God help the Outcasts

[Muad Dib]

His boot lashed out kicking the Geonosian from where it was impaled upon the beskad. Green ichor flew through the air, marring the sand in rivlets of gore. Looking down at his hand that was drenched in the blood of his foes the blue eyes dimmed for a moment. War, battle, conflict. It was the mainstay of the mad man. To bring death to his opponents was a gift he had. And he did it very well.

Blinking, Muad came out of the reverie and plunged the blade into the sands of the arena. A splattering of ichor coated his torso and down his arms to drip onto the ground from fingertips. Looking to where the gates opened into the arena he waited. He had finished the three rounds and not only survived but won. Now he would meet the infamous Game Master, spoken of by those in the CIS with confusion and even fear.

Crouching he dried his hands by running the grains of sand between his palms. As a man with the reputation that brought fear he wished to meet this person. Once he had stood in this arena to fight fellow confederates with an interesting choice of weapons chosen by the Game Master. The memory made the man laugh out loud, the sound echoing around.

Of course the other reason was word in the space lanes was the Game Master was wanting a ship made. And Muad had a company that manufactured ships. So the man gripped the handle of the beskad and pulled it free, turning in anticipation of the majestic Game Master.

[member="Cairyn Midore"]

 

[Cairyn Midore]

Watching the fights from his private box office, the Gamemaster was a sight to behold as usual. Adorned in all sorts of unnecessary vestments only befitting his position, he looked more like a prince than a working man, and the arena was his domain. There was little that went on in these walls that he would not hear about, not a fight nor merchandise that'd occur without his prior approval.

The first two fights, he sat in his chair, hands, for the most part, gathered in front of him, as many as twelve rings adorning each hand - partially to prove that he could wear that many but also to cater to a moment of indecisiveness. A cold drink was at his side, with a droid ready to refill it the moment it reached less than half full. Come the third fight, however, he stood, paying a bit more attention to the challenger. He looked somewhat familiar...Had Cairyn encountered him before? Maybe he was a season pass holder, come to try his hand at the real fun? Regardless, anyone who lasted as long as this man deserved some sort of audience with the almighty Gamemaster.

When it became clear Muad would be the victor of this next bout, Cairyn tuned his back on the fight. Heading inside, a snap of gloved fingers had a droid immediately at his side to tend to his needs. Just watching the fights worked up quite the appetite for the parasite-infested youth. Ordering a sandwich, he bit into the food just as soon as it was given to him before heading down to the arena below.

Any other man would've been intimidating, walking out there all in black, Orbalisks clinging to his flesh in a near-indestructible armor, cape trailing behind him. Intimidation was perhaps lost on the boy, in part to being just barely over five feet tall, though the half-eaten sandwich in his grasp certainly didn't help. "You want some bread?" He asked between mouthfuls.

[member="Muad Dib"]​

 

[Muad Dib]

The figure of the Game Master strode into view. An eyebrow arched in the face of the Mad Man as he observed the youth near him while calmly eating a sandwich of some sort. His words echoed out confirming that this wasn't a jest. This was the one who had given the paltry weapon choices at the Golbah games. Letting out a barking laugh he closed the few steps between the two, man and boy.

"Don't mind if I do."

Reaching out he plucked off a corner of the sandwich to toss in his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully as glowing eyes looked upon the youth, who was nearly a foot shorter then him, Muad contemplated how the boy had risen to the status he had. His attire and living armor would certainly be a thing many warriors would envy. But not Muad.

Swallowing the bread that threatened to stick to the roof of his dry mouth he grinned and slid his right leg across his left, arms out wide, and have a bow of Adumari high court. Young, brash, and cocky with an eye for the theatrical (perhaps), nevertheless the man had learned not to judge a book by its proverbial cover.

Flicking the beskad once more into the sand he let out a whistle before fishing a pack of deathsticks from a pocket. With one deftly placed between white teeth he inhaled as the tip flickered to life, a plume of blue smoke rising with his exhale. Opposite the arena crouched on the shadows of the stadium two blue orbs winked into existence. A large tuk'ata crossed the arena slowly, it's horned head turned to breathe in the scent of death before continuing over to it's master. Reaching his master's side the sith hound brushed it's head lightly against the man's side while it's tail whipped side to side.

"Game Master, it is a pleasure to meet one with your reputation. The name is Muad Dib. This is Traycn."

A slight nod to his left indicated the tuk'ata. Plucking the deathstick from his mouth he sighed, another cloud of smoke drifting in the nearly imperceptible breeze. Turning sideways he looked over the massive arena which was, by any other name, a coliseum.

"I wanted to revisit the arena. I've spent many years in places such as this. You don't really feel alive unless you push yourself to your limits, see death coming for either you or your opponent, to feel the rush of victory as you strike down your foe. Plus to actually meet the Game Master, who could pass up such a chance?"

Eyes flickered back to land on the youth. It was a predatory look as Muad was still attempting to decipher the enigma that was the young man.

[member="Cairyn Midore"]

 

[Cairyn Midore]

There was a flash of annoyance in his eyes, lasting a mere instant before slipping back under his unnaturally void gaze. He hadn't meant to offer bread form his sandwich, just bread in general. Still, this fellow was bold, daring to approach the Gamemaster, going so far as to take some of his food, even if it was just a corner. He was a growing boy, eating for both him and his parasitic friends, not to mention possessive. To take what was his, right under his nose, was a dangerous affair.

A smug huff of an exhale was released from the boy's person, relaxing a fraction as the elder man bowed. It was about time someone paid him the respect he was so aptly due. He could almost forgive the offense of taking that sandwich from him. Almost.

Another flicker of annoyance as the man pulled out the deathsticks. Cairyn hadn't spent much time in a proper school, yet regurgitated facts of how horrible deathsticks were had been pounded into his brain what years he had spent in those desks. He could recite their little catch phrases, reenact the commercials on holonet, the murals that had adorned the school cafeteria. In fact, their little phrases were coming to mind now, on the tip of his tongue, ready for recitation if not for the creature that caught his eye.

All thoughts of this Muad fellow were immediately forgotten as Cairyn took in the beauty that was his Tuk'ata. His eyes widened, almost brought to tears from the excitement of having the opportunity to meet such a creature. He was obviously well cared for, good. If there were any signs to indicate otherwise, Cairyn would be quick to relieve Mister Dibb of the creature.

Without Cairyn's conscious thought, he reached out to the creature through the Force, bidding the creature to open up to him. Back up above in his box office, a grand nexu hopped up to her haunches, taking in the sights below through her beady eyes. A service droid was cautious to approach the beauty, its mechanical voice quivering as it tried to coax the feline away from the balcony's edge, only to be shot down by a growl.

Muad's speech was met with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Yeah, yeah, that's great. Really, you must be so proud. Hi there," he spoke directly to the Tuk'ata, almost ignoring Muad entirely. "Gee, aren't you a pretty one. Can I pet ya?"

[member="Muad Dib"]​

 

[Muad Dib]

Traycn turned his head at the diminutive man. It's head turned to look at his master inquisitively as if looking askance. A slight nod from Muad gave the tuk'ata permission. Moving away from the Mad Man the Sith hound approached Cairyn, blue flame erupting with a loud huff of breath from it's snout.

"Udesiir ner ori'adiik."

Spoiler

"Relax my big child."

The haunches of the great beast noticeably calmed as Traycn settled into his haunches. Sheathing his beskad he finished his ' borrowed' sandwich and turned to look across the arena while still keeping a wary eye on the young man.

"What do you want kid?"

A blunt and pointed question that encompassed the unknown. He was curious to see how [member="Cairyn Midore"] would interpret and answer the vague question.

 

[Cairyn Midore]

Whatever sort of hardened exterior Cairyn had developed as Gamemaster melted away as the Tuk'ata approached him. Even with the fire from its snout, it was still a beautiful creature, one Cairyn could easily see gracing the arena on multiple occasions. He had half the mind to relive this beauty of his current master, though its apparent contentment with Muad stilled his metaphorical hand.

When the beast settled, seemingly much calmer than only moments ago, Cairyn reached out, gently petting the Tuk'ata with a gloved hand. It was an unfortunate situation - Cairyn would never have a good feel for how soft a creature was or was not without literally rubbing his face on it - but he didn't want to spook the poor thing by being overly familiar.

"What do I want?" the boy echoed, as if asking the question himself. "Well, I certainly wouldn't object to having this little guy or at least someone like him. Other than that, I dunno, a ship? Why, what do you want?"

[member="Muad Dib"]​