Lorian Aldaris
The Echani Exile
"How much are we talking?" Lorian asked the man sitting across from him. The Rattataki was revolting, obese with an acrid stench, spice smeared underneath his nose and sauce dripping from his lips. His office was a temple to his former self, and the bronze monuments were to a once-strapping gladiator. Now Tousk had gone from slave to slaver, profiting off Rattatak's greatest export: Gladiators. "Five thousan', after he's dead," Tousk responded between bites of his next meal, only half paying attention. The man still had great strength, with arms the size of tree trunks, chewing away at thick meat as if it were bread. Lorian would have preferred the payment up front, or at least some degree of hazard pay. But with jobs like these, it was either success or death, and he could not turn down this kind of money. "Done. How much have you got riding on this?"
Lorian wasn't going to push his luck, although he was curious. What does Tousk have to lose? The Rattataki only chuckled, chins bouncing as he patted a beefy hand against his barreled chest. A porcine snort injected more spice into his system and the large man zoned out for a moment, eyes rolling back. Then his gaze set on Lorian once more. "What does it ma'er? Just kill the heap of bantha dung and get ya pay," Tousk then spat a bone onto a plate, eyeing down the Echani with a venomous look. Lorian raised both his hands and simply shrugged, not wanting to get into another predicament. The Rattataki grunted in approval and waved a hand towards the guard at the back of the room. They were a Nikto, tall and wielding a vibromace, with a shock collar latched onto their neck. Lorian took this as time to leave and he did, recovering his gear on the way out. With a sadistic glee, Tousk said a few last words: "Good Luck."
"Fresh meat, you're up," Screamed one of the ringmaster's cronies. Lorian was no slave but he must obey their rules. It would be a lot easier if he entered later, but he could hardly complain. With his blade in hand, he marched up the ramp and into the arena. Hundreds of gladiators fought to the death as thousands roared in excitement. Somewhere up in the gods sat Tousk and his friends and in the centre of the pit fought Rex Grusol. The giant Besalisk was ferocious, with a chain in one hand, a club in another, and two giant waraxes in the remaining two. He fought against four at once and in mere moments all four were dead. From across the arena, Lorian patiently observed the hasty movements, their brash techniques, his immense strength and the flawless execution of their blows. The perfect pit fighter. Lorian was more than that.
The first unfortunate soul to charge Lorian was a Rattatak wielding a hammer, screaming as they raised their instrument of death. The Echani let them come close and waited for the moment to strike. Lorian spun as the hammer fell, deftly avoiding the blow, and then he slashed with one end of his blade at their chest, disembowelling them. The blademaster pressed on towards Grusol. A pair of cyborgs tried to rush at Lorian, so he tripped one into their partner and then beheaded them both as they fell. An enslaved Rodian was tossed into his path, but Lorian avoided them, instead bisecting their enraged assailant. Lorian felt he was spilling a pint of blood for every metre he gained on Rex, and his advance never faltered. Things were going smoothly until his path was blocked by a Dewback-riding Zabrak.
Stampeding towards Lorian, the Echani danced off to the side, narrowly avoiding the beast's maw as it gnashed voraciously at his arm. The beast's momentum took them forward, forcing the Zabrak to reign it in and turn around. Lorian fought off a human challenger briefly by dodging underneath their blade, kicking them to the ground and impaling them through the chest. The beast stormed towards him again, and the Echani took aim. Using his ritual brand like a spear, he threw it into the beast's eye, causing it to crash into the ground and slide towards him. Its rider stumbled, and as it slid in front of Lorian he somersaulted over his foe. Grabbing their head in the air as he went, Lorian twisted and came crashing down behind him, delivering a sharp knee to the back of the Zabrak's cranium. Tossing the corpse aside, Lorian retrieved his blade and approached his main target.
By now Lorian had slew plenty of gladiators and the pit was emptying, no more bantha fodder being wasted by the ringmaster. The Echani cut his way through three more competitors and then it was just him and Grusol left standing. Cuts and bruises riddled the Besalisk's skin like a pox, yet whilst Lorian was painted in blood he was unharmed. This was not a fair fight at all. "You will die next!"
The Besalisk's raucous claim drew cheers from across the stands, willing on their champion. Grusol roared and cackled, raising all four arms to the spectators and turning his back to Lorian. The Echani did not attack now, instead standing still and defiant, waiting for the arena champion to attack. Then they turned back to Lorian, Grusol's ugly grin pointing towards him. Impress me. Lorian itched for a good fight. Finally, Grusol threw himself at Lorian.
Lorian watched as the Besalisk reeled one arm back, and he anticipated the oncoming chain. Swung at his legs, Lorian leapt over the chain and his cortosis-woven blade sliced through the links effortlessly. Grusol dropped the chain and swung his axes overhead to try and slice Lorian in half. The Echani knew he could not match them for brute strength, but used his blades to deflect the oncoming blows. Before Grusol could swing the club at his stomach, Lorian knew that the move was coming, instead kicking their hand as it came swinging around. The kick knocked the club out of their hand, leaving the Besalisk confused as to how that had happened. The Echani refused to let up on this advantage, ducking and stepping off to the side. Grusol's axes fell and Lorian sliced upwards with each side of his blade, taking both of his opponent's right arms. His opponent howled as Lorian took several stabs back, easily avoiding the champion's wild swings. The crowd was stunned to silence.
The Echani stabbed one end of his ritual brand into the sand and allowed Grusol one final charge. Blinded by pain and fury, the Besalisk ran right into Lorian's trap. As soon as he got close Lorian twisted the point of his blade, leaving it facing towards his opponent's heart. As his target's flesh touched the tip of his blade, Lorian rolled to the side. Grusol's momentum took the blade straight through his heart. Lorian watched the body fall and then twitch. A split-second observation told him that they were dead. The onlookers were silent once more, but as Lorian retrieved his ritual brand they roared in approval. Instead of basking in it as a gladiator would tend to do, Lorian returned to the chambers beneath the arena. He was not here to become an arena champion.
Returning to the cell he had been allotted to prepare himself earlier, Lorian quickly noticed something was off. As he put his ritual brand onto the table in front of him, a barrel was pressed against the back of his head. It was not unexpected that Tousk would betray him. Now Lorian was just another merc he had to pay. "Time's up pretty boy," One of the thugs smiled, pushing Lorian in the back to have him turn around, and the Echani raised his hands in surrender. He was a human, a little shorter than Lorian. His companion was a Rattataki who quickly snatched Lorian's blade from the table. "How much did he pay you?" The Echani asked, to which the man holding him hostage licked his lips. "A big one each."
Nodding downwards as if he were accepting his situation, the Echani kicked at the human's knee as he pushed his left palm forward. In doing so, Lorian knocked the blaster away from his head as it fired harmlessly into the wall behind him. The human buckled, and Lorian grabbed hold of their arm. Aiming the pistol at the Rattataki, Lorian used their partner's hand to squeeze the trigger, nailing them in the chest. Breaking the arm over his knee, the Echani placed two hands on the human's head, then effortlessly snapped his neck. Afterwards, he cleaned his ritual brand and got himself ready. He left the arena's underbelly intent on collecting his pay.
When the door was opened by the Nikto, it was to their shock that Lorian was on the other side. With a single punch to the temple, Lorian knocked them out cold. They hit the ground with a thud and Tousk stumbled to raise his shotblaster. Lorian shot him in the hand, forcing him to drop it. The Rattataki screamed for help. "Guards! GUARDS!" Panic started to take him over, his whole body shaking as Lorian lined up his irons with their head. "No one's coming, Tousk," He explained, leaning against the side of the wall. "You shouldn't have tried to cheat me of my pay."
The Rattataki nodded and raised both his hands. "Please, I'll give ya whatever ya want," pleaded Tousk, although it should have been obvious by now what Lorian wanted. "Ten thousand," the Echani demanded, which caught his employer off-guard. "My five, the two for the thugs. Call the rest hazard pay," Pointing to the safe, Lorian nodded and allowed him to waddle over to it from their chair. Once a gladiator, Tousk was now pathetic. Without any further protest, he opened the safe and emptied ten thousand credits from it. There was more in there, a switch of sorts, and various other trinkets and stolen possessions. Lorian beckoned for him to place it on the desk and back away to the wall again. He collected his credits but before leaving, took one last look at the Nikto. A man forced to serve against his wishes. Everyone deserves to choose their fate.
"How many people have you enslaved?" Lorian asked, his tone devoid of compassion. The Rattataki simply shrugged, which told Lorian enough. "And the switch in the safe controls them?" Tousk shook his head but the rest of his body told a different story. The way his legs and arms shook, the look of both fear and hatred in his eyes, and the biting of his tongue between his lips. The Echani put his pistol away and took the ritual brand off his back. Before Tousk could react he slashed the Rattataki's throat, leaving them to drown in a pool of their own blood. Lorian retrieved the switch and after a short moment, he clicked one of its many buttons. Looking down to his left, he saw the shock collar detach from the unconscious Nikto. Content with his actions, he crushed the switch in his hand and left the clubhouse. The Echani Exile didn't linger on Rattatak much longer and would go looking for his next score.
Lorian wasn't going to push his luck, although he was curious. What does Tousk have to lose? The Rattataki only chuckled, chins bouncing as he patted a beefy hand against his barreled chest. A porcine snort injected more spice into his system and the large man zoned out for a moment, eyes rolling back. Then his gaze set on Lorian once more. "What does it ma'er? Just kill the heap of bantha dung and get ya pay," Tousk then spat a bone onto a plate, eyeing down the Echani with a venomous look. Lorian raised both his hands and simply shrugged, not wanting to get into another predicament. The Rattataki grunted in approval and waved a hand towards the guard at the back of the room. They were a Nikto, tall and wielding a vibromace, with a shock collar latched onto their neck. Lorian took this as time to leave and he did, recovering his gear on the way out. With a sadistic glee, Tousk said a few last words: "Good Luck."
- - -
The Cauldron's cheers echoed through the stone chambers below. A new contender was thrown into the pit for every corpse that was dragged out. Less than a tenth of those were volunteers seeking glory or death. The rest were forced to fight and die against their will. Lorian was perhaps the exception, here to eliminate the Arena's champion which had likely cost Tousk and plenty of others a substantial pile of credits. He had done his research, and the Besalisk he was to fight was formidable. But Lorian knew he was better. His moment would be upon him soon. As is the ancient Way of the Echani, the mercenary only wore trousers and boots. He had wraps for his hands and his ritual brand. Nothing more was needed. Grandfather, if you are watching, grant me your strength once more. Lorian would never consider himself religious, but even he had superstitions.
"Fresh meat, you're up," Screamed one of the ringmaster's cronies. Lorian was no slave but he must obey their rules. It would be a lot easier if he entered later, but he could hardly complain. With his blade in hand, he marched up the ramp and into the arena. Hundreds of gladiators fought to the death as thousands roared in excitement. Somewhere up in the gods sat Tousk and his friends and in the centre of the pit fought Rex Grusol. The giant Besalisk was ferocious, with a chain in one hand, a club in another, and two giant waraxes in the remaining two. He fought against four at once and in mere moments all four were dead. From across the arena, Lorian patiently observed the hasty movements, their brash techniques, his immense strength and the flawless execution of their blows. The perfect pit fighter. Lorian was more than that.
The first unfortunate soul to charge Lorian was a Rattatak wielding a hammer, screaming as they raised their instrument of death. The Echani let them come close and waited for the moment to strike. Lorian spun as the hammer fell, deftly avoiding the blow, and then he slashed with one end of his blade at their chest, disembowelling them. The blademaster pressed on towards Grusol. A pair of cyborgs tried to rush at Lorian, so he tripped one into their partner and then beheaded them both as they fell. An enslaved Rodian was tossed into his path, but Lorian avoided them, instead bisecting their enraged assailant. Lorian felt he was spilling a pint of blood for every metre he gained on Rex, and his advance never faltered. Things were going smoothly until his path was blocked by a Dewback-riding Zabrak.
Stampeding towards Lorian, the Echani danced off to the side, narrowly avoiding the beast's maw as it gnashed voraciously at his arm. The beast's momentum took them forward, forcing the Zabrak to reign it in and turn around. Lorian fought off a human challenger briefly by dodging underneath their blade, kicking them to the ground and impaling them through the chest. The beast stormed towards him again, and the Echani took aim. Using his ritual brand like a spear, he threw it into the beast's eye, causing it to crash into the ground and slide towards him. Its rider stumbled, and as it slid in front of Lorian he somersaulted over his foe. Grabbing their head in the air as he went, Lorian twisted and came crashing down behind him, delivering a sharp knee to the back of the Zabrak's cranium. Tossing the corpse aside, Lorian retrieved his blade and approached his main target.
By now Lorian had slew plenty of gladiators and the pit was emptying, no more bantha fodder being wasted by the ringmaster. The Echani cut his way through three more competitors and then it was just him and Grusol left standing. Cuts and bruises riddled the Besalisk's skin like a pox, yet whilst Lorian was painted in blood he was unharmed. This was not a fair fight at all. "You will die next!"
The Besalisk's raucous claim drew cheers from across the stands, willing on their champion. Grusol roared and cackled, raising all four arms to the spectators and turning his back to Lorian. The Echani did not attack now, instead standing still and defiant, waiting for the arena champion to attack. Then they turned back to Lorian, Grusol's ugly grin pointing towards him. Impress me. Lorian itched for a good fight. Finally, Grusol threw himself at Lorian.
Lorian watched as the Besalisk reeled one arm back, and he anticipated the oncoming chain. Swung at his legs, Lorian leapt over the chain and his cortosis-woven blade sliced through the links effortlessly. Grusol dropped the chain and swung his axes overhead to try and slice Lorian in half. The Echani knew he could not match them for brute strength, but used his blades to deflect the oncoming blows. Before Grusol could swing the club at his stomach, Lorian knew that the move was coming, instead kicking their hand as it came swinging around. The kick knocked the club out of their hand, leaving the Besalisk confused as to how that had happened. The Echani refused to let up on this advantage, ducking and stepping off to the side. Grusol's axes fell and Lorian sliced upwards with each side of his blade, taking both of his opponent's right arms. His opponent howled as Lorian took several stabs back, easily avoiding the champion's wild swings. The crowd was stunned to silence.
The Echani stabbed one end of his ritual brand into the sand and allowed Grusol one final charge. Blinded by pain and fury, the Besalisk ran right into Lorian's trap. As soon as he got close Lorian twisted the point of his blade, leaving it facing towards his opponent's heart. As his target's flesh touched the tip of his blade, Lorian rolled to the side. Grusol's momentum took the blade straight through his heart. Lorian watched the body fall and then twitch. A split-second observation told him that they were dead. The onlookers were silent once more, but as Lorian retrieved his ritual brand they roared in approval. Instead of basking in it as a gladiator would tend to do, Lorian returned to the chambers beneath the arena. He was not here to become an arena champion.
Returning to the cell he had been allotted to prepare himself earlier, Lorian quickly noticed something was off. As he put his ritual brand onto the table in front of him, a barrel was pressed against the back of his head. It was not unexpected that Tousk would betray him. Now Lorian was just another merc he had to pay. "Time's up pretty boy," One of the thugs smiled, pushing Lorian in the back to have him turn around, and the Echani raised his hands in surrender. He was a human, a little shorter than Lorian. His companion was a Rattataki who quickly snatched Lorian's blade from the table. "How much did he pay you?" The Echani asked, to which the man holding him hostage licked his lips. "A big one each."
Nodding downwards as if he were accepting his situation, the Echani kicked at the human's knee as he pushed his left palm forward. In doing so, Lorian knocked the blaster away from his head as it fired harmlessly into the wall behind him. The human buckled, and Lorian grabbed hold of their arm. Aiming the pistol at the Rattataki, Lorian used their partner's hand to squeeze the trigger, nailing them in the chest. Breaking the arm over his knee, the Echani placed two hands on the human's head, then effortlessly snapped his neck. Afterwards, he cleaned his ritual brand and got himself ready. He left the arena's underbelly intent on collecting his pay.
- - -
Tousk's clubhouse might have been difficult to infiltrate if it weren't for Lorian's stealth field generator. Without a sound he left a trail of bodies in his wake, the mobster's goons caught completely unawares. In less than two minutes Lorian had carved his way to his employer's office. The two guards outside barely stood a chance either, squinting their eyes at the distortion in front of them. Once it got close, two bolts were fired, one directly into the first's head, and Lorian only had to snap sideways to get off the second before the other could react. Being so close, the bodies fell within his sound-dampening field. The Echani reached down to his belt and twisted the dial anti-clockwise. The distortion effect waned and the dampening field fell. He sighed and then knocked thrice on the door, as was the method these two guards used earlier.
When the door was opened by the Nikto, it was to their shock that Lorian was on the other side. With a single punch to the temple, Lorian knocked them out cold. They hit the ground with a thud and Tousk stumbled to raise his shotblaster. Lorian shot him in the hand, forcing him to drop it. The Rattataki screamed for help. "Guards! GUARDS!" Panic started to take him over, his whole body shaking as Lorian lined up his irons with their head. "No one's coming, Tousk," He explained, leaning against the side of the wall. "You shouldn't have tried to cheat me of my pay."
The Rattataki nodded and raised both his hands. "Please, I'll give ya whatever ya want," pleaded Tousk, although it should have been obvious by now what Lorian wanted. "Ten thousand," the Echani demanded, which caught his employer off-guard. "My five, the two for the thugs. Call the rest hazard pay," Pointing to the safe, Lorian nodded and allowed him to waddle over to it from their chair. Once a gladiator, Tousk was now pathetic. Without any further protest, he opened the safe and emptied ten thousand credits from it. There was more in there, a switch of sorts, and various other trinkets and stolen possessions. Lorian beckoned for him to place it on the desk and back away to the wall again. He collected his credits but before leaving, took one last look at the Nikto. A man forced to serve against his wishes. Everyone deserves to choose their fate.
"How many people have you enslaved?" Lorian asked, his tone devoid of compassion. The Rattataki simply shrugged, which told Lorian enough. "And the switch in the safe controls them?" Tousk shook his head but the rest of his body told a different story. The way his legs and arms shook, the look of both fear and hatred in his eyes, and the biting of his tongue between his lips. The Echani put his pistol away and took the ritual brand off his back. Before Tousk could react he slashed the Rattataki's throat, leaving them to drown in a pool of their own blood. Lorian retrieved the switch and after a short moment, he clicked one of its many buttons. Looking down to his left, he saw the shock collar detach from the unconscious Nikto. Content with his actions, he crushed the switch in his hand and left the clubhouse. The Echani Exile didn't linger on Rattatak much longer and would go looking for his next score.