Session export: [CSP Monthly RP] The POWER of the SLAP
It was a beautiful day on Seraph. The sun was bright and high in the sky providing a nice, warm day at the Monolith. The air was filled with the smell of fried dough, meats, and alcohol. The people seemed happy and content. The war was over, and soon life would return to as close to normal as it could.
To show their appreciation to the people of Seraph and the fighters of Clan Scholae Palatinae, Empress Rayne and Combat Master Vincent Brujah had used some Imperial mission funds to throw a carnival at the Monolith. There were rides and music, games and drinks. Excited screams from people riding coasters and the laughter of people watching on was a welcome change from the screams of war.
Near the entrance to the Monolith, Vincent Brujah had set up a viewing area. A crowd had begun to gather as the Sith prepared for whatever this event would be. On a stage in front of the main entrance stood a podium and the Hand of the Empress. A few other people in what looked to be referee style shirts stood around. Then there was the mountain of a man next to the Combat Master.
After a few moments, Vincent grabbed a microphone and spoke to the crowd.
“Come one, come all! You all must be feeling very strong tonight after our victory and a few drinks! Why not test out that strength of yours in a slap competition!”
The crowd let out an “ooohhhh!” before the Sith continued.
“I have renowned slap fighter Bull Belcher here, as you can see. He is taking on all challenges! Who among you feels strong enough to slap him down to the stage floor? Don’t be shy! Step right up and test your might!”
A cloaked figure slipped through the crowd, a pair of clawed, metal fingers nudging ignorant bystanders out of the way as he made his way to the stage.
“I beg your pardon!” An impotent looking officer said, jerking his arm away from the vibroclaws as he glared at the figure.
The figure paused, standing to full height before turning towards the officer, reaching up to lower his hood with the same two fingers. “Then beg.”
The officer reeled back in silent horror as the mangled face beneath it came to light. “I-I’m sorry, mi’lord,” he said, dropping his eyes as he realized he was still staring at the ghastly scars. “Please,” he said, stepping out of the way so that Ellac could pass.
Stepping past the officer, Ellac took to the steps of the stage where the Proconsul and his mountain of a slapping champion stood waiting. “I’ll take him.”
The Hand of the Empress smiled as Ellac made his way onto the stage.
“Fantastic! Our first victi… volunteer has arrived!” he said into the microphone to a wave of cheers and laughs from the crowd.
Bull and Ellac stared at each other as each approached opposite sides of the podium. Vincent reached into his pocket and pulled out a small coin, which he showed to both Bull and Ellac. After a moment he spoke.
“I’m going to flip this coin. If it lands on heads, Bull slaps first. If it lands on tails, Ellac slaps first.”
Vincent flipped the coin and the crowd let out an “ooohhh!” as it landed and spun on the floor. The coin fell to its side, revealing that it had landed with heads up.
“Bull slaps first! Gentlemen, good luck!”
Bull laughed hardily. He coated his hands in chalk and then stared at Ellac from his side of the podium. A referee signalled for him to go. The giant of a man reached way back and threw a wild slap, but it seemed as though he lost his balance and just barely made contact with the face of Conrat. The slap wasn’t even hard enough to raise a cloud of chalk from the monster of a man’s hand.
The crowd collectively let out a wave of laughter, and Bull’s face turned a bright shade of red. Vincent raised the mic and spoke again.
“That’s okay, big guy! Just a bit of performance anxiety, I’m sure! Ellac, you’re up!”
Ellac couldn’t hide a small smirk as Belcher’s fingers brushed his chin.
At Vincent’s signal, Ellac extended his hand, letting it hover less than an inch from Bull’s face. Drawing his arm back just slowly enough to savor the suspense, Ellac let loose, the full weight of his cybernetic hand slamming solidly into his opponents’ face with a satisfying crunch that suggested he might have knocked a few teeth loose.
The slap from Ellac was so hard that Belcher wobbled on his feet for a moment, but shook it off. He wobbled his head side to side to regain his bearing, and then looked to the side and spit a tooth out of his mouth. He turned back to Ellac and smiled a bloody smile.
“Not bad. My turn!” he said.
The man was now clearly embarrassed. This was his specialty and he had been rocked by a newcomer. He was ready to make his point and put Ellac on the ground. Slowly he raised his right hand and waved it once or twice towards Ellac’s face, gauging his slap. Then in one furious swing his hand made solid contact with Ellac’s face and sent out a loud “CRACK!” that could be heard even by the audience members farthest from the stage.
The slap was a hard, violent one, and Bull waited to see if Ellac would fall to the floor of the stage.
Ellac’s head spun as Bull’s massive hand made contact with his face. The young Equite stumbled back a few steps, his ears ringing. “They-…,” Ellac stammered for a moment as his sense of balance came back to him. “They don’t call you Bull for nothing, do they?”
Face throbbing, Ellac stepped back up to the podium, the entire left side of his face bright red. Raising his hand again to Belcher’s face, Ellac put the cold durasteel palm of his hand firmly against Bull’s cheek, and in one swift motion, reeled back and swung as hard as he could.
Bull Belcher’s face rippled from the slap, the impact sending him straight to the floor as his head bounced off the stage.
With a sharp sigh of relief, Ellac laughed as the reigning champion lay unconscious at his feet.
Vincent’s eyes widened as Bull Belcher hit the stage floor. The look on his face was one that was a mix of surprise and pride. A smile cracked just the corner of the mouth of the Hand of the Empress. He walked over to Ellac and grabbed his metal arm by the wrist before lifting it in the air. The crowd roared loudly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our new Slap Champion is ELLAC CONRAT!”
The crowd cheered Ellac on as medics rushed on stage to check Bull Belcher. Vincent laughed lightly under his breath.
“That’s all for this event. Enjoy the rest of the festivities!”