Sacred Ground

[Nicair Claden]

Saleucami​

The planet was a practical cauldron of different species and cultures, all of them mixing and coming together to influence the planet. It's what made the planet so wealthy and popular, it's also what made the fighting rings spread throughout the underbelly some of the most popular in the entire galaxy. Such diversity was relatively hard to find among slaves, the ones put in the pits were the ones strong enough to kill without much training and thus were comprised of larger and tougher species.

On Saleucami, there was no such thing.

Nicair hadn't been to something like this in a long while. His own experience as a slave killing for a fat Hutt was less than a pleasing experience when other aspects of his personal life began to influence his desire to stay. A proper gladiator should only lust for the blood of their foe, nothing more.

There were no slaves here, none blatantly obvious, at least. All who stepped in the pit received some manner of compensation for their effort, for their blood. Sometimes it was some manner of currency, sometimes it was material things, sometimes it was medical attention, and sometimes it was the experience. Consistent payments were hard to maintain without legal backing. A portion of the pot was usually given to the winner unless someone paid extra to keep it for themselves. For an honorable effort, the loser was often rewarded in being patched up with no charge. For a worthy fighter, a loss was met with a smaller stipend of the pot.

Due to all of these things being decided near the end of the fight, nobody was entirely certain what the overall pot would be lowered to, so they would often spend more to increase the gain.

The Sociph's armor didn't catch the light all that often, it was useful for covert or night operations. While it was a different style than the average armor, it had distinctly Mandalorian characteristics. Some of the viewers gave him a respectful distance, others looked as if they would spit on the metal if they weren't concerned with suffering the consequences. He didn't much care what others thought of him for who he allied himself with. It occurred to him they might think differently if they found out he had just slaughtered his clan, placing himself as Alor and cleansing his name of weakness. Nothing was official just yet, he was waiting to return to his Mand'alor until some time had passed. Going without contact with anyone was a very common thing for the man to do.

Politics aside, he came here to watch the fights. Partly for entertainment, and now partly for a recruitment pool. Whether they could live up to his standards without dying was something that had to be decided by them.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

There was one particular patron who made themselves...easily known. Those more obsessive with the blood sport knew who she was, Lirka Ka, champion of the Choah Belt pit: and the one who had held the title for the longest in it's entire history, only losing it after growing bored of gladiatorial combat.

But what about those who didn't have such a gross obsession with the darker elements of the Pits?

She was a large woman, easily taller than most of the humanoids and clad in a hulking suit of armor: each bit of it held a finest to it, a savage artisan who had crafted with curve and adding that nigh invisible engravings that went throughout the entire thing: Ka's own handiwork, she made the schematics and had hand done the engraving.

But don't let this give off the impression that she held some intimidating elegance, no what she had was her own leaning tower of empty glasses coming from her CIS payroll: and more than enough booze flowing through her system to make her rather...vocal, about the fights going on in the pit:

"Shael jhori var! Weak runts, the lot of them! Where is the risk? The gore?"

Her heavily accented voice flipped between the native language of the Sephi, it was effortless to tell she was one of the artistic near-humans: mainly because of those particularly pointed ears that stuck out from her long hair, and then moving right into basic. Evidently she was horribly underwhelmed by what was going on, Ka fought deathmatches, like a true warrior should! Altering her small rant she slammed her armored fist on the table, rather lightly, but more than enough to rattle her tower.

Quite the scene the Confederate drew.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

The woman kept making noise. Granted such a thing was nowhere near uncommon at these events, the fans were almost more energized than the fighters. But this one was different, he recognized her almost immediately. He'd been out of the pits for a long while, but he could remember the Choah Belt pit champion from just a couple viewings. He'd never have the privilege to see her in a death match, but from her tamer fights he was sure she could kill with ease.

Such a thing would have been a sight to behold. He wasn't usually one to go out of his way for someone that didn't wear the same armor as he, but this one had his respect. She was a kindred spirit, someone who had been forged in the blood and sand, and come out stronger than steel. He worked his way over. He didn't have to look up to her very much as she stood but a few inches taller than he, in any case, if he chose not to wear his helmet, he would have been making eye contact.

"You seem empty, get you another?" His intentions weren't romantic nor even friendly, it was business, shop talk.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

[SIZE=11.666666030883789px]Tame[/SIZE]

It was a word that wasn’t the best thing to describe Lirka with at any time, tame fights weren’t her foray in any point: she wrestled with Akk Hounds naked, dueled Acklay, and left a trail of dismembered bodies during her illustrious nearly 60 year career as a pit fighter, she had started at 27 and left when she was almost 80 years old. Twenty of those were as the Champion of the Choah Pits. Quite the accomplishment, for both the years she had held the title and for just how violent and vicious the Choah Pits were. They’d have been shut down in an instant if it weren’t in an Asteroid Belt.

She gave off half a snarl at the approaching Mandalorian, seems someone had a grudge against his kind, it was a bestial style thing: her eyes, two dots of icy blue: considered the most striking feature of the Sephi.

“Yeah, yeah, more booze the better.”

Aggression came naturally to her.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

He held up two fingers to the passing servo droid, the words tihaar left his lips soon after. It didn't take long for it to come back with small glasses of the practical equivalent to fighter fuel. He proceeded to hand them both to the woman. Alcohol wasn't his area of interest.

The snarl didn't put him on edge nor did the eyes much bother him. He'd been around entities like Lirka before, whether they walked on two legs, four, or six it didn't much matter. There was a beast inside everything. Some, like Nicair, let it out only when necessary. Some; like his intuition told him, Lirka, lived in such a state. He had respect for it, once upon a time he had needed to remain there for his own survival as much as his own pleasure. It was a freeing thing, made the galaxy much simpler.

"Who do you have?" Nicair asked, indicating the gamorrean and twi'lek currently in the pit.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka was a Dark Sider, fueled by that darkness in the Force even: ironic considering her hatred for Force. It annoyed her even if it did offer so many abilities to give her the edge in combat and beyond.

She let out a grunt that might have been thanks, and took a long hard swing of the stuff. Didn’t show too much avarice to the stuff, slamming the glass down onto the table, she couldn’t do anything very soft it seemed.

“Ya’ taste in booze is about as good as taste in armor, buckethead.”

It was amusingly lacking a gross amount of malice, booze was a good way to calm Lirka down, well “calm”, not like she wasn’t as long and aggressive as ever. Nicest insult she could’ve thrown at the Mandalorian too, not exactly forgiving the whole “taking over Thustra” thing yet.

“Barely a fight, Gamorreans are dumb brutes and anyone with a grain of skill can beat. Twi’lek has it, smaller, faster.”

What made Lirka win for so long? She was both, disturbingly fast for someone in such bulky armor. Even before having it made she always made use of the heavy stuff and then a bit of the Force to push her over the usual edge. Her voice ended up being, bored, but still quite matter a fact.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

As was predicted, the twi'lek was able to pull through with the victory. The larger gamorrean couldn't keep pace with the strikes, and once its legs had been taken out from under it the fight was effectively over. Such a fight was easy to predict, yet there were those in the audience disappointed by the result. Their ways of thinking were too straightforward, they were inexperienced in what really made a combatant, what really made a warrior.

"A pitiful thing to see. People strive for greatness on the backs of their champions with no knowledge of the game."

As the next fight commenced the cheers of, hit him, knee him, beat him, and win echoed in the room. But how do they go about winning? What set up should they use to make the knee more effective? In what order should they hit their opponent? What is the process of beating one's opponent? None of them would have any answers, and so Nicair suppressed a sneer.

He'd spent long hours studying different stances and styles. Knew the twin to most techniques, from the simple to the complex. To him, combat was an art form as much as an expression of brutality. Martial combat was a craft to be mastered more so than a form of entertainment.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka gave out nothing more than a grunt and some half remark in mutter Sephi, to little shock it ended up being about the simple pathetic nature of the fight and how lackluster it was. Where were the beasts and blood? That was where the real fun was.

“They just want a’ quick handful of credits or just here to see all the pretty colors thrown around.”

“Pretty colors”, a fine way to say that blood and gore was going to be thrown around everywhere in a good fight. They just wanted to see some blood over the money, respectable little degenerates: they fit Lirka’s type of fighting, kill the most and the bloodiest. She wasn’t a total lunatic, just a good bit of one.

As for Lirka? She didn’t study, she just remembered all that she had fought against and figured out how to work with it. She learned of just raw experience, studying was a dull little piece of nothingness to her.

“Ya’ fight, buckethead?”

It was a rather lazily given out question, the insult still around.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

He couldn't suppress a chuckle at the question. Before he responded he placed his hands on the sides of his helmet, released the seal, and removed the "bucket" revealing the various scars and markings spent over his career.

"I dabble." The raucous nature of the crowd as it began to increase before falling flat at a disappointment. He couldn't help but scrunch his nose, they'd follow the action but have no respect for it. In this instance, the winner achieved victory by a relatively well done set up. Combos and kicks blended well together. Was it something to notice? Not for most, it wasn't a pretty or flashy or even that graphic of a knockout, but it was one that worked well.

Nicair gave a nod of appreciation, not that the fighter could see. The man wasn't on the present pair's standards, but he had merit.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka’s face had a remarkably few amount of scars, all things considered: she wore a helmet most of the time and was damn fine at defending her face the other half. Of course there was a particularly long one near her left eye, gotten from helping the CIS in their conquest of Kamino. The striking bit of Lirka’s face was the long tattoo across the right side of her face.

“Ya’ “dabble”? It’s a yes or no question.”

She wasn’t one for in between am you fought or you didn’t: that was the way of the pits on Choah.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

The woman was blunt, forward. He'd forgotten what this life made people into.

"Yes. I've fought, was the first thing I ever knew how to do. Had a blade in my hand before I could speak. Not my favorite weapon, something sharp I mean. No, there's a different feeling from striking someone, feeling their bones give way and their organs rupture. Killing someone with your bare hands.. that's where the real fun is."

A small grin came to his face as he began to relive memories of past victories. His time as a slave was traumatic, but it made him what he is, turned him into a killer, and it was fun.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Indeed, she had been shaped by her careers: turned into a blunt and aggressive warrior. Of course even that changed as her work for the CIS continued.

“No grace to beating someone to a pulp, I would know. The blade is an art, the kill is it’s own little project.”

To little shock, a Sephi focused on how artistic something could be. Just because she focused so much on violence and fighting didn’t mean she had forgotten such a major part of her culture, however much it still stood. She had enjoyed swords since she had been a princess, but now she had her Klaive, really and truly was using a blade.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

The announcer declared the last official fight of the evening. Disappointingly it was over in the manner of a few seconds. Too much bravado, not enough substance. Someone either paid their way into the main event or was given it as a gift. Either way, there were a number of the audience filing out. Nicair knew better than to leave right away. The real fun would begin around an hour or so after closing.

"You'll want to stay. Saleucami tries to be inviting to outsiders, so they put on a preliminary fight masquerading as the full event. Those 'pretty colors' you speak of, they come later. Once all the greenhorns leave."

Fighting until stopped has merit, shows resolve and control. But that doesn't win wars, doesn't keep you alive, not all the time. The true test of mettle is if one can kill. Saleucami puts on a good face, but it isn't much different than anywhere else. There is a dark underbelly, and it enjoys killing as much as the next planet.

On this night, they were in good company.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

"Porylaer jhori tyrdas, tal's myrn shar si vaelia eisi.."

She grumbled along in her native language, nonsense on how they were little cowards for being so keen on putting on those fine little faces. Put it loud and proud, Choah did that: it was an absolute hive of lawless brutality, slavery, and all the other illegal trades, but it made sure to make it's fighting pits the most exciting thing around for them. Though she was happy enough to hear the real blood was going to get going.

But it was damn fine by her either way.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

He was never really one to ask personal questions, not unless they were relevant to what he was doing. But this woman was interesting, to an extent. The conflicting aspects of grace and savagery.

"Your species, I've never seen one before. Describe them." There wasn't any point dancing around the subject, besides, he figured this woman was blunt enough in her own right. They had time before the real entertainment began.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

“Ain’t hearing a please in there.”

She knew how to not only be a blunt and violent warrior, that slight joking tone was completely possible to happen too. Sometimes at least, depends on the mood, and the booze helps of course,

“Sephi. Surprised ya’ don’t know buckethead, took over my Homeworld.”

She was bitter about that, even though she had left home long before any of that went down. Her voice showed that bitterness.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

"More than likely I was.. indisposed during that battle. In any case, it's good manners to know who we've conquered, whether my blades tasted Sephi blood or not."

He had no memory of said invasion, he'd been away for awhile, done his share of battle hopping, with the Empire and without.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka merely gave a strange mixture of a grunt and a snarl as a response, didn’t say much about it as she usually did: Thustra was, all things considered her planet. Last she checked she was the only surviving member of the Thustran Monarchy, their lost little Princess who became this brutal monster.

“Call it good manners all you want, better ones are to just leave em’ be.”

Hypocritcal as ever it seemed.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

It was his turn to grunt.

"War is war, people die and planets are lost. But there are times I'm inclined to agree with you. It's as much a game as this. One side wins, the other doesn't." He gave a small chuckle, "war is what keeps the galaxy moving."

He'd done his share of fighting wars. Sometimes they were for himself, sometimes they were for others. Eventually he stopped looking at things as right or wrong, because those don't exist, not really. Who is invaded one year will be the invader the next, attacked to attacker. It was something the Mandalorians were good at. For every loss they grew stronger, adapted, took in new skills and new ideas to make themselves stronger.

They were resilient, that's why he was with them.

[member="Lirka Ka"]

 

[Lirka Ka]

“There’s the runts who take war and those who don’t deserve it.”

Blunt as it ever was, she had her own twisting and contradictory ideas: wasn’t much of a debeater anymore, those were the old days now she was a warrior purely now. Politics was a long dead and done skill she barely could get use out of.

Amusingly, Lirka, despite her dislike, had a brief career with the Mandalorian Protectors in the CIS. High emphasis on brief. Mandalorians just weren’t for her.

[member="Nicair Claden"]