The Crucible

[Riven Black]

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Region: Mid Rim​

Sector: Hutt Space​

System: Y'Toub System​

Moon: Nar Shaddaa​

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Time: 14:55:36​

Location: Duros Sector​

Night Time, Rain​

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The rain was unrelenting, droplets of water slamming into the ground with a thundering clap. The puddles that began to form gave a home to the reflections of the neon signs above. The bright lights had always been a major feature of the Duros Sector. It was a place of filth, not just because of the poor, but the hidden agendas of the tyrannical. Crime, it was everywhere, from the cafe corners in the Upper Promenade, to the Undercity below. Branching out from the busy pathways of the sector, alleyways provided a home for thieves and addicts. Criminals walked among the crowds; killing, selling, buying, and abusing. It was always like this, nothing ever changed, just like war, crime was all the same. ​

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It wasn't exactly where he planned to end up, but he did. Having to depend on the traveling routes of others made it difficult to find ways to the outer rim. Rarely, if ever, could he find someone to take him there. Instead of worrying about the awful weather, he needed to relax. His daily practices in the arts of his people were no longer necessary, not after he spent hours on the way to Nar Shaddaa, training his forms. The rain drenched him and walking through the crowded streets meant dangerous encounters, if unlucky. His brown hair stuck to his forehead, the rain slid off of his bangs, falling to the ground. ​

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He felt bad for the beggars as he passed the bright colored district, signs blinking and glowing, as if to attract him to guilty pleasures. The wind picked up, a familiar breeze of the cold night enticing him as he continued forward. The loud conversations throughout made Riven alert, some screaming over bad deals. The place was truly a pit of anger and despair. The smell of fried foods reached him, his stomach tangled at the thought. Hunger was something any man couldn't resist. ​

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Riven turned, the white steam reached the air as stools were presented under the cover from the rain. The bright green sign blinked in a monotonous pattern. His hazel eyes read carefully. ​

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Vil'Nar Dragmek​

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​The name was unique and nothing about the tiny restaurant seemed to bother all the others sitting about at the counter laid before them. Riven stepped forward, his light skin finally showing in the warmth of cover. The tiny roof, prevented more rain from drenching him. One stool was left, it was his lucky day. The sizzling that filled his ears reminded him of a boiling flow of lava, back on Kro Var. Taking a seat he grabbed the small parchment to his left, scanning for something quick. ​

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A young Twi'lek rummaged through the visible kitchen, glass seperating her from Riven. Her skin was a dark tint of green, and her lekku hung to the front of her left shoulder. She stared at him for a moment, sliding a glass to the man next to him. She grabbed a writing device and smiled.​

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"Hello, know what you want?" she said, clearly in a rush.​

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"What are you guys frying back there?" Riven asked, tossing the menu to the side.​

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"Fried Crispic. Three per order. Is that what you would like?"​

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"Sure." Replied Riven. As she went to turn away, he rose his voice. "A drink to, anything will do."​

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The Twi'lek scurried off as she squeezed through the two chefs and punched in the order. For a little, hole in the wall, kind of place, they were busy. This made Riven excited, trying new things and experiencing the galaxy's many offers always made him happy. He leaned forward, his elbows soaking the counter. ​

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"Hey, pal, you mind?" Asked the husky man beside him. ​

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"I'm sorry, what did I do?" Riven asked, as the guy pointed to the wet spots on the counter. "Oh, sorry about that. I didn't realize it was happening."​

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"Don't worry about it, I was just messing with ya. The names Tahm, you look like a tourist, better be careful around here. Turns out there are quite a few competitors tonight."​

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"Competitors? For what?" Riven asked.​

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"Don't ya know?" Tahm questioned, realizing Riven clearly was in the dark. "The tourney, it's being hosted by some new oddball. Turns out he's paying a pretty penny to the victor. Only problem is, it's causing a lot of problems round' here. Notorious Bounty Hunters, Sith, Jedi, hell; even Mandalorians came out for it. I can't wait."​

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"Forgive my rudeness, nice to meet you Tahm. My name is Riven. Riven Black." He said it with a smile, meeting new people was beginning to become one of his favorite things. "So you are competing to?" Riven was inquisitive, the thought of a tournament seemed neat. ​

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Before Tahm could answer the Twi'lek slid him his drink and a hot platter of long, breaded rolls filled his plate. The crispy texture was a golden brown, the sweet smell of a honey glaze reaching him. He lifted the dark liquid filled cup, and drank. The carbonated tickle made him gulp, flushing his dry throat. The taste was fruity, an orange slice floating at the top. As much as he wanted to dive into his meal, he looked back at Tahm.​

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"Looks good." Tahm said, trying to think of what Riven had asked him before. "Ah, me? No too old, the bones don't work like they used to. I'm going for the bets, the money to be made on those fights is crazy, at least they better be, five hundred credits just to get a seat in there."​

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It slapped him hard in the face, the thought of gambling made him giddy. Losing credits was an understatement when it came to playing card games and Dejarik. Riven had traveled the galaxy for only a few years and was hooked on the concept. He'd bet a wad of credits, just for the rush it brought him. This could have been the break he was looking for. While fighting wasn't really his thing, betting on himself would mean decent credit flow. His eyebrows lifted, a sly smile reaching his face. ​

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"Tahm, you and I are going to get along just fine." Riven said, diving into his meal. With a small burp, he continued. "Where do I sign up?"​

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Tahm was puzzled, a scrawny man like Riven wouldn't last a few seconds in the pit. Regardless, Tahm considered the thought. He could always bet against him for a sure win. Tahm smiled, a schemer at the heart of it. ​

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"After you finish I'll bring you there, deal?"​

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Riven devoured the meal and sighed.​

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"Delicious, thanks for the food." Riven said as he waved to the cooks and the Twi'lek that served him. ​

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***​

A few hours later...​

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Tahm motioned him forward after talking with the officer, the gun firmly held in the guard's hands like a machine refusing to let go of product. Riven walked forward stepping onto the platform, a loud hum fired up. The two of them descending into a darkened area. A small blue luminescent light, peered out from the distance. The platform locked into place as it touched down onto the metal floor below. The stench was almost unbearable, the rot that grew here was in its own category. It brought shivers to him, the thought of the impoverished residing here made Riven conflicted. ​

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"Whatever you do, don't help the poor round here, the Hutts will kill ye." Tahm said, his voice growing sturdy. ​

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Riven walked by them, dirty, hungry, wounded, and suffering in the clutches of the darkened world engulfing them. It was an unfortunate circumstance and if Riven had it his way, he would help them. Clearly that wasn't a choice. Tahm stopped, turning into a brightly lit area. Riven followed, his eyes widened at the sight. Bright lights and a giant structure greeted them. The entrance to the building was spotless, like a different world from which they had emerged. Spotlights turned back and forth, displaying the banner above.​

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The Crucible​

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The name was simple, but held truth. The competitors would be challenged with difficult adversaries. The thought of running into a crowd of Sith and Jedi in the same place was puzzling. Then again, if someone told Riven years ago, he'd be anywhere but Kro Var, he would have laughed. Tahm patted him on the shoulder and pushed him forward.​

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"Good luck, kid." Tahm said, walking away as he waved in a nonchalant way.​

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"You too, Tahm."​

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It was all up to him now, signing up for a tournament wasn't really a hobby of his. Either way, he needed the credits. Taking the last steps the doors became ajar, sensors activating as he reached the inside. Crowded, almost too crowded. It was insane, everyone one that was in the room was geared to the throat. Helmets, armor, guns, lightsabers, knives, you name it, someone had it. Pushing his way through the crowd he reached one of the representatives. A human male, handing out sheets of paper and a pen. ​

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"Sign up now!" ​

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The group of competitors swarmed the counter, snatching every last one of them. The man looked at Riven, as he accessed the computer. ​

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"You there, you going to fight? If so, I need your name and fifteen-hundred credits."​

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"Alright, Name is Riven Black. Here." Riven stated, handing the man behind the counter a metallic card. "That should cover it."​

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"Here you are sir, remember the matches will be posted before midnight tonight. Also, please read the rules on the floor above. And...Good luck!"​

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Riven grabbed the small, square shaped, emblem from the guy. The number Seventy-Three glaring at him. Riven wasn't sure what to make of it all, the thought of fighting other dangerous people like himself, made Riven nervous. Regardless, The Crucible wouldn't start for another two hours, this gave him time, time to prepare.​

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Riven could feel the currents of the wind, its embrace comforting him as he smiled.​

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This should be fun...​

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[member="Odin Terrowin"]

 

[Odin Terrowin]

The aroma of must and garbage filled the streets of Nar Shaddaa. Odin had only just arrived on this neon lit rock. His travels had carried him all across the galaxy. Odin had been traveling and helping those in need. He was in search for a new martial arts master, there was so much he needed to learn. So much of the universe undiscovered. Though right now it was all too familiar, the trash tumbled through the street as he walked. The green and yellow lights outlined streets, shop names, and transportation sites. There seemed to be an increase in the homeless population as of late. A lot of this was attributed to the increase underworld activity in Nar Shaddaa. Odin stopped and knelt down before one of the beggars, he peered up to him, sadness had washed over him. He gave the man some credits. The man thanked him as Odin nodded and arose to his feet. It pained him that he was going to be rubbing elbows with the scum responsible for such despair, but he had to fight, because it was the only way to stop this.

Odin had recently discovered a crime ring responsible for holding underground fighting tournaments. They were held in abandoned buildings normally, but this time the location was a little more open. One of the criminals called in some favors and they shut down part of the market district to have access open crowds and natural lighting from Nar Shaddaa herself. Rumor has it, whoever wins this tournament can have any single thing they want within reason. Odin would ensure either the poverty were helped, or the fight circuit came to an abrupt halt. He was a taller man and built. He was wearing a black t-shirt that hung a bit baggy around his torso. This was an unsuccessful attempt to hide the kind of physical shape he was in. His pants were cloth, they were also loose to allow his body to move without restrictions. He was in fact a martial artist. Odin was normally a calm person who might be a bit bold, but could be as nice as anyone. There was a change in his behavior since he arrived as this is the planet his old Jedi master was assassinated on. The memories were vividly tugging at his conscious.

Odin walked right through the crowd, he didn't duck his shoulder or try to avoid anyone, if someone was in his way he simply bumped them aside. There were many wise remarks about him as he walked towards the sign up desk. He simply brushed of the whispers, he would soon silence them in the ring.

"Sign up here! Hey man are you going to be fighting?" The man asked as he handed out applications to all of the willing participants.

"Yes indeed." Odin took one of the documents and leaned on the table, while supporting himself with his right arm. He wrote a few words and handed it back to the man with fifteen hundred credits. Odin started walking towards one of the many rings they were setting up.

"Sir you have to list the weapons you will be using in the fights, I think you misunderstood boy, you just signed your name." The man yelled back to Odin; he responded without turning around.

"I am a weapon." He spoke firmly as he passed through the hungry mercenaries. Many of them chuckled as he walked by, sneering as they made joke of the defenseless man losing in the first round. If there was a word to describe something Odin was NOT, it would be defenseless. Odin was late to registration, he was hoping to get here early and scope out the competition, instead he was about to hear the first two matches announced. The upside to using the market district was there was now room for multiple fights to go off at the same time. This would allow the tournament to progress faster as it would be necessary with the sheer number or participants this time around.

 

[Riven Black]

Hours had passed and the matches for the tournament were almost declared. The floor he had to himself was now flooded with new challengers. If Riven didn't know any better there were many combatants that planned on using weapons. This was something a little troubling, but he, himself; had his own weapon. Very rarely did Riven need his fiber-corded lightsabers in battle. This wasn't because of how masterful he was in the arts of Kro Var, no; this was due to his lack f expertise in the practices of his exotic weapon. Riven was considered a dangerous adversary among his people, mainly due to his strong connection to the force. Although, even now Riven felt nervous. Being watched and observed by potential challengers made him squeamish. It was an odd predicament. ​

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The large window near him provided a nice view of the battle arena's below. A large screen teased everyone, the matches yet to be declared. The stands around the rings, were filled. Screaming and hollering were surely taking place as Riven watched them stand and sit, swinging their arms about as credits and other valuable items were exchanged. Then, like a bolt of lightning it stuck him, he needed to bet!​

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Quickly squeezing through the other potential opponents he was pushed hard, falling to his feet. He could have easily avoided the fall, but using the currents of the wind, may have sparked someone's curiosity. With an ignorant laugh the guy pointed at Riven. His mouth spouting off as his buddies continued to howl over the crowd of fighters. Getting up, Riven smirked. ​

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I'll remember that...​

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Rushing through the few combatants left, he reached a solid cased window, a young female on the other end. She nodded and spoke. ​

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"Place your bets, matches will be shown in less than a minute, last call."​

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"Okay, I want to put this much on myself, every match I win, place the same amount down for every match after. Understand?"​

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Riven was serious, he needed a consistent amount of credits, even if he had to fight for it. Otherwise, he would be stuck on Nar Shadaa for a while. The bet handler's eyes widened at the amount. Clearly it was enough to make who ever was running the event happy. She smiled and snatched it quickly. ​

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"Yes sir, after everymatch you win take half of your earning and put them into the next match. Betting on yourself, your name?" The handler asked. ​

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"Riven Black to win, every round." ​

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"All set, sir. Good Luck!"​

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He had made it just in time, the large screen behind him lighting up, the matches had been decided...​

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[member="Odin Terrowin"]​

 

[Odin Terrowin]

The screens hovering over each ring were broadcasting teasers enticing the crowd. The roar of fans could be felt in Odin's chest. The fights would keep firing after each match ended, there was only delays if their next opponent was still fighting. Odin sized up the competition, he was starring at all of those who made eye contact with him. Odin was a confident man, this was sometimes his undoing, though when competing or fighting for your life, appearing weak or under confident would be fatal. The crowd roared as names started streaming across the screens. He glanced just in time to catch "terrowin ring 2..." This was it, time for him to show these men what he was made of.

Odin strode into the ring, it was outlined on the ground before him in paint. This was considered the starting point of the fight. There was no out of bounds so to speak, wherever the fight took the combatants would be fair game. Odin took in his opponent, a bounty hunter, he was armed to the teeth. Blaster rifle, pistols, flamethrower for the close combat, he appeared to have answers for every situation. Odin's fingers rolled his sleeves up, positioning his body perpendicular to his challenger, he brought his two hands up, open palmed ready for the round to start. The bounty hunter took the toothpick out of his mouth and smiled at Odin.

"Tough break kid, going out in the first round isn't easy. Name's Rackio, I can incapacitate you, or if you struggle I may have to incinerate your body." Rackio spit outside of the ring and laughed. "Well I may have to go with the latter, we are putting on a performance after all." His finger flicked the toothpick and the masses peered on. The timer on the screen was counting down, Odin stood perfectly still, ready to take on his foe. "GO" the screen roared as the bounty hunter raised his hand up and bent his wrist, it appeared he was going to start with the missiles he had tucked away. "If you have any tricks up your sleeves boy i'd break them out now!" A missile rifled through the air, straight towards Odin's torso.

Odin slowed his breathing, allowing him to hone his focus on the projectile headed towards him. Odin swung his head down, his torso following as he ducked underneath the explosive. The bomb could be heard behind him, Odin was sure their must have been causalities, it was a common occurrence at these kind of events. Odin sprinted towards Rackio, he reached for his rifle and from the back of his armored chest plate. He pointed the gun straight at him as he fired off rounds hoping to slow him down. Odin started dodging and sliding back and fourth, the margin for acceptable error was very small, one mistake and he was taking a blaster through his thigh. He was about ten feet away as Rackio taunted him.

"You decided your own fate kid! Death it is!" Odin would not even entertain the idea of losing to someone as reckless as him. He did not want to reveal too much, but he also needed to end this fight quickly so he could be rested for the following encounters. A quick burst of speed sent him accelerating forward towards Rackio, with slight assistance from the force to make it harder for him to react. Odin's right foot slide and collided with the bounty hunter's boots. One quick motion Odin swept his arm outward knocking the rifle up in the air. Odin's left elbow connected with Rackio's opposite elbow, the bend in his arm allowed Odin to reach his flamethrower attachment, his left fist made contact with the weapon as it shattered before him. His hands started to hit harder and harder as he felt himself getting lost in the motions of it all. An uppercut, followed by a cross allowed him an opening to deliver the final blow. The southpaw turned his back foot to channel his body and the force through his fist. The punch penetrated the steel armor chest plate breaking ribs upon contact. The crowd was in awe as the bounty hunter flew into the tents. He was unresponsive, the tournament bracket automatically updated, Odin Terrowin had made it past the first round.

[member="Riven Black"]

 

[Orion Darkstar]

Ignore

 

[Riven Black]

Riven turned to look up at the bracket. His bets were placed and the anxious fighters around him continued sneer. Some men and women already walking to their inevitable outcomes. Cheers and clapping shook the building, the fights below; clearly the cause. Riven saw the name, it was a familiar name, a famous fighter from the clans of Echani Warriors, Dem Khan. It was an unfortunate pairing, for both of them. The first round already seemed to prove itself worthy of his arts, ecspecially against a renowned fighter like, Den Khan. Regardless, Riven would learn how worthy Dem Khan truly was in the coming minutes.

Riven descended, the bright lights above revealing the large open arena, small walls encompassing each section. Glass plastered in between so the lower crowd could see. The chants and roars of the fans continued. He watched only for a moment at two fighters, a short brown haired man seemed to be fighting unarmed. Clearly there was a method to the man's madness. Riven focused, a punch wavering the currents around him, it would be devastating. The armored bounty hunter on the opposite end of the well placed attack sent him barreling into the crowd, loud stomps cheering the victorious man onwards. It was interesting to see such a spectacle, few impressed him.

The screaming died down as he stepped up onto the white platform, small squares made of stone pieces was his battlefield. As he entered so dos his opponent, Dem Khan. Riven placed his foot forward, his stance that of a tiger. Calm and quiet he waited, the Echani Warrior fixing himself as he lifted his fists to the air. The crowd went insane, chants filled the arena.

"Dem Khan! Dem Khan! Put him down!" The chants continued, Riven closed his eyes as he focused on the air. The circulation of the force was weak, but even the slightest manipulation of wind could turn the tide of battle. It grew, the suction of the air found him as he garnered it close his palms vibrating with grace. Patience and precision, they went hand in hand. Riven hid the beast within, the ring was his jungle.

"Go!" Shouted the match official.

Riven's eyes snapped open, Dem Khan already on the attack. A swift strike from his elbow was dodged as Riven pivoted on his back leg and manuvered out of the way. Then a swift kick came for his leg, there was little time to react, instead of taking the brunt of it, Riven lifted his knee half way, slamming it into Dem Khan's shin. They separated as Dem Khan taunted.

"Let's see you dodge these, scum. Ashame I'll have to dice you up!" Dem Khan revved himself up, two sharp blades slipping out from his forearms.

Clearly he wanted Riven's head. Unfortunately for Dem Khan he already lost, the winds served only the kind and graceful. Dem Khan charged, one blade reaching for Riven's throat, another for his left lung. Riven waited, the tip of the blades inches from his body, then it happened; the currents of the wind released from his curled hands, his palms striking softly against Dem Kahns inner arms. The blades were blown outward, his chest wide open for another strike. Riven twisted forward his fingers striking the Echani's chest cavity. With a quick motion of his wrist he was lifted of the ground and slammed into a far walk, a small crater denting the stone that housed him.

"Match!"

Riven had won, the crowd screamed in disapproval. "Cheater!"

Riven smiled, he knew the victory was assured from the moment he felt the wind of his predictable strikes. It was truly a gift. Not only that, Riven held back, assuring only injuries and not death. Walking off he looked at his thumb, blood sliding down it.

Hmm, the blade must have knicked me, faster next time, much faster.

[member="Odin Terrowin"]​

 

[Odin Terrowin]

As Odin composed himself he observed the fight happening parallel to his. It appeared to be another fighter that preferred to fight without weapons, how curious that Odin would bump into someone like himself. As he took a closer look it appeared to be something much more, the air atmosphere of this fight seemed completely different. It was almost as if the air around him was reacting the the fight before him. This Riven seemed to be a unique breed. The matches continued all day Odin's last fight pitted him against another hungry gunslinger, if he was to win this bout he would qualify for the Quarter finals that would occur the following day. The short man before him seemed sinister in his approach. All of his previous matches ended by surrenders, that were met with a blaster barrel to the temple. His murderous intent would be the focus for Odin during this fight. Someone that takes sick enjoyment out of causing other's pain infuriated him to his core. This last fight would be challenging and personal.

The man before him stood approximately 5'4" tall, he was equipped with darts, stealth, two blaster pistols and a knife that was attached to his boot. These were the visible threats that Odin noticed before the fight began. His black hair accented his bronze skin, his tone similar to Odin's, and that was the only similarity. Odin took two steps that slightly elevated him to the ring, he mentally prepared himself for the challenge. The two fighters stood silently as they both knew words were a waste of time, within minutes one of them would be disabled or dead. Odin brought his left fist back flat against his chest, his right hand extended forward, his legs mirrored this movement as he prepared for battle. Odin needed to end this as fast as he could, it was a long day of fighting that had taken it's toll on him. He was too preoccupied trying not to kill his foes that he took some unnecessary punishment in the ring. This scoundrel appeared to be in perfect physical health, this was concerning as the clock ticked down to zero.

2...1...GO!!!​

The buzzer blared as his opponent fired a barrage of attack, Odin ducked as he dashed to the left. His body spun in a circle as he turned to face his Gendrick. Of course those shots missed because they were a distraction, the cover of blaster fire allotted Gendrick enough time to where he could activate his invisibility and move as he pleased. Odin knew he was in a bad spot, one surprise attack from the man with tranq darts and he was a dead man. His lids closed, shutting out all of the distractions before him. He focused on the force as he tried to detect him. A shot came from his right, his arm instantly reached out to meet the attack, a dart made contact with his hand. His attack reappeared next to him with a horrifying smile on his face. It appeared the tranq dart was successful. Odin dropped down on one knee, there was little anyone could to do to counteract the effects. Gen looked to the crowd for approval as he taunted them with the notion of killing Odin. The hot barrel pressed firmly against his head, this was the end to the fight, or so they all thought. Odin actually used his force absorption to catch the dart, everything that transpired after the contact was a ruse to close the distance between them. Odin's head rolled to the left as Gendrick's finger squeezed the trigger. Odin swung he right leg around in a complete circle taking out Gen's feet right out from under him. As his body was falling, Odin secured himself on the balls of his feet, one quick thrust sent his fist rifling towards Gendrick. The overconfident pest finally met his match as he was sent through the air, only to be instantly stopped by a concrete wall. Odin turned to face the scoreboard as the fighting was finally over for the day.

~3 hours later~​

Odin was one of the four remaining fighters along with Riven Black, Sain( a sith warrior) and Jenkai a sith sorcerer proficient in the art of destruction. The last four fighters were all invited to an after party to celebrate the tournament and to interact before their bouts in the morning, it gave the gamblers something to talk about. Odin saw the unarmed fighter and remembered his incredible performance. Odin approached him hoping to gain some insight on the man.

"So you're Riven Black eh? So what are you all about stranger, fighting for riches, or the chance to own Nar Shaadda?" The last option was an attempt to be comical, the tournament could offer you a lot, but a planet was a bit above their means. Odin found this wanderer curious, perhaps he had more in common with Riven than he cared to admit.

[member="Riven Black"]

 

[Riven Black]

A full day of fighting, it was an odd thing for him to do. The last thing he usually looked forward to was confrontation, mainly due to his kind heart. Instead he found himself enjoying the battles that presented themselves in front of him. The variety of challengers he was stuck with all had their perks. In the end they were no match for Riven. The crowd had began to chant for him and as the last bell dinged he stepped out of the ring, a grin reaching his face. The thought of credits piling into his account made everything better. He stopped, his mind searching for what really bothered him. Looking up to the bracket that was left he saw the name, Jenkai. A proficient Sith sorcerer that was favored to win the entire thing. Riven rarely grew nervous, but an adversary of such measure was bound to pose problems, even for the great warrior Odin, he had been watching between matches. ​

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A small man approached him as he made his way down onto the tournament hall floor. ​

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"Riven Black, please find your way to the party on floor two." Riven Nodded, only to comply with the small man's next request. "Can i have a autograph, sir?" ​

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Riven laughed.​

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"Sure."​

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Riven bent lower and smiled, the tiny mechanism taking their picture as he continued to the floor above them. Everything seemed so surreal. His last match was with a dangerous Mandalorian. Riven was actually in a pinch moments before the round concluded. Being held by the throat and clobbered in the head a few times, almost cost him the match. With a unpredictable motion of his toned arms he broke the Mandalorian's grip and exploded his armor in one swift motion. When the Mando went to shoot him, Riven rushed him. Landing a fierce kick to the jaw, dragging the man in a arch and onto the ground. Stiff and unconscious the official called the match. Riven didn't need to fear the gun, mainly due to the fact the Mando was out of bullets. Riven during the course of their fight expertly sent a blast of air into the barrel of the gun, forcing the clip to release his deadly slugs onto the floor without notice. The Mandalorian could have won, if Riven didn't break free from his grip, a close match that all the spectators clearly enjoyed. ​

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A few hours later...​

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Riven stepped into the room, smoke lifting to the air as a few special vip's were still present waiting patiently to meet the final four. Making it to the bar Riven asked for a drink and proceeded to the L shaped couch in the corner. Once he sat he felt the cushion expand as his cheeks pressed against it. ​

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"Nice." Riven said. ​

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The couch was comfortable and the other two men that sat to the left of him continued to ignore him. Right when his drink was brought to him by a lovely Twi'Lek , [member="Odin Terrowin"] arrived, sliding into the the only spot next to him. The man was direct and immediately started conversation. Unsure of how to approach another combatant outside the ring his observed him quickly, just like the ring, no weapons seemed to be equipped to anything on his person. It was rare to come across another fighter without weapons, or chose not to use them, unless absolutely necessary. Grabbing the drink from the server he winked, a smile reaching his face after he took a quick sip.​

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"Own Nar Shaadda? Who would want to?" Riven said, throwing a joke back at him with a light chuckle. It was nice to finally settle down after an entire day of skirmishing. "Those hands of yours, devastating. I can see it in your martial arts, your form is solid. From one artist to another I'd love to learn your ways sometime in the future, anything to improve my defenses."​

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Lifting the cup to the air Riven smiled, taking another sip. ​

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"Brandy, from Commenor, want some?"​

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Odin was clearly a diligent man in the way he fought. He was patient much like Riven. Waiting and observing at the right time to strike. They were in essence completely different, but one in the same. Cut from the same cloth, that many refused to grab at. The future seemed bright for a man like Odin, during his battles Riven could see the good in his art. The refusal to kill unless needed. An act of kindness that was rare in dark times like these. He shook his head, looking at Odin. ​

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"How rude of me, I never fully answered your question, I've placed a few bets, hoping to get some credits out of this tourney. So far I'd say I'm doing alright."​

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He smiled, being humble was almost like lying now. Riven was averting any hints to his secrets. Either way, the finals were going to be difficult.​