Street Sweeper Social Club (Wide Open)

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

His opponent lurched forward at the last possible moment, interrupting some of the potential momentum of the swing before slinging his arm upwards in an attempt at defending against the assault. The satisfying impact was heightened by the faint ringing of the metallic pole, the same energy rattling up Abelain's arm with the force of the blow. Recovery was far faster than it would otherwise have been since most of the attack had already been dispersed by the maneuvers of the Herglic. The blue-skinned Sith prepared to launch another blow in what would have quickly turned into an unending onslaught, but was caught off-guard when the giant opponent lurched forward and slammed his skull against the chitin of his head.

The initial pain was nothing compared to the pounding that racked him for the next few moments, turning his vision blurry as he attempted to regain composure. His left hand; the one not clutching at the pole, slid forward, grasping at the giant's flesh and yanking himself forward against him, his own attempt at generating a headbutt lacking the same weight behind it, but hopefully enough to disorient his opponent. His right hand arched backwards, the pole scraping loudly against the ground before assailing forward toward's his opponent's abdomen.

There was no doubt within the Arue'tii's mind that he was becoming tired from the constant fighting, and that exhaustion would begin to take it's toll upon his body far faster than pain. It was true that he could attempt to generate enough Force energy to launch another heavy blow against his foe, but his capacity to use the Force was not infinite, and renewed usage simply increased the chance that he would falter. The Herglic spoke it's name whilst the two combatants traded blows. His name had been stated to be Ghorua, and Abelain decided to speak his own name lest he meet the giant in another scenario in the future. "I am Abelain."

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua the Shark felt happy when their heads connected the first time, since he was ready for it. He was not ready for it the second time, as he stumbled back a few feet. One hand was pressed against his head, the other flailing around, trying for a lucky blow. The strike surprised him more than anything, made him loose his cool. He heard the scraping of metal, and pulled his hands into a protective position around his head. he also didn't expect the gut shot.

The pole slammed into his midsection, causing him to catch his breath, and sending him a few inches back from the blow. His stomach area was the most protected by blubber, so the most it would do was bruise, but it still hurt. He heard the Arue-tii speak, and found his smile again. "Nice to meet you."

Ghorua knew he had to keep up his offensive, so instead of falling back like he usually would, he pressed forward against Abelain. Then, like lightning, he was low to the ground, an uppercut going straight for his opponent's midsection. Whether it hit or missed, Ghorua then brought his elbow down from the same arm, in a dangerous combo that could quite literally break durasteel. The colossus hadn't been able to unleash like this for some time. It felt nice.

- [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] -

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

The assault had worked as predicted, and had managed to shock and force the opponent back for a brief intervention in the fighting. However, the Herglic rapidly recovered itself from it's dazed stupor and rushed once more into the combat, once more utilizing it's massive size and weight to it's advantage as it went on the offensive. Suddenly, the giant was stooped over, as low to the ground as it could manage and the Arue'tii very nearly considered slashing at it's head now that it was closer to the chitinous blades. The only thing restricting that course of action was that it would be a potentially lethal blow, and Abelain had no desire to murder his worthy opponent; especially since they had only just met.

The monster's fist jammed itself up against his midsection, lifting him a solid two inches off of the ground and pounding his lungs against his chest, eliciting a gasp as the air rushed out of them and they decompressed. He hunched over in awful pain as it surged throughout the impact zone, but Ghorua slammed his elbow into the wounded Arue'tii's shoulder, sending him back onto the ground with significant force. Abelain's mind worked in overtime, attempting to stop the onslaught of blows, but strategies were coming quickly as the plague of exhaustion nipped at him, intensified by the burden of suffering.

The shoulder began to turn a purple hue as internal muscle was snapped and blood spilled against it's chitinous cage. It was an awful feeling, but the Sith had felt far worse in the past, and refused to allow the petty wound to become detrimental to his fighting ability. His hand clutched at the pole still caught within his grasp, and new ideas surged with the intensity of a flood. Perhaps he could lash out at his opponent's nearby feet? It would likely work, but the issue came in that his opponent could simply once more sit upon him, and force him into submission. A shriek split into his conscious as a nearby combatant was beaten down by a mob of others.

A new idea struck his mind, and he wondered for a moment why he had not yet considered it. With remarkable endurance, the Arue'tii raised himself to his feet, his left hand clutching at his right shoulder with apparent agony. He would rapidly hurl the exaggerated pipe towards his opponent's head, and followed through with a leap at his chest, his knees tucked to allow for maximum potential impact. If all went well, he might break something, but he admittedly left himself at a disadvantage in the air as his speed could not be amplified. The pipe would hopefully distract and force his enemy to blind himself for the brief moment needed to carry out the assault, but Abelain recognized if it failed, that the battle would soon be over.

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua nodded sagely as Abelain fought to bring himself back up. "Now, if you want to yield, that's completely fi..." The Shark could say no more when Abelain swung the pipe towards his face. Ghorua was expecting a counter attack. Momentum was the name of the game. Ghorua had it, and the Arue-tii wanted it back. And a simple swing for the head wouldn't do it.

Ghorua leaned his head back, the pipe soaring an inch away from his round face. Ghorua was proud of himself for but a moment before he realized the diversion too late. The goliath couldn't react before Abelain cannonballed into his chest. The collision sent Ghorua reeling back, until he finally landed on his back, on top of someone. He felt bones break, but he couldn't tell if they were his own, or the sorry fool under him. He got up, the rodian under him groaning in pain. "Sorry, sorry!" Ghorua was about to rush forward again when he noticed the rest of the crowd. A mob of them were staring at Ghorua and Abelain, murderous looks in their eyes. A group of all races, each one looking like they wanted to dismantle the two titans, each with the hope of bragging to their drinking buddies.

Ghorua eyed them dangerously. He knew how volatile crowds could be. They could ignite at the drop of a match, and there was a blazing bonfire going on around them. A few of them began to inch their way forward, three towards Abelain, three towards him. This was anything but the honorable fight they were having before. These combatants looked ready to kill. "Hey, uh, Blades? Let's postpone this fight for a moment."

- [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] -

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

Everything was going according to plan, and for once the tides of battle had seemed to change in favor of the Arue'tii. His opponent had been perfectly distracted by the pole. That distraction had opened up the way for Abelain to cannonball into his opponent's torso and send him sprawling onto the floor, or at the least onto another sentient who squirmed underneath the mass with painful yelps of agony. That had been an unintentional side effect of their combat, but the Rodian had known what they were getting into when they had decided to get that close to the pair, and it seemed unlikely that the broken bones would cause any serious injury.

A flicker of premonition flashed into his mind, and he instinctively ducked, watching as a large alcoholic bottle crashed into a nearby wall and shattered into a hundred pieces. His eyes locked onto the Herglic, but found that it was impossible for him to have been the perpetrator behind the attempted attack. The Sith swiveled around, examining a large mob of various species, each one eyeing the pair with a dangerous look in their eyes. There was no doubt that half of them were intoxicated beyond belief, or at the least very stupid individuals. Parts of the crowd began to split off from their friends, moving in trios towards them. Ghorua's voice sounded to him, having apparently noted the inbound assailants as he had. "Agreed. It appears that there are challengers."

The first of his own trio rushed forth; a Weequay male, and promptly attacked; his hand curling into a fist before pounding against Abelain's side. It stung, but the pain was brief and otherwise inconsequential due to the protective chitin covering his body. The attacker pulled back for another strike, but the Arue'tii had already launched his own. His left leg lashed out, catching the alien in the gut and barreling him over. He followed through with an imitation of the Herglic's last assault, crashing his forearm against the back of his head and sending him sprawling. He intentionally used the forearm so as to avoid murdering the opponent since he had not attempted to use lethal force, even if he was interrupting a previous duel.

The next pair of attackers learned quickly from their friend's mistake, and decided to move as a team. They pounced forward; a human male and female, and began their attack. The male drew a long curved blade from his side, slashing it at the Arue'tii's limb, and jumping backwards quickly when the chitin refused to be severed. Abelain surged after him, slamming his palm into the man's face, his nose breaking with a loud crack. The fellow went down, allowing gravity to direct his fall. His female friend responded by whacking the Sith in the back of the head with a pipe. Pain pulsed through him, but he fought through it, even as it clouded his vision.

He grasped at the side's of her head, and threw her down forcefully against the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs and otherwise keeping her out of the fight for a few moments. The crack of a blaster sounded behind him, and he felt heat flush against his back before dissipating. The weapon sounded again, and was once more followed by a similar flush of heat. Abelain turned to the human male who stood upon shaky legs, his nose shattered and blood leaking down his chin. The fellow had tried to kill him, and had thus marked himself as dishonorable. The Arue'tii stepped forward slowly, his legs carrying him towards his aggravated foe. The man continued to fire to no avail, the bolts lashing pointlessly against the chitinous armor.

His elbows came up, slashing the blades against the man's abdomen, one after another in a symphony of movement. His hands blurred with the motion, covering and hiding the vision of what he was committing against the attempted murderer. The poor fellow screamed out in agony, the only sign that there was anything wrong with him before dropping a moment later with a sickening gurgle arising from his throat. The sound died as blood filled his mouth, and a moment later he lay silent; eviscerated and deceased.

"Next."

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua the Shark smiled as his three combatants edged forward. The ten-foot-tall Herglic took a deep breath in, tasting the air. He could smell the blood in their systems, heavily laden with alcohol. The scent was maddening in the Shark's mind, his more feral side clamoring for that blood. It showed in his eyes, pitless and dangerous. "Well, then. Who's first?"

The three in front of him seemed to attack in tandem, each one brandishing different weaponry. A human in rags pulled a knife, the edge gleaming despite the grime covering it. A Trandoshan, a six and a half foot monster, held a makeshift club, hissing. The last, a female Chiss, held a blaster rifle. So much for a fair fight. Ghorua almost felt sorry for them.

Just as the human and Trandoshan lunged, the Chiss aimed her gun at his head. Thinking on his feet, Ghorua rolled to the side. The combatants were bathed in red light as the woman fired. Standing up straight again, the behemoth balled his fists, and slammed them on each side of the human's head, immediately knocking him out. Ghorua didn't have much time to congratulate himself before he felt an uncomfortable twinge of heat on his back. The Chiss had shot him between the shoulderblades. He felt it, but it outwardly seemed to do no damage. Growling, the Hunter rushed toward her, grabbed her roughly, and threw her straight up, forty feet or so. She soared for a few seconds, before landing hard, whimpering.

The Trandoshan shrieked coldly, and charged, slamming into Ghorua's midsection. The monolith of black flesh and anger didn't move an inch. Ghorua, in a fit of uncalculated rage, lifted the lizard-man up by the arms, and pulled. Two sick popping sounds were heard as the Trandoshan's arms were rent off his body. With a guttural roar, Ghorua beat him over he head with his own appendages, quickly sending the Trandoshan to the floor in an unconscious heap. He threw the arms to the side, and then convulsed, landing hard on his knees.

The blood was all around him. He could smell it, taste it. His genetic modifications had given him many upgrades, including super strength, fast reflexes, and nigh-indestructible bones, but these didn't come without repercussions. He liked to call it the 'Blood Frenzy', left over genes from whatever DNA was placed in him. He felt the Frenzy take over.

Slowly, Ghorua stood, and looked to his prey, the horde of enemies. All intelligence was gone from his enlarged pupils. He took one powerful step, then another, each impact shaking the ground. The Shark roared, a terrible sound, teeth gleaming in the dark. Members of the mob started pulling blasters as they saw Abelain dissect one of their friends, and Ghorua get angry.

The rest of the fighting seemed to die down as this happened, as if people were just starting to notice the danger. "Kill the monsters!" One drunken man from the crowd whipped out a pistol, and began to repeatedly fire it at the Shark. Ghorua took all of the shots, each one leaving a stinging welt where it hit. The beast that was Ghorua was on him in an instant, serrated teeth digging into his neck. The beast shook the human like a ragdoll, red rivulets of blood scattering everwhere. Muscles shivering, Ghorua pulled the unfortunate fool apart. It was a gruesome sight. The rest of the mob began to fire.

Kill...

- [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] -

 

[Roshki Belawiiks]

[member="Rusty"]

My eyes strayed on the dead human, my brain battling with my throat muscles to prevent a swallow. While I realised Twinkle Toes had potentially saved me from yet another would-be foe (Let's face it, though: I could've totally taken on that guy. Totally.), I also had the sneaking suspicion that there was something off about this fella.

"Gee, couldn't possibly be the fact that Mountain Man just broke a guy's neck. With one blow, might I add." Oh, great. Grey was back.

"Ah, shut it you annoying twat," I hissed quietly, attempting and only partially succeeding in keeping my head from jerking towards the apparition. Pressing my lips together (this time less in annoyance and more in bemusement), I refocused my black eyes on Behemoth. "And that, Twinkle Toes, is exactly why I'm gonna keep fighting. Not to the death, exactly, but nobody can say that I, Lil' Miss Ross from Commenor was ever a quitter!"

"Except for when you left the Order, that is."

"Shut. UP," I hissed again, out of the corner of my mouth. In a louder voice, I added, "Before we begin, though, why you bein' so nice an' all?" I flashed him a cheesy grin. "Although the gun offer don't sound too bad."

Behind me, I could hear the general roar of the crowd get even louder, if that were possible. The throng of bodies became even more frenzied, causing a dull throb to slowly build up, right at the base of where my montrals met my skull. Uh oh. I just hoped my super-cool echolocation ability didn't backfire on me-- Living in the city had granted me the ability to tune out the general rumbles of the urbana which would have drove any other Togruta mad. But even I, as perfect though I was, had my limits.

I just hoped they didn't get in the way of this fight.

 

[Rusty]

Rusty cracked a smile, and let his body sink into a fighting posture. It wasn't quite a stance, per se. Every crackbrained martial arts teacher in the galaxy taught some damn stance or another, usually to the detriment of their students. A few were genuinely useful, but every single one telegraphed far more information than any sane person would want to give someone they were about to fight. Echani planted their feet just so. Teräs Käsi required the hands to be like this, not like that. A fighting stance made for good holovids, but he didn't have much use for them.

Instead, he just sort of stood there, feet spread apart about shoulder width, right foot slightly back. Knees slightly bent, weight resting lightly on the balls of his feet. His arms were by his sides, hands open, elbows slightly crooked, shoulders relaxed. Torso, squared towards the opponent. Head down slightly, square chin offering some cover for the delicate throat. The Shard's eyes seemed to stare at nothing and everything at the same time.

To a casual observer, he might as well have been slouching lazily. To a professional martial artist, he looked like easy pickings. To a soldier, he'd look like someone that maybe someone else should fight. To this little organic? No clue.

"Let's just say I like the look in your eyes, kid. Young folk all full of piss and vinegar are a credit a dozen these days. You look like you might have seen a thing or two that drained that all out and replaced it with iron. You act the part well enough, maybe well enough you believe it's still there, but there's iron in your soul. Live long enough and life'll beat it into steel."

[member="Roshki Belawiiks"]

 

[Roshki Belawiiks]

[member="Rusty"]

Some of my good nature drained away a bit. The hell? Who was he to play "mentalist" on me? I did my damndest to pull off my snarkastic attitude (not really), and here he was acting like he knew what I'd been through. Gosh darn fish turd.

"That, or he's just guessing."

Oh. That too.

I squared my shoulders, acting not the least bit affected by his words or his wonky posture as my trademark smirk reappeared. "Puh-leeeeaase. Why the hell would I wanna be all iron-y? I'd rather be some kinda noodle." Grinning, I made a conscious choice to get back to my roots. Rather than affecting the same stance as before, I instead prepared to fight old-school street style. Alright, maybe it wasn't that old-school; I wasn't that old. But it'd served me well enough long before the stupid Jedi had come along.

"Noodles are bendy and tasty. Much better than stupid ol' iron -- or steel. Or vinegar. Or piss. Or anything else like that." I stood with my feet a comfortable distance apart from each other, with my left hip facing the man. Knees and back bent a bit, I hunched my shoulders and cocked my arms, the left elbow higher than the right. It was sort of an awkward and cockamamie pose, and heavens knew I'd been laughed at plenty by it. But hey, the position worked for me. And usually, they stopped laughing at me after the fight.

Grey appeared next to me. "What a stupid pose. Ugh. Anyway, let him go first this time. That way you have a wee bit of a chance to defend yourself, rather than having your bum handed to you."

"Yes, thank you Captain Obvious," I whispered back. "Anything else you care to share?"

"Yeah, actually. I think Maxi just relieved himself."

My face contorted into a "What the hell" expression as I looked at the apparition. "Was it necessary to share that?"

"Nope!"

Good heavens.

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

There were many differences between the Herglic and the Arue'tii. They were different sizes, though both were still quite tall in terms of height. They weighed differently, especially in the case of Ghorua who took the lion's share of that attribute. The two sentient beings even had different substances covering their bodies; flesh and chitin. Despite their many differences, the two shared some similarities as well. Both Abelain and Ghorua were quite powerful individuals, and were both capable of dealing and taking large amounts of damage. They could also both smell the blood that was gradually filling their surroundings with an iron scent. Though neither had any way of reading one another's emotions or feelings, their actions revealed that both could feel the draw of the spilled liquid to commit further atrocities, and to maim and slaughter.

It seemed that several gangs of people were joining together now to defeat what they perceived to be monsters. They were armed with blasters, vibroblades, clubs, batons, and makeshift weaponry of every shape and size, but they might as well have held trinkets in the presence of the pair. Abelain cast a fateful glare upon the crowd, his hand grasping at a cylindrical object upon his side before relenting and clasping at a weapon sheathed opposite to it. The archaic Sith vibroblade was drawn from it's fetter, it's slithering announcing a hunger to destroy that rivaled the predatory nature of many dangerous beasts. An expeditious flicker of his digit caused the thirsting creature to awaken, and to begin a vile hum in preparation for it's feast. Ancient words lay inscribed upon it, and the Arue'tii knew that they spelled out the Sith code in a dead language. Despite that, others would likely find the unusual weapon mildly terrifying.

Abelain took a deep breath, allowing the air to course between his 'smile'. He scanned the crowd for the most dangerous threats, and found that a pair of two were beginning to grasp at blaster rifles of some manner. Whilst his own chitinous armor would protect him from the petty assault; he was unsure as to whether his Herglic ally could manage the attack. If Ghorua was not actively consumed in a rage befitting the status of a berserker they might have consulted to formulate a reasonable strategy for their self defense. It seemed that reason had left the scene the moment that blood was spilled in such gratuitous quantities, and the Arue'tii could feel the urge to snap his teeth into the inferiors and to drain them to sustain his own hunger.

He refrained from that notion, choosing instead to charge forward towards the pair of opponents readying to launch volleys of inflamed gas at himself and his ally. They were too far away to eliminate with melee, and the crowd separated them further. His hand outstretched, and the blade slithered between a row of foes, planting itself into the first one's chest and splattering a fine covering of gore upon the pavement before returning to his awaiting grasp. The blade launched forth once more, catching the second opponent along his wrist and neatly severing it from it's bodily connection before being sent back to it's owner. A large and angry Wookie rushed forward, pounding it's fists downward against Abelain's chest and sending him sprawling in pain. It stomped against his chest, using it's size to generate a hefty weight with each blow. His hand arched forward, the blade in it's grasp catching the Wookie along the thighs and forcing him to retreat once more into the crowd; injured, but not severely.

 

[Rusty]

Slowly, Rusty shuffled forward, right foot never stepping in front of the left. His posture was still relaxed, his hands still low and nonthreatening. Ordinarily he would at some point bring them up to protect his face, but any attack from his fun-sized opponent would have to travel up a considerable ways, long enough for him to hopefully catch it. She was far more likely to attack low, towards his knees or, if she was as low brow as she wanted him to think, his junk. To be fair, the genitals made an inviting target. They were incredibly vulnerable, and even a pint sized foe could bring down someone his size with a well placed shot to the breadbasket.

Once he got within striking range, the Shard shifted his weight onto his left foot and cocked his right leg up, telegraphing a roundhouse kick. His size 16 boot could knock the girl into next week, but he didn't believe for a second she'd stand there and take it. He figured she'd cut in on the inside of the kick. Run up, throw an arm up somewhere between the knee and the hip to rob the blow of any energy it would have gained by swinging the foot around, get in a couple of blows to the knees or the junk.

So rather than snapping his foot out and committing to the kick, Rusty drew it in, shifting his weight forward. He still had the centrifugal force generated by the kick, which he capitalized on by rotating his hips as his massive right fist flew forward and downwards, into the space where the miniature organic should be if she tried to get inside the kick. This was no haymaker of a punch, all show and wasted motion. It was a vicious line drive designed to deliver a truckload of kinetic energy and as efficient a manner as possible.

It was always possible that his opponent would dodge, maybe backpedaling or leaning away if she felt particularly showy. He had plans for that too, but for the moment, he had to go on what he thought the most likely course of action would be.

[member="Roshki Belawiiks"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua's vision was tinted with red as he surveyed his prey. On the outside, it would seem all intelligence had left him. On the contrary, the combat centers of his brain went into overtime, shoving the rest of his brain out. Time seemed to slow as the Shark calculated his next move. He saw Abelain, his ally in this fight, pull a strange sword and fight, an impressive display. Ghorua hadn't brought any of his weapons, but in his state, he wouldn't have used them. His natural gifts would be enough.

The crowd seemed to pick up again as Ghoura bellowed. This was Nar Shaddaa, after all. People were used to death. If Ghorua had his way, the mob ahead of him would be used to death on a more personal level.

The Herglic charged forward, planting a skull shattering punch on a Bith in the first row of assailants. The alien was dead before it hit the ground, leaving it's grey matter on Ghorua's fist. The smell of the gore only egged him on, as he backhanded three other fighters in one swing, leaving them groaning on the floor. A Geonosian decided to flutter it's wings, and fly up into Ghorua's face, knife in hand. Like a streak of black lightning, Ghorua's meaty hand was around it's neck. The bug stabbed it's knife into his arm before it's neck was broken. The enraged Ghorua barely noticed as he tossed the body aside, the handle sticking from his skin.

The crowd began to edge away from him at that point, except a group of muscled individuals. Three Gamorreans, a Chevin, and a Human all stepped forward, each one carrying a vibro-weapon. Ghorua knew that this would be a tough fight. "Time to die, Free Willy," the Chevin said. Vaguely, Ghorua wondered why everyone called him that. Outwardly, Ghorua snarled, and prepared himself to charge. He was confident. He felt unstoppable. He did indeed feel invincible.

- [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] - [member="Rusty"] - [member="Roshki Belawiiks"] -

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

A familiar blood scent crept into the olfactory glands of the Arue'tii as he observed the remainder of the violent crowd. It was identified rapidly as the scent of Gamorreans. It seemed rather odd to have found them off of their world of Gamorr, but they might have been serving as mercenaries, or even as slaves to any manner of Hutts or other criminals located around the planet. It seemed rather odd that authorities had not yet attempted to intervene into the bloodbath; even if it was Nar Shaddaa, but perhaps they simply viewed the event as regular and uninteresting. It certainly wouldn't hurt their businesses too badly if a few patrons here and there were maimed and crippled in the fighting, and apathy ran thick on the outlaws world.

The sound of a crackle briefly removed Abelain from his observatory trance, and a rapid examination revealed that his Herglic ally had just removed an creature's head from existence with a well-placed punch that let a scattering of gray matter and other unidentifiable gore. He had known that Ghorua was a powerful person, but to erase the lifeforms entire skull seemed to give testament to the behemoth that stood before him. He crept onward towards a pair of Gamorreans standing a fair distance away from the ones engaging his ally. They seemed nearly ready to join into the fight, and the Arue'tii prepared his vile blade for rending apart their flesh.

A realization struck him the same moment that the first Gamorrean charged towards him, vibroaxe raised into the air in anticipation for the blow. "You are of the Obec clan?" He hissed between the 'smile' as he deftly slid out of the way of the hefty blow. The snout-faced alien eyed him with strange curiosity at his claim before giving a simple nod, it's partner approaching behind it. "I am an ally of your matron. You might recall that I went into your lands in search of a fugitive." He wondered whether the young boars would remember that event, and it seemed highly unlikely until they both replied with a simple nod and snort.

His hand outstretched towards the remaining opponents that stood within the crowd. A pair of Arkanians approached them wielding what appeared to be a pair of fancifully crafted sabers. "Come allies. Let us defeat them for the glory of ourselves, and for your clan." It was a useful turn of events to find allies amidst the crowd of brawlers and attempted murderers, but Abelain doubted their usefulness in the situation. The doubt was dispelled rather quickly when the first of the boars rammed into one of the Arkanians, hurling him to the ground before executing him with a terrific shriek of domination and a rapid ax blow to the head, leaving a pool of gore and flesh in it's wake.

A weight suddenly found itself upon his back, and he twirled about, attempting to grasp at the sneaking opponent. The Rodian upon his back jabbed it's useless knife against his shoulder repeatedly, exclaiming a sound of shock as suddenly the blade snapped in twain and clattered pathetically to the floor. The Arue'tii grasped at his flailing leg, yanking him harshly off of his back and slamming him into the ground with the same intensity that he had been stabbed. The inferior went limp in his grasp as he collided with the hard duracrete under their feet, and the Sith released the corpse to wallow in it's own blood.

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua the Shark readied himself as the Chevin charged. He knew of the damaging capabilities of the alien, and even in his current combat-centered mindset, he was wary. The Chevin's large head slammed into Ghorua's midsection, sending the Herglic sliding a foot back with the force. Using that force, he lifted the Chevin up and over him, and circle-threw the alien behind him. The Chevin grunted as it skid across the rough street, finally resting quite a ways away. That was one down.

The three Gamorreans attacked in tandem with their vibroaxes. The Hunter sidestepped two of the swings easily, each one rather sloppy. It was obvious these three little pigs were drunk out of their gourds. One of them would have connected with the Shark, but Ghorua raised his hands up quickly, and caught the blade, one meaty hand on each side of the axehead. The weapon was thrust from the Gamorrean's reach as Ghorua pulled, and threw it some ways away. Two quick punches, one to the gut, and one to the head, was all it took. The pig fell to his fist, either unconscious or dead. The other two were quick work after that. A simple, good-ol-fashioned slamming of heads together.

The Human would be tougher. Ghorua could smell his bloodstream. No alcohol. He wore ratty Mandalorian garb, obviously graffiti-ed and mistreated. He brandished a vibrosword head of him, in a fighting stance. "You are a worthy opponent," he said, bowing slightly. This was enough to snap Ghorua out of the Frenzy.

Senses and emotions came rushing back to the Shark as he received the honorable challenge. He staggered a second, head pounding painfully. He could still smell all the blood around him, but he had control of himself. For now. Ghorua the Shark had lost his appetite for this battle, but he nodded back.

The Human rushed forward, sword in a flourish of movement. Ghorua tried to track it, but even his enhanced reflexes could do nothing as he was slashed across the chest, opening a thin white line, brackish blood seeping from the wound. Ghorua swung his arm out to hit the guy, but he was still feeling the effects of dropping out of the Blood Frenzy. He felt uncomfortable in his own body. The swing was slow, and easily avoided. Ghorua had to start planning again.

The Human came back in to attack, from a different angle, as Ghorua expected. The Herglic rolled backwards, the exact move he performed against Abelain at the beginning of their confrontation. Standing up again, he waited, watching with his void black eyes. The man charged again, another flourish of movement, but Ghorua had already seen the pattern. With minimal movement, the Shark stepped forward, messing up his opponent's swing. He caught the Human's arm, hefted him up, and brought him into the street, cracks forming on the ground from the power. The armor protected him from dying, but that man wouldn't be getting up any time soon. "As were you," Ghorua said, with a bit of a smile.

The crowd began to panic, seeing many of them fall to the two champions. They began to edge away, the threat almost too much. All it took was a catalyst to send them running. Ghorua was sure Abelain could provide such a catalyst, as he cradled his head.

- [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] -

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]

The trio charged forth into the crowd, cutting a bloody swathe with their various weaponry. Blades flew through the air with blinding speed and force, finding comfort only in the wall of flesh before them. Chunks of meat and detritus littered the floor, swimming amidst pools of blood. Wounded and dying foes lamented upon the concrete, their eyes filled with pain, and fear. The hunger that delved deep within the Arue'tii's stomach lashed against his willpower, forcing him down to his knees and against the body of a recently deceased opponent. The 'smile' that he constantly wore along his mouth vanished away, replaced by his truly vicious mouth which snapped harshly into the corpse. He suckled at it's inner fluids, lifting the body as if though it were a drink that one would nurse at a bar.

He finished with a slurp, closing the 'smile' back to it's protective state and tossing the drained figure aside. The crowd panicked with cries of 'Monster' and 'Run!' It seemed that Ghorua had run through his own opponents with relative ease, and the morale of the entire group was teetering on the edge of flight. His act of feasting just added to the festering wound that was their willingness to fight a losing battle, and to be slaughtered. The combat had started for the sake of just having fun, but had ended with a pile of corpses that would go to crying families and friends. The sickly pang of grief crept into Abelain's throat, but he swallowed it away with the last of his horrific thirst.

"Get out!" The Sith shrieked, his hand clasping at the cylindrical weapon at his side and igniting it. It snapped and hissed, eliciting a faint gasp from those nearby as it painted the already bloodied ground a deeper shade of crimson. He waved the weapon around, showing that he had it, and identifying himself as one of the warlords known throughout the galaxy; the Sith. The crowd broke, and began to scatter, leaving only those that remained away from the pair of juggernauts. There were still those remnants that continued to fight their own battles of pleasure, but they were few and far between. To his surprise, Abelain noticed that a pair of combatants that he had first laid eyes upon were still locked in their own combat.

The Arue'tii turned towards Ghorua, dismissing the Gamorreans to their own business with a flick of his hand. "It is done. They flee from us, Ghorua. They are frightened by our strength, and our violence."

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Once he saw the crowd rout, Ghorua sat down where he was, physically exhausted. Sweat cascaded down his slick skin as he massaged his head, the dead and wounded lying around him. The situation had escalated too quickly for the Shark. He hadn't waned to kill anyone today, which is why he had opted to sit the fight out until he saw Abelain. He figured he could let off some steam, try to forget about his problems. Instead, one came bubbling to the surface.

"I'd be frightened by our strength too if I were them." Ghorua found a weak smile. The truth was, he was scared of his own strength.

Shakily, Ghorua drew in a breath. The scent of gore around him that was so tantalizing a moment before only succeeded in making the Herglic sick to his stomach. "I... I need to get out of here. You wanna go to a bar or something, Abelain? You drink? Ghorua didn't find himself fazed at the fact that the Arue'tii had a lightsaber. They had become so common in his line of work, he barely batted an eye.

Ghorua's smile strengthened as he talked. "I know a good place. Frida's Spaceport Cantina. A great selection from all across the galaxy, that one..." The Shark rambled on, slowly standing up, and wiping the blood from his fists.

Sharks need to keep swimming, or they'll suffocate.

- [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] -

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Ghorua the Shark"]
The Arue'tii leaned into a wall, resting himself for any further trials before finally accepting that there would be no more attacks. It seemed that the pair of giants had managed to completely break the morale of the crowd, and the wails of the dying and wounded kept any brave souls away. The scent of blood was strong, and Abelain almost had difficulty in discerning the differing bodies in the sea of viscera solely using olfactory senses, but Ghorua easily stood out. His blood had a differing scent to it than those scattered about; the scent of Herglic. He gazed across the battlefield, watching as his pair of Gamorrean companions finished a triumphant shout and scurried away down an alley.

It seemed that Ghorua was nearly as tired as himself, and the explorer eyed him as he sat upon the ground. He spoke, agreeing with the statement Abelain had given, but the smile that followed seemed falsified even from where the Arue'tii stood. Ghorua offered to bring Abelain to go to a bar nearby for the sake of consuming a drink. The Arue'tii nodded his consent, recognizing that he could use a liquid refreshment. "I shall accompany you to the bar. A fine drink would be pleasant at this time." He pushed himself out of his crooked stance, straightening in a heartbeat and preparing to follow the Herglic to the location; Frida's Spaceport Cantina.

Meanwhile, he analyzed the evidence he had been compiling mentally and came to a curious conclusion regarding the Herglic. His voice, and facial expressions seemed to indicate that he felt remorse over his actions. The aforementioned berserker rage that Abelain had assumed had taken over the mental faculties of his newly found ally seemed to have been a more correct hypothesis than he had initially thought. There was the chance that Ghorua simply got caught in the moment of battle, and unleashed his fury in all directions. That would explain the violent assaults that he had conducted upon the assailants that met him, and how his attack pattern had changed from when the two had dueled one another. It had been a sport between the champions, but it had been a feast against the inferior swine.

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

"Alright. It's this way."

Ghorua's head continued to pound as he began to walk in the direction of the aforementioned Cantina, leaving behind the blood and viscera. He needed a drink more than anything right now. The only problem was that the genetically-modified Herglic couldn't get drunk, but that was a bridge he'd try to cross later.

For now, he had made a new friend, and Ghorua would try to entertain him as well as he could. He couldn't glean much about the guy from his chitinous face, so he would have to coax it out through conversation.

He tried not to look at the dead bodies behind him.

*EXIT THREAD*