No Man Born Evil

[Thal Mantis]

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Night after night, he remembered. ​

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They asked him to kill, so that he would live.​

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And he did. ​

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His memories were like embers, remnants of a blaze, but still burning when he reached to them. ​

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Two years ago.....​

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"FINE VISITORS OF POINT NADIR...SOME OF YOU HAVE COME TO SEE HIM LIVE....SOME OF YOU HAVE COME TO SEE HIM DIE!" ​

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The voice over the megaphone was in basic. Thal could not understand it. The cheers, from those monsters, those savages. He could understand. They painted him. They covered him in ornate armor, like some sort of marauder from an old story book. He was supposed to scare them, to stir interest and fill the coffers. The Cage was alive with the thought of watching the Deathless fight another fight, cheat death again. This time, the odds were not in his favor- if they were ever.

Steel under his feet and in his hands, he stood silent in the elevator, flanked by six well-armed security guards. He knew better than to try and attack them. They'd drop the elevator with him in it too rather than see an escape attempt even come remotely close to successful. His eyes were down. He did not wish to become used to the light overheads. The cameras in the covered arena gave the spectacle to the foaming masses here in the Red Tower.

Where they profited off Thal's murder, his spectacle of death.

As the elevator came to the starting platform, Thal was the only one to step off. No compatriots. He stood alone. Against an unknown threat. Armed only with two blades, no armor, nothing. He stood tall, and flexed his mighty shoulders.

"TONIGHT....WE PUT FORTH ANOTHER GREAT BOUT FOR YOU- THAL, THE DEATHLESS SLAVE- VERSUS NOT ONE, NOT TWO, NOT THREE, BUT FOUR- THAT'S RIGHT, FOUR ECHANI WARRIORS! HUNGRY FOR VICTORY, YEARNING FOR GLORY, AND LONGING FOR CREDITS- THESE FOUR ECHANI HAVE DECIDED THAT THAL'S REIGN IN THE CAGE ENDS TONIGHT!" ​

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Echani. He knew that word. It felt familiar. He rolled the blades in his hands, waiting for the door to open. He didn't know how they set up the arena tonight. Most nights, it was sand. Easier to clean blood up from sand than solid steel, he supposed. Provided more of an exotic feel for the crowds too, if he had to guess. He began to shake. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He felt their eyes, he felt their stares even through the cameras.

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The doors opened.

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He had little time to assess the arena. Solid steel, clean and polished to give a clear view of the action. Open, for the most part. Only a few waist-high walls. The four Echani were directly across from him. Vibroswords and a spear, out of the four. Thal had to close the distance. Had to make them suffer for coming here. If they were here by choice, he would make them regret it. Some of them were. He told himself that all of them were. Made it easier to brutally murder them. Even at the distance he was at, Thal could tell he had the height and weight advantage on them. But they had armor- either given or brought with them.​

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So they had a slightly fair chance at surviving for at least- a little while.​

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He began to close the distance, blades gripped tightly in each hand. The cameras panned, electronic sensors following his movements. Even still, they had trouble with his speed as his long legs carried him across the arena. The spear came first- of course. Echani were not known to bring anything but their best in combat. He dropped his right hip, watching the spearhead shoot under his arm. He clotheslined the Echani holding the spear, and knocked her midair.​

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He stabbed her in the chest with his left handed blade, and pushed the sword down to the handguard into her sternum. He pinned her to the floor, the vibrosword cutting through the durasteel below them. He knew it was hollow beneath, to change out arenas. But the crowd didn't. They thought he stabbed through feet worth of steel, and he could hear their screams through the protection of the cage, the electronic fence designed to keep the animals inside.​

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He didn't bother ripping the blade out from her, it was much too much effort to and time to spend when he had three opponents to deal with. He stood tall, watching them back up. They weren't afraid, not outwardly at least- they were assessing him. He rotated the blade in his hands, and used his foot to kick the spear up into his free hand.​

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And he screamed.​

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He was fate incarnate to them. A reminder that they should have stayed home.​

 

[Thal Mantis]

The three Echani encircled Thal, measuring him. Within a few seconds, they assaulted him in unison, intent on cutting him down as equals, realizing that a singular attack wasn't going to cut it. The first went for an overhead, arcing slash down to his person. Thal brought the spear diagonally, throwing the blade off. The second, came from the 12 o clock position, trying to stab him with the opening made by him blocking the slash. They clearly had practice together, patience and an understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses. But Thal had height, weight, and aggression. Echani were not aggressive, they looked at combat as a dance, as a way to express one's true feelings.

Thal often did that when he split their skulls open.

The third was lying in wait, waiting for Thal to react to the second. He was going to be the killshot. Thal created space with the second Echani by kicking him in the chest, sending him flying over one of the waist-high walls. He turned and rammed his shoulder into the body of the third, sending him sprawling back. He reached to the one that tried to slash him over the head and grabbed the Echani by his long hair. Thal pulled his head down by his long hair onto the blade he was holding, and left it in his skull as a reminder to the other two that he was not to be trifled with. He picked up the spear, charging at the one he rammed with his shoulder, tackling him while the other was barely getting back up from the wall he was sprawled over.

Thal held the spear near the tip of the blade, and jammed it through the stomach of the Echani, and lifted him over his head. Blood poured downwards, covering Thal once again in the gore of his enemy. There was but one Echani left.

They had come for a spectacle, but the rapid rate that which his opponents fell was one thing Thal was known for. He let the Echani slide further onto the spear before tossing him and the weapon aside. He was bare-handed, while the Echani held a single-bladed vibrosword. Thal held his arms out to his side, issuing him a challenge without words. Covered in his compatriots blood, Thal intended to make him regret taking up the challenge of taking Thal's life for little more than money and fame. Thal imagined those who controlled the spectacle when he fought- it made him that much more deadly.

He estimated that the Echani was around six feet tall, so Thal had six inches on him, and quite a bit of weight on him. But he had armor, and looked the strongest of the bunch. The female must have been the leader, but this one looked to be the brawns of it all. Thal took a moment to calculate the best way, curling his fists at his sides, sneering as the cameras zoomed in on the blood-soaked slave. Bets flowed in, people intent on making fortunes on Thal's demise. Thal could hear them chanting, but could not make out the words. Basic was a foreign tongue to him, they only spoke Bocce and Huttese far below where the slaves were kept. Perhaps as a control measure. Hard to escape when you couldn't read or speak anything else in the station, he supposed.

 

[Thal Mantis]

Thal felt the man move before he even made one. The air shifted, electric in it's intensity. He thrust the sword forward- and buried the blade in Thal's shoulder. He screamed, blood leaking from his open wound. But it made a good opening. He pulled the blade with his bare left hand, digging it into his skin. Echani were known for their grace. For their dance-like way of combat. Thal knew that much.

Thal was a brute, a savage. A marauder, a vagabond. He grit his teeth and watched the Echani go to pull the blade back. He ripped the blade from his hand, and left it in his shoulder, staggering back. The pain was excruciating, but adrenaline controlled it for the moment. Screaming, he reached up and took the blade out, feeling a burning like he had not felt as he pulled the blade out himself- and let it clamber to the floor.

He walked forward on the Echani, with one and a half good arms. He brought his legs up, and kicked the Echani's legs out from under him. Stunned, the Echani fell to the floor, clambering away. Thal stood over him, a literal shadow of death. He brought his boot on the back of the Echani's neck, and looked at the camera. He made the Echani look at the camera.

He wanted fame to take Thal's life. He'd gain fame in another way, he'd be remembered. He'd be remembered for how he died.

Thal buried his head into the metal beneath him, and raised his fist high into the air. A single punch to the back of his skull sent the Echani limp. The rest of the punches were purely for show. He stood up, breathing heavy. The blood loss was getting to him. He could hear the crowds outside, some happy, some upset. The screens popped up with his name in several languages, only two of which he could read. He got to see himself on the holoscreens. He approached where the camera droids were, screaming, covered in his own blood, and the others that came into the arena.

He did the same taunt he always did. He screamed at the camera droids, watching them encircle his blood-covered form.

"YOU CAN'T KILL ME!"​

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