| Strax vs. Worf | |
|---|---|
 | |
| Season 6, Episode 7 | |
| Air date | September 17, 2021 |
| Written by | I'm Lynda |
| Episode guide | |
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Next Clementine vs Mitsuko Souma |
Strax vs. Worf is a What-If? Death Battle by I'm Lynda. It features Strax from the Doctor Who media franchise, and Worf from the Star Trek media franchise.
Description[]
It’s Doctor Who versus Star Trek, when we bring together two prime examples of their respective warrior races and let them battle to the finish!
Interlude[]
Boomstick: Sci-Fi warrior races, they’re here to kick butts and...Well, what more do you need?
Wiz: Born and bred to do battle, the one thing that they enjoy most is meeting another warrior race. So, we’re going to bring together two prime examples of different warrior races, and let them fight it out.
Boomstick: The first combatant is Commander Strax, a Sontaran soldier from the Doctor Who universe.
Wiz: And the second is Lieutenant Commander Worf, a Klingon Warrior from the Star Trek universe.
Boomstick: I’m Boomstick, and he’s Wiz.
Wiz: And it's our job to analyze their weapons, armor and skills to find out who would win a Death Battle.
Boomstick: Yeah, what he said!
Strax[]
Wiz: In the Doctor Who Universe, there are a number of warrior races, but one of the toughest are the Sontarans.
Boomstick: You’ve probably heard someone say that when you’ve see one whatever, you’ve seen them all. Well, when it comes to the Sontarans that’s pretty much true.
Wiz: They are a clone race, created to fight and kill for the glory of the Sontaran Empire. So, they are largely the same throughout space and time. But, at the same time, it’s not entirely correct. Different Sontarans have varied slightly in facial features; some have had five fingers, while most have three; some had vestigial hair; and, some are ever so slightly taller than the average of five feet or 152 centimeters..
Boomstick: But, nonetheless, they can all very easily be described as “nasty, brutish, and short.”
Wiz: The Sontarans are short and stocky, with bald, bulbous heads, no apparent neck, and gray-brown skin. They originally developed on a planet with a high gravity, so they are somewhat dense and extremely powerful. But since their muscles are specialized in weight-bearing, rather than leverage, they also tend to be somewhat unwieldy on planets with more Earth-like gravity.
Boomstick: This particular Sontaran is named Strax. He was incubated in a batch of 10,000 perfectly-identical clones, and upon birth he was given an electronic education and immediately sent into battle. Though he covered himself in honor through battle, something happened that disgraced his clone batch, and as such Strax was demoted to being a nurse, helping the weak and injured, which to the Sontarans was a huge punishment.
Wiz: Strax became indebted to Doctor Who, and as such he was willing to serve him, and he even died helping the Doctor. He was subsequently resurrected by a special lizard-woman named Madame Vastra, and he journeyed with her to Victorian England, where he became her butler. This...is Doctor Who after all.
Boomstick: Strax went on to have lots of other adventures. Having received the typical Sontaran mass-education-shash-indoctrination, he still talks like a Sontaran, but he has learned some more human ways of acting.
Wiz: Strax still possesses his Sontaran space-armor and his laser rifle. The armor itself is of limited value, though. Jamie McCrimmon stabbed Group Marshal Stike through his gray space armor, while a Headless Monk stabbed Strax through his blue space armor, and UNIT successfully killed many Sontaran warriors with their guns. So, it is armor, but it definitely does not make the wearer invincible. And, Strax wears it if he knows that he is going into combat, but if he is just going to a barroom brawl, he goes in his street clothes.
Boomstick: Now, Sontarans are tough little potatoes. Their dense flesh means that they can take a beating without suffering as much damage as a human. When Strax asked a Glaswegian barroom brawler to knock him unconscious, he handed him a shovel, because he knew that that is what it would take.
Wiz: And when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, they tend to focus on punches, as well as throws and flips. Sontaran Commander Linx was able to outfight the third Doctor, who was one of the very few two-armed being to master Venusian aikido, while Field Major Styre was able to outfight the fourth Doctor, who was armed with a staff.
Boomstick: However, Styre...he invented a foam, didn’t he? Styrefoam?
Wiz: No.
Boomstick: Well, anyway, Styre showed off a particular Sontaran weakness. You see, while they can eat foods, most Sontarans gain energy through plugging in like a cell phone. But, they also do not have a very large energy reserve. So, when Styre fought the Doctor, he became exhausted, and had to withdraw to plug back in.
Wiz: And that leads us to another Sontaran weakness, the Problic Vent. This Vent is where the Sontarans plug in to accept the energy, but a blow to the vent will stun them, while an object piecing the vent, like a knife or arrow, will kill them. The Sontarans, however, do not consider this much of a weakness, as it forces them to always confront their enemies head-on, and not retreat.
Boomstick: So, Strax is a tough customer. He’s hard to damage, and though somewhat unwieldy, he’s able to dish out a lot of real punishment.
Worf[]
Wiz: In the Star Trek Universe, the toughest warriors are the Klingons. They are born to fight, and they love to kill. To die in combat is considered the noblest death for a Klingon, so they aren’t afraid to wade into the enemy and let them have it.
Boomstick: And, one of the toughest of these bad-ass warriors is Lieutenant Worf, of the Starship Enterprise.
Wiz: When Worf was a young child, his parents took him to the planet of Khitomer, just in time to see the Klingons there get massacred by the Romulans...
Boomstick: Ah, that reminds me of some of the family get-togethers that my parents used to take me to when I was a kid. Heck, if you get upset at the sight of blood, you’ll never have those great family moments.
Wiz: This, rather, speaks volumes. Anyway, Worf was among the few survivors, and he was taken and adopted by a human family.
Boomstick: He joined Starfleet, was posted to the Starship Enterprise, and, because of his bad-assedness, he rose to be the ship’s Security Chief. But, Worf was determined to hang onto his Klingon roots, and if anything he became more of a Klingon than those raised within the Empire.
Wiz: When the Klingon Empire descended into a civil war, Worf resigned from Starfleet, and helped one side of the war to win. He later found a lost colony of Klingons who had forgotten the Klingon way, and he became something of a missionary to their young people, explaining what it really meant to be a Klingon. And, he never stopped working to bridge the cultural gap between the Federation and the Klingons.
Boomstick: But, Worf also never stopped being a warrior. He is an expert at unarmed combat; he consecutively fought and defeated twelve Jem'Hadar warriors, and he even forced a Jem'Hadar Honored Elder to yield in deference to his courage. Also, he is an expert with the bat’leth, a bladed Klingon weapon that is considered the most prestigious weapon for a Klingon to master.
Wiz: He’s fought many opponents, some on the holodeck and some in real life, and he has rarely been defeated.
Intermission[]
Wiz: Alright the combatants are set; let’s end this debate once and for all.
Boomstick: It's time for a DEATH BATTLE!
DEATH BATTLE![]
Pre-Fight []
The twin suns of Tatooine burned relentlessly in the afternoon sky, driving all creatures to seek shelter in whatever shade they could find.
In the spaceport town of Mos Eisley, some travelers found their sanctuary in Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina. It was cool and dark inside, or at least cooler than outside. Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes, the rather mediocre band that Chalmun employed, played from the cantina’s small stage. Nearby, Taserface of the Ravager ship, Eclector, tried to dance to the music, but failed embarrassingly, and yet kept trying.
At a side table, Lieutenant Starbuck sat in his customary uniform of the Battlestar Galactica peering over his Pyramid cards at the other players. Captain Kara Thrace of the Pegasus scowled at the cards she held, which Starbuck hoped was a good sign. Malcolm Reynolds, captain of the Serenity, held his cards in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. Lieutenant Ellen Ripley of the Nostromo, had laid her cards facedown on the table, and rolled her drink across her forehead.
Off to the side, a pair of Yautja hunters conversed with a pair of Harvesters fresh off of their Mothership, while at a nearby table, ALF grabbed at a Kep-mok bloodtick that had leaped out of his bowl and tried to scuttle away. Seated nearby, three Illithid space-mariners eyed his cranium, but then turned away, shaking their tentacled heads.
The bar contained the sort of jetsam and flotsam that any spaceport bar usually contained.
Lieutenant Commander Worf of the Starship Enterprise stepped into the bar, and looked around appraisingly. It was no Ten Forward, but it was no worse than many spaceport bars that he had been in. He worked his way through the crowd to the bar, when suddenly the bartender pointed towards the entrance and yelled, “Hey! We don’t serve his kind here!”
Worf turned, and saw that three other newcomers had just entered; Will Robinson, Dr. Zachary Smith and the Robot from the Jupiter 2. The Robot extended its arms down in a comic look of dejection, and then it turned and trundled out of the bar, followed by the two humans
Worf stepped up to the bartender, who scowled at him and said, “Let me guess, Klingon Bloodwine.”
“Prune juice, chilled,” Worf responded.
The bartender started to laugh, but looking into Worf’s face, he thought better of it. He turned to get the juice.
The bartender handed the glass to Worf, and just as he brought it up to his lips, his arm was forcefully jostled, sending the juice spilling onto the bar.
Worf turned, and found himself looking at the top of a bald head. He looked down into the face of a rather stubby humanoid. It was wearing a black suit that looked like it was taken from one of Alexander’s “Ancient West” holodeck adventures. Most likely the creature was dressed to be a banker or a preacher, he decided.
“Did I spill your juice?” Strax asked. “Perhaps if you drank something fit for a warrior to consume, you would have been able to hold onto it.”
Then, Strax turned to the bartender and barked, “Give me a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, and make it quick. Your life depends on it.”
He turned back to Worf, “You are a Klingon, I presume?”
“Yes,” Worf answered the hopelessly rude creature, almost trembling with rage. He was under orders to avoid any entanglements with Imperial law enforcement during his shore leave, but he was confident that this humanoid was looking for trouble.
Strax snorted and said, “A warrior race, but one lacking the morale to withstand a determined assault.”
The bartender arrived with Strax’s drink, so Worf pounded his own empty glass on the counter, to demand a refill. “Is that what you think?” he demanded of the little Sontaran.
Strax shrugged as much as his squat frame would allow, and answered, “I am only a lowly Commander, I merely quote from the appreciation circulated by our military intelligence.”
Worf bared his teeth menacingly at the other, and snarled, “You would be well advised never to put that appreciation to the test.”
The bartender dropped a new glass of prune juice on the bar, but before Worf could pick it up, Strax’s three-fingered hand reached in front of him and snatched it up.
Worf turned to confront the alien again. Strax held up the glass of juice, and then slowly turned it over, pouring it onto Worf’s shoes.
Worf snarled as his self-restraint was pushed to the breaking point. He grabbed Strax’s lapels, and attempted to lift him up off of the ground, but was shocked to find out just how heavy the Sontaran was.
Suddenly, Strax grabbed Worf, and threw him towards the Cantina’s front door. Worf flew halfway to the door, and rolled the rest of the way out, the doors just barely sliding open in time to let him out.
FIGHT! []
Worf leaped to his feet, just as Strax advanced out into the street.
“All right, primitive!” Strax spat. “Prepare to die for the glory of the Sontaran Empire!”
“I am not afraid of you,” Worf answered, “today is a good day to die.”
Strax spread his arms, and charged at the Klingon.
Worf sidestepped, and punched the Sontaran in the side of the head with his right fist, and then in the stomach with his left. Worf felt like he had just punched a bag of cement.
Strax swiveled, and delivered a backhanded hit that sent Worf reeling away. Worf realized that his opponent was dense and powerful, a formidable opponent.
The Klingon stepped into his defensive stance, and stood ready as his opponent advanced on him yet again.
Calculating that he had a longer reach, Worf began a series of thrusts with his open hands, feinting at Strax’s face, and keeping him back.
Finally, Strax decided to close with the other and charged forward. Worf gave him an open-handed chop to the left of his neck, and then one to the right. He immediately hit flesh, showing that his opponent indeed had no real neck. Worse, the chops seemed to have no effect on the short man.
Strax punched Worf in the stomach, doubling him over, and then he grabbed him and threw him across the street.
Worf turned his flight into a roll, and he then he leaped back to his feet. He assumed a defensive stance, and then waited for the next attack.
Instead of charging forward again, Strax stopped and said, “For a member of a reptiloid species, you fight surprisingly well.”
“I am no reptile!” Worf shouted back.
“I am sorry, girl...”
“Neither am I a girl! Are you blind, as well as crazed?”
“Again, accept my apologies. The classifications used by primitive species are of little interest to the Sontaran Empire, and as such are little studied. Nonetheless, I have enjoyed our fight, and cannot wait to now crush the life from your worthless, stupid form.”
“Then you will die in your ignorance. Now come at me, if you think that you are tough enough!”
Strax yelled his defiance as he charged in. Worf brought his right fist down on Strax’s left shoulder, and his left fist down on his right. Neither blow seemed to slow the Sontaran down.
Strax collided with Worf, and wrapped his arms around his chest in a mighty bear hug. He squeezed with all his might, causing the Klingon to cry out in pain. Worf battered at his opponent’s shoulders and non-existent neck to no avail, and then he reared back, and delivered a crushing headbutt to him.
Stars exploded behind Worf’s eyes, and he felt unconsciousness reach up to take him.
Worf shook his head to clear it, and then reappraised his situation. Thinking quickly, he brought up his flattened hands, and clapped Strax’s ears as hard as he could.
Now Strax cried out in pain. He released the man, and staggered backward. “That was just the sort of trick that I would expect from an opponent like you, filthy scum!”
Worf circled his opponent, each step sending stabs of pain from what he could only believe were broken ribs.
“You fight like a qu'vatlh, but you whine like a puq! Come to me and die, if you want to go on fighting!” Worf shouted back.
Both combatants yelled and charged. Worf sidestepped, and Strax reached out to grab him. Worf grabbed the Sontaran’s arm, and used the man’s momentum to turn the movement into a flip.
Strax landed flat on his back, but quickly grabbed Worf’s leg. He rolled, pulling the Klingon over him and throwing him to the ground. He used his powerful arms to pull himself up the Klingon.
Worf realized that if his opponent locked his arms on him, while he was prone, the fight could only end in one way.
He kneed Strax in the face, then again, and then again. The Sontaran was pushed back enough for Worf to pull out of his grip, and roll to the side.
He quickly leaped to his feet, his mind racing. He couldn’t let this opponent get his hands on him, he was just too strong. It seemed that he was faster and more maneuverable than the stubby humanoid, so he needed to keep moving, and use his longer reach.
Strax spread his arm and charged. Instead of moving forward, Worf back peddled, punching out at the other’s face. He punched at Strax’s eyes, but the man’s bony brow protected the deep-set eyes from any real damage. So, he aimed for the rather prominent nose. He connected again and again, until green blood began to flow across his opponent’s face.
Suddenly, Worf’s back hit a building. He had run out of room!
Strax closed, and began hammering at Worf’s damaged ribs. Pain exploded through the Klingon’s body. Worf was shocked to realize that the other was killing him.
NO! NOT TODAY! Worf kneed the other between the legs, but was disappointed that it seemed to have no effect whatsoever. Worf clenched his hands together, and delivered a powerful two-handed punch to the left side of Strax’s head, causing him to reel to his right.
Worf shoved away from the bullding, and into the middle of the street. His breath came in short, painful wheezes, but he would not give up. He assumed a defensive posture, and waited for the next attack.
Strax stood and looked at him, and said, “I have enjoyed this fight immensely. You are truly a worthy opponent.”
Worf nodded, and answered, “You have also been a worthy opponent, and I look forward to standing triumphantly over your dead body.”
Strax snarled, “That is a pleasure that will be mine shortly. Prepare to die, ridiculous reptile!”
Screaming his defiance, Strax charged again. But, this time Worf saw that he moved noticeably slower. He was tiring out!
When he got within an arm’s reach, Worf again combined his hands and delivered another two-handed punch.
Strax pivoted, and punched Worf in the stomach.
They traded blows back and forth, and then Worf dared grab Strax’s slowing arm, and turn it into a flip.
When Strax hit the ground, Worf planted his feet on Strax’s head and side, and pulled with all his might, trying to dislocate the smaller humanoid’s arm.
Instead, Strax heaved with all his might. He lifted Worf off the ground, and threw him up the street. Worf rolled to a stop in the dust, and looked over at his opponent.
Strax climbed shakily to his feet, and the said, “I will deal with you shortly. Do not move.”
Then, he turned and began reeling towards the Cantina.
Worf saw his chance. He leaped painfully to his feet, and ran after the Sontaran. Catching up to him, he wrapped his arms around him, and tried to lift him up for a throw, but again, the Sontaran’s weight defeated him.
Instead, Strax brought his elbow back into Worf’s solar plexus, breaking Worf’s hold on him. Then, he turned around and delivered a titanic punch to Worf’s face.
Blood sprayed from Worf’s nose, and his legs collapsed beneath him.
But, instead of moving in for the kill, Strax turned and staggered toward the Cantina’s door. He was obviously going for something to reenergize himself, and Worf would lose any advantage that he had. He could not allow that!
Worf pulled himself to his feet, and half-staggered after his opponent. When he caught up to him, he put his hands together, and delivered the strongest two-hand punch that he could manage to the back of Strax’s neck.
Worf was shocked when Strax let out a loud hiss and flailed his arms around, like he was trying to reach behind his head.
After all this time, Worf had finally found a tender sport!
Strax collapsed face-down on the dirt street, and went still.
K.O.! []
Worf knew that if he did not sit down, he would fall down, so he sat down...on Strax’s back.
Suddenly, a loud cheer went up. It appeared that everyone who had been in the Cantina had stepped out to watch the fight!
The bartender stepped up to Worf, and handed him Strax’s Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster.
“You earned this,” the man said with a smile.
Worf looked dubiously at the strange green drink, and then tilted his head back and downed it in one gulp.
A warm feeling of peace washed through Worf. He lifted the now empty glass, so that the sun could sparkle through the glass and the remains of the liquid, and he nodded appreciatively at it.
He went on staring at the glass.
Slowly, without moving a muscle, he toppled over backwards. He lay still in the dirt street with his legs across Strax’s body.
Results[]
Boomstick: Ah! Fist fights and booze! It’s just like a Boomstick family get together. But, that one’s going to definitely need an explanation.
Wiz: Both opponents in this fight were formidable fighters. But, their skills were very asymmetrical. While all Sontarans are given a standard military education, making them a formidable army, they are not noticeably well-trained as martial artists.
Boomstick: Instead, the little fireplugs tend to rely on their dense and powerful physiques to carry the day. Their lack of nimbleness leads to rely on punching, as well as throws and flips. If an opponent is willing to engage them in that manner, they will eventually pummel them into unconsciousness.
Wiz: Worf, on the other hand, is a highly trained martial artist. While he has a formidable ability to withstand damage, his training allows him to change his tactics to avoid an opponent’s strengths and to find and exploit their weaknesses.
Boomstick: Strax’s physique and straightforward training only allowed him to do more of the same, hoping to wear Worf down and out.
Wiz: And, as already mentions, Worf’s ability to tank damage, well demonstrated when he fought the Jem'Hadar First, Ikat'ika, meant that Strax could not wear him down quickly. This caused Strax to burn through his own energy reserves, like when Field Major Styre fought the fourth Doctor.
Boomstick: But, what about Worf’s shot to Strax’s Problic Vent-thingy. That was Worf winning by lucky shot, rather than skill, wasn’t it?
Wiz: Well, yes and no. Being the trained martial artist that he was, Worf knew to look for weaknesses in his opponent. As such, he attacked Strax’s neck, head, face, and groin, each in turn. He was certain to eventually find any weakesses that Strax had...and he did.
Boomstick: So, when it came right down to it, while Strax was a formidable opponent, with a lot of natural advantages, Worf was a good enough martial artist to eventually overcome them.
Wiz: And, that’s why the winner is...
Boomstick: The huge potatoes with a ray gun, Strax!
Wiz: Wait! What?!
Boomstick: Didn't you hear me? I said 'the man with the turtle head, Worf!
Wiz: Those Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters are pretty potent drinks, eh?
Boomstick: You said it. Wait, you did say it, right?
Next Time[]
Two young women who will do anything to survive, and we have brought them together for a Death Battle! Clementine vs Mitsuko Souma!
Trivia[]
- Why did kicking Strax between the legs produce no results? Sontarans seem to lack a concept of gender. It has been speculated that since they have been engineered as a clone race, they lack genitive organs, which would prove to be an unnecessary weakness. As such, I went with the assumption that Strax did indeed have nothing to kick down there.