd, and it begins to part as the runner makes their way toward the temple. It is a young man, possibly too young to join the Fleet quite yet, but representative of hope and the youth that is tomorrow's promise. Full of desire to honor the gods, he holds the torch aloft as she jogs through the crowd to cheering that grows louder and louder.

Like the others, Maia is wearing a tank top and shorts, her tags around her neck. On her feet are regular athletic shoes, white in color. Her hair is tossed back in a loose ponytail that is rapidly going crooked. She's only just arriving, so she walks up near the other pilots present.

Bennett is nowhere near so studious in her posture as her viper counterparts, though does think to straighten slightly and drop her arms to her sides once the runners — and the white-mantled priestess — are spotted. Chin up slightly, her blue eyes only flick away to note Warren's arrival with a small smile in accompaniment. And then she's joining in the cheering with a whoop of her own that is quickly lost to those far noisier.

Holtz looks around the crowd, catching the sight of several familiar faces, mostly fellow pilots, but a few others as well. But then the runner appears, though, and his head snaps back to the front towards Iphigenia and the cauldron. As the young man with the torch jogs into view, he stabs the air with a fist as he cuts loose with a roaring cheer, almost loud enough to drown out the sound of those around him.

Phin cups one hand to his lips and lets out a sharply-pitched, undulating war-whoop as the runner passes him. His right arm then pumps into a fist and is raised into the air, the gesture mirroring Holtz's. The movement makes the Ares-script etched into his forearm particularly prominent.

Lleufer's had his duty shift today, then his first work out session in the pool to begin his baby steps in physical therapy. Now he looks like a man who could easily doze off. Holtz's roaring cheer, likely to be joined by others, straightens his head back up. Yep, the crowd gets loud!

Warren cheers out as he spots the torch while he continues making his way through the crowd. As he nears Bennett he gives the other pilot a nod. He watches the torch runner move and looks up towards the Priestess as the torch bearer makes his way up there.

Mahasti doesn't cheer loudly but she does cheer, one hand around her mouth to accentuate her noise, the other on Lleu's good shoulder. Her smile is big when she is not making cheerful sounds. She watches Lleu every so often before returning her attention to the runner. Warren is given a welcoming half smile but it doesn't last long, her attention back on the cauldron.

Don't mistake her reservedness in making noise for lack of enthusiasm; Bennett's smile is thrilled, and her eyes are bright with anticipation. Competitiveness is bred into most every pilot, no matter how they may otherwise seem. Her hand briefly alights upon Warren's shoulder as she leans in to speak something softly to the viper jock, along with a nod up to the podium.

The runner makes it to the steps and pauses before Iphigenia. The priestess calls out an invocation to each of the gods being honored: Ares, Athena, Artemis, Apollo, a so say we all offered ou to the crowd for each blessing.

Warren turns his head towards Bennett a moment when she leans into say something and theres a little shrug. He leans over to say something back a moment before looking back up towards the caldron returning the so say we all's.

Mahasti repeats as the crowd does, touching her thumb ring absently, or perhaps to mentally enforce the statements said. She looks down at Lleufer, leaning to whisper something to him, likely something friendly and gently toned. Her fingers rest on his shoulder though, eyes watching everything around her, although mostly the cauldron yet. A smile creeped back onto her face.

Bennett nods slightly to Warren's reply, and joins her voice to the surge of 'so say we alls' that echo across the field. None of the gods being honoured are her patrons, but her voice is clear and impassioned regardless.

"So say we all." Phin's contribution blends into the chorus of voices of people on the planet.

The blessings are spoken, and the priestess raises up her hands for silence, nodding to the young man. The torch is lowered and the cauldron begins to blaze!

Right on cue. Flying, for once, in atmosphere…. it's the sound of the incoming Vipers that the crowd can hear before they see them — the roaring of their engines, cutting across Piraeus's blue skies. Then, over the trees, the first hint of them — four gleaming silver forms, each one representing one of the gods to be honored here today. Colored smoke trails from them — gold, red, blue, green, white, yellow. The colors of each flag for each one of the twelve Colonies of Kobol. They twist and dive, turn and dance into inverted forms, weaving patterns of curling plaid in the air overhead for several minutes, before circling back around to buzz low over the crowd. One Viper, the lead, is completely inverted as the formation sweeps overhead. The vague form of the pilot inside can be seen waving enthusiastically to the crowd from inside the cockpit. It produces a deafening sound — the Vipers themselves, and the roaring cheer that comes from many of the spectators as a result.

"So say we all," Holtz echoes following Iphigenia's invocation. His booming voice echoes out over the field with the rest, and then he falls silent, eyes alight as the torch falls and flames spring forth from the cauldron.

And then Holtz's silence gives way to another raucous cheer and fistpump as the quartet of silvery dagger-shaped fighters streaks through the air overhead, his eyes following the Vipers as they draw their streaks of color across the sky.

Lleufer isn't much a religious fellow but he knows the words to some degree, having heard'm since he was a lad. He follows along with some parts, tipping his head over to listen to something Mahasti says, then glances up at her, curious. Whatever reply the Marine might have made is swept away by the imcoming Vipers! You have to admit, that's a beautiful sight, something to swell a fighting man's heart with pride to see their birds and hear their thunder. Lleu's fully awake now, for the moment and cheers with the others!

Mahasti quietly, digs out her camera before the torch is dropped, a special lens getting worked on instead of her normal every day one. She smiles and focuses it on the torch and takes a photo of the cauldron before the sound of vipers gets her attention, fingers swiftly refocusing and taking photos of the vipers and their smoke with a glee on her face - it isn't every day she can get pictures of vipers in flight afterall and they'll look smashing up on her bunk. Lleu's chair is leaned -lightly upon so she gets stable shots. Hobbies afterall make everything more fun.

Maia has never been religious at all, but the fly by gets her and she watches it intently, taking a deep breath. Beautiful. The twelve colonies represented. Cheering along with the others, she imagines the Colonies as they once were, not as they were now and damned if her eyes didn't water. Ugh.. Maia was never mushy.

Phin beams when the Vipers streak through the sky, craning his neck up and shielding his eyes against the sun to watch the presentation. "I was afraid they'd skip the Colonial Knights bit. Sweet!" All of boyish excitement, as if he didn't get to do that sort of thing for a living now.

Warren cheers out when the Vipers fly overhead and stabs his free hand in the air. He takes a moment setting his violin case down and leaning it against him before he claps and hollars out again grinning a bit. He glances over at Bennett a moment and smirks, nudging the pilot a moment.

Bennett cranes her neck to gaze skyward as the vipers roar overhead, her smile a wispy, ethereal thing. She watches them invert and scream just beneath the cloud cover, trailing patriotic smoke in their wake, and she too has the exact same look on her face that Phin does. Maybe, for a moment, she is that young girl who saw an airplane for the first time. Warren's nudge earns him a grin and something spoken in confidence.

After the ceremony, the call for the footraces is made. Folks are beginning to warm up and get themselves ready at the starting line.

It's highly unusual for Franklin to be late to anything, let alone something as important as the opening ceremonies of the Armilustrium. And she certainly isn't wearing her flight suit, making it highly unlikely she was one of the Viper jocks flying overhead — more likely that she was awaiting their landings somewhere past the treeline, to offer them a rather somber and ceremonial salute for their service. It would certainly explain why the DCAG, already flushed and with a few strands of hair flying free, is running… well, running to the races in her tanks, a paire of shorts, and her trainers.

Phin offers a "Later" to those he was standing next to in the crowd and jogs off to take his place amongst the runners. He gets in a little pre-sprint stretching as he takes his place at the starting line near Atalanta. The Major's offered a respectful nod, but no greeting. Has to get his head in the game, after all. In the zone, if you will.

Mahasti hands Lleu her camera, setting it to auto "Take photos? plenty. Don't worry about using the roll up, I have three on me and I have a shoe box full yet." she half demands "Coffee, a lap blanket, and a towel in my bag. Help yourself." she offers to Lleu with a grin, stretching out her legs and moving down to the racing area to stretch out her legs up behind her on the way. She seems to be in a good mood thus far

Hopefull this camera can be opperated with only one hand. If he has to, Lleu can use his left hand a little to help steady it but mostly he's not using it unless that long lens proves to be too heavy. "Do my best." Good it's set on auto! The Marine is conservative with the shots all the same, waiting to get the best ones he can. But not /too/ stingy either. No handling coffee while he has responsibility for Mahasti's camera. Heaven help him if he ruined it. "Go! Go! Go!" he cheers them!

When Mahasti moves to the competition, Maia walks over to stand beside Lleu. "How are you holding up?" Just being conversational. She squats down while reaching up to tighten her ponytail. "Can I get you any food or anything? A drink?" Turning her gaze to him, offering a smile.

Warren smirks as the race gets ready to begin, watching everyone line up. Theres a bit of a grin as the race gets ready to start. He cheers out as the race starts watching the competitors go.

<FS3> Bennett rolls Body: Failure.
<FS3> Phin rolls Body: Success.
<FS3> Atalanta rolls Body: Failure.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body: Success.

Bennett peels away from the sidelines as the races are slated to start, and does a few quick hamstring stretches on her way to the start line. Which likely isn't much more than a spraypainted line in the grass. Down she goes with the others, fingertips and the toes of her shoes; those long legs should make her a serious contender, surely. She runs the tip of her tongue along her lower lip as she waits for the gun to go off.

Holtz catches sight of the DCAG rushing to join the crowd, and utters a soft noise under his breath that's half snort, and half snicker. He moves to the race area, but he doesn't step up to the starting line himself, evidently saving his energy for later events. Instead, he stays on the sidelines as the racers prepare to start, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, "Come on, McBride, smoke 'em!" There's a grin in his former wingman's direction.

With quiet cries of "Wait! Wait!," and an upraised hand, Franklin is, without a doubt, the last runner to her mark. It's absolutely deranged, for her to think it's remotely a good idea to run the races after sprinting, double-time, all the way to them, from wherever it is she was. On the upside… well, at least it's one hell of a warm-up. She shoots an upnod to a familiar face at the start-up line — another woman, wearing a hoodie with the Rubaul's patch stitched to her side. There's a competitive grin shot Franklin's way in return, which the DCAG barely catches before dropping down to the ready. When the starting shot fires, she's off! Legs pumping, her face reddening — it's soon evident that yes, this really was a very bad idea. One hand reaches up to press to her ribs. A stitch in her side, no doubt.

Mahasti is, honestly at a disadvantage in the races due to the silly little stub things she calls legs, but she does look like she is intent on participating. The red haired doc's weight crouches down in a typically Leonese fashion. Out of either superstition or good sportsmanship 'best of luck' is mouthed at both people around her, the dainty doctor ready to rocket the second she can. As soon as the flare goes off she's hauling ass - its clear whatever fitness program she's on has made some improvements! She's even running in full pants and boots. She isn't actually very slow when it comes to running proper. The DCAG is eyed with medical worry which is likely to cause a small but vital blip in her focus.

Phin gets off like a shot. How well he'd do over longer distances is debateable, since he puts a big jolt into running right out of the gate that doesn't speak much to pacing, but he's a good little sprinter. He would never make the actual Colonial Games. But against his shipmates he's athletic enough to get out into an early lead, which he doesn't screw up, and he edges past Mahasti and a few of the other leaders at the end of it. He doesn't seem to notice right away that he came in first, skidding to a stop and panting.

<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body: Failure.
<FS3> Phin rolls Body: Failure.

<FS3> Phin rolls Body: Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body: Failure.

Lleufer is distracted as Maia comes by to check on him, "I'm doing all right. Tired. Had my first day back to the pool after my shift. Should be able to ditch this chair real soon." He smiles, "Eh, well Doc Nasreen brought coffee to share but I guess I am kind of hungry. I should've gotten something on the way down." The MP cranes his head around to try and see where the vendors are, but not miss the race either, "Don't want you to miss any of the events though, sir." Wait, here comes Mahasti! He should try to get a good shot of her.

Somewhere in the crowd, there's a tall blonde yelling, "WOOOOOOOH!" as Phin crosses the finish line.

Bennett raises a brow as she spots Atalanta jogging toward the starting line and already looking quite out of breath. That distraction may well be her undoing, as the gun goes off and she's still a little discombobulated. Eyes forward, she pushes off a little late, and immediately passes one, then two fellow pilots. Which puts her pretty much neck and neck with the DCAG herself— and a fair bit back from Mahasti and the quicker Phin. Her luck hasn't improved by the end of the race; she manages to squeak in close on the redheaded doctor's heels, in a photo finish with a big marine from one of the other ships. Once she figures it that it's Phin who placed first, she jogs by him to offer her congratulations with a proffered hand. "I did not know you were a runner, Doll. Very well done."

Ah! And Lleufer gets a good shot of Bennett with Phin racing past! Zoom!

Holtz raises a fist in salute and triumph as Phin is the first one to cross the finish line, ahead of the three others from Orion as well as the random assorted other entrants from around the fleet.

Determined to make it past the finish line despite her body's insistence that it needs things like, ohhh, oxygen, Franklin does exactly that. She skids to a stop, and then immediately drops down onto her butt, draping her arms over her bent knees. Her head hangs low and back rises and falls so quickly, so deeply, it's be easy to believe that she's crying — except for the fact that it's laughter that's escaping her, before gasps for air.

Score one for the viper jocks. Warren cheers out loud and lets out a whistle moving over with his violin case to give congrats to Phin. He does look over at the major who's laughing and gasping for air and raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

Mahasti does respectably which is more than she expected and once she's over the line she's doubling back to offer an arm to Atalanta, out of good sportsmanship and respect for attempting. She herself is a bit redfaced and puffing "Need help up, sir?" she asks, politely enough. Phin is eyed for a moment, a big smile tugging on her dusky face. "You okay?" she asks after a moment to Atalanta - ever the worrier when it comes to medical situations. This time though it is mostly because she doesn't know the other woman well enough to know her pain tolerances.

The Marine in the wheel chair with his left arm in a sling lays the camera in his lap and pumps his right fist into the air, "Whoo hooo! Go Orion!" If not, well, them silly pilots. Where's the Marines, by gum? Oh wait, he's sitt'n on his ass. Lleufer looks around to see if he can hand the camera back to Mahasti.

"I bet you'll be glad once you're finished with the chair." Maia stands from her position. "How about I go and get you something to eat," nodding towards the competition taking place. "Looks like she did good, either way. All of them did. I'll be right back." Heading towards one of the places to get him some food, she does keep an eye on the racers as they finish, cheering the winner.

A hand up? Franklin will certainly take that. She plants one palm, likely a bit on the sweaty side now, on the other woman's arm and uses it to yank herself up to her feet. She grins, wildly, which is not even remotely the face which she presents to her crew aboard the Orion. "Do I get bonus points for running the extra distance?," she quips, still trying to catch her breath. Well, at least she's good-humored about how ridiculous she looked! "Just need to…," inhale. "Catch my…," inhale. "Breath. And maybe some….," inhale. "Water."

Once she's finished congratulating Phin, Bennett is about to head over to Atalanta and offer her a hand up— but spots Mahasti doing the very same thing. Instead, she wipes off the slight sheen of sweat that's collected on her forehead and throat, and makes her way over to rejoin the bystanders. "I think I am a little bit rusty," she murmurs to Warren, shrugging out of her hoodie as the extra warmth becomes unnecessary.

Mahasti shakes Atalanta's hand gently "Lets get you some water." she offers, shifting to lean over Lleu and take a bottle from her bag "You know what the scouts say - Be prepared!" she chirps, taking her camera and giving a smile to Maia, puckering her lips up to puff a little peck at the female pilot "Thank you for being nice to him." She sort of trots back to Atalanta, offering the still sealed bottled water politely. It is pretty clear that grabbing things for people is something she doesn't complain about doing wether asked or not. She self conciously tugs her tanktops back down a little, looking like she doesn't have quite enough of a grip on the camera but somehow not dropping it, soon enough putting the strap back over her head so the camera can hit against her ribcage and upper stomach harmlessly. Poor thing has seen better days.

Phin looks all surprised once he realizes he won. But he beams some more. Chuckling at Bennett's congratulations. "Used to practice against cops and guys who wanted to kick my ass, Butch." It's a joke…probably. He accepts the congratulations that come his way with much high-fiving and fist-bumping.

Winston comes lumbering along, a drink in his hand and a cigar in his mouth. He looks around at the assembled crowd. "Did I miss all the excitement?" he grumbles. He grunts. "Frak. Hope I didn't miss the sparring, at least."

Warren laughs a bit at Bennett's comments, "Sure we'll go with rusty" She smirks and flinches away half expecting a punch, "We'll just have to get you in the gym more" He smirks a bit and glances over towards the spears, "Well I can't let you be the only one getting smoked. Lets see how far the spears will go."

One delicate hand wraps around the bottle. Cold or not, she's grateful for it — it's written all over her face. "Thank you," she says, offering a smile to Mahasti as she twists the cap open. "I still have… two more events." The statement is accompanied by a slight shake of her head before she tilts it back, pouring clear liquid into her mouth until there's a few drops spilling out of the corners.

As the crowd around the race track begins to break up, Holtz makes his way over towards the spear-throw range. He takes a few moments to swing around and stretch out his arms before picking up one of the spears, hefting it experimentally in his hand as he tries to get a feel for the weight and balance of the weapons.

Mahasti takes a moment, quietly backing to take out a tripod from her bag, not a good one by any means, something a deck hand scraped together as a personal favor more than likely. She changes the film roll before setting it up and tucking the camera on it. Without any fuss she sets the camera to take photos once every 30 seconds while aimed at the next event starting in 60 seconds. "I'm sure we can refill it for you too sir. I have a protein bar and a yogurt bar with me if you need it." Oh the joys of extra midrats! She stretches her arms, the less than impressive muscle tone showing.

Maia isn't gone for too long before she returns with a wrapped burger. Hey they'd had the cow runs for a reason, yeah? When she approaches Mahasti and Lleu, she takes the kiss to the cheek with surprise, but she grins. "Thanking me for being nice to a friend?" Chuckling, she offers the food and a bottled water to Lleu. "It's got the works, hope you don't mind." Slanting him a smile. Once he takes the food, she shoves her hands into her pockets and looks towards the gathering of the challengers in the spear event. "It's kinda nice to feel normal again," she observes quietly.

No, Bennett doesn't punch. But she does give Warren a bit of a withering look for his crack, and lopes away as the next event is called.

Ohhh, I'm quite sure that I'll be alright." Another swig of water. "Thank you." Another swig. "Of all the things that might kill, a bit of a run is not the one that I'm worried about." Franklin wipes at her mouth with the back of one hand, rubbing both a trail of water and a light sheen of sweat off of her face. A smile is offered to Maia, and also to Lleu, the little cluster that's formed around Mahasti. "If you'll excuse me, I think I have a few spears that I need to throw, and hope that I hit my target instead of some of the brass." A laugh, and a wave, and the DCAG turns to join the next event. She's in a good mood tonight, it seems.

Phin hustles over to get himself some water, and re-hydrate as much as he can for the next contest.

The MP eyes Mahasti setting up the camera on a tripod with a timer, as if Lleufer can't be trusted with it anymore. Hey, he didn't break it or spill coffee on it, right? But then Maia returns with food and he's glad to have his hand free, "Thanks, Lieutenant. Much appreciated and no, I like everything on it, especially if it's extra hot and spicy." Hey, it's that gal who was standing shirtless at the sink the other night. Lleu gives Atalanta a bit of a smile and briefly raises his burger to her in lieu of things like a salute or someth'n. Back to Maia he says, "This next event ought to be interesting. Hey!" he raises his baritone to shout, "SHOW'M HOW, WINSTON!" Who knew Lleu could bellow!

Mahasti nods "Yes, and keeping Lleu company." she heads towards the group for the event, listening for the first click of the shutter and the slight vrrroo noise of the film advancer "There we go. good boy." she mumbles back at the camera. When Winston is spotted - how did it take THIS long? she gives him a surprisingly good swat on the back "Heya there." she offers. She seems in very good spirits. "Hey have you seen Ron today? That unwashed man promised me a meat loaf and tea." she asks towards Winston.

Winston hrrms. "Spear-chucking, eh? Why the hell not?" He takes a last pull from his cigar and tosses it down, grinding it out with his bootheel. The drink in his hand gets gulped and the cup tossed in a trash bin. Clapping his hands together, he rubs them vigorously. "Can't be any harder'n handling a rifle, yeah?" He looks to Mahasti, shaking his head. "Can't say as I have, doctor."

Sarin finally makes it down to the planet, her shift over. She is relieved to see the events in full swing. "Hey." she says passing Phin, he is the only person she recognized so far.

<FS3> Holtz rolls Body+4: Good Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body+4: Good Success.
<FS3> Winston rolls Body+3: Good Success.
<FS3> Atalanta rolls Body+3: Great Success.
<FS3> Bennett rolls Body+3: Failure.
<FS3> Warren rolls Body+4: Great Success.
<FS3> Phin rolls Body+4: Success

Holtz steps up to the throwing line, a spear in hand as he eyes his target with furrowed brows. With a smooth movement, he flips the spear into the air, catching it with his throwing hand and taking aim. A grunt escapes his lips as he rears back and lets fly, the hurled spear impacting against his target with a loud thunk. It's not a perfect throw, but it does catch the inside edge of the middle ring; more than good enough to keep him in the contest.

The javelin — sacred to every god honored today, but representative of Lady Athena in particular, the patron lady of the Franklin family. No wonder the DCAG has entered the event. She strides over to the line of competitors, Mahasti's half-finished bottle of water in her hands. She sets it down near her feet, exchanging it instead for one of the spears prepared for Games. She tests its weight for a moment, brow furrowing with the consideration of someone familiar with the instrument. She then hefts it up into her hand, catches it deftly, and stretches back, the gesture allowing the tip of a black tattoo to peek out from under the straps of her tank. The pose is held for a moment before she takes two quick steps forward and with a grunt of effort, sends the spear sailing through the air, piercing her target — dead-center.

Warren heads over to the spear line and picks up his spear, spinning back and forth just a little to stretch out. He lines up the target down the field and leans back and hurls the spear down the range to its target. Bullseye! No he didn't hit Phin, but he did hit the center of the target.

Mahasti is careful, making a quick prayer gesture not uncommon on Leonis, fingers adjusting her small lion shaped ring on her thumb before lifting up an appropriately sized spear for her weight and height. She's never made any commentary about being skilled in any such activity. A small smile creeps on her features as she gently taps the butt of the spear on the ground thrice, for luck possibly. The small doctor seems to understand the throwing process though, instead of holding it in the back she finds the balance point, wrapping her hand, holding it like an oversized pencil. The small read haired woman puts her left foot foreward and whips her arm around, allowing it to go foreward - her thumb and forefinger the last contacts on the spear as it heads for the target. Almost the center. A respectable throw for the competitor most likely to girly throw it.

Phin stretches before stepping up to the line, hefting his javelin. He has reasonably good form. Enough to hit the target, at least, though his thunks onto the outer edges of it. Not particularly close, let alone close enough.

Today is definitely not Bennett's day. After being ousted from top spot at the foot race, she looks set to make up for her loss in the spear throwing competition. And, actually, her form is half-decent, even if she doesn't have the upper body strength to really be a top contender. After selecting a spear and stepping up to the throwing line alongside the much bigger Holtz, she pauses a moment to take aim. And adjusts her stance a fraction before doing a quick pivot to add momentum, and looses the spear. For a moment the toss looks good, but it becomes evident fairly quickly that not only has it completely missed the target, but that she's not doing so hot, herself. The pilot is cradling her left arm with her right, lips pressed together hard enough to turn them white in silent agony.

Winston goes to take his place at the spear range. He picks up one of the aforementioned spears, hefts it a couple times. He turns and peers down the range, licks his finger and holds it up to test the wind. Then, he takes his stance, lifting the spear to shoulder range. Trots forward a few steps, and heaves with all his strength. The spear flies true, slamming into the target well within the middle ring, but not quite at the bullseye. "Aww, frak," he grunts. "I could have done better."

<FS3> Holtz rolls Body+4: Good Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body+4: Good Success.
<FS3> Winston rolls Body+3: Great Success.
<FS3> Atalanta rolls Body +3: Success.
<FS3> Warren rolls Body+4: Failure.
<FS3> Phin rolls Body+4: Good Success.

Holtz was the first to throw, so he's able to stand back and watch as the other competitors make their throws; first the DCAG, his eyes following the motions of her body as she rares back to throw — and then his nostrils flare as her spear sinks home dead center, and he sighs in disgust. His eyes move down the line as the others make their throws as well, with a tiny flicker of sympathy crossing his eyes as Bennett's throw goes awry. Luck is clearly not with her today. "Tough luck, Butch," he says somberly as the Raptor pilot's face clenches. He turns away, hefting another javelin in preparation for the next round.

The corners of Franklin's mouth twist upwards at her success. It is almost, though not quite, a smirk. Certainly, she's made a better showing here than in the footrace. She scans the row of competitors, spotting Holtz, whom she offers a single cocked brow. The expression sits on her face for a second more before she, wordlessly, turns to lift another spear into her hands. With her eyes so intent on her target, it's no wonder she's not yet noticed Bennett's expression. A second spear sails through the air, landing within the outer ring with a thunk. "Damn," she murmurs under her breath.

Lleufer is eating his burger and when his mouth isn't full, chatting with Maia a bit as they watch this event. "Wow, Doctor Nasreen's off to a pretty good start. Holy! Some of them are doing really well. Go, old man Winston! Holtz is throwing strongly, too." Oops, Bennett not so much. He lays the burger in his lap and putting the bottle of water between his knees, he tries to open it. Only, he frowns, watching something, "Is Captain St. Clair all right?"

Sarin watches the event with quiet concentration, she is mentally keeping track of how everyone is doing. She doesn't appear to be rooting for anyone one person right right now. Though she is focused on all the participants, she can't help but stare at Winston. He guy is just huge!

For Warren's second throw he manages to miss the target. He grunts a bit at that and glares a bit at the target. Maybe he he didn't grab it right. Maybe just got lucky the first time. Or maybe he just didn't want to show up the DCAG…yeah thats what he's going with. Regardless of why, with the way the others are throwing at this point it doesn't look like he's advancing. He shakes his head and shrugs moving off to join Butch off on the sidelines.

Holtz bristles slightly at the lifted brow Atalanta sends his way, and his cheeks color slightly, muttering something under his breath as he again flips the javelin into his throwing hand. This time, he waits until some of the others have made their second throw before stepping up to the line himself. Taking a deep breath, he rares back and hurls — much to the same result as before. Once again, the spear buries itself in the inner portion of the middle ring. He steps back from the line, sending a thin smirk in Atia's direction.

Bennett doesn't really seem to catch the consolation thrown her way by Holtz. She looks to be in considerable. In fact, as soon as she finds a spot to sit, she parks herself on the grass and does her best to breathe through the blinding pain. Warren, too, is not noticed just at the moment.

Winston picks up his next spear and sets his jaw. He sets his steely gaze on the target, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Then, he lifts his spear, trots forward again, and snaps his hand forward. This time, the spear flies unerringly, slamming dead center. "BOOM!" he thunders, pumping his fist. "Now that's how ya do it!" He looks up with a huge grin. "Ares, see your unworthy servant. I'm on a roll now!" He laughs amusedly, clapping his hands as he goes to select his third spear.

Mahasti offers Bennett an apologetic smile, « Poor dear.» is murmured softly in Leonese, prim proper Leonese towards Bennett, she watches Warren's throw "Your first was very good, Toast." she offers softly, taking her mark to lift her second spear, to take a deep breath and let it all wash out of her, relaxation taking over her features as she considers her target, lifting her shoulders to stretch her back a little before once again making a whip like throw with proper Leonese stance involved again. Once she's thrown she stretches her arms "Huh. I have triceps. I forgot about them." she murmurs, reaching to rub the back of her right arm a little "A very nice throw sirs." she offers to Holtz and Atalanta politely. She between rounds takes a field friendly cool pack out of the medical pack on her hip to offer to Bennett "Just start squishing it and apply it where it hurts." she offers, softly, returning to the queue quickly.

Phin's more on target on his second throw. He gets it closer to the bulls-eye than the outer ring, at least, if still not quite dead center. He takes a step back, bouncing on his heels from the exertion.

<FS3> Holtz rolls Body+4: Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body+4: Success.
<FS3> Winston rolls Body+3: Good Success.
<FS3> Atalanta rolls Body+3: Failure.
<FS3> Phin rolls Body+4: Good Success.

Warren moves over to Bennett and her quiet suffering. After a moment of her not noticing her he reaches over and touches her shoulder, "Hey." And then theres Mahasti with the ice pack and he gives her a nod and takes it from Bennett a moment to make sure its all ready and puts it on her shoulder, "Here or, your arm itself?"

Maia watches the spear throwing, remaining where she is standing for now, just waiting for the sparring. It's one of her favorite things to do even without it being an event in a competition. Her hands are still in her pockets, but she does call out cheers now and then for those competing.


Bennett is barely aware of the doctor on the other side of that cold pack. Or Warren, for that matter, taking it upon himself to squish it down for her and activate the cold magic. "Shoulder," she whispers, with a grateful smile for both of them. "Gods, I am a sorry sight today, aren't I?" Laughter, however faint.

"GO TITUS!" Shouts the wheel chair bound Marine, raising /both/ of his hands up to his mouth, sling be damned. It makes Lleufer wince to use his left arm but it's a good sign all the same. "OORAH!" It was a really good throw, after all. Still, Lleu's concerned about Bennett, watching those closely who are tending to her. OK, looks like her arm or shoulder got wrenched, not a heart issue. Hopefully. The MP studies what he can see of the Captain but he's not got his binoculars with him and isn't close enough to tell what's going on. Lleu glances to Maia, "Exciting stuff. Are you going to compete in any of the events, Lieutenant?"

Winston watches the other competitors throwing their spears, picking up one for himself. He hefts the weight, considering the target carefully. Carefully, he steps forward and snaps his arm. Again, the spear hits the target dead on. Not quite a bullseye again, but a telling hit. But that's not good enough for the big Taurean. "C'mon, Ares. What the frak?" he growls. "I said watch me, didn't I?" He grunts, shaking his head. He looks towards Lleufer, waving at the other Marine as he goes for his next spear.

There's a soft laugh that comes from Franklin, barely audible among all of the noise and bustle of the event. A shake of her head, too, before she lifts another spear from the ground, nudging it up into her hand with the toe of her shoes. She's distracted by whatever it was, exactly, that had amused her so — that much is obvious, as her spear goes sailing past its target, narrowly missing the edge. Fortunately, the javelin's point plants itself firmly into the ground just past her target. A powerful throw, but ultimately, and thankfully, harmless.

"Nice throw, Dolly," Holtz murmurs to Phin as he watches the mustachioed pilot's third spear land successfully on the target. Atia's whiff of a throw is noticed as well, and Holtz does a remarkable job of mimicking her prim brow raise from before as the DCAG is eliminated. Finally, he releases his own spear, which thunks as it impales the target on the outer ring. Not a great throw, but good enough.

Lleufer eyes, "Man, Holtz is giving Titus a run for his boxers. He's good."

Warren smirks at Bennett, "Oh I don't know about that. Throwing out your shoulder durring the games? How many people in the fleet can say they've done that eh?" He grins holding the icepack on her shoulder for now. Theres a glance towards the field seeing how people are doing before looking back to Bennett.

"Good job, Mahasti!" Lleu is impressed that she's throwing so strongly as well, "Would never have expected that."

"Just the sparring, I'm not sure how I'd do in any of the others, and sparring is really all I'm in to, other than piloting and Legos." Maia smirks at the latter hobby. "You know, you can call me Maia without the rank. Makes it a lot easier," giving Lleu a brief smile. While watching, she tugs her hands out of her pockets and applauds. "Good job!"

Phin falls into a rhythm with his spear-chucking. He's not perfectly on target, but once he gets going it's clear he's done this enough to have developed some muscle memory. "You, too," he says with a slight grin to Holtz. "At the Ares school we used to have to do these for a half-hour every evening. Never wanted to see a frakking javelin again, by the time I was out of there."

<FS3> Holtz rolls Body+4: Good Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body+4: Good Success.
<FS3> Winston rolls Body+3: Good Success.
<FS3> Phin rolls Body+4: Success.

Mahasti takes in a deep breath and washes it out, muttering in Leonese a statement of worry about Bennett, afterall it isn't like her to quit fussing at people. Instead of going to Bennett she focuses her neurosis into the spear, mumbling something about not leaving an animal wounded in the wild. Her whip throw is quick and fierce again. Not quite a bullseye but its a good throw again. Her breath washes in and out as she closes her medpack properly now, likely just realizing she left it open like an idiot. Now that its not her turn she eyes Warren and Bennett, shifting, despite it not being quite normal to do so to squat down infront of Bennett and talk very softly "Bennett do you need a pain tablet? You look miserable." she taps the medical pouch on her hip "I can give you something if you want it." she isn't forcing it "I want to look at your arm when we're done here, okay?" If Bennett says she'd like it she is handed a single serving tablet of something to help with inflammation and pain. Water is up to Warren, apparently.

"Legos?" That turns his head. Ynyr looks at Maia, "Sparring's something I'd be decent at. I'm reasonably fast if not as strong as somebody like Titus." He remembers the rest of his hamburger and spends a moment finishing it off followed by another long drink of water. When his mouth is clear, the Marine adds, "You built mini Vipers out of your legos or what?"

Winston glances down the line at Mahasti. A half-grin tugs up a corner of his mustache. "Not bad, doctor. You've got a good throwing arm," he says. He picks up his next spear, hefting it in hand. He glances skyward. "C'mon now, Ares. A little help." He sights, steps forward, and heaves. The spear thunks the target, still just off the bullseye, earning a dour look from the big Taurean. "You're just frakking with me now, aren't you?" he grunts. He goes for his next spear, rolling his shoulder in a circle to limber it up.

"You are just giving me a hard time, because you think it's your gods-given right as a viper jock," Bennett murmurs, briefly glancing to Warren before turning her gaze back to the competition. Now that the pain is somewhat under control, she seems curious to see who's in the lead. "Your first throw was quite good, by the way— no, I will be fine. Get back out there, you're doing very well, doctor." The last is to Mahasti, whose arm she'd squeeze if she could in encouragement.

Holtz chuckles darkly at Phin as he steps back up to the line with a fourth spear in his hand. A quiet prayer is muttered under his breath as he flings the spear towards the target. Another middle ring shot — better than the last throw, at least, and once more enough to keep him out of elimination.

<FS3> Holtz rolls Body+4: Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Body+4: Good Success.
<FS3> Winston rolls Body+3: Great Success.

There's a squint from Franklin, at the line of the competitors. Something, or someone, has her narrowing her eyes, pressing her mouth into a thin line. With a shake of her head, she snatches up her empty water bottle and exits the field, slipping into the collection of what are now her fellow spectators. She stretches her arms a few times, trying to keep the muscles loose and warm, before the archery competition begins.

"Good luck," Phin offers quick to Holtz, moving to the sidelines entirely when his flirting with the rim of the target isn't enough to keep him in competition. He goes to get himself more water, and spectate from the sidelines.

"Legos," Maia reaffirms with a half smile. "Something like that, except I'm a Raptor pilot. I drive the busses." Hands go back into her pockets and she lifts her shoulders in a light shrug. "So, think maybe once you're all healed up you'd be good for a few spars?"

Warren laughs a bit at Bennetts comment, "Well it's not my right. It's my duty as a viper jock to give you a hard time!" He gives her a nudge and a smile, "We'll get your sorry rear back in your bus. And sides I figure I'll go spar and you can laugh at all the bruises I end up with."

Mahasti smiles a bit "Bennett, you know good and well if you needed emergency medical treatment that I would leave this competition for you. My oaths come before fun." she taps her wrist gently "Here." she takes a yogurt bar out of her pocket. "The lactic acid helps a little." she offers, standing up to go greet Phin with a hand extended for a handshake - On this - the only ocassion she has ever openly initiated handshakes. "Oh! Camera's still going. Oopsy." she offers, "Congradulations Dolly." she backs off to go turn her camera off its timer, sort of shifting immediately to go and just openly bear hug Winston. "Congradulations. I didn't know you did such things!" she chirps. "Its a shame I didn't beat you! The harassment! You need it!" she jokes, laughing merrily. Poor Winston. Getting a bear hug in public.

"Hmph," Bennett mumbles at Warren's continued ribbing. Truth be told, though, it seems to be welcome, much more than someone fussing over her would be. "Yes. Go." She reaches for the cold pack on her shoulder, and begins clambering back to her feet— in time to have a yogurt bar shoved at her. "Thank you, doctor," she replies with a pained-sounding laugh. And then she's off to find wherever her sweatshirt got to. Likely somewhere near where she was initially standing with Mahasti and Lleufer.

Winston sights in on the target one last time. Collapses his focus to a single pinpoint. Steps forward, puts his entire body into the throw, loosing a low grunt as he sets the spear flying. It hits the bullseye dead center. For a long breath, Winston is silent, studying his handiwork. Then, he pumps a fist in the air. "Oo-frakkin'-rah!" he thunders. "Hah! Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" He turns and faces the rest of the crew, arms spread wide as he nods, grinning wide. "Yeah? Yeah? Who's tops? I'm tops! Mah-REEENS!" His elation is cut short by a surprise Mahasti attack-hug. He laughs, wrapping her up and swinging her around in a circle. "You did good, doctor! Had me sweating for a sec. You're a right terror with a spear!" He then lumbers over to Holtz, offering the other man a hand to shake. "Good run, sir. Damn good run."

Holtz can feel from the moment he releases his fifth spear that it wasn't a good throw. And indeed it isn't; though the javelin does hit the target, it barely punctures the outer ring. Not good enough by half, and that leaves Winston with the laurel. He turns and nods to the marine noncom, accepting the offered hand with a firm squeeze and replying in a level tone. "Not too bad yourself, Sergeant. Congratulations." He manages to be courteous enough in defeat, though the outcome has obviously rankled him. He turns away from the throwing line, removing his tanktops as he heads over for the improvised ring where the sparring matches are to take place.

"MARINES!" Lleufer echoes with a shout, "OORAH!" Yes, he has some team spirit, or something. He almost stands up from his wheel chair and drops his water bottle in his enthusiasm, gritting his teeth at the sudden pain in his leg. Quick sit back down! What did Maia say? "Yes, I meant Raptors." Of course he did. Lleu rubs his thigh, "Sure I'd be good for sparring, once the doctors clear me. Probably won't be up for it for a little while yet, but I'm look'n forward to getting back fully." Ah, there's St. Clair coming over to rejoin them, "How's the arm, Captain? You all right?"

Mahasti watches Holtz as well, extending her hand politely to him, in a show of good sportsmanship "Just remember, Winston, before your pride bites you in the ass, that Marines count on doctors." she very jokingly reaches over, giving Winston a firm pinching on the outter edge of his elbow. "I have not thrown a spear since I was a Senior Lion scout the summer before college, actually. Such a long time ago." she admits to Winston "Artemis must have an eye on me." she offers with a grin, headed back to grab her camera and help Lleu up to the ring. "taking bets on which fighter gets the most blood on me after rounds." she jokes towards Lleu and Maia and possibly Bennett "May I, good sir Ynyr, push you to the front since you have my stitch bitch kit?" she gestures at her dufflebag with a grin. "Also you have my medic vest. My darling friends Bennett and Maia, shall we?" she asks, going very heavy on her Leonese accent, intentionally to be comical.

Warren makes sure Bennett has the ice pack before he heads over towards that sparring ring himself. He gives a nod to Holtz who's already over there, "Lets see if we can get another for the wing eh sir?"

Lleufer can't reach his water bottle he dropped without about falling out of the wheel chair, lucky him. He lifts his head back up at Mahasti's voice, "Eh, yeah, sure. Dropped my water. Thankfully it wasn't a beer. I'm allowed beer, right?" The Jarhead looks hopeful, "I'm game. Don't want to miss the sparring match."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lleufer=melee Vs Agrippa=melee
< Lleufer: Success Agrippa: Failure
< Net Result: Lleufer wins - Marginal Victory

There's a crowd gathering around the makeshift ring, set up for tonights bloodba—err, Games. Naturally, sparring is one of the most popular sports. It always has been. With both military, Colonial security, and police forces competing in years past, it's also traditionally been one of the most competitive, with the winner's face splashed on Wheaties boxes across the galaxy. People have formed a wall of bodies around the ring, many already cheering. A few more are quietly taking bets. (Who says Hermes can't be honored a little, too, eh??)

Mahasti is quietly pushing Lleu up so he gets a medic's view of things - afterall by not participating and just playing medic for a fight, fingers digging out her vest - she's honoring HER God of choice and partially the one her planet widely supports. She is mostly quiet though.

Winston lumbers over to where Lleufer sits with Mahasti. "Doing all right, Ynyr?" he asks. He looks the other Marine over with a critical eye. "Hera's tits, man. Something got a good look at you, didn't they? Any notion when you'll be back in action?"

Once everyone who's going has regathered around the sparring pits, a Marine from another ship stands ready for the first round. Chesty P… er, I mean, Sgt Chester Puller. He's not as big as Wintson and is in fact around Lleufer's size, which while tall enough, isn't otherwise real impressive in the muscles department. Still, he's a jarhead and he looks like he eats Cylons in his Wheaties for breakfast all the same. Steely eyes watch Agrippa as the two of them enter the ring, about to begin. Dog tags are tucked under his A frame undershirt, standing quietly watching his opponant and ready to throw down! Are you ready, girls?

Lleufer looks a little embarassed to have his wheel chair pushed around but soon enough he'll be rid of it. "Thanks, see real well here, Mahasti." He flashes a grin for Winston, "Titus, congratuations! Yeah, I'm still kick'n." A grimace for his condition, "I'm about finished with the chair and should be up with a cane any day now. Working on longer trips. Arm's a bit fubar'd though. Take some time to get my hand back into use."

Bennett catches up her sweatshirt — and Lleufer's water bottle — and accompanies Mahasti, Lleufer and Maia on their trek toward the ring. "Bad toss," she explains to the marine with a sheepish smile. "I pulled something in my shoulder, but I'll be fine." She's still holding the ice pack in place that the doctor gave her. "Lieutenant, will you be competing in the sparring?" That's to her fellow raptor pilot.

There's a blonde head, navigating its way through the circle around the ring — an excuse me here, a little nudge there, and Franklin soon finds herself pressed about as close as she can get to the ropes. The woman may not be entering the sparring matches herself, but it certainly looks like she enjoys a good fight — odd, given her usual demeanor. More so, when she lets out an exuberant, "COME ON, AGRIPPA!" for her wingman.

This isn't the first time that Agrippa has sparred before, nor is the first time he's sparred against a Marine either. The Viper jock is in the same sleeveless military issued shirt as well, his own tags dangling before he secures it inside his shirt. The steely look he gets from the Marine is answered in turn with a smirk, an arrogant smirk at that as if Punchdrunk isn't phased at all by who he is facing. Shaking loose his feet and hands, Agrippa nods his head at the jarhead, "Ready when you are, you'll get to see that Viper jocks are /much/ tougher than the toasters you are use to dancing with."

Phin is not participating in the sparring. So he finds himself a good spot in the crowd to watch as the fighting unfolds. He ends up not far from Bennett and Company. "You OK, Butch?" he asks the Raptor pilot. Though he's just in time to hear her answer. "The javelins can mess you up if you toss too hard at a funky angle. Oh, sweet, Grips is up." He hollers, "Put him away, Punchie!"

Mahasti grins "Medics get the best seats, so we can hop and roll in the mud and the blood and if we're lucky get the blood to stop flowing." she offers to Lleu, leaning to whisper in him. "Bennett, would you like me to put a roll on that so your hand isn't cold?" she asks, curiously. "WOO!" she yells at the fighter but she's more or less recovering from throwing so hard and so much. It isn't normal for her to do so much in one day. "Javelins aren't the same as spears. A spear is heavier to the front and a javelin is more stream lined." she offers with a shrug.

Bennett glances up as Winston approaches, and favours the big marine with a smile. "You did very well out there, Staff," she tells him sincerely. A nod to Phin, though her cheeks colour slightly at the younger pilot's question. "Bruised pride, nothing more. You had an excellent run, Doll." It's drawled softly, as always.

Holtz is up close to the ring, watching as the combatants prepare for the first fight of the event. He turns as he hears Warren call out to him, and he shoots a toothy grin at the lieutenant. "That's what I'm hopin' for." A quick look over at the lineup shows he's scheduled for the third fight… against none other than the man he's talking to. "But it looks like only one of us will get the chance," he continues wryly. In his hand there's a roll of tape, of the kind fighters use to wrap their hands in before the clash. He looks around, his eyes settling on Phin. "Hey, Dolly, c'mere!" He gestures with the tape and holds out his hands. "Gimme a hand with this, would you?" Every few seconds he looks back up to the ring and the fight beginning inside, but for now at least, he's not cheering for one or the other.

Walking over to watch Grips and the Marine, Maia grins at Bennett. "Wouldn't miss it for anything. I've never done it in a competition though I work out daily in the fitness center on the mats with whoever I can coax into sparring with me." Watching the fight between the two, there's one obvious choice to root for and she has to cheer. "Get 'im Grippa!"

Oh, look! When did Sgt. Vashti get here? Or maybe Arthur has been keeping an uncharacteristically low profile. Regardless, he seems into the sparring, so much so that he probably hasn't signed up himself yet. >.>

"Come on Punchie!" Warren calls out to Agrippa. He smirks looking over at the lineup after Holtz points it out, "Well I'm sure the DCAG will forgive you for loosing and not being able to defend the air wings honor." Theres a grin at that, gods he's going to get slugged for that fairly soon.

The Marine who's not from the Orion doesn't look impressed. Dark of skin tone, black haired and eyed, he raises a brow slightly at the flight jock. Sgt Puller waits until the signal is given to start the first fight. No dancing around, no boasting, only watching Agrippa closely, studying him. No closeing in at once but then he moves, choosing his grip and fast. The two clash, the Marine trying to get his shoulder in low to knock the Viper pilot a jarring blow while his hands go for Agrippa's knee. Rough hands, bent to give it a jarring wrench up and throw the other man down right off, if he can.

"Lord of War must like me or something," Phin says wryly to Bennett. He doesn't sound particularly thrilled about it. He catches Holtz's nod and heads over to help the other pilot tape his hands. "Remember, Storm. Ducking isn't a sin. Your probably aren't going to be fighting another pantywaist flyboy this time." He says it with a half-grin.

Winston nods his head to Bennett. "Thanks, sir," he says. "Lucky for us you don't need to be good at spear-chucking to be a bad-ass Viper jock, eh?" He grins a bit, trying to salve the pilot's pride. He looks back to the fight. Watching the two combatants with a critical eye. "That marine's not bad," he says. "Agrippa could be in trouble."

It seems like Agrippa is a bit rusty, perhaps spending too much time in the sims and cockpit than on the sparring mat because his moves are a bit slow, slower than the Marine he is facing. The shoulder charge wasn't exactly expected, nor was the low grab either, somewhat unconventional. The Viper jock had expected the Marine to try to mess his pretty face up with bruises so down he goes, landing on his back with an 'oof'. The first round goes to the Marine but Punchdrunk is right back on his feet.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Agrippa=Melee Vs Lleufer=Melee
< Agrippa: Good Success Lleufer: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lleufer=melee Vs Agrippa=melee
< Lleufer: Good Success Agrippa: Success
< Net Result: Lleufer wins - Solid Victory

This time the pilot advances on the Marine, hands up in a defensive manner and soon he throws out a couple of probing jabs. Then comes the real attack, a straight punch followed up by a roundhouse kick to the right midsection.

Pantywaist flyboy? That, at least, makes Bennett turn and fix Phin with an amused look. Though it fades to something far more sombre as his first words sink in. "I should think so," she agrees softly, adjusting the ice pack on her shoulder. "Well, I will be rooting for you," she calls back to Maia, with a wink. Raptor solidarity and all that.

Mahasti settles down, quietly taking out hand sanitizer to clean her hands, she's touched pilots and marines afterall. She shakes them out before taking a wrapped midrat out of her bag to daintily open and then very suddenly cram half of it in her mouth to chew upon quite soundly. She snaps photos of Agrippa helpfully. Snap scrick snap scrick snap. She is at least fun enough as a shutterbug to enjoy documenting the fun day.

"We'll see about that," Holtz replies to Warren with a wolfish grin. Phin's teasing draws only a snort and a shake of the head; Holtz probably wouldn't tolerate quite that much cheek from most people, but Phin, it seems, is an exception. The barechested Tauron stands still, watching as Phin begins to wrap the tape around his hands.

The jabs land soundly, but are partly blocked by Chester's forearms that guard, twisting his body. The roundhouse kick though, man you can see those coming a mile away and he dodges it! He gets a jab in himself while Agrippa's doing his thing but it glances off, neither of them doing the other much harm. The Jarhead stays focused, in close and pushing. When Agrippa's leg takes it's momentum past, the Marine steps in and makes a solid hard jab for the Pilot's ear! BAM! Did that ring a clock? Yeah, he likes it, Mikie.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Agrippa=Melee Vs Lleufer=Melee
< Agrippa: Good Success Lleufer: Failure
< Net Result: Agrippa wins - Solid Victory

It surprises her when Grippa takes the fall and she eyes the Marine challenging him with renewed respect. "Off your ass, Grippa, throw one like you mean it!" Flashing a grin at Bennett, she also gives her a wink. "Thanks, I hope to give you something to root for."

Warren laughs at Phin and Holtz's comments, "Well maybe after you wake up" Warren grins starting to get ready himself as he keeps poking the bear, "I mean I'll try to keep you awake for a little bit, don't want to embaress you too much."

Agrippa's ear certainly rings from that blow and he stumbles back, things are not looking good for the Viper jock. Shaking it off, Punchdrunk definitely doesn't look pleased as he gets back into the fight. This time, it's a right jab, then left, followed by a solid right hook that is aimed for the Marine's jaw. He needs to put up a better showing for sure.

He's not competing. And god knows where he was to only show up now. But there's Jax, coming to observe, jaw working as he finishes eating something or other, usually sleepy gray eyes wide with interest.

There's several winces from Franklin as she watches the progress of the fight. She sucks her breath in through closed teeth at a few of the hits that land, and the resulting sound of flesh smacking against flesh. "Get back up!!", the woman shouts from her place, ring-side. Gods, who in the world is this strange woman, and what did they do with the DCAG?!

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Lleufer=melee Vs Agrippa=melee
< Lleufer: Good Success Agrippa: Failure
< Net Result: Lleufer wins - Solid Victory

Yep, warming up nicely! The two are starting to sweat it up, muscles slick, shirts dampening, feet shifting as they circle and close again. Agrippa's jabs are blocked but it leaves the Marine open for the right hook that nails his jaw hard! It snaps Chester's head around with an audiable crack, but he shakes it off, moving to the side in a jig, and then snapping his own leg out the side with a heavy, steel toed boot right for Agrippa's knee! Marine's are supposed to be honorable fighters, right? This one seems to be playing a bit dirtier, aiming a serious kick that's going to hurt. No expression on the face of the Jarhead, only focus.

Mahasti takes a moment "Maia come here." she shoves the rest of her sandwich in her mouth. She takes out some sports tape, and a bit of gauze "Let me wrap you, for luck." she asks, chipperly, resting "Go Laundry Lad go." she chirps towards the fight, aiming that at Agrippa more than anyone else "He'll be in good hands at least." she offers sympathetically to Maia with a slight grin.

All Arthur knows is that the unknown Marine is kicking ass. He seems to losing himself in the moment, pulling his hands up and jabbing at the air as each combatant in the ring dukes it out. After a few moments of that, he turns and calls out, "Who's up next, and when can I get in?"

When the steel toed boot slams into Agrippa's knee, the cheap shot does serious damage and with a cry, the Viper pilot crumples down to the ground, no weight able to be put on his legs to keep him up. His hands quickly goes to his knee, clutching it as he appears to be in agony. There is no way that Punchdrunk will be moving now or anytime soon as the knee is definitely messed up from the cheap shot by the Marine.

Lleufer winces when he sees that kick, "Shit!" This Marine frowns at his fellow Jarhead's slightly excessive use of force for a sporting match. "Man, that's a bit low." Not pleased, he accepts his water bottle back from Bennett, "Thanks." He takes a drink, gaze rivotted on the fight.

An audible curse comes pouring out of Franklin's mouth as Agrippa goes down like a stone. It isn't simply the fact that the Viper pilot she was rooting for has lost the fight. This is, after all, the man she's supposed to fly with. Rules be damned, she's heading towards the ropes, pulling the lowest one up out of her way. "Agrippa!," she calls out, over the clamor. One hand is thrust into the ring to help him back out.

There's a scowl from Jax, at that, and he swallows hard. Apparently, he doesn't approve, either.

Warren ooooohs and winces at the kick to the knee that buckles Punchie. He shakes his head a moment before heading over to where Atia is, or rather was, as she heads over to help Agrippa out of the ring. He pauses a moment before he moves over to help Atia in all that, "Major. After we get punchie out of here, mind taping up my hands? Want to make sure they're all good to go before I knock out Storm."

Holtz nods thanks to Phin as the latter finishes wrapping up his hands, and he flexes his fists experimentally, nodding in satisfaction a moment later. He looks back up to the fight just in time to see Agrippa's knee get wrecked by the Marine he's facing, and Holtz can't help but grimace as he watches the pilot go down. "Cheap shot, asshole!" he hollers at the Marine in the ring with a scowl, as he pounds his impressively large fists against the raised platform of the ring.

The fight's suddenly over. Chester stops and shakes his head again, Agrippa's right having clocked him good earlier. The Jarhead at least has the decency to step in and try to offer the pilot a hand back up, "You all right?" Lots of others are coming in, crowding.

"What the frak?" Phin turns from his good-natured ribbing of Holtz back to the match. His expression somewhere between a wince and anger at the outcome. "C'mon, that was totally foul!" If there are even fouls in fights like this.

There is still a look of pain on Agrippa's face as he tries to move the leg, only a slight movement possible right now. When he sees the same Marine offering a hand, he looks furious and spits at it, "Frak you, you piece of shit jarhead. Go walk out a frakking airlock." It looks like the Viper pilot does not approve of the cheapshot either, one that could end his flying career rather easily.

Mahasti watches the group, and she is not pleased either. She takes out a few medical supplies, digging in her bag over Lleufer for a moment before she takes a whistle and blows it, she slips through "Will non medical personelle, aside from the major and sparring duo, please exit the ring?" she half commands, half cordially asks, taking a whistle out just incase she needs it to get attention "Stay down for a moment please, Agrippa." She takes a brace out "Would you rather I look now or do you just want me to brace it and ice it for now and get a better look in my office later tonight?" she asks towards Agrippa, voice just sharp enough to carry, letting him choose his own care since it isn't life threatening.

Letting out a very audible and unladylike curse, Maia points to the Marine. "Better watch out if we cross, your ass is going down." Pilots stick together.. or something. Doing her best to elbow her way in, she gives Agrippa a pained look. "Dammit, Grippa. We need you in the Viper, what are you doing laying down on the job?" Hearing Mahasti, Maia steps back, giving her room. "Take care of him, yeah?" '

Winston blinks. A couple times. Then he scowls. "What the frak, marine? What're you thinking, taking a shot like that?" he growls. "You fight dirty with toasters, not with pilots! C'mon!" He crosses his arms across his chest, bristling with anger. The big Taruean is no longer amused. He lumbers aside to let Mahasti get in to take care of Agrippa, shooting a scathing look at the other marine. "You and me are gonna talk later, mister," he growls.

That has Jax divided, if only for a moment - clan loyalty warring against recognition of the offense. His expression has just gone wry, lips thinned out. Not inclined to step in.

Arthur jumps the ropes at Agrippa's outburst. Cheapshot or not (and, make no mistake, Sgt. Vashti thinks it was), we want to keep the fighting INSIDE the ring. He steps as close as he can to the center of the action. "Need any help getting him out of the ring," he asks whoever will answer.

Lleufer cranes his head left then right. No cheering for his fellow Marines this time. Too many people crowding in and he can't see, "Is Agrippa all right? Can you see, Bennett?" Where's Mahasti when you need her? Hopefully going to check the pilot. Lleu thins his mouth, "He better not be hurt bad. Think that Sergeant's going to get a writeup."

Ah, and there's Doctor Nasreen taking charge, good. Sgt Puller scowls and leaves the ring, muttering. Man doesn't look too pleased with himself either. "Yes, sir." is offered to Winston, getting out of the way.

Shaking his head, Agrippa looks over to Atalanta who joins him on the sparring ring and then Mahasti, "We can check it later, just get me out of this ring." Any other choice words for the Marine is shelved for the time being. Now he's more concerned about the knee than anything else. Punchdrunk does look over to Maia when she arrives as well, "I'll be fine." The tone sounding more hopeful than anything else.

Without another word, Franklin slips a hand around Agrippa's back, tucking her hand underneath his shoulders. There's a heave — a big one, accompanied by a grunt — to get him back onto his feet. She bears the weight that he would normally put on her wounded knee herself, helping him shuffle slowly out of the ring. "Thank you, Doctor," she murmurs idly to Nasreen, her focus clearly elsewhere. The ring needs to be cleared for the next fight; it may be enough to keep one from erupting outside it.

Mahasti takes a moment, isolating Agrippa's knee with a two part prace and wrapping it with sports tape as soon as Atlanta has him up and out of the ring - it takes her under 30 seconds to do this oddly enough.. She takes one of her squishy cold packs to put on the knee, wrapping it over the injury sight "I'm going to give you a pill pack too, okay? Its just anti inflammation medication nothing strong or that will make your head funny, okay?" she offers "I want you in my office tonight before bed. We'll X-ray it if we have to." she offers to Agrippa, reassuringly "I think right now it just hurts like .. forgive my language, but like a bitch." she murmurs. "If it makes you feel better, He's likely to get his very own blanket party for that stunt." she offers with a grin to Agrippa. She takes out the pills, handing a single serve pack of ibuprofen tablets. "I'll get you some water, or black coffee, preference?". Yes. In Mahastiland hot coffee for pills is normal.

Warren steps aside when asked letting Atia get Agrippa out of the wing. He doesn't say anything, or do anything in particular, just waits for the moment as the DCAG's a bit tied up with her wingman and that comes first afterall.

The ring clears a bit more, with Arthur watching most of the sparring partners and their cheering sections heading back to beyond the ropes. "Hey, where's everybody going?"

Bennett frowns slightly as she tries to catch a glimpse of the viper pilot at the centre of all the hubbub. She doesn't even bother to try to wade in there, if even her attention were needed, though she does aside softly to Lleufer, "I think he took a shot to his knee. Bit of a cheap shot, really, but I imagine he will be all right." Regardless, she seems a touch concerned.

Sgt. Vashti looks around and sees a staff sergeant he doesn't immediately recognize. "Hey, Staff Sergeant!" he calls out in Jax's direction. "Want to help me show these pigeons how Marines REALLY fight?" Clearl rank difference doesn't mean a lot to Arty, just a good time. He punctuates his question to Jax with a neck crack and two quick jabs at the air.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Arthur=Melee Vs Jax=Melee
< Arthur: Great Success Jax: Success
< Net Result: Arthur wins - Solid Victory

Lleufer rubs a hand over his face, tired and alittle of his wind taken out of him with the last fight being so disappointing. Make Marines look bad, that. He frowns, his arm aching. The MP looks to Bennett and nods, "I agree. Sort of thing to get disqualified for, I'd think. Hopefully Agrippa's leg will be all right. Sure looked like it hurt like hell." Lleu looks around and keeps his baritone low, "You seen anyone selling…" wait, nobody here's going to have what he wants. "ehm, beer."

It's beneath his dignity to flinch at that. Jax hides his enthusiasm or lack thereof beneath that NCO

With the help from the LadyCAG and the doctor, Agrippa is helped off the ring with only one leg being able to put any strength down. He is hobbld off to the side and is helped down to a sitting position. It hurts more than a bitch but Mahasti is most likely right, the pain is temporary and it hurts bad. "I just want to make sure I can fly again, Doc." That's Punchdrunk's focus, a busted leg can be considered serious.

It's beneath his dignity to flinch at that. Jax hides his enthusiasm or lack thereof beneath that NCO's mask. "A'right, sarge," he says, laconically, squaring his shoulders and heading for the ring at that loose-jointed lope. For all that impassivity, there's an eager light coming into the pale eyes.

Bennett lowers herself into a crouch, one hand on the arm of the wheelchair, to more easily be able to hear Lleufer over the rowdy crowd— mostly vipers and marines, at present. She smiles slightly at his request, and hitches her chin in the direction of the CIDSR settlement over yonder. "No, but I will wager you could find something decent at Charlie's." Her shoulder causes her to wnce, and adjust where her arm rests. "And I am certain he will be disqualified. This is hardly a streetfighting competition."

Someone needs some work on his hand to hand. Arthur's first blow lands solidly….and now Jax does flinch, despite himself. Not angry, though, not yet.

And as soon as Jax enters the ring, Sgt. Vashti pounces, pummling the Staff Sergeant with a MASSIVE overhand right.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jax=melee Vs Arthur=melee
< Jax: Good Success Arthur: Success
< Net Result: Jax wins - Solid Victory

That victory is VERY short lived, though as the staff sergeant fights back. Arthur steps back under Jax's sudden assault of blows, giving a bit too much ground and protecting his face with his forearms.

Mahasti gently pats Agrippa's arm, handing him a water a nurse was nice enough to fetch. "Take the anti inflammation pill now so I can get a better look later." she directs at Agrippa, possibly an order, possibly a heavy recommendation "Its a whole lot easier to see what happened after the fact with swelling down than if its all puffed up and achey." she offers. "I'm going to go check on Lleu, do you need anything else before I go?" she pauses, looking at Atalanta "Sir, do you need anything?" she eyes Agrippa yet, giving a slight smile, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"Yeah, Charlie's is a good idea." Lleufer eyes Mahasti who's busy with Agrippa over there. "Like to see more of the sparring but I'm wiped out 'n want a few drinks. Only, I've got some of the Doc's stuff here." He checks that Maia is still near, "Hey, one of you two watch Mahasti's stuff for me? Think I'm going to slip out. Don't let her worry about me though, I'm fine. Bet somebody'll let me sack out in a spare bunk and catch the next trip up." Lleu powers up his chair, ready to ease out.

That's riled him. Not that he shows anger, if there is any, but Jax is roused from his apparently laziness to return the blows in a series of quick motions, gray eyes intent. "'mon, Marine, show 'em how it's done," he hisses at Arthur, with the barest flicker of a grin.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Arthur=Melee Vs Jax=Melee
< Arthur: Good Success Jax: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jax=melee Vs Arthur=melee
< Jax: Good Success Arthur: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Arthur grins, hissing back, "Sir, yes, SIR!" Here comes that overhand right again, but Jax is clearing ready for it, so he continues with some rapid body blows.

"I got it Doc, thanks." Agrippa will follow Mahasti's orders, something that is trained into him back at the Academy. When you are injured and a doctor tells you to do something, you do it. "And I'm good, as good as I can be now." The knee is most likely not broken, or permanently damaged, but it still hurts at the moment. For now, he can only rest here and wait it out while watching the rest of the sparring matches.

Franklin shakes her head in response to Mahasti. She's perfectly fine. Really, the red-faced exhaustion from earlier was simply running too far, too fast, all at once. "No, doctor. Thank you," she says, squatting down next to Agrippa and giving him a silent look. It's not quite worry — not quite. She's not the type to mother hen, so much as the type to offer a bit of stubborn strength. "You'd better have your ass back in the cockpit by Friday, Punchie." The only pilot she addresses by callsign out of the cockpit, ever. "I didn't sign off on any leave for you." He's not allowed to be injured. And then, "Lieutenant Smythe!," she calls out, urging him over.

Winston watches the fight with renewed interest. He claps his hands a few times. "C'mon, marines! Show these flyboys how it's done proper!" he hollers. "C'mon, now! You can do better'n that, both of you!"

Jax grins that slow grin, even as he lashes back. Slow to rouse, but enjoying himself in earnest. "Attaboy, Marine," he congratulates him. IT's becoming a conversation, the pair almost equally matched.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Arthur=Melee Vs Jax=Melee
< Arthur: Great Success Jax: Good Success
< Net Result: Arthur wins - Solid Victory

Bennett looks like she isn't long for the remainder of the competition, her own self. Lleufer is given a nod though, and a flickered smile when he makes to leave, and she pushes back to her feet. "Certainly. Have a good evening, Sergeant." She watches after the wheelchair-bound marine for a few seconds before turning her eyes back to the current match with waning interest. Grown men whaling on one another can only tittilate her for so long, apparently.

Ah theres his name. Warren looks away from the fight and makes his way over to the DCAG. "Major," he states as he moves on over, tape and such already with him, apparently prepared to get taped up if she's ready now.

Holtz is still on the sidelines right next to the ring, watching the fights with keen interest. At the moment, he doesn't seem terribly animated; after all, being that it's marine versus marine, he doesn't have much of a stake in this particular fight. Nevertheless, he's watching each fighter closely, analyzing their styles, as there's a chance he may be facing one of these men if he makes it through the first round. If. He snorts at that, shooting a tiny smirk over in Warren's direction.

"Look out," Arthur calls out as he feints with his rights, and then punches Jax square in the stomach with his left. Not his strongest hand, so not his strongest punch, but it still does the job. "Thanks, Staff Sergeant," he says a little lower, clearly relishing the compliments. From a superior, no doubt.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jax=melee Vs Arthur=melee
< Jax: Good Success Arthur: Good Success
< Net Result: Arthur wins - Marginal Victory

He's getting battered….and the air whooshes out of him, as Arthur lands that solid blow. His own counter is a bit weaker. He hasn't lost that grin, though.

Mahasti smiles. "If it gets worse or starts bleeding, come grab me." she wiggles fingers. "Sir, he'll probably be fine by morning. I'm only making him come in as a precaution. If somethings wrong I'll catch it tonight and we should be good to go. Besides, he's out as quick as he's in pretty much." she offers, cheerfully, moving to rejoin Bennett "Hello, chouette. May I have a look at your shoulder while you watch?" she asks, making kneading motions quietly, eying her bag "Nobody is going to steal the ugly blanket I stole from Ron, my sweat shirt, or my sports bra.. The camera maybe but probably not, its too clunky." she mumbles, snapping a photo of the fight before unmounting the camera and reeling the roll to swap a fresh one in. "Do you want a print of the vipers flying over, chouette?" she asks, towards Bennett. "I'm pretty sure I got a wonderful shot." she's definantly going to put one in a certain DCAG's mailbox if its as good as she thinks it is.

It's a good fight, too! Lleu is loath to depart even though he really wants a whiskey. He's wheeled himself to the edge of the crowd, looks back one more to see Arthur and Jax going at it in better fashion than the last fight. He smiles, probably wishing he could take part. Then he turns the chair and slips away to find that drink and somewhere he can crash for a few zzz's.

There's an upnod given to Warren, indicating that yes, the DCAG is ready to tape his hands up. She takes the white roll from him gently, though there's still a hint of anger lurking in her eyes at the cheap shot that damned Marine aimed at Agrippa's knees. "Keep it clean," Franklin advises him. "But kick the old Major halfway back to Cyrannus, yeah? You're the only Rubaul alumni in the ring tonight." In short, the man's got to represent them well.

A few more body blows from Arthur pushes Jax, surprisingly, back against the ropes. "You wanna call it, Staff Sergeant?" asks Sgt. Vashti reluctantly in a low voice. "How 'bout I let you win, next time?" Arthur should be thankful that there aren't isn't a lot a rank pulling the sparring ring.

"I'll be back in by then, sir." Agrippa says, still using the formal title for the LadyCAG, though there is a brief surprise when she uses his callsign. "Even if they have to put my knee in a brace, those toasters aren't getting a day without me hounding their asses, that's for sure." Of course, it would be up to medical but the Viper jock would fly in any condition as long as he is conscious.

Phin half-turns his head to where Agrippa is being tended, frowning. A blow like that to the leg could be nasty for a pilot. But he tries to put it out of his mind, and concentrate on the next match. He's at least able to summon up a, "Put him away, Vashti!" for the Leonese Marine.

Jax snorts at him, but he does yield, giving the signal. Bruised and battered, but closer to pleased than annoyed. As if he were somehow the one responsible for Arthur's training. "We'll see if I can't earn it, next time," he says, in that slow Caprican drawl.

Bennett is distracted from her thoughts by Mahasti's voice, whose owner gets a warm, tired smile in greeting. "No, please, I mean.. yes. Please feel free to. I.. wrenched it quite well, didn't I?" Blue eyes settle on Warren across the way for a beat, and then the fight between the two marines, but she seems lackluster about it for some reason. "And I would love a picture of the viper flyby. For all their chest puffing and ego, theirs is a skill I will never possess." She meets the doctor's eyes finally, and her smile shifts to a grin.

"I have no doubt you will, Staff Sergeant," replies Arthur, quick as a whip. He stops then, abruptly stands at attention, and salutes his superior, that famous Vashti shit-eating grin on his face. "I'll look forward to it."

Warren gives a firm nod to the Major as she starts taping up his hands. Theres a smirk, "Yes sir. I'll make sure to give him a nice shot to the jaw at the very least. I'll try to make sure he sleeps well tonight. Don't want him too tired to fly cap." He does glance back to catch Bennet's gaze a moment before checking the wraps real quick.

Mahasti grins "Vipers are nice, chouette, but there is nothing I welcome more when I'm on the ground than the sound of a raptor incoming." she offers with a chuckle. She takes a moment "Don't let a marine see this please." she pops something silver out of her back pocket to hand to Bennett, tilting to whisper, likely what it is. Her fingers go to the wrenched muscles, very carefully touching before gently massaging the tissue with her capable hands. "You look worn out, you must have held it a bit too tight and not let go quite right." she offers, calmly "I'm surprised the men didn't realize you aren't supposed to run witha spear - its for a precise heavy throw, not a distance throw." she comments, calmly. She seems to be watching Bennett from behind to make sure she isn't getting too rough with the lady pilot's shoulder.

Not beat enough to require real medical care - some bruising, that's all. Jax's grinning to himself, long mouth twisted wryly, as he slips between the ropes and looks around in search of water.

When her turn comes up, Maia takes the ring, prepared now after loosening up a little, she hops in place a little, squares her shouldes and bends her knees. "Be my guest." Offering her opponent a quick smile, lifting her hands defensively.

Winston nods his head as the last bout is declared, then glances over towards Maia. "I guess it's us now, yeah?" he says. He cracks his knuckles a couple times, rolls his head to loosen up, and steps towards the ring. "I'll go easy on ya, sir," he says to Maia with a grin. "By that, I mean I won't get you grounded. I fully intend on winning this. But. Let Ares favor the better warrior."

Maia might not be a Viper pilot, but she's air wing, and that's good enough for Holtz. As the blonde Raptor pilot sashays into the ring, he pounds his taped-up fists together. "Come on, Centerfold, show that craggy old jarhead how an air wing girl can fight!" he hollers from the sidelines with a smirk.

Well, lady is a bit of a longshot where Bennett's concerned. She glances down at whatever's pressed into her hand, then back up at Mahasti with a faint blush. "I.." And then she bites back whatever she was going to say, and leans in to murmur something else in reply. More audibly, "Yes, I suppose I did. I used to enjoy this sort of thing when I was younger, but.. I have not kept it up." A flickered smile, and a wince as Mahasti's fingers find a tender spot. "Ow." She manages, though, to shoot Warren a wink when he glances back at her. "Go Centerfold!" she bellows at Maia. Which, on the scale of noise, isn't much of a bellow at all.

There's a slight frown that crosses Franklin's face as she examines the work she's done on Warren's hands. "Hmmph. No," she says, undoing a portion of the wraps to tie them tighter — make sure they hold. His palms are turned over once, twice, before she nods — finally satisfied. And then her face breaks into a grin. "Knock him out, Lieutenant, and all your drinks this weekend are on me." Well, damn. That's a shameless bribe if there ever was one.

He's snagged himself a seat, sprawled bonelessly. Jax's watching with his level black brows raised, lips pursed in an almost thoughtful matter.

"Good luck, Maia!" Phin calls to the Raptor pilot as she prepares to square off against the Marine. He's standing up and cheering rather than sitting, but he's at long enough to rest between competitions that he's not so beat anymore.

Warren smirks as the Major works over the wraps again, "Yes sir. One unconcious squadron leader coming right up after this match." He grins glancing over towards Holtz a moment before back to the ring to see how that fight is going as well. With the wraps done though he checks them one last time himself and claps his hands together, "Thanks Major."

Mahasti pampers Bennett - clearly, what with the massage and shared and covetted item. "I think you should be fine after some sleep and a hot shower unless you like try to reach around and back hand your backseater or a passenger tomorrow morning.." she offers, giggling a little. The doctor's eyes go on the Marine and Maia "Maia its cheating to grease yourself up!" she jokes, watching the two "I feel like if I root for either I'll hurt a friend's feelings." she mumbles to Bennett, keeping close "Winston, if he gets a good one on her will clean her clock, but Maia, she's fiesty and quick." she offers "It isn't a bad match, weirdly enough." she stays leaned over Bennett while she works.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Winston=Melee Vs Maia=Melee
< Winston: Good Success Maia: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Maia=Melee Vs Winston=Melee
< Maia: Success Winston: Good Success
< Net Result: Winston wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Winston=Melee Vs Maia=Melee
< Winston: Good Success Maia: Failure
< Net Result: Winston wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Maia=Melee Vs Winston=Melee
< Maia: Failure Winston: Success
< Net Result: Winston wins - Marginal Victory

At the first attack, Maia manages to block it fairly well, but when she moves to counter, she's stopped by a brick wall, her fist meeting his block. Ow. Hearing the cheers from the pilots, she tries.. really she does.. but it's not looking good!

Honestly, there's got to be something the DCAG has about the Games — or least a good brawl. What else would possibly explain the disappearance of the prim, proper Caprican with an uppercrust accent and icy manners? Why else would she have been replaced with this odd creature, clad in athletic gear, still a bit dishevelled from her own competitions, pumping her fists in the air and shouting at the time of her lungs? "COME ON, KANE! YEAH!"

He's leaning in, now, water forgotten. Jax's squinted a bit - though why, gods only know, he's supposed to have decent vision. No sound from him, though.

Winston chuckles, bringing his fists up. He bounces on the balls of his feet, letting Maia take the first swing. The force of it startles the burly Taurean. "Woah!" He catches the next strike on his forearm. "Damn, girl. You pack a punch!" He decides to get serious. Stepping in, he snaps an elbow towards Maia's nose, following it up with a jab at her middle. Using his bulk to stay inside her guard and prevent her from landing any telling blows.

Holtz grimaces as Maia starts well, but then runs headlong into the immovable object that is Winston Titus. "Get your godsdamn guard up, Kane, guard up!" But his roared instructions seem to be to no avail. He can't help but look aside a moment later, though, gawking at Atalanta, who's only a few feet down the line from him and shouting with all the fever of a spectator at a street fight. The surprise on his face is palpable as the DCAG's icy, controlled exterior is suddenly nowhere to be found.

Bennett blinks slightly at something the doctor says to her, and her lips curve in a puzzled little smile. "Why ever would you think so, Lieutenant?" It's spoken softly, with another little twinge at the end as that pulled muscle is the recipient of the redhead's pampering. She has not, for the record, asked her to stop however. Her gaze goes back to the match between Maia and the big marine, and she still looks faintly abashed by.. something. It's hard to say what. "She is going to have to use her speed to her advantage, if she wishes to outmaneuver him," murmurs Saint Clair. Brains before brawn, always, where she's concerned.

Mahasti agreeably tones "Because I thought that." she settles in, lifting Bennett's sore arm to begin working the tissue "If you come hang around with me - no disgusting man beasts attached, perhaps we can have a nice day for ladies involving massages and perhaps you can help me find a skirt or a dress or good lord something that isn't green, brown or god awful medic khaki." she offers with a grin, whispering softly in the raptor pilot's ear, slowly putting more pressure on the muscles to help them relax and get the bloof flowing, her laugh escapes "That would be because I've hit the gym like its going out of style. I have not one but two personal trainers now, apparently and neither of them let me slack." she gently touches her head to Bennett's in a fond, friendly way, gentle and careful not to hurt the pilot. "Maia needs to work on her footwork, yes."

"We're not all disgusting man beasts," protests Jax, rom his seat. OF all the fragments of conversation for him to catch.

Franklin is completely oblivious to the looks which she's likely attracted from a few who know her well enough to recognize how uncharacteristic this behavior actually is. "MOVE YOUR FEET, KANE!," comes another cry from her. Muttering, "Move your gods-damned feet." She has, apparently, been swept up with the same Armilustrium-fervor as the rest of the crowd. She turns, shooting a grin to Warren, quickly, before green eyes flick back to the ring.

"Lieutenant, if it is fashion advice you're after, I'm afraid you are asking precisely the right person," Saint Clair answers with a barely-constrained smile, still watching the match play out some metres away. Major Franklin does, for a moment, draw a raised brow from the Captain, but it's Mahasti resting her head against the pilot's that startles her out of her gawking. "That is excellent to hear," she tells the doctor, along with something spoken more quietly.

Warren watches the fight and how it unfolds. He shakes his head a few times at that as he bounces up and down there, getting the blood flowing. He gives a nod towards Atia as she glances back then shoots a glance over to Holtz, obviously ready to get at it already.

Mahasti snorts at Jax "Are you volunteering to come slather us women with feminine scented body oils and give professional massages, help us find skirts and frilly things, and paint our toenails stranger?" she asks with a grin "Nah not all of you are. I'm just joking with this pilot. Besides, I've been in an all ladies' bathroom, its not pretty. Its like a horror movie set in a whore house." she jokes to Jax, cheerfully. She watches the lady CAG with an amused glance "Perhaps I'll take Winston out into the woods and try to get some venison." she looks to Bennett with an amused giggle "I do need some clothes, but, I haven't really gotten any bigger since I turned fourteen or so. Not even horizontally." she murmurs, cheeks a little rosey.

Bennett looks askance to the unfamiliar marine, pale blue eyes sliding over him briefly in a once-over. He's favoured with a polite smile after a moment. To Mahasti, with a tick of one brow upward, "You say that like it is a bad thing."

That makes Jax's grin turn very feral indeed. "I'll happily slather the both of you with oil, though I can't claim to be a professional, when it comes to massage. I like to think I'm a gifted amateur. And I'll have to take your word, never visited that territory myself." The idea amuses him clearly.

Winston steps back as Maia gets in a couple of solid body blows, grunting as fists smack against his middle. He goes in for a right hook, which goes wide and upsets the big Taurean's balance. He almost loses his footing, giving Maia a perfect opening. Fortunately, he's a jarhead, which means his head is his least vulnerable point. The strike he takes across the chops serves only to spur the marine into action. With a roar, he comes up with a rising uppercut, following it with a savage haymaker. It won't cause any permanet harm, but it sure looks impressive, given the size difference. He pants for breath as Maia goes down. "Oorah!" he thunders, lifting a fist in the air. He does a quick turn around the ring, a brutal grin on his face. But he doesn't forget his opponent. He bends down, offering Maia a hand up. "You almost got me there, lieutenant," he says. "Next time… don't go for the head. Everyone knows that jarheads are immune to head shots."

Guard up, move her feet. Sound advice, but Maia hears it about the time an elbow meets her face, knocking her head back. Dammit, she'd missed that. Swinging for him, her fist once again meets solid man as he blocks her… But the fist to her middle knocks the air out of her and she bends over on a groan. He'd gotten the three hits required to win, so she lifts a hand for a fist bump. "Good job. Rematch on Orion sometime?"

Jax's feral grin is matched by a rather less than wholesome one from the tall raptor pilot stood next to Mahasti. Amused, she looks back to her companion as something else is spoken quietly, and gives a somewhat solemn nod of understanding. "Mmh," she muses, half to herself, when Maia goes down. "She did quite well, though."

Mahasti mms a bit "The prognosis of my general assessment is bound to change with time for better or worse, we will see. I hope it gets better." she offers to Jax and Bennett "That man though. He's a goodie with a nasty temper and one of the nicest guys on the ship." she points at Winston, of all people. "I'm not as uhm.. outgoing as you guys but if you really want to join us for toenail painting, massages, and fashioning I suppose its alright?" she jokes, grinning lopsidedly. "I did manage to get a very pretty shade of lavender that would look smashing with your skin chou." she offers to Jax.

"If that'll let me get my hands all over the both of you, you can paint my toenails whatever color you like," says Jax, without a beat of hesitation.

With Maia and Winston done with their fight Warren is already heading over to climb in the ring. He looks over towards Holtz as he does climb on in and gives him a nod, bouncing once or twice there before he gets ready to fight the man.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Warren=melee
< Holtz: Amazing Success Warren: Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Crushing Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Warren=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Warren: Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Warren=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Warren: Failure
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Solid Victory

Holtz grunts at the conclusion of Maia and Winston's fight, and with a look back at Warren, the tall, hulking Tauran purposefully draws himself into the ring. His ink is on full display, his shirts having long since been discarded. The Viper pilot is serious when it comes to fighting, though he's not above a bit of theater; he struts and flexes his way around the periphery of the ring for a few moments. When he comes to a stop and turns to face his opponent, however, any sense of geniality is gone from his face, replaced by a fire in his eyes and a hard-edged expression that says he's out for blood. He plants his feet and bashes his fists together… and then he's charging at Warren, his swinging fists leading the way.

Phin also looks surprised by the emotion shown by the DCAG, but he's getting into the matches as well, so he can't gape too much. He moves through the crowd, approaching Bennett as Warren and Holtz head into the ring. "This should be interesting. Never seen Storm in one of these matches where more was on the line than fitness center bragging rights. And he still usually takes it pretty serious."

Alright, ready might not quite have been enough, at least not for Warren. That first shot… WOW look at those stars. Pretty right? Warren apparently thinks so. Hes definately off ballance now. He's certainly not giving as good as he's gotten but damn, that was a hell of a shot he just took, at least he's still standing for the moment.

Bennett glances back to the wiry marine with what should, by all rights, be bewilderment, but is anything but. It's as if he's upped the ante in a very familiar game. A game that she's unfortunately distracted from, as the viper squadron commander goes charging after his 'mate with those meaty fists. She winces even before the first hit connects, and murmurs, "Zeus' balls, that is going to hurt."

When Warren and Holtz climb into the ring, anything else that Franklin had been paying any mind to simply slips away. She smiles, broadly, the tip of her tongue pinched between her teeth in anticipation. Both brows shoot up as the bulky Tauran comes charging out of the gate, but, well, there's a good deal to be said for loyalty to one's shipmates. "GO FOR THE BODY SHOT!!," she shouts to Warren, cupping both hands around her mouth to help carry the volume towards him.

"Go, Storm!" Phin's reluctant to be too partisan about a match between two Viper jocks, but he does do some cheering for his squad leader. He can't help but wince at that first shot Warren takes. "Damn…"

Holtz moves with surprising speed and agility, considering the size of his frame. His first combo blows right through Warren's defenses, one fist cracking against the other man's jaw moments before a second plows into the gut; Holtz can almost feel the wind being pushed out of the other man as his blow strikes home. His face remains cold, almost emotionless… except for the firey glittering of his eyes as he continues to advance on his opponent as his leg sweeps out in a trip move.

Mahasti clears her throat "Winner gets a slow roasted pot of Leonese style venison stew next weekend." she yells, more at Holtz than Warren. Winston is given a c'mere gesture as soon as he's out of the ring. "You look tired Mignonette." She watches Warren's fight with the biggest of grins. Her hand rests on Bennett's shoulder. Jax is watched, cheeks going pink "I think you'd be pretty disappointed with your hands all over me." she quips, calmly. No hesitation in her rooting, "GO HOLTZ PUNCH THAT LAVETTE" Leonese insults are so weird.

Hopping out of the ring, Maia attempts to catch her breath still, despite the swelling around her eye since she'd taken the hit to the nose. She waits at the edge of the ring, cheering on the pilots.

Alright get it together Warren. Wind or no wind it doesn't seem like he's quite out yet. The problem is he's still dazed from that first combo, and that is certainly going to smart when he can think straight again. He does manage block one, two blows before the third connects again. He gives it back too, but its hard to give it back hard when you're still recovering from the first hit and fighting for the time to get your senses back. He may have lost the fight from the get go, and some probably would have backed out already, but he's still fighting and not looking like he's going to give up even if he probably should at this point.

"You held your own quite well, Centerfold," Bennett tells Maia as she passes. "Perhaps I might impose upon you for some lessons, one of these days." The fight between Holtz and Warren, however, is just a little too painful to watch. And so she doesn't. The woman who has piloted a raptor into countless hot zones under enemy fire.. does not actually enjoy watching people injure one another, it would seem.

Mahasti takes out an ice pack and squishes it to activate the cold, slipping with a one minute finger to Bennett, tilting to press it gently to Maia's nose, whispering something with a grin to the pilot. "Here, your face is too pretty for swelling also girl you are too smart for letting your brains well." she offers, calmly, with a grin. Bennett is likely close enough to catch the whispered joke too.

"Ma'am," Jax retorts to Mahasti, "I don't think so." His grin is big, again. Rather toothy, in fact. He's entirely at ease, enjoying the verbal sparring just as much as the prospect of watching the literal kind.

Holtz simply wades through Warren's counterattack; he grunts as several of the other pilot's strikes land on his body, but it doesn't seem to slow him down much. He throws another combo with his fists, driving the man back a little further… just enough room for his foot to snap up, a kick aimed straight at Warren's chest. Luckily for the other man, Holtz isn't wearing steel toed boots like the marine in the first fight.

A wince from Franklin — visible, and easily so, as if she'd taken one of the blows meant for Warren herself. She sucks in a breath through her teeth. That hit was brutal, and she damned well knows it. Turning away from the fight like that, only for a moment, puts Maia in her line of sight. She looks square at the other blonde, tapping two fingers under her own chin — chin up, darling. Maia held her own against an enormous beast of a Marine far better than almost anyone else would've.

Winston returns the fistbump. "You're on, el-tee," he says. "A good scrap any time you say. You've got a hell of a right hook." He steps out of the ring to watch the next fight, crossing his arms across his chest. Studying the competition to come.

Mahasti shifts over, taking Winston's big mitts to check the wrappings briefly, rewrapping them a little where they got loose. "My my we found your day, didn't we. Care to sit down and have a little water?" she asks, up at Winston. She eyes Jax, and shakes her head a little, snickering "Oh how disappointed he'd be if he knew what I knew." she offers to Bennett with a laugh. "I'm half tempted to do something incredibly silly, but I'd probably get yelled at." she laughs openly, watching the fight again soon enough, leaning to whisper into Bennett's ear once more, making it look like she's whispering the dirtiest of things.

Steel toed boots or not, that hurt. Its not looking good for the LT. No sir. While his blows aren't seeming to do much to the other pilot, Holtz's followups are a multiplicative effect on the first one and its showing in Warrens movements. He raises his arm to try to block one, a fraction to late. He's late on the next. He manages to block the next one but the last one…well he doesn't even see it coming it seems. Course its not like he sees much for a few moments afterwards as he's falling to the mat with a hard THUD! Yup totally let his boss win…thats it…wasn't that he got his ass beat like a rented mule or anything.

He overhears that. "Lemme guess. You don't like guys, like that," suggests JAx, leaning over, resting one elbow on his knee. "Guess what. I don't *care*," he says, with cheerful disregard.

As Warren hits the mat, Holtz pounces, landing on his knees next to the man and placing an elbow at his throat. It's a symbolic gesture, though; he applies only the slightest pressure and holds it for only a brief moment before he relaxes and leans back, rising to his feet and offering a hand of assistance to the fallen lieutenant, the hard-edged expression fading from his angular features.

There are half a dozen things that pop into Bennett's head at this juncture, but none of them are voiced. This is, apparently, between Mahasti and Jax; she is simply an observer. A rather amused observer. She turns back to the fight with a hint of trepidation, blue eyes skimming both combatants and assessing the damage that's been done with a fair bit more than detached curiosity.

Mahasti blinks at Jax "Actually, you would be mistaken. I'm joking about something entirely different." she offers, standing up to lean and whisper to Jax, cheeks a little red "Although would it be so bad if I didn't?" she asks, quietly, fingers making sure her scar isn't showing by holding her tanktop to her chest. "I'm boring, I sit on my ass all day and just talk to people while ocassionally poking them with my 'Picon winter fingers'." she offers with a chuckle.

While some might say the elbow at the throat is a bit much Warren certainly doesn't. He doesn't really move for a few moments anyways, his senses only just seeming to somewhat return when the hand is extended. Slowly he reaches up for it, and misses, then finally manages to grab onto it to help get pulled up. He reaches out his other to grab Holtz's shoulder a moment to stabalize himself, "So I won right, first to hit the mat those were the rules right?" Did Holtz really knock all the sense out of the man or is he making some sort of bad joke. Either way he pats the mans shoulder starting to move out of the ring on shaky legs. Well its not the worst pain that he's gone through but frak if it doesn't hurt everywhere.

"Ohhhhh," Franklin says, scrunching her face up at the end of the fight. She even goes so far as to mouth a silent 'ow' at the sight. That positively had to hurt. She pauses for a moment, making quite sure he's capable of getting to his feet and climbing out of the ring before offering Warren a hand and a lopsided, sympathic smile. "The man hits like a gods-damned aurochs, doesn't he?," she quips. How would she know? "I think the drinks are still on me this weekend, Lieutenant. I'll let the good people at Charlie's know."

Jax flicks a glance at the fighters, but mostly he's focussed on Mahasti. "Well, now I'm disappointed," he says, but clearly, he's still teasing her. "But it wouldn't be bad at all." He does have courtesy enough to drop his voice at that reply, some of the humor leaving his face.

Holtz chuckles, the sound almost giddy from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, and he returns the man's pat with a comradely squeeze of the shoulder as he guides the battered lieutenant to the sidelines. "If only, Toast, yeah?" He leaves Warren to the care of Atalanta and the others milling outside of the fighting area as he turns away, heading back to the center of the ring, settling into a predatory prowl as he waits for his opponent in the final match.

Mahasti shrugs a bit at Jax "Two days too late two cubits too short and all that. I'm Dr. Nasreen, by the way. I'm one of the doctors up there, if you need something, come in and say hello, I'm on the clock a good many hours a week and if I'm not our nurses and the CMO are fantastic too." she offers. She rests her arm back around Bennett's shoulder, rubbing her fingers into the tissue as she rests her head on Bennett's head. "He expressed that he didn't gossip, chouette." she eyes Jax a little, leaning down to whisper.

Winston studies the fight, watching Holtz with a keen eye. There's respect in that steely gaze, the kind of wariness one gets when facing down a large animal. Slowly, he lumbers into motion, heading for the ring himself. "You fight well," he says, cracking his knuckles again. "I'm looking forward to this. Let Ares favor the better warrior."

Jax's grin is crooked now, and very rueful. "Story o' my life," he says, but he doesn't seem too bothered by it. Nor inclined to get up in the ring again. "Right on, Doctor Nasreen," he says, a little more formally. A captain's lady is off-limits, on so many levels.

Warren gives a little nod towards Atia as she helps him out of the ring. "Thanks Major, after that I think I'll need a few of those," he says chuckling painfully. Theres a wince a bit as he moves off into the crowd to sit down to try to regain his senses in the midst of 'ow ow ow ow ow pain'.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Winston: Good Success
< Net Result: Winston wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Winston: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Winston: Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Winston: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Winston: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Failure Winston: Success
< Net Result: Winston wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Winston: Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Winston=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Winston: Great Success
< Net Result: Winston wins - Marginal Victory

Holtz nods to Winston, standing tall and coming to a stop in front of the other man. "Down to us again, eh, Sergeant?" he quips wryly, referring the spear throw that had ended with the marine just edging out him and Mahasti for the laurel. Again, he pounds his fists together, his muscles tensing and eyes hardening as he steels himself for the fight. "Ares favor the brave, and guide our hands in the battle to come." And with that, he charges once more, lip curling as his fists lead the way.

"One of the best doctors in the ward," Bennett opines with a smile that suggests her praise is sincere. She addresses Jax then, fingertips pulling a few strands of hair behind her ear that a skiff of wind sent awry. "Bennett Saint Clair. I am not sure we've met." They haven't. She hasn't yet spotted Warren limping out of the ring.

Winston steps back as he's charged, bringing his fists up to receive the attack. He turns into the first blow, responding with a glancing one of his own. He steps in to try and bull the flyboy back, throwing a couple quick punches that aren't at all effective. "Frak," he grunts as he steps back. "You're a quick one, aren't you?"

"Ares favor, Storm! C'mon!" Phin hollers. He's starting to lose his voice by now, but he still manages to get that out relatively vocally.

Mahasti eyes Warren. She takes out two cold packs and a bottle of ibuprofen. "It was a good fight, congradulations." she lets Warren lick his own wounds, backing away to return to sit beside Bennett, legs folding very neatly, her blush shows "Ah there are plenty of areas in which I will improve with age. I hope to one day run a charity hospital to treat people for as little cost as possible. Dr. Nadir said she'd help." she has a day dreamy tone to her voice. "I'm considering going back and getting a speciality if there's a medical college standing when I get out." she watches the fight, not verbally cheering for anyone but she does watch with her wide hazel eyes, a few red curls starting to spring out of her braids here and there. "Bennie, stop by my bunk later, I have some tea - I'll share it with you if you'd like. It is tasty stuff and helps me sleep, better than pills too."

Fighting a hardened marine and a pilot are two entirely different things. His first attack isn't as nearly effective as the one he'd hit Warren with, as a quick riposte gets through his guard. Between the back to back fights and Winston's solid hit, his breath is becoming labored now, beads of sweat rolling down his body. He snorts at Winston's remark, but despite his quickness, his next few strikes can't quite break through the Marine's guard.

"Haven't yet, to my knowledge," agrees Jax, finally rising and offering a long-fingered hand to Bennett. "Staff Sergeant Ajax Varis," he says, grin neither predatory nor sheepish, at the moment, but genuine.

It takes a moment for Warren to even fully realize 'Oh hey theres another fight going on'. "Wooooooo!" goes out the semi loopy hollar from the pilot, cheering…someone? Probably Holtz, afterall he is a viper jock. Then theres the cold packs and the ibuprofen that's shoved at him from the doc. He looks at it a moment, as if trying to focus on what he just got and looks over to Mahasti and her going off to atend to Bennett again. He shakes his head and sets it aside for the moment, trying mostly to focus on the fight at the moment.

Winston keeps his guard up, once again relying on his brawn to absorb the strikes that he's just not fast enough to dodge. He tries to get a couple strikes in himself, but finds himself stymied by the pilot's faster footwork. He even gets popped once, his head snapping back with a grunt. With a snarl, the big Taurean goes in again, fists hammering away at Holtz's guard, trying to get past it, trying to land a blow on the quicker man. He may not have the speed, but he certainly has the stamina. At this rate, it seems like the marine will win through simple attrition.

Ohhhh, dear. Franklin's at it again. Honestly, who is this woman? And where did this sudden bloodlust come from? A few moments earlier and she was essentially bribing Warren to take a shot at Holtz's jaw, in the name of the Rubaul, her crew, and their honor. And now, suddenly, she's cheering for the man she was hoping would go down in the last round? Of course, he is a pilot. A fellow Viper jock. One of her own, in fact. Her hands cup around her mouth again, as she calls out, "NAIL HIM, HOLTZ! HEAD, BODY, HEAD, BODY!" at top volume, stretching onto her toes as though the added two inches of height will somehow help carry her encouragements over the crowd. "SHOW HIM HOW WE DO IT IN THE WING!"

Jax's offered hand is grasped briefly, rather than shaken. Some odd custom or another, perhaps. Staff Sergeant. That makes a certain amount of sense. "It is only a matter of time, I suspect, with operations on Picon taking shape," she offers mildly. Then, as if that requires elucidation, "I fly raptors." Not that she's given her rank. "Excuse me, both of you. Staff Sergeant Varis, it was a pleasure." She winks at the lanky marine, touches Mahasti's shoulder briefly, and sets off to where Warren's parked himself.

Unoffended, but a little bemused, before he shrugs it off. Not much on the social front throws Ajax, it seems. Oblivious, arrogant, or more likely just kind of terminally, amiably clueless. He gives Bennett a little two fingered salute, and goes meandering to find his water again.

Mahasti watches Jax "Have a good evening, stranger." she offers to him, taking a soft breath before letting it wash out slowly, calmly, leaning very gently on Bennett, as if getting sleepy. The doctor begins carefully working her own hands, alternating which hand gets light kneading.

Clearly frustrated over his lack of a quick victory over the older marine, Holtz finally overextends himself, sacrificing his guard somewhat to focus even further on the offensive, an attempt to break the stalemate before the marine attrits him into exhaustion. Winston clearly is a match for him in experience, though, and the marine is waiting as his guard slackens slightly; the Viper major grunts in pain as Winston's counterattack blows through his weakened guard.

Holtz promptly goes back on the defensive, reestablishing his guard and weathering a series of strong strikes from the marine until he sees his opportunity, landing a strong blow of his own. And that's when he hears the voice on the sidelines, the loud call of his name puncturing through his battlefogged mind. …Atia? Cheering for him? Can't be. Unfortunately, the moment his mind spends trying to process this development proves to be a fatal distraction, and he's caught flat footed as Winston renews his attack, a powerful blow sneaking under his guard and driving him backwards. His feet are crossed up, and he tumbles to the mat before he can steady himself. Victory, Winston.

The volume of the DCAG's cheering for Holtz does get a look from Phin, but he's too intent on the match to play it much mind. And it's not like he's not yelling himself. "You got him, Storm! That's it! Yeah…" He trails off when it's clear Holtz does not actually have him. Wince.

Warren doesn't quite notice Bennett coming up. He seems to be focusing on the fight. One thing at a time it seems as he regains his senses. "Come on storm. Come on. Hit him like you hit me. Put him down," he's calling out, not as loud as Atia mind you, but he's still cheering, even if it is drowned out, and painfull sounding.

Winston stands over his fallen opponent, panting heavily again. He wipes a bit of blood from his nose, sniffing loudly. He lifts a fist to the air again. "Mah-REENS!" he bellows with a bark of laughter. He squats down on his haunches, offering a hand to Holtz. "Good fight, sir. You made me work for it, and no mistake. If you can fly a Viper half as well as that… I weep for the toasters." He grins again. "Well. Not really. Good fight."

Bennett slips up quietly behind Warren, never much one to announce her presence at the best of times. She sinks into a crouch and places her hand on his back lightly. Soft words, and a hitch of her chin in the direction of the landing zone before she rises again. She at least has the manners to mouth across to Mahasti, 'Good night' before she sets off.

Mahasti sort of notices a little too late Bennett has left. SHe's quiet though. Her legs remain folded, body relaxing, her fingers taking her thermos of coffee out to open and pour a small glass into her thermos lid. Her eyes watch the combatants. "Ooch." she mumbles drinking her black coffee in quiet revelrie. Bennett is given a blown kiss and a wave.

The look of disappointment on Atalanta's face is obvious. She lets out a long, exaggerated sigh — as though she'd been holding her breath for the last thirty seconds of the fight. Her shoulders sink and her mouth twists downwards into a frown. "Damn," murmurs, more to herself than to anyone else. After all, it's unlikely that anyone can hear her over the roar that's coming from the Marines watching.

The other Marines are shouting. JAx, for his part? Golf clap. Like he's just far too civilized to do more.

Holtz simply sits, chest heaving, clearly frustrated at the outcome of the fight, but he does reach up and accept Winston's proferred hand. "«At least it was a fellow Tauran»," he manages in the guttural sounds of his home dialect. "«Homeworld grows 'em tough, yeah?»" He rises to his feet and cracks his knuckles as he slowly begins to peel the tape from his hands, switching back to Standard. "Half as well? Hnh," he snorts, his pride reasserting himself as a thin smile tugs at his lips. "I'm much better than that." A pause. "In any case, well fought yourself, Staff Sergeant. Next time, though…" He chuckles again.

Warren when Holtz falls Warren just stares. No thats not possible. Awww come on really? He sighs heavily then suddently straightens when Bennet is behind him murmering something. He nods a bit afterwards at whatever she says, looking over his shoulder at her as she heads out. He glances back at the competition to see whats going on.

Winston gives Holtz a firm clap on the shoulder. «Then the Cylons are surely doomed,» he responds in Taurean, grinning a bit, before switching back to Standard himself. "Well. I need a cold drink, a good cigar, and a beautiful woman in my lap, in no particular order. Good fight, el-tee." So saying, he turns and lumbers out of the ring, in search of these things.

Finally, there's a shake of Atia's head. It dislodges a few more strands of gold hair than had already come loose from her earlier competitions, which she promptly tucks back into place. She turns to head towards the slowly building line of archers, where a tall, dark-haired man in his early 40sis waiting for her — with a bag. Someone from the the air carrier, it looks like, judging from the patches on his flightsuit. She grins up at him, gives him a comment that is at once cheerful and reproachful, and begins quietly exchanging commentary on the games, all while gearing up. It seems that, unlike some of the other competitors, she's brought her own bow. And shooting glove.

Unlike Jax. He'll throw his glove in the ring, but….he's far from trained. Worth a try, though, if only to give the huntress a chance to shine. He's picking over the bows on offer, looking thoughtful… if he had an idea in hell what he was doing.

<FS3> Atalanta rolls Reaction+3: Good Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Reaction: Success.
<FS3> Jax rolls Reaction: Failure.

Mahasti is quiet, another Leonese woman lends her a glove, which she puts on, she grins a bit at getting the 'proper treatment' and helped with her quiver and the bow is handed to her. Surprisingly, a bit large for her but held gracefully. She tests the string tension, and then the arrows themselves. She steps to Atalanta, giving a proper half bow, "Best of luck." clearly, she has proper upbringing. Jax is given the precise same bow , the red head standing up to stretch her shoulders and her legs.

"«So say we all,»" Holtz replies to Winston with a wolfish smile. He too clambers out of the ring, albeit stiffly. His head sinks as he surveys the various red welts on his body from his bout with the Marine, and he winces; some of those are definitely going to bruise nicely. As well as the welt on his jaw to go along with a split lip, though at least he can't see those. Shaking his head ruefully, he lights a cigarette as he leans against a nearby tree to watch the archery match.

It's terrible. He may be good with a rifle, but the goddess Artemis is laughing up her sleeve - Jax's arrow goes nowhere near the target, and the Marine finally winces in shame. Oh, gods. Ouch.

A few final words are exchanged with the man, before the call to clear the field goes up. It is, after all, entirely possible that a stray arrow may land somewhere unwelcome, if some celebrant happens to get in the way. Atalanta rubs her upper warm once, twice, before nocking and arrow. A soft hiss of inhaled breath comes from her. "She is the Huntress," comes her whispered prayer — one that may well be familiar to some of her fellow pilots by now. The arrow is drawn back, string pulled tight, before being let loose. It arcs towards the targets, nailing the second ring with a soft 'thwack'. "I am the arrow."

<FS3> Atalanta rolls Reaction+3: Good Success.
<FS3> Mahasti rolls Reaction: Failure.

Mahasti clearly hasn't practiced in a while, her breath channeling. Struggling under the make shift bow she has a bit of trouble drawing the string taut. "She hunts under the full moon." she whispers, possibly in response to Atia's prayer statement. The dainty woman pulls the arrow back to her ear, following it. « By the lions' roar strike true.» she whispers sharply, not even exhaling properly until it hits the target in not the center. She takes another breath, stretching out.

There's a squint, Atalanta's eyes narrowing in the swiftly fading sunlight. Atalanta, of legend — whose life was one spared by Artemis, and once nearly taken by the vengeful goddess herself. She shakes her head with displease. Not good enough. Another drawn in breath, reaching for another. She slips it into place, holding her breath in tight, her spine stiff, her lines strong. When she draws her arm back, the tip of her black tattoo points perfectly to it. No wonder it was placed there. An exhalation. The arrow's release. Simultaneous.

Mahasti is quiet, pulling her arrow back with quiet grace. However when she is just about to fire a small bird passes infront of her, causing her to rahter comically cause her arrow to spin up awkwardly, her hands trying to grab it before it counts, however its too late, the bow clatters and she gets red faced. She lets out a frustrated noise at her fuck up, but takes a moment to extend her hand to Jax " A good match, thank you for the fair and cordial competition." she offers, bowing her head politely before backing to smile, waiting and then turning to extend her hand to Atalanta with the same half bow " A good match, thank you for the fair and cordial competition, sir." she offers, ever polite and dainty in her mannerisms.

He shakes her hand, without hesitation. JAx's still bright pink and sheepish, but no sore loser, it seems. "And thank you," he says, before turning to congratulate Atalanta.

Honestly, it seems to take the woman a moment to realize that she's taken the laurel, as other rounds of archers are winnowed from the frield. Ahh, obliviousness. It's such an unpleasant characteristic in someone who's supposed to be accepting congratulations and offering a spectacle for the crowd. She shakes Mahasti's hand first, firmly. "Thank you," she says, offering a smile. "I had been worried that there wouldn't be enough bows available for the competition." And then a blink, and a smile, particularly for Jax. She's recognized his accent, it seems. "Caprica….City?," she asks, specifying.

There's that birdlike tilt of his head, and he nods, slowly. "Yes, ma'am," he agrees. It is there - very posh, if worn around the edges. Can't help himself.

Gods help them all, the DCAG actually laughs. It is not something which Franklin is prone to do in public particularly often. But really, that voice was the very last thing she'd expected to come out of the mouth of a Marine — especially a man wearing green enlisted pins. "Good to see a man from home," she pauses, looking at the stripes. "Staff Sergeant. Do look me up if you're ever in the mood for bit nostalgic pining over a game of Triad and a glass of scotch?"

Someone musta been slumming, when he enlisted. Or out to piss off Mummy and Daddy. And here he is. Jax's smile is slow, conspiratorial. "Ma'am, I'd love that," he says. "Haven't had a chance to get my melancholy on properly in months."

Mahasti watches the two. Her smile shows "Archery is not as popular as the others due to expense." she offers, she returns her glove and then her bow, fondly touching it. She slowly sets the quiver down, leaning to a co-ordinator to ask to keep her target hit arrow with the tip removed. The tip removal makes it ship safe afterall. She takes it, holding it to observe the striped fletching with a warm sigh. She is quiet, heading over to Holtz to offer him her hand politely.

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