Act of Valor

[Just Matt Now]

The space inside the city walls of Sathad'ra have gotten considerably more...strict. With the recent attacks on TMC's lead casino, reinforcements have been called in response. Led by Commander Jacob Kelene, the Natori Security Company has all but locked down the City of Bones and the spacestation that lies just above it. Coupled with the small fleet, Sathad'ra has never seen more security in all of its existence. Though one thing was for certain, only a fool would try and attack the arena. Owned and run by none other than Borga the Hutt, to which he keeps some of his liquid assets stored deep within for protection. The Hutt made his appearances when need be, but the truth was that he was mainly found in his arena on Nal Hutta. The Deadlands arena here on Zonju V, after been renovated, has generated a hefty profit yet still not in comparison to his other venue. Though Borga knew, with proper guidance, and some outright awesome events, this arena would become the place to be on Zonju V.

The Hutts arrival was nothing less than spectacular. All the stops being taken out and event after event did gladiators throw their lives to entertain the Hutt and his patrons. The arena was filled to the brim, exceeding its maximum capacity even. And the credits were flowing, just the environment Hutts liked best. Gore was something of a commodity like oil, though it was being shed like water. The sands were tainted with the red color, and the crowd cheered the fights on.

"Death!!"

They screamed.

"Kill him!"

They bellowed.

The epitome of physical prowess and capabilities, these gladiators were no joke, and trained their entire lives to participate and die on these very sands. The Hutt sat in his booth, squared away and protected from the other wild fans. Next to him was not the champion people would know on sight. Icarus, was away. A temporary absence called him to his homeworld. While his absence was dearly missed, Borga had other gladiators who could stand in his wake. And beside him now, was the Feeorin, Ralot. A terrible and nasty fighter. As vicious and mean as they come. His muscles billowing out of his armor like it was too small for his size.

A break in the commotion, a turn of events in the current bout. One of Borgas top fighters has fallen, dealt a crippling blow to his thigh. The crowd went wild in fear that their beloved fighter would die here today. Though it was yet to be over. The Chiss fighter retaliated and managed to deal a death blow from his crippled state. The shocking sight of his sword dug deep into the other gladiators rib was enough to bring the roar back tenfold. The crowd stood and shook the stadium with applause.

Borga took the microphone to announce the next fighter.

"Who dares get in the ring? I ask you, people of Zonju V and beyond. Do any of you have the balls to go toe to toe with one of my gladiators? Any of you with the gaul to try and best one of MY men?"

There was always room for events like these. Getting some local jarhead or tough guy to try and beat one of his gladiators. Most of the time it ended with their deaths, though there were the few instances where the volunteer had enough guile to make it out on top. It was always a guess which side the crowd supported, though we would find out soon.

 

[Mr. Mischief]

Chaos. Among the crowd stood a lone figure, a true oddity among the wealth of species present within the blood-thirsty mass of spectators. Each and everyone one of them as if they were of the same mind. They reacted to the fight as if somehow their lives were the ones at stake, riding the highs and lows of the fights as if tamed by the rhythm of the warriors within the pit. Positioned so that he was standing against a section of the wall that hosed the combatants below.

The black armor and helmet that the figure wore glinted in the light of the sun, underneath the fresh coats of paint and polish numerous battle marks could be found. His appearance and the presence in which he seemed to exude onto those that had crowded in around him gave him a small berth of space. The breathing room had been given to him after the overeager Rodian tried to push in front of him due its inability to see behind the collective height of those among the crowd. A quick elbow to the face had left the small green alien flat on his back and those that were closed around Gideon backed up a step.

His calculating eyes had never left match below... waiting to behold the glory of a life ending. It was a feeling unlike any other and in those brief first few seconds of witnessing such an act, he felt truly alive. That is why he does the things he does. For life. Is there a better way to face life than being constantly in the shadow of death, thus far Gideon had yet to find anything that could compare.

When the crowd cried out for the expected death of the favored Chiss warrior, a menacing smirk formed unknown beneath the shell upon the only real thing of Gideon Lewis that remained. His face and head.

He'll be fine. They need only pay attention and they could see it for themselves. Pathetic. The Human is tired and swinging wildly.​

The sound of the respirator within his helmet dispelling a heavy sigh is heard emitting in a crackling purge of air. A light shake of his head follows, as his thoughts mimic the action before him. The opposition had long since fallen into a routine of swinging wildly with the blade in his hands, the sweeping downward stroke that he'd looked to finish the Chiss with had been his downfall. The action had been predictable approach within the mind of Gideon, and the resulting counter-response that followed. Granting an opening for the injured man to place his sword expertly into the exposed chest of the man looming over him. The tip of his sword piercing his opponent's heart. The Chiss had won.

That is when the challenge rang out over the speakers that filled the stadium. Borga, the owner of the Arena and powerful member of the Hutt Cartel, had issued a challenge to anyone in the crowd to enter the ring. The smirk that had found a place upon the battered face of Gideon quickly spread into an overjoyed expression. Though, none of this could be seen. The only sign of his excitement was the fact that his feet might have actually touched the sand of the Gladiatorial ring before the Hutt had finished speaking. As he rose from the crouched position that he had assumed to assist in absorbing the impact of his entry, both hands reached for the releases on his helmet.

Silence had fallen over the crowd at this point... the sound of his feet treading through the orange sand could actually be heard. His gait was slow, almost as if to match the lazy approach Gideon had taken in the removal of his helmet. As it finally lifted up and out of the way he looked out towards Borga whom he was crossing the ring so that they may look upon each other's faces as they spoke.

Finally reaching a distance that seemed appropriate the armor-clad warrior paused. The grotesque appearance of the cybernetics merging with his skull could really be made out at this distance. His equally grotesque hands that went uncovered by his armor were clutched into tight fists.

"I, Gideon Lewis, accept the challenge offered."​

He'd wanted to ask about his weapons... if he'd have to submit them over or if he would be permitted to use them. Subconsciously, a hand lifted to reach over his right shoulder finding comfort in the cold metal that it took hold of. The hilt of his sword that was tucked neatly into the sheath that was molded into the armor that he wore. Now consciously fighting the urge to allow his other hand to find a home upon the shorter blades hilt that could be found on his lower back, left hip.

Gideon was itching for a fight. Too much time had went by since his last killing and the thirst was at an all-time high. Though, Bounties that are brought back alive tend to pay more and so he'd been neglecting his favorite hobby. It was time to get back into the groove of things.

 

[Just Matt Now]

Although bounty hunting and mercenary work were so much different. Any who stepped into the ring for the first time and lived to speak about it, would tell of the amount of intensity there was. Yes bounty hunting got dangerous, but for the most part, it was merely hunting. And street fights were just that, untrained thugs who act smart and get tough. Although, there there are those who do know how to fight. And when an all out brawl does take heat, the outcome is only admired by the winner. The latter being the most closely related to actual arena fighting...but none could come close to comparison. As Gideon stepped up to take the challenge, Borga tried to make a read on him. There were those he respected, those volunteers who wanted to face the challenge. Then there were those foolish enough to think they were the best, and wanted to prove it. Borga had less respect for those...much less respect. Though right now the Hutt could not tell which this character was. Was he the noble crusader who wants a respectable challenge? Or was he the belligerent dummy who thinks this is just a game?

They would soon find out.

The Hutt noticed the weapons already sheathed on the mans person. He didnt mind personal weapons, so long as they were not blasters, or any variants. His fighters had the best weapons money could buy. Top of the line steel and leather for the grips. The best vibro-weapons on the market, all geared towards this style of fighting, and what weapon the user preferred. There were so many different styles.

"Ahh, I see we have a contestant willing to die already." Ralot stepped forward, in an attempt to free what arrogance he felt the man was portraying. Although the Hutts large hand stopped him, shaking his head in disapproval. If he slaughtered all of the volunteers they had, no one would dare enter the ring.

"I can see that you have your own weapons. I will allow it only if you do not have any projectiles." The Hutt bellowed over the loudspeakers in Huttese. The crowd went silent, wanting to see who this man was and what he was really capable of. Most of the people in the crowd did not believe any volunteer could match up against a gladiator, though sometimes they were proven wrong. Fewer than most.

 

[Mr. Mischief]

It wasn't confidence or pride that had brought Gideon to this moment. No, the events and decisions that left him now standing in an arena of death before thousands of spectators was much more measured than some simple minded excuse. There was always a reason for each action that he took, no matter how suicidal the undertaking may be. One of the reasons that he stood upon the orange sand beneath his feet, was so eloquently voiced by the main Hutt in charge. He had entered the pit fully accepting the possibility that he may not leave it... that his borrowed time would finally run out.

Though, do not mistaken his willingness to die for a person who had given up on life. Far from it, Gideon believed that in order to truly live one must place themselves in situations where death is the more likely outcome. It was something that the Bounty Hunter tried to personify, a mantra if you will. There wasn't much in this galaxy that could make the man feel more alive than in the moments that the cold embrace of death was within reach. Coupled with his desire to seek life through a dance with death, are the other reasons that he had taken up the challenge... He's hungry for recognition within the organization that he now calls his home and the fact that he is nothing more than a peon amongst their ranks.

So, when Borga declared that he could keep his weapons so long as he didn't use a firearm of any variation. Gideon smiled, glad that the fight would maintain a more personal level of combat. Intimate even. His right hand lifted to touch the handles of the throwing knives slid into their resting place upon his left forearm.

He didn't say anything about you...​

Gideon thought as the helmet that he'd been clutching in his left hand was placed back into place upon his head. The sound of the locks taking hold and he flash of light from his helmet rebooting filled his senses. As the startup readouts finished their diagnostics of his health, the HUD lost the haze and turned crystal clear. Remaining silent Gideon chose not to voice his readiness by words, but instead by the action of his helmet being replaced. There were no words for what was to come... none, that would any value or weight. Hell, he just wanted a good fight.

 

[Just Matt Now]

The Hutt smiled. He was glad to see people volunteer. It added more of a personal spectacle to his arena. Though in some cases, this becomes more of a personal vendetta. Some people sought death just as much as they sought revenge. And if they could humiliate the Hutt in his own ring, their vengeance would be paid. Although Borga would never let this happen. His fighters were too strong, and he had too many. Each boasting their own styles of expertise, and exacting them in the ring as if they were the ones to create each form.

This man, Gideon Lewis, he may seem like he had the experience and know-how of a true fighter, but that will be pushed and tested when he faced Borga's fighters. And the Hutt knew just who to pit against the shadowy figure. The gates across from the volunteer dropped down from its chains. The darkness pitch black seemingly to hide whoever was to step out. Noises could be heard, they were animalistic, ferocious, and terrifying. Some of those in the crowd could recognize this ones groans and roars, although most were just as curious as Gideon.

"I give you...Arka the War Machine!!!!"

The crowd took a moment before realizing who the gladiator mentioned was. The massive creature was suspected to be away, not in Borga's camp any longer. His atrocities including killing and savagely tearing up gladiators in Borga's ludus. His savagery was suspected to have him killed. The shock of the crowd was broken by their screams and applause. This unexpected turn was something that would certainly put more credits in the Hutts pockets.

[floatleft]http://th03.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/123/6/6/war_bear_by_cloudminedesign-d4yekwv.jpg[/floatleft]
Not moments later, the massive and ferocious Arnurgh shot out of the blackness like a cannon. And his target was none other than the brave volunteer. Arka was faster than one would expect a massive bear to be, and Gideon would also be shocked by his power and swiftness. In his hand was a large scyth, his preferred weapon. The vibroblade fitting on its blade made it more lethal then it appeared.

"RRrroooooaarrghhhhh Raahhhaggrrrghhh!"

The bear closed the large gap between them with mere seconds. Borga hadnt announced the begin of the duel, although by the way Arka had attacked it was clear that he had no intention of slowing down. Every muscle in his body was shown passed his tough armor. And the ground seemed to shake underneath his feet. The beast would start with an overhead strike, though he was quick enough to parry or counter anything that passed.

 

[Mr. Mischief]

Defiant. It was a single word that could best describe the posture that Gideon had assumed. With his back straight and shoulders squared, the former Ravager of the Blackguard rolled his head out of habit. No audible cracks or pops to signify a release of tension that such an action would normally create, instead the servos and mechanics of his artificial frame merely whirred and whined at the movement. As the action came to completion, his head craned towards the direction that elicited the horrendous sounds. The first being the terrible screeching of the gate being released from the chains that bound it. The noises that followed could only be described as savage and animalistic...

Whatever lies ahead…​

The internal monologue that Gideon was about to recite in an effort to bolster his resolve and courage, was rudely interrupted by the deadly cry of the beast that lurked within the darkness of the newly opened cell. The hulking monster that charged forth from the veil of shadows had a murderous look upon his face, matched only by the ruthless aggression that he seemingly possessed. Placing the index finger of his right hand upon his helmet where his temple would be, the HUD of Gideon’s helmet adjusted to give him a closer look upon his charging foe. The fast clock-wise motion that he’d utilized to zoom-in had slowly begun to reverse allowing him to maintain a healthy focus upon his adversary.

The small allotment of time that he had to assess the beast was used to make notes that would aid him in the duel to the death. With an agile mind, Gideon filed away the knowledge of where each joint within the Arnurgh’s armor was. Along with this, the speed of his gait which could be estimated by the rangefinder that steadily rattled off numbers as the bear drew nearer.

His posturing had never changed. Defiant even until the very end… or so it would seem.

Let's play.​

A smirk formed beneath the shroud of metal that masked his face. He had restrained from moving until he’d heard the large intake of breath that Arka had taken in, fueling his lungs to prepare for a malicious downward swipe with his scythe. Though, as the massive weapon came crashing down upon him… Gideon released the blast of Force energy that he had begun to gather while familiarizing himself with the monstrosity looming over him. The repulse that poured out of him and into the surrounding space, was enough to drive beast backwards into an awkward stagger… the weight of his weapon now pulling him away from Gideon instead of cleaving through him.

It was at this time that Gideon finally moved, his eyes remained trained on Arka. As his body slowly shifted and turned, in an almost ominous and creepy manner to match the direction of his gaze. Knowing that his longer blades wouldn’t be of much use against the beast due to their slashing nature, Gideon called his twin shotos forth from their sheaths through manipulating the Force. Not wasting a moment, he pounched.

A quick crouch that was reversed almost instantly, Gideon sprang forth with blades in hand. His right hand clutching the hilt in a traditional grip, while his left shown the more unconventional reverse grip. One for stabbing and powerful strikes, with the other meant for defense and the opportunistic slashing motion. For this assault though, Gideon was aiming for the lower extremities of the Arnurgh in hopes of delivering a blow to the exposed flesh. A strike that would not only slow the monster, but weaken him as well due to the inability to put his full weight behind a strike anymore. Whether the strike landed or not, the prospect of the Cartel would be ready for any counter-attack that followed…

 

[Just Matt Now]

The shock of the crowd was mimicked by the Hutt owner as well. This newcomers use of the Force was unexpected...and unwarranted. While one of Borga's confidants rose to object to the bout from proceeding, the Hutt raised his large hand to stop him, nodding as he did so. It was clear that the Hutt had full faith that this bout would go in his favor, despite the unfair advantage taken by this newcomer.

Arka was just as surprised, though this only angered him. He was not touched with the ability to use the Force, but he did know that it must have took quite the amount of energy to stop his charge. He also knew these sands. The bear, now being pushed away, did not let Gideon get within reach of his scythe or even his own claws. Pressing him with the end of the blade as if it were a spear, the long sharp blade acted as a bar to cross. The bear lunged and lunged at Gideon trying to stab him with the wide end of the blade. It was with enough power and force to cut right through him, and he aimed to.

The bear growled and grunted. He persisted and made sure that Gideon could not get within attacking range. Now slashing upwards with his blade, he continued the slash with another diagonal attack, sure this time that he would at least connect with the mans armor.

 

[Mr. Mischief]

It would be an understatement to say that Gideon was agitated by the bears ability to bounce back so quickly from the powerful current expelled from the Force Repulse, but such is the life of a warrior. When one door is slammed shut, another is forced open... if only by the smallest of margins. A scowl crossed the veiled features of his face while he maneuvered to regain a solid footing within the orange sand underneath his feet, so that he could fall into a momentary retreat. Just barely missing the lunging attack of his adversary. Quick feet, ensured that he remained just out of reach of the assailant who seemed determined to rend him in two.

Patience...​

Was the thought that lingered within the mind of the near-human as he calculated his next advance, though when the beast swung his mighty weapon into an upward arch Gideon leapt forward. The mistake of not heeding his own advice nearly cost him his life. Because, when the scythe reached the apex of its climb it shifted and came crashing back down in a diagonal slice that should have severed Gideon from shoulder to the opposing hip. But, thanks to the aid of the Force and the supernatural reflexes that it provided... the man was able to nimbly dance under the oncoming blow. The sound of the blade cutting through the duraplast upon his back could be heard throughout the arena, thanks to the near silent onlookers. The weapon had managed to make contact, but it hadn't managed to fully pierce his armor.

As the former Black guard member rose from the roll, he lashed out with both of his blades... the one held in the reverse grip within his left hand attempted to slice the backside of bears leg where the heel meets the ankle, while the other blade held in the traditional since aimed for the soft bit of flesh just above the knee. The motion would leave the man with his arms spread wide as he rose, which he would then turn into a few slashes as he twirled to place himself behind the beast. Each strike was aimed for the right side of the bear. The strikes fell within this sequence... ankle, knee, hip, and then finally right shoulder blade.

His movements were swift and as he turned to complete his pirouette around the beast. Gideon's stance was one of sheer determination... the beast had nearly ended him and he intended to not let himself be caught off-guard like that again. He needed to not let his confidence get the best of him, because in a situation such as this. The thing that will defeat you the quickest... is yourself.