Renaissance

[Muad Dib]

He sat in the stands, a bottle of Whyren's Reserve half empty in one hand, a lit deathstick in other. The hot sun beat down in his shoulders, sweat running between his shoulder blades. Raising the bottle he took another swig before leaving back against the stone seats. Below, the arena was filled with several warriors of varying species who were engaged in a combat of superiority.

While glowing blue eyes watched the display below his mind keeping going back to a recent event. A trip to Manda'yaim to free prisoners. Seemed the plan would work, but at every single step the plan fell apart. And while the objective was completed, it was the loss that Muad just couldn't shake.

Taking another hit from the deathstick he watched the plume of blue smoke drift on the wind. Life was like a vapor, depending on the breeze some lasted longer then others. But eventually all were wiped away without a trace. Only the memory remained.

Sighing he shifted in his seat as he scanned one of the arenas that littered the surface of Geonosis. Mortal combat was one form of punishment for the locals, but many came test their melee in an attempt claim the prize money offered for outsiders.

Sitting under the blazing sun Muad nodded silently. He had decided he was going back. He wouldn't leave the ally who answered his call to rot without a grave. His sense of duty and honor demanded he bring Kentarch home. They had never had hardly any interaction, but for some reason Muad felt responsible for the other man's demise.

Eyes turned back to the arena. He had come here to find an expendable fighter to watch his back. Mandalore had grown distrustful of outsiders and hostile to force users. And while he knew that if things went South fast he could get out, that wasn't going to complete his primary reason of bringing Kentarch. So he watched to see if any of the fighters met the criteria of someone who was capable in a fight.
[member="Azrik"]

 

[Adelram Thul]

"Your up." The pit boss said to Azrik. The young man looked up with a nod, then he stood and slid his helmet over his head. "You'll be fighting in the battle royale, grab a weapon." The pit boss barked. Azrik fell in line with the other gladiators at the weapons rack, waiting in line to choose his weapon when his turn came. They were criminals, all of them. For Azrik the crime was of a higher nature. He taken a job to escort ships carrying slaves to certain clients in Hutt Space. After cutting through a portion of CIS space, a military CAP intercepted the the slave vessel and his ship. He was sentenced to the fighting pits for his crimes of handling slave labor and trafficking.

"Pick your weapon." Azrik's concentration was broken as one of the pit bosses snapped at him. Looking at the rack most of the weapons had been chosen, aside from a long single-handed sword. He picked it up and marched out into the sands of the amphitheater to the roar of the crowd. Glancing about he noticed mostly humanoids, humans, a few twi'leks, several reptilians who's species Azrik could not place. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the sky, coming to peace with the fact this could be his last few moments of life.

"Ladies and Gentleman." An announcer shouted over the crowd. "I bring today's main event! The Battle Royale!" The crowd roared in response. The gladiators for now stood and waited as the announcer listed each one and where they were from. "... from Ryloth the dual wielding beast Rijeck the Bloodletter. And finally from Tingel arm, the Condottiero, Azrik!" Several of the gladiators saluted the crowd. Azrik however simply remained in place, studying each opponent closest to him.

"Tonight our guest of honor, Leader of the Doachim, will commence the fight." The announcer turned and gestured to [member="Muad Dib"]. "My Lord." everyone waited for Maud to clap his hands only once, and the fight would begin.

 

[Muad Dib]

Leaning forward slightly as the next group entered arena he scanned figures with an experienced eye. Many times he had entered a coliseum such as this. And many lives had met their end upon the sands. As the crowd jeered and began planning bets on either the favorites or the most physically imposing Muad shook his head slightly. Battle was never as clear cut at it appeared.

There were several of the gladiators who cut imposing figures. Towering giants, muscle bound warriors, and even a noghri. But Muad knew that these things were not what decided the victor. He himself wasn't a large man. Just a hair under six feet tall and weighing less then two hundred pounds he was not a physically imposing presence compared some. But his frame was corded with muscle, he was fast, and he had experience. The plethora of scars littering his body bore testament to the experience garnered from a life time of conflict.

Eyes roamed the gladiators noticing weaponry chosen, the pride and showmanship, but more specifically the quiet, calculating gaze that one particular combatant armed only with a sword passed over his enemies. As the announcer went through the introductions Muad rose a brow at the description for the last two. The warrior from Ryloth and the condottiero. Restraining a smirk he nodded as the battle royale waiting on his word to commence.

Clapping his hands the Shaman of Doashim nodded for the battle to begin. Almost immediately several began advancing as the spectacle of battle began before the eyes of the arena crowds. But even as the hulking members closed in on their targets, his face stayed pointed towards the interesting scene playing out before him.
[member="Azrik"]

 

[Adelram Thul]

So the slaughter began with honorary commencement from [member="Muad Dib"].

Even in the first moments, a spear wielding man fell to the sands, his freshly spilled blood pooling around his body. Azrik leveled his blade out, parallel to the ground, tip pointing straight to his opponent's neck. A Murmillo style fighter, Azrik's opponent wielded a short sword in his hand with a gantlet covering the rest of his right arm, his left hand brandished a rectangular style shield. The Murmillo pushed towards Azrik, shield front and center, in a slight crouch to form a more active defense that covered his body. Azrik lunged in with a thrust to the neck, however the blade glanced off the top of the shield. The Murmillo responded with a quick thrust with his short sword, however Azrik slid back quickly just out of reach of the weapon. Azrik side stepped to his opponent's left, then closed again this time with a feinting thrust a his opponents neck. The feint quickly turned into a deflection, Azrik anticipated the Murmillo's next thrust and deflected the gladiator's blade to create an opening. Staggered by the deflection, nothing stopped Azrik's sword from going through the Murmillo's chest.

Azrik took a deep breath as he drew his sword out of his opponent. The man splashed down in the sand, another dead combatant in the arena sands. It was not long however, before a trident wielding opponent came charging in at him. Azrik waited till the last moment to dodge the spear trying to run him through. As his opponent failed to stop and turn in time to form a defense against Azrik, he swung his sword in a wide horizontal arc that sliced the gladiator's head clean off. The quick kill, with a man's head rolling free across the ground drew a gasp from the watching crowd.

The combatants thinned. Azrik again waited, building up his stamina for the next fight. The Twi'Lek, Rijeck, handily took down a nighri, his two blades quickly slicing through the beast a dozen times before it fell before the Twi'lek.

"Its either him or me." Azrik said to himself. Slowly he made his way towards the Twi'lek. Rijeck as he was called, took notice of the approaching opponent. Raising his blades much like a boxer. The crowd now stood on its feet cheering as loud as the could. The final fight of the battle royale was about to begin.

 

[Muad Dib]

As the battle began to unfold within the arena Muad watch with interest. He was looking at the different Fighters, their fighting styles, and trying to get a sense of what drove each of these individuals to the pits. Returning to Manda'yaim would not be easy and quite possibly would result in conflict with the other mandalorians. But he wasn't just going to leave his Fallen Ally left to rot forsaken in the ruins of the city.

There were two of the combatants in the arena that gained his interest. Watching the twi'lek and the seemingly apparent human cut through the other Fighters, Muad lean forward with anticipation. He knew that it would come down to the two of them in mortal combat.

Pulling the force to him he stretched out to get a sense of these two individuals. The Ryloth native seem to be relatively straightforward read. Who was the man who enjoyed bloodlust and thrived in battle. All he wanted was the death of his enemies and the glory that would be heaped upon him for being the victor. Muad nodded knowing that he can utilize such an individual. But turning his eyes upon the human who received a curious response.

His glowing eyes narrowed as he felt something somewhat familiar with the other man. Not able to place his finger on just exactly what that familiarity was he leaned back and took another draught from the bottle as he watched the battle continue.

[member="Azrik"]