Good Old Fashioned Rumble

[Sol Damerin]

Planet: Nar Shaddaa

Location: You are better off not knowing

If there was one universal truth, then it was that there were probably a lot of universal truths. However, one such truth, in particular, is relevant to this situation and it might go something like this: Where there are rough men who do violence, there will be a gathering of them beating the piss out of each other for entertainment and credits. Perhaps not the most useful piece of universal wisdom to ever be shared but hey it said relevant truth up above not useful.

The arena, actually calling it an arena was too kind, the area maintained by a few cables and the press of bodies around them was a twenty by twenty square. It was located in the guts of a half-finished warehouse near the spaceport. Whatever company had been putting it up had run out of funds or interest before it could be finished. Which made it just about the perfect thing for a legal illegal fight club to open up shop. How can something be illegal and legal at the same time? Well, on Nar Shaddaa it all came down to whether or not you made sure the right Hutt got their cut. This fight club was as close to above board as it got while still being seedy.

Horking out a glob of blood onto the floor Sol pants as he wipes his chin. His knuckles hurt despite the cloth wrappings meant to soften the impact of his fists and his bare chest was covered in sweat. The Trandoshan on the floor marked his third consecutive victory and it had managed to get a good hit to his jaw in. The inside of Sol's cheek had split, hence the blood, and he'd have a right shinier of a bruise on his jaw in the morning.

The unconscious Trandoshan is dragged off into the crowd and the toydarian announce was saying something in Huttese. It takes Sol a second to parse the meaning, his head was still swimming a bit. "...Challenge the human! Since he has three wins in a row we will accept two challengers at the same time if you want to bring a partner eh? But that means only have the prize for beating him unless someone decides they want to help the poor smooth skin!" Normal that would be when Sol just conceded but the rules were you fought till you lost or until there were no challengers. Not the best thing to agree to but the payouts were really good to make up for the fact that you were likely guaranteed at least one beating.

Well, that's not good. Sol thinks to himself as he sees two Gamorreans bruisers getting ready to enter the ring. Two of the heavy set pig men by himself while he felt like this? That'd be a tall order. Looking around he tries to see if anyone else is gearing up to jump in. Maybe a single combatant would slip into the ring before the pigmen and save Sol the trouble. Or maybe someone would hop in to fight the pigs with him if they did they'd be entitled to half of his winnings for the fight. Not ideal but better than getting his ass kicked he'd supposed.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's eyes narrowed as he sat at the edge of the room, observing the fights that occurred with blazing gold eyes. The human was wearing thin... such frail creatures who's bodies were easily broken against so many of the galaxy's larger beings. And yet, there was a resilience among them, caused by some explainable pride to be what they were. He should know, he had spent most of his life thinking he was among them. But now, the fangs, glowing eyes, claws, and most notably his tail, marked him as something else. Maybe it was the memory of once was. Maybe it was pity for the poor soul. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Something more... logical. But no matter what it was, the Zorren started to speak up, a small wave of the force guiding those in his way into a path. "I'll lend a hand." His hands rose up to take his outer coat and toss it aside. As the silk like cloth fell down, a small blue wolf appeared to sit atop it. "Just don't touch my coat, I promise I'll know, and I promise it won't end well for you."

Despite the threatening words, Vulpesen appeared relaxed and confident as he entered the ring, looking like a sore thumb in his formal looking clothes. Yes he was a warrior, and even though the shirt held no protecting against a punch, it could stop a lightsaber or blaster in its tracks. Maybe it looked fancy, but who said security couldn't look good. Stepping smoothly past the Gamoreans, the Zorren would take his place by [member="Sol Damerin"] and offer him a smug grin.

 

[Sol Damerin]

The two giant pigs slip under the cable with a bit of help and Sol sighs. This was going to suck, wasn't it? Before the announcer can start the match though there is a ripple in the crowd. Sol turns and he sees someone who definitely doesn't look like he belongs there cutting a path towards the arena. Seriously who came in finery to what was essentially glorified bum fights? Guys with glowing eyes, tails, and claws apparently.

The coat drops and the man issues his warning. Whether or the man was an arrogant idiot or actually dangerous would be largely dependant on his ability to back up that claim, something Sol would know shortly based on how well his new friend did against the Gamoraens. If Sol had been watching he might have hoped for Vulpesen to get his ass handed to him, it would have been kind of funny for him to get trounced after such a proud declaration. Given that the other man not getting trounced would be good for Sol he was hoping that Vulpesen was as dangerous as he seemed to think he was.

The smug grin is met with a blank stare. "Right, thanks for the help." The merc says his tone neutral as he turns back to the pigs. The announcer holds up his hand, yammers in Huttese for a moment and then drops it. Sol, doesn't hesitate he springs forward towards one of the pigs and slams a fist into its gut. The thing winces in pain but then laughs and belly bucks him back. Bloody things were durable, weren't they? Skipping back nimbly he finds that he's gained the attention of both of the pigs who are licking their chops, gross, and raising their meaty fists ready to close in. Apparently, they didn't consider the guy in a fancy shirt a threat. Perhaps Vulpesen would show them the error of their ways.

[member="Vulpesen"]

(Couldn't think of a good way to shoehorn it in, but keep any use of the force subtle. Using it overtly will get the pair disqualified.)

 

[Vulpesen]

"Now don't look so glum, the fun's just starting." It was obvious that no one here knew who he was. And he was . The happy to keep it that way. While he had leanred several fighting styles on Veradune, the ones he was most proficient were Varotryx and Varosyn, the forms of the fox which revolved around tricks and misdirection. As the two Gamorreans charged towards Damerin, Vulpesen remained quiet and reserved, ignoring the jeers and calls that he was a coward. His eyes flicked back and forth while his legs bent and muscles coiled in preparation.

It wasn't just looking for an opening. Varotryx required precise strikes to weak points in the enemy's body, used to disable even the largest opponents. As such, it was finding both a weakness and a chance to exploit it. Luckily, the zorrens background allowed him quite a bit of knowledge on the physiology of most opponents, gamorreans included. After only a few seconds, Vulpesen would see his chance. As Sol skipped back with his opponent's attention, the muscles in Vulpesen's legs would let out in a burst of speed, propelling him forward and into the air after a few quick steps. As he closed the distance, he lashed out a leg, aiming for the Gammorean's neck in an attempt to stun him. As a person, Vulpesen had always been average size at best, his body built for speed and agility rather than brute strength. But given that his species physiology made him just as strong as any man twice his size if not three, a vicious kick to such a sensitive area could prove lethal for any lesser being. Perhaps he had appeared too confident, but such an attitude had been cultivated by learning through quite a few mistakes and figuring out what worked.

[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

Sol was just thinking of his plan of attack when the Gamoraen furthest from him suddenly jerked and stumbled to the side. A loud thud of flesh on cloth impact echoing in the warehouse. The pigs were stronger than humans and their layers of blubber provided good shock impact. However, the surprise attack sent the pig stumbling to the side as it lost balance and fell as it squealed in pain. It wasn't unconscious just yet but it was definitely stunned.

Well, a flying jump kick was a bit flashy in Sol's estimation but you couldn't argue with results. He and the pig still standing look a bit stunned that the small man had managed to topple the hulking figure. The pig had to look over his shoulder to look, which gave Sol an opportunity to strike. Darting forward he struck the pig in the gut again on this time instead of his fist he used his elbow. It was closer to a tackle than a punch in effect, but with a small surface area and a firmly planted left foot to push off of as he thrusts in with his right elbow be managed to pierce deep into the pigs gut and knock it back.

It wasn't quite the dramatic blow that Vulpesen had delivered but he still managed to knock the Gamoraean backwards far enough that it stumbled over its own partner. Now they were both lying in a pile on the floor. Both were hurting now but neither was out of the fight, yet Sol held back from trying to finish them off on the floor. Mostly because he knew that there was a chance they'd get a hand on his leg and drag him down. The Gomoraen's were stronger than he was for sure, maybe stronger than Vulpesen. If they got either of them onto the ground it would eliminate their primary advantages, agility and speed, while emphasizing the pig's advantages size and strength.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

While [member="Sol Damerin"] might have been more reserved, Vulpesen proved to be far more opportunistic. As soon as his body hit the floor, Vulpesen lowered into a crouch and sprang back at his opponent, unable to help but let out an unnatural sounding growl. Approaching the pile of flesh and fat, the zorren planted his hands on the ground and spun his body around. This time, it was the heel of his boot aiming to crash into the top of the gamorrean's skull. Keeping in mind the naturally longer reach that his legs had over his arms, he figured it was a far safer move than mounting the gammorean to bludgeon his face with punches.

With each passing second of the brawl, memories were starting to fly into Vulpesen's head. Memories of almost a decade ago when he had sat on this very planet and fought this very species. Back then, he had been the one on the ground with pain throbbing in his skull. Since that day he had been marked by the single lock of white hair which even now, swayed in front of his right eye. But now he was a king, and a war hero. While that white mark had always existed to prove that he could be beaten, now it was just another scar, just another wound that brought him to where he was.

 

[Sol Damerin]

Vulpesen's heel comes crashing down against the durasteel plated floor. The Gamoraen hadn't dodged exactly, rather he'd been shoved out of the way. The one Sol had knocked over had managed to fall on his belly and had pushed himself to his knees with surprising speed. He'd seen Vulpesen coming and had guessed he was going for Gamoraen still struggling to get back to his feet. So Piggly A gave Piggly B a shove rolling him over and spoiling the zorren's aim at the last second.

Both Piggly's were career mercs and good in a scrap so Piggly A goes for Vulpesen's ankle trying to get a hand on the Zorren. Meanwhile, Piggly B recovered, somewhat, from the kick to the neck and also pushed himself to his knees. He would have gotten farther but it was Sol's turn to land a sneak attack. The merc slams his boot into the small of the gamoraen's back knocking it prone. Rather than following up though he dances back, which proved to be the right move as Piggly B attempted to spin and grab the leg it expected to come crashing down again.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Another growl escaped Vulpesen's lips as the gamorrean dodged his foot, leaving him to crash it onto the durasteel floor. While he was fortunate enough to be wearing his boots, the resulting impact still sent an unpleasant shudder up his spine. "Piece o- Crux!" He felt the large hand of the mercenary gripping onto his ankle, likely in an attempt to pull him close. Certainly not an ideal position, but not an unmanageable one. "C'mon porky!" Vulpesen's body twisted and his leg bent, quickly sliding his upper mass across the floor towards the gamorrean's waist. Given their wide yet short legs, he didn't really fear the idea of a leg lock around his head or torso.

The problem with hitting a gamorrean's stomach, was probably the thick layers of fat which protected them from blunt force. However, such fat was considerably thinner around their ribs, something Vulpesen would take full advantage of. Preparing his mind for whatever vicious idea the creature might have for his leg, the zorren started to drive fist after first under its ribs, aiming to overwhelm its pain threshold with a flurry of powerful blows. He just hoped that [member="Sol Damerin"] had the other one covered, lest he end up in a pig pile.

 

[Sol Damerin]

The answer of what Piggly A was planning came to Vulpesen shortly after he landed his first blow. The pig squeals in pain and the hauls on the zorren's leg pulling him close. At the same time, Piggly A pulls with his right arm he brings his left fist into line for collision Vulpesen's head. It was a clever tactic using his grip on the zorren's leg to keep him off balance and pull the smaller man into a blow. It would probably hurt a lot if it hit cleanly. Even if it didn't, the zorren's tactic would semi work as Piggly A keeps squealing in pain and decides to haul on Vulpesen's leg in an attempt to slide him across the floor away from it and towards the hostile crowd. Not hostile at Vulpesen in particular, just in general.

Good news though was that Sol was indeed keeping Piggly B occupied. He kept darting in and delivering glancing but annoying blows to the Gamoraen as it struggles to its feet. Things were going rather well until he accidentally skipped back too far and bumped into the crowd. He was shoved forward violently making him stumble, right into the pig that grabs him up in a bear hug and starts squeezing. "This." Sol gasps out as he gets uncomfortably close to Piggly B's face. "Is the worst smell." Then he snaps his forehead into the pig's nose once, twice, three times trying to get loose before it squeezes the life out of him.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

As the fist came crashing down, Vulpesen just managed to tuck his head in and lifted his arm. Still, the brunt force of the meaty hand glancing off his shoulder, did cause him to grit his teeth in pain. Then came the odd sensation of his body being slung across the floor. "I see how it is!" His shoulder skipped off the floor as he rolled to dig his claws into the ground, causing a horrible screeching sound as he came to the stop, vaguely aware of a few feet in the crowd taking the opportunity to put a few cautious boots into his hind end. "Just take me and leave me..." Despite the growing bruise on his arm, he still held that wild grin. At least, he did until he could see his partner being smothered in pig fat.

A major part of zorren society is based off their instinct to protect others, a biological desire that is nigh impossible to turn off. As such, many zorrens, had learned to simply obey and roll with it. Vulpesen was in that number. In an instant, his face contorted from the generally human like appearance, to something of a nightmare. His mouth opened up to bare his fangs with a snarl and a growl. His single pointed ear flicked up to face the gamorrean and his eyes blazed a bright shining gold. On top of this, his body hunched down with a distinctive double pop sounding from his hips, the sign that he had dropped into his secondary joints to allow for quadrupedal running. If there was one unnerving sight among his people, it was that of a Zorren's full battle sprint, like something out a horror show, the Veran king ran swift and smooth despite his seemingly unnatural body position before launching into the air towards Sol's opponent. Leaving Piggly A in the faith that it would take time for him to reorient himself, Vulpesen aimed to wrap his legs and arms around the Gamorrean's neck in a vice grip of a choke hold. If he could only cut off the blood flow to his brain for a few seconds, then someone would need to get this pig a blanket.

[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

The crowd stares in shock when Vulpesen entered his battle spring. Most maybe all, had never seen a Zorren before so the odd twisting run was horrifying to the vast majority of the crowd. Well the more humanoid members, at any rate, some of the aliens ones just thought it looked a bit funny. The king would have no issue getting onto Piggly B's back and once it feels claws around its throat it drops Sol to try and desperately pull Vulpesen's arms free. It might have succeeded as well if Sol, gasping for breath, hadn't opted to punch the Gamoraen between the legs. The pig's hands fly down as the breath wheezes from its lungs and it falls down face first. Assuming Vulpesen didn't let go he'd be able to follow it to the ground and finish choking it out.

However, as it falls Sol notices that Piggly A had been moving up behind them. It had been intending to slam Vulpesen over the head with two meaty fists clutched together but had been just a second too late. So it changed its target to Sol who had just come into view after skipping to the left of the falling Piggly B. Sol manages to get both his wrists up in a cross block right before the crushing blow lands. As it was it still hurt like hell and he thinks he might have heard a crack. Maybe in his wrist, or maybe it was the floor. Either way, he decided that he was done playing nice rolling his wrists he grabs onto the Gamoraen's fatty ones, too wide for him to maintain a good grip but he didn't need one for long. He just needed to hold the Gamoraen in place while he slammed the bottom of his boot against its knee. There is a satisfying crunch and Piggly A lets out a deafening squeal as it goes down to the ground clutching its shattered kneecap. Sol pants and pulls his potentially fractured right arm close to his body before turning to see how Vulpesen is doing.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen grinned as his foe dropped to his knees, his stumpy arms attempting to draw the zorren's vice grip from his throat. "Good... Night." Vulpesen grunted a bit as a the Gamorrean fell onto the ground, and through the force he could feel its mind flickering out like a light. He'd live, but a couple more seconds of pressure ensured that it wouldn't be for a while. Panting a bit, Vulpesen rose up to see what had made the thudding noise, only to find that Sol's opponent, while conscious, certainly seemed done with the fight. Though, the way the human was cradling his arm filled him with a pang of sympathy. "Sorry, guess I could have kept and eye on that one."

[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

"You can make it up to me." Sol pants with the barest ghost of a smile. "By not fighting me." The meaning of his words becomes clear as the Trandoshan announcer starts calling out to the gathered crowd for another two opponents or even three. No one seems eager to step up. Vulpesen's initial kick and displays of speed indicated he would go down easily and he was still relatively fresh. Sol may have been injured and going on his fifth fight, but he's also shown that once he was exhausted he had no qualms about fighting dirty.

There were no rules against hitting below the belt or delivering debilitating injuries that would require a lot of bacta therapy, but there was an understanding that they should be avoided if possible. The crowd now knew that Sol considered being tired sufficient reason to consider avoiding such tactics impossible. Most didn't want to pay if he decided to snap their kneecap or arm.

However, there was one last option for a fight and the Trandoshan address Vulpesen, speaking loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. "Well no challengers want to face you as a duo, but how about this. Fight each other and winner gets double the prize money for the last round eh?" Sol shakes his head in refusal. "I'm good thanks." He had three and a half fights worth of prize money coming his way and he wasn't sure he'd want to fight the zorren while he was fresh, let alone while nursing a potential fracture and tired from previous fights. Of course, if Vulpesen wanted to fight he'd have to or surrender his pot. All eyes are on the king as they wait for his response.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's head tilted at the odd request, until suddenly he remembered the rules of the arena. Then, just as he started to grow his suspicions, the brawl announcer confirmed them. "Fight him? The man just tanked a punch from a gamorrean and still won the match? No doubt he'd crush my head like a grape! Please oh please sir don't make me fight him!" For the seconds that the Valde spoke, the crowd might be confused of whether or not they were in a fighting ring, or a drama/comedy club as the zorren waved his hand and feinted a faint to end his statement. Of course, he and the crowd were likely all aware that the fight would be short between the experienced and fresh zorren against his more worn out opponent, but even then the fact that [member="Sol Damerin"] had made it this far was quite impressive.


Once his little act was over, Vulpesen straightened back up and removed the fake look of fear, replacing it with that smug, wily grin. "But in all seriousness, I think I'll just take my money and buy my new friend here a drink while we get him patched up. If anyone has a problem with that, then they can step forward now." He lifted a hand and displayed the claws, gifted to him by his heritage. "And I'll show you just how much I've been holding back."

 

[Sol Damerin]

Vulpesen's response is met with boos from the audience since they were hoping for another fight. However, no one was going to give him more trouble than that since no rules had been broken. They couldn't make the two fight and they had no choice but to hold him their end of the deal, at least, if they wanted to maintain a semi-reputable disreputable business. Get a reputation for shaking down your participants and people stop participating. So the announcer had their winnings brought out, Sol's was a major payday for a merc since he was getting credits for the fights he'd done before in addition to the last. Vulpesen's was a tidy sum though perhaps not a large one for a man of his stature.

Sol heads to his bag to towel off the sweat, unwind the tape from his fists, and get dressed. He also stops clutching his arm to his chest like a wounded animal. It did still hurt like a nerf herder, but he had been playing it up slightly. If he had to face off against Vulpesen a single surprise punch, all he'd likely have been able to manage, might have helped. Assuming the zorren came over his way Sol would grunt. "I think I'd rather buy you a drink, rather than let you buy me one. You just saved me a beating, maybe two depending on how you count it." Technically he would have only had to face a single beating that night if things had shaken out differently, but the Gamoraens had been a potential one and Vulpesen himself had been a potential one as well. He doesn't bother with his battle armour chest piece, but he does unhook the harness for his vibroblades from it, strapping it on over his shirt. Never hurt to be safe.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

The zorren ignored the boos as he took his credits, a wily grin on his lips. It was good to get some exercise in and to stretch his legs. But he didn't need to get his kicks by kicking around a possible friend, no matter how unpopular the opinion might be. As Sol let his arm hand normally, Vulpesen rose a brow. "You sly bastard. But I think I'll take you up on that offer. And don't worry, I'll get that arm of yours up and running again once we're out of here." He went over to pick up his coat, swirling around to land on his shoulders while Ace curled up in his pocket.

[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

The very ghost of a smile crosses Sol's face at Vulpesen's accusation. "Eh, I am not above trying to get in a cheap shot in. Especially against someone who can knock a Gamoraen on its ass with a single kick." It was the best description for Gamoraens he did not want to know how to distinguish their genders. Hefting his bag with his good arm he slings it over his shoulder. Nodding towards the way out of the warehouse he takes off.

Deciding his new "friend" deserved better than a dive bar he heads away from the port and looks for a slightly more reputable establishment. Not one of the fancy nightclubs with strobing lights and thrumming sounds. But a proper bar where you could get a decent mixed drink and the whisky wouldn't leave you wanting to die. He found one that fit the bill and ducked inside plopping down at the bar. Given Sol still looked scruffy and a bit worse for wear the bartender gives him a disdainful look until he produces a handful of credits, enough for a sizable tip no matter what he orders. "Hoth Daiquiri and whatever my friend wants." He says nodding at Vulpesen who presumably sat down next to him.

 

[Vulpesen]

"I usually am in a competition like that. But if anyone was stupid enough to challenge us again, i'd have probably started using my claws. Most zorrens find the concept of a punch to be rather foreign." Vulpesen stretched a bit as the exited the warehouse and moved a hand over Sol's arm. "Now that no one will think I was using this to cheat..." With a warm tingly feeling, Sol's bones would start to shift and creak into place, setting themselves and knitting together under his flesh and muscle. "That oughta be a bit more comfortable." He shook his glowing palm and slipped into the bar with Sol, grinning as he took a seat. "Corellian Whiskey and Soda."

[member="Sol Damerin"]

 

[Sol Damerin]

There wasn't much creaking or shifting, the actual wound had been a hairline fracture in the ulna. Stil, it had smarted like a right bastard so the healing was appreciated. It also confirmed to Sol that Vulpesen was potent in the force. The zorren hadn't been hiding it and doing a bone healing with a touch wasn't something an amateur did. "Better, thanks." Sol agrees as he flexes his fingers and moves the arm testing the range of motion, still tender but it'd pass. Their drinks are served and Sol sips on the daiquiri lightly, it was a bit too cold to be super enjoyable for a human but perfect to apply to various sore places on his body. The ice felt good against his cheeks and he presses it against his still sore arm.

Chewing an ice chip Sol debates asking questions. Normally he wouldn't because getting overly involved with other people, especially force users, was a risk. However, it would also be a bit rude to sit there in silence. Finally, he settles on introductions. "Names Sol, thanks for the help." He'd thanked the man once when he'd entered the ring, a second thank you now that they'd won seemed appropriate.

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Grinning still, Vulpesen gave a nod to Sol, acknowledging his thanks. "Vulpesen, nice to meet ya Sol." Taking back another sip of his drink, he flicked his tail in enjoyment of the slight burn caused by the liquid. "Are you a mercenary by trade?" Considering what sorts of people that he had seen and fought in that fighting ring, he felt it was a fair question. And if he was lucky, it might be a pertinent one as well.

[member="Sol Damerin"]