Of Droids, Demons, and Destruction

[Nyarl]

Rattatak. A Fringe world filled with barbarians and gladiators. They offered little in the way of technological or social advancement, but Rattatak was still a valuable world to the Fringe. It brought in loads of tourism, and served as a great test for the Fringe's warriors, also served to weed out the weaker members of the Fringe. The Cauldron, famed arenas of blood, guts, and glory. Normally a Sith as he had no place in arenas such as these, but he was young, unproven, inexperienced. He needed to hone his skills, to hunt.

So he entered the arena, looking for worthy prey, experiences to learn. His life was not guaranteed, nor were the lives of any other sentient here guaranteed, yet into the arena he walked. Nineteen other killers entered the arena as he stepped in, each armed and ready for whatever happened next. A gong sounded and in an instant a Zabrak to his left found a crimson lightsaber pushed into his chest. He then pulled it out and turned to the rest of the crowd, all in chaos and battle. The game was afoot.


@[member="Darth Ilyena"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

The crowd roared as slaughter began, aliens killed humans, humans killed aliens, and beasts slaughtered them both. At the back of the crowd however stood something strange, a being of metal and wires, a droid, or so it seemed. The droid moved its way through the crowd, a blade in its left hand and a small cylindrical hilt in the right.

It moved far more fluidly than any droid should have, slicing into enemies and breaking bones at almost impossible speeds. As it slaughtered its way through competitors the Droid seemed almost alive, as though it was not programmed, but had thought all of its own. An ithorian slipped towards the droid, booming voice roaring at the top of its lungs. Suddenly the Droid raised its palm and then simply closed it. The Ithorian clutched its throat, falling to the ground with a howl of pain.

The droid stood itself up, and with its skull face scanned the crowd.
@[member="Nyarl"]

 

[Nyarl]

A devaronian to Nyarl's right shot with a blaster, prompting him to pull out his wings in defense. They could not best slugthrowers or blades, but his wings were infused with cortosis, giving him remarkable defense against energy weapons. Like say, a lightsaber, or a blaster. Thus the bold gave his wing a light burn, but didn't pierce through or cause any lasting damage. Nyarl held out his hand and reached out the Devaronian's mind, bending him into a state of fear. The Devaronina held out his blaster but his hands shook, he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Nyarl took the moment of indecision and slashed at the man's hands, cauterizing them a bit past the elbow. He then took a another slash and removed one his horns, before taking his free hand and pushing him to ground, before finally severing one of his legs.

A kill would have been nice, but he was in a battlefield now, filled with men he didn't know. The fear of the man would fuel him, aid him. He'd need it for the battle to come. He turned to attack an Ithorian, but he went to attack a droid. The Ithorian gripped it's throat before before crumbling to the ground. Someone, or something here had the Force, and he had to find it. The Ithorian was attacking a droid, but it couldn't be. Droids didn't have the Force, they weren't 'alive' not biologically. The Sithspawn supposed there was only one day to be sure. He rose a hand and tried to find if the droid had a mind, and to implant fear inside it.

@[member="Darth Ilyena"]