Public Public Execution

[DM Player-Slayer]

OOC: This thread is open for anyone to join at any time. We have an simple storyline planned, but feel free to intervene or assist as you wish. Your participation can shape the direction of the narrative, so jump in and let your creativity flow.


TAGS:OPEN

Nimban​

The Coliseum of Warriors is infamous for its wide array of illicit activities, drawing the elite and unscrupulous from across the galaxy. Underground Tournaments form the heart of the establishment, where high-stakes battles are fought for vast sums of money, prestige, and powerful artifacts. These no-holds-barred matches often escalate into brutal and deadly encounters, with combatants giving everything to emerge victorious. Invitations to these secretive and violent spectacles are exclusive, extended only to the most elite and trusted individuals, ensuring an audience as select as it is bloodthirsty.

High-Stakes Gambling thrives here, with wealthy patrons placing bets on the outcomes of fights, their fortunes hinging on the skill and luck of the combatants. Experienced bookmakers, skilled in managing and monitoring betting activities, ensure fair play while maintaining the high stakes that keep the adrenaline pumping.

The Coliseum also hosts Black Market Auctions, secretive sales of illegal goods ranging from advanced weaponry and stolen technology to rare and priceless artifacts. Participation in these auctions is restricted to the most influential and trusted clients, ensuring the utmost discretion and a marketplace that deals in the extraordinary and the forbidden.

Adding to its dark allure, the Coliseum offers Assassination Contracts. Here, clients can discreetly hire assassins for high-profile hits, using the venue as a covert meeting point for negotiations and deals. Confidentiality is paramount, with contracts kept strictly secret to guarantee anonymity and protect the identities of all parties involved.

Lastly, the Coliseum serves as an Espionage and Information Trade hub. It is a central point for spies and informants to exchange valuable intelligence related to corporate espionage, political maneuvering, and criminal enterprises. Secure meeting rooms and encrypted communication systems ensure the secrecy of these clandestine transactions, making the Coliseum a vital nexus for those dealing in shadows and secrets.

But tonight, a very special event is being hosted within these walls.

Nestled within the hidden depths of a sprawling metropolis, this secretive arena attracts an elite clientele seeking both lavish entertainment and the raw excitement of high-stakes battles. Renowned for hosting brutal and sensational events, it caters to the darkest desires of the wealthy and powerful.

As the iron gates of the Coliseum of Warriors creak open, a wave of anticipation sweeps through the elite guests stepping into the grand lobby. The dark marble floors glisten under the soft, golden light of crystal chandeliers, while intricately carved stone pillars rise majestically toward the vaulted ceiling. Rich tapestries and masterful art pieces adorn the walls, depicting tales of ancient battles and legendary warriors. The atmosphere exudes restrained elegance, a deceptive calm before the impending storm of violence.

At the heart of this secretive sanctuary lies the Coliseum Arena, a vast, circular battleground surrounded by steeply tiered seating. Luxurious velvet upholstery cushions the seats of the elite spectators, ensuring their comfort as they witness the evening's spectacle. Tonight, the arena transforms into an ancient, crumbling temple, with weathered stone pillars and flickering torchlight casting eerie, dancing shadows across the blood-stained floor. The crowd's murmurs barely contained, they await the main event with bated breath.

High above the common seating, the exclusive VIP lounges offer bird's-eye views of the arena. These private boxes are adorned with fine silks and plush cushions, where crime lords, influential politicians, and powerful business magnates recline in comfort. Attentive staff cater to their every whim, ensuring the elite patrons enjoy their evening in luxury and privacy.

As the hour of the main event approaches, the energy in the Coliseum becomes electric. The grand lobby buzzes with activity as guests in elaborate attire mingle, their conversations hushed but charged with excitement. Exotic cocktails clink gently against crystal glasses, and the air is filled with the scent of rich perfumes.

In the arena, the crowd is a sea of eager faces, their whispers growing louder as they discuss the night's special event—an unprecedented spectacle advertised by Lady Kyoteru Seraphine herself. Tonight, two Jedi, captured and condemned, will be forced to fight to the death in a brutal public execution. The stakes are higher than ever, and the audience is ravenous for blood.

Suddenly, the lights dim, and a single spotlight illuminates a grand balcony overlooking the arena. Lady Kyoteru Seraphine steps forward, her presence commanding immediate silence. Draped in elegant, flowing robes of deep crimson, adorned with intricate gold embroidery, and wearing a crown of dark gemstones, she is the embodiment of regal authority and deadly grace. Her piercing eyes scan the crowd, a slight, knowing smile playing on her lips as she prepares to address the gathered elite.

In the hushed stillness, her voice rings out, clear and confident, amplified by hidden speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you are witnesses to an event of unparalleled significance. Jedi, symbols of hope and justice, now stand as prisoners in our arena. They will fight, not for glory, but for survival. The winner will have the honor of being executed with their own blade."​

The crowd erupts into applause and cheers, their excitement nearly electric. The two Jedi, shackled and weary, are led into the arena by heavily armed guards. The Jedi, stripped of their lightsabers and Force abilities suppressed by inhibitor collars, face each other with resignation. The collars, cruel inventions, prevent them from using their powers and inflict intense pain if they attempt to remove them. To demonstrate the collars' lethal capabilities, a slave is brought forward and, upon activation, has their head blown clean off, serving as a grim warning to the Jedi of the fate that awaits them should they refuse to fight.

The deadly game of survival unfolds as droids, equipped with lethal weapons and shields, circle the perimeter, ensuring the Jedi cannot escape or refuse to fight. Bets are placed through devices built into the seating of each spectator's chair, adding another layer of suspense and danger to the night's grim spectacle.

The arena is set. The combatants are ready. And the Coliseum of Warriors awaits its next chapter in blood-soaked history.

 

[Roten]

Nimban
Tags: DM Player-Slayer

"I have eyes on Serawhatshername."

Roten sat amidts the crowd, perched in the stands across from the balcony. The Specter wanted the hag for some reason, sending his 'Sons' out to do recon and secure the target. Roten didn't really know what this Seraphine lady had that would be of value to them... Well, aside from one very obvious truth: She was filthy rich. Roten's wears did perk up as he heard the mention of Jedi, hardly taking note of the random poor soul they blew the head off of to demonstrate the bomb collars. This business was boring the Bursantian to death, but Jedi?

No, they were boring too. Stupid Force-blocking collars. Wouldn't even be a good fight.

A sigh escaped from his maw as he tapped his foot against the ground, waiting for a signal of some kind from the big man to move on the target. If anything it was really starting to piss him off.

"Feth, this is gonna take a million years," he groaned to himself. "Fethin' old ass worm head."

Surely it wouldn't hurt if he just... started a riot in the crowd, right? It would be so much more interesting than waiting around for an opening to swing in and secure the target. His back fur stood up at the mere thought of dicing through a thousand- no, a MILLION guards! The thrill of glorious combat was so close he could taste the blood on the tip of his tongue.

Alas, still he sat. Waiting for his orders.

 

[Yané Unassi]

Spoiler: Gear

●Rose Sunglasses ●Viper Cigarettes ●ENVC-370 Partial Bodyglove ●Daily Wear ●Shock Boots ●G1 Omnilink-Left Wrist ●White Parka ●FAE/A-07 Energized Neck Piece
●Exchange Utility Belt

• FR1-x Comspike
• Stun Pearl
• Scarecrow Device
• Lodestone Device
• Electro-pick
• Vibropick
• Scramble Key
• ID Processor

●Veshet Blaster-Right Wrist ●Modular Pistol ●Niki Special

She wasn't probably part of the preferred clientele this place enjoyed, given her rather drab attire, but she had the credits to get her inside at least. More than she could say for some that had tried to hold her up on the way in. Begging to be taken to get an inside view of the place for once in their lives. The clinging to her coat getting a sharp response as the Veshet pistol revealed itself, planted firmly against their forehead as she blew smoke in their face.

"Hands off little worm." The cherry at the end of her Viper making trails in the dark passage before she made it to the entrance.

Checked thoroughly by those guarding the entrance and handing over the Niki Special she'd kept hidden inside the parka. Allowed to keep her other items so long as she pulled the power cells. Relenting as she was finally allowed to enter.

Finding her way to the bar first and dispensing with a few credits before making her way toward the arena to find a seat.

The VIP section was thoroughly booked out judging from the in and out of the servants.

A good sign for credits to be flowing as Yané found her own seat among the lower section of the crowd. Her insurance for escape settled carefully in her sleeve, hidden within the parka. The Jedi had a knack for escape and causing an uproar whenever they were put close together. Usually outsiders coming to spoil what little bit of fun was being had. Her other weapon safely kept behind the security gate she'd come in.

The announcement for the evening was made, and the bets began to pour in. All of them electronic given the devices in seats. Though the larger flow of credits above are probably kept elsewhere. Or at least on separate servers. The thought of getting her hands on them tantalizing.

But not entirely worth the risk given the amount of guards present. Instead resigning herself to betting like a commoner on the outcome of the fight as her drink swirled for the relatively tame display of violence that was to come.

Watching the slaves head pop as a brow rose. Everything seemed to be in working order from her view, waiting now for the show to truly begin.

"No hope of escape. No chance at a grand prize. Let's see how many let their head pop." Opening the tray in her chair to deposit a few ashes before sipping from her drink.

DM Player-Slayer | Roten​

 

[DM Player-Slayer]

TAGS: Roten Yané Unassi

Lady Kyoteru Seraphine was perched in her little VIP balcony overlooking the arena below. By most galactic standards, she was a beautiful woman with a shapely hourglass figure, long raven locks cascading over her slender shoulders in winding waves. She was dressed in a satin emerald green dress and practically dripping with jewels as she sat back in her lush throne, sipping from her crystal goblet.

Beside her was her newly made bodyguard Ace, a young man with a gnarly scar running across one side of his body and face. On the other side stood not one but two well-built Quetzarim, each well-equipped with body armor and guns. Her entourage of the scaled lizard men was chosen for their beauty just as much as their brawn, with exotic plumage.

Within the arena, shoved out at separate ends by an entourage of Marbrecretians, each of the would-be Jedi were unceremoniously shoved into the arena. Various remotes and cameras offered guests an up-close and personal look at the 'contestants.' One appeared to be a queer dark-skinned Togruta of the extra rare Zhenxi Togruta subspecies, the other a male Echani.

The Togruta fought immediately with their guard and was subjected to an electrical shock from a prod to get him through the doorway. He hissed and clawed at the force field that slammed down before stepping back, clawing at the collar that shocked him. The Echani, on the other hand, seemed much less lively and spirited. He appeared resigned to his fate as he started in slowly, looking to find one of the various weapon caches throughout the arena. The Togruta, on the other hand, started to run, quickly looking for a way out along the perimeter of the arena.

 

[Roten]

Nimban
Tags: DM Player-Slayer , Yané Unassi

"Come on..."

Roten groaned, now tapping his feet with a great deal of impatience. They just needed to get that Seraphine woman and take... something from her. He wasn't sure what. It seemed to be in relation to military resources of some sort. Did she have locations on her person of some sort? It would certainly make it easier to just up and kill her if that was the case. The Specter was never quite clear about the specifics of jobs, much to his dismay.

And the Bursantian was getting antsy. He really needed something to do. Two lizard guards and some bounty hunter? They could take them. It would be easy. Something to do.

"GAH!" Roten shouted before pulling out his communicator. "TARGET IS IN SIGHT AND LIGHTLY DEFENDED! MAKE YOURSELVES KNOWN!"

The crowd errupted into a hoard of chanting, dramatically changing the atmosphere. A hundred men strong, barbarians from the Outer Rim with a lust for blood. In ragged armor plundered from across the galaxy, wielding stolen lightsabers, vibro-axes, heavy blaster weaponry, and all sorts of make-shift gear, the Sons of Shadow wasted no time ripping through the crowd, cutting down immediate threats and plundering as they did so. Roten hoisted himself up onto a balcony across the arena from Seraphine, drawing one of his blades and holding it in his teeth. As he leaped up onto the railing the blade left his mouth, cleaving through the man who had access to the speakers on the other end.

The Bursantian claimed the microphone and began to speak.

"THIS ARENA BELONGS TO THE SONS OF SHADOW!" he proclaimed. "ALL WHO STAND IN OUR WAY WILL BE GUTTED! ALL WHO COWER IN FEAR WILL BE SPLAYED LIKE ANIMALS! WANNA SURVIVE!?! BRING US THE HAG! SERAPHINE IS YOUR TICKET TO FREEDOM AND RICHES! A HUNDRED MILLION CREDITS TO THE FIRST ONE TO CAPTURE HER!"

Roten couldn't help but grin with sadistic glee. On the outside of the arena the rest of the Sons of Shadow moved into position, blocking off the exits. There was only one way out of here now.

Everyone was on the chopping block.

 

[DM Player-Slayer]

tbd

 

[DM Player-Slayer]

TAGS: Roten Yané Unassi

The two lizard guards, instantly recognizing the threat, moved with purpose to form a protective barrier around Lady Seraphine. Their scales glinted under the Coliseum's harsh lights as they drew their weapons. One guard, his eyes scanning the chaotic crowd, barked orders into his communicator, calling for immediate reinforcements.

"Protect the Lady!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the rising panic.

The other guard, a hulking figure with a battle-scarred face, positioned himself between Seraphine and the approaching barbarians. His weapon, a lethal-looking vibroblade, hummed to life as he prepared to fend off any attackers. The crowd's fear slowly turning into a tangible wave of chaos.

Meanwhile, Ace leaped down from her balcony and met with a small team of elite guards and moved quickly through the throngs of panicking individuals. They carved a path toward the Sons of Shadow's members, engaging the enemy directly. Ace was clad in advanced combat armor, used his tactics to exploit the weaknesses in the enemy's formation.

"Focus on their leaders!" he shouted, slicing through an attacker with a swift strike of his energy blade. His guards moved in unison, their training evident in their coordinated maneuvers. They pushed forward, aiming to cut the head off the snake by neutralizing key aggressors within the Sons of Shadow.

One of the other several Raptor guards spotted Roten on the balcony. He activated his grappling hook, launching himself up to the balcony in one swift motion. The roar of the crowd faded into the background as he landed silently behind Roten, drawing his blaster with practiced speed.

"Your reign of terror ends here little man~" he growled, aiming his weapon at Roten's back.

At first, there were just murmurs of confusion and fear. Then, realization spread like wildfire. Screams erupted, and the once-orderly spectators transformed into a frantic, chaotic mass.

People pushed and shoved, trying to escape the Coliseum, their faces contorted in terror. The arena, once a place of entertainment, now resembled a war zone. The guards struggled to maintain control, their commands barely audible over the din of the panicked crowd. The scene was pure chaos, the air thick with fear and the scent of blood.

Through it all, Lady Seraphine remained calm, her eyes cold and calculating as she observed the unfolding chaos. She knew that the true battle was just beginning, and her survival depended on the skill and bravery of her guards.

Aziraphale
A black shadow swept over the arena as a new figure descended with blackened feathered wings. He landed atop the dome with a predatory grace, slicing through the surface with a lightsaber whip. The blade crackled and hissed, creating a jagged opening. He slipped through, landing silently inside the arena.

Long crimson red hair cascaded down the back of the dark-clad stranger as he swiftly moved toward each of the two captive Jedi. With precision, he sliced through their collars, freeing them from their restraints.

Without hesitation, he turned his attention to the chaos outside the coliseum. The stranger cut another hole in the Coliseum's structure, making his way into the fray. His movements were a blur, effortlessly cutting through several of Seraphine's guards who dared to approach him. His presence was a dark storm, shifting the tide of the battle with each swing of his lethal weapon.

 

[Roten]

Nimban
Tags: DM Player-Slayer

"Your reign of terror ends here little man~" he growled, aiming his weapon at Roten's back.

"Little?"

Roten's eye twitched in irritation. No, he wasn't little. They were just a freak. The Bursantian let out a hiss, flipping over the lizard man and grappling his back side, letting out a disorienting screetch that resonated in the Force. No, he wasn't going to be insulted. He was a warrior.

"This little man is aboutta kick your ass!" he howled, wildly holding onto the man before throwing his head into their neck.

The young Sith bore his fangs, letting them surge with dark power. Lightning formed around his teeth before he sunk them into the flesh of the reptile, drawing blood before surging the electrical energy directly into his veins. His eyes dilated, a crazed look in their sunken red appearence. Hunger. Torment. War. Power. He could feel the chaos flowing through him now, filling his very essance with adrenaline.

He grinned with glee as he aimed to fry his foe alive.

 

[DM Player-Slayer]

TAGS: Roten

As the young Sith's jaws clamp down on his neck, the lizard man feels a searing pain as electricity surges through his body. The Sith's dark side energy courses through his veins, causing his muscles to twitch and convulse as he tries to break free. The air around him crackles with electricity, and his scales seem to be charged with energy.

The lizard man's vision blurs, and his senses are overwhelmed by the intense pain and discomfort. His thoughts are clouded, and he struggles to maintain his focus as the electricity coursing through his body threatens to consume him.

The lizard man's constitution is weakened by the electrical shock, causing him to stumble and lose his footing. He falls to the ground, his body writhing in agony as the electricity continues to course through him.


As the lizard man struggles to break free from the Sith's grip, a massive creature emerges from the shadows. Its body is long and serpentine, with scales that glisten in the dim light of the chamber. The creature's head is shaped like a arrows , with piercing green eyes and razor-sharp fangs. It's clear that this is no ordinary being - it's a Laminorian, a feared species known for their immense strength and agility.

The Laminorian, lets out a mighty roar as it charges towards the Sith. Its long body slithers across the floor, its tail swishing back and forth as it prepares to strike.


In the Arena:

The two Jedi, newly freed from their inhibitor collars, stood momentarily stunned as the realization of their regained powers hit them. The Togruta's eyes widened in shock, while the Echani's face hardened with resolve. The activation of their abilities brought a shift in the arena's atmosphere.

The Echani, with a quick assessment of their surroundings, sprinted towards a nearby weapon cache. He grabbed a pair of lightsabers, tossing one to the Togruta, who caught it with a grateful nod. Their eyes met briefly, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

The Dark Stranger:

High above the arena, the dark figure with crimson hair watched the scene unfold with keen interest. He sat down on the glass like dome and turned his weapon off as he took out a cigarette and lit it up relaxing and watching what chaos continued below.

 

[Mithara Cohen]

The madness of the arena, the madness of the eventual takeover...everything that was going on, deeper into the arena, a trophy that was once supposed to be owned by the great leader of the Arena...had started to awaken from a drugged slumber. Each stir in the sealed coffin that he was entombed in, only shook. Nearby, the place seemed to be in complete and utter chaos, people running afar with the Fear, the tasting Agony starting to empower the being within, trapped for a near DECADE in this horrific slumber. A voice started to echo in the mind, almost vibrating into a real voice around them.

"Embrace Me....Mithara. I Must FEED! Embrace Me Again!"​

Darkness was all he could see, all he could HEAR even as he laid in that coffin. Moving the hands up onto the coffin, he felt something stopping him as he tried to push onto it. It would not budge as some screaming was uttered, not knowing that he was right near the Coliseum itself as of this very moment. Trying to push harder onto it, he felt the parasite that has infested into his mind and empowered him, push with him as the seal of the Force was starting to break with it.

"Feed, I must FEED!!!"​

The last word echoed strongly in the Force as the Coffins top exploded out with enough force to sound like a cannon. Almost instantly, the body of Mithara was hoisted into the air as numerous guards was nearby, pointing as they tried to speak before a dark tendril shot out, impaling an individual onto the wall. The screams now filled the area as it became quickly, a slaughter for those in the room as the horror that was this Sithspawn creation started to go out towards the main arena. The screams of the crowd controlled Mithara, it needed to FEED to sate its wild tendencies. With a pair of guards getting the arena, they turned to see a horrifying sight of many eyes and many tendrils, a screech of terror and moments later, their bodies shooting out into the arena.

Their bodies resembled burnt husks of skeletal skin, their lifeforce drained as very quickly, the Jedi would see to their horror what had came out. Mithara was not there, not in the mind as the ENERGY was still not enough and the TENDRILS was speaking towards Mithara then screeched towards the Jedi nearby. Of the four tendrils, one of them arched back and grabbed a pair of blasters with its teeth, moving them into the hands of the Archelogist with the red eyes staring outwards with the voice speaking into his mind again and into the arena.

"I Need MORE!!!!"​

DM Player-Slayer Roten Yané Unassi

 

[Valin Zenth]

TAGS: Roten

In a moment's notice, sharp sparks of electricity shot forth from an odd-looking massive vibroblade hacked into the side of the Laminorian. A tall man with snowy white hair stepped in front of Roten. The large creature's tail coiled around him, yanking him out and flinging him across the room. Blood spurted from the gaping wound, coating the area around the creature. Before the man slammed into the wall, he used the Force to correct himself, bounding off the wall and charging back into the fray with the bleeding Laminorian.​

 

[Darth Genace]

Seated within one of the private boxes...​

Darth Genace and his beloved, Kagha, were watching the events in the area unfold with mild interest. Word of the coliseum's exploits had reached the Sith Nobel's ears even during his training with the Mandalorians. More than one contract had been procured on Nimba, and many would likely follow. But Lord Tsavo Awaud and his wife were not here for business. They came for a show. And, given the antics of the small, purple creature, and the one Genace could sense the Force off of, things were taking an interesting turn.

"You should be down there, husband," Kagha said after sipping from her glass of spotchka. "Showing these people what true combat is."

"I do not fight to entertain, Kahga. I fight to prove my strength. It would be over far too soon for the crowd's enjoyment."

Her free hand laid ontop of his. Their seats were next to each other while the rest of the box was as vast as a small living space. A droid servant stood nearby, waiting to refil or fetch whatever the two requested. Upon seeing it, Kagha had initially been displeased. She was hoping for a cute twi'lek. A handsome zeltron even. Something to entertain her and her husband after the area fight.

As he watched, Genace had taken account of the style of fighting each one had shown. There was talent, yes, but nothing honed to proper perfect. While he was wearing casual robes with a tight, leather belt around his wasit, a containment crate nearby held his armor if the need arose. His lightsaber, however, remained on his person at all times.

As Kagha tapped her empty glass for a refill, her attention turned to the shadowy figure who now burst into the area. "Well, this is interesting."

Genace took note as well. He could sense a raw, dark, ancient power off this new one. He hummed in his throat, leaning foward, to see what would come next. "I have a feeling we're in for a much better show, my love."

Tags: DM Player-Slayer Roten Mithara Cohen Yané Unassi

 

[Valin Zenth]

TAGS: Roten
​

Valin swoops in with a quick, decisive motion, grabbing Roten by the belt and effortlessly lifting him off the ground. Presumably as the little Sith thrashes and hisses, Valin only chuckles, holding him at arm's length as if handling a misbehaving child.

"Hold still, kid," Valin says with a smirk, his voice calm despite the chaos around them. "I'm just trying to keep you from getting yourself into more trouble than you can handle."

Before Roten can protest further, Valin drives a solid punch into the young Sith's stomach, knocking him out cold. Catching Roten's blades as they slip from his grasp, Valin secures them before draping the limp form over his shoulder. He begins maneuvering through the fray, determined to get the feisty young Sith to safety.

 

[Aziraphale]

Aziraphale finishes his cigarette with a final, slow drag, flicking the butt away casually. Rising from his perch, he stretches, his joints popping as he limbers up, a wicked grin spreading across his face. With his muscles loose and ready, he unfurls his blackened wings and descends with predatory grace, eyes locked on the weakened Echani Jedi below.

As the Jedi ignites his lightsaber in a desperate attempt to defend himself, Aziraphale's lightsaber whip snaps out, disarming him with ruthless efficiency. The Echani fights back, throwing a series of desperate unarmed attacks, but his strength is waning.

"Did you enjoy your brief taste of freedom?" Aziraphale taunts, his voice dripping with malicious delight. With a flick of his wrist, he switches to an electrical whip, its coils crackling with energy. The Jedi's eyes widen as the whip lashes out, delivering a powerful shock that sends him crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

"You'll make a fine profit." Aziraphale murmurs, satisfaction lacing his words. He hoists the limp Jedi over his shoulder, his wings beating powerfully as he ascends, making a swift exit from the arena with his subdued prize, leaving the chaos below to continue without him.