The air hung thick with the scent of deathsticks and the combined sweat of the many species packed into the small spectator section around the fighting ring. Heat and odor had no place to escape to in a cramped chamber like this one. The unholy cocktail created by the combined excretions of the crowd included that of devaronians, bothans and quarren. Even a lone toydarian managed to squeeze into the otherwise full venue by hovering above the rest of them. The noise of the patrons shouting over one another bounced off the walls desperately searching for an exit but finding none. To some it would've been an overwhelming environment. But standing in the pit below was Peedunkee, and he felt right at home. It may have been chaos, but it was his chaos. After all, this was the only kind of ring he could afford to show his face in. An out of the way back alley establishment hosting a "no rules" dueling ring. It had been a long night for him, already three matches deep with one more still to go.
The ring itself was rudimentary, a hard permacrete floor littered with scrapes and streaks of blood. The edges contained all kinds of debris and rot left uncleaned. All around the ring the remains of snacks and booze were strewn about, once projectiles from the spectators above. Sometimes in celebration, most of the time in frustration. Peedunkee himself already had signs of wear and tear. As he stretched in preparation for his final bout many of his ligaments protested their use so soon after the strain put on them in the previous fights. He checked the bandages around his arms and hands, ensuring they were on tight. The normally grey-hued wraps had become a deep purple at the knuckles. The product of his own blood mixing with that of his previous opponents. His back was covered in a sticky substance thrown by a dug who had made the mistake of betting against him in a match earlier that night. His face was equally battered, sporting bruises and even a couple claw marks from being stomped on by a trandoshan. And yet, even with all that, he was itching to go again.
The final enemy standing between him and a nice payday at the end of the night stood across from him in the pit. Only this time he wouldn't be fighting a humanoid creature. No, the thing standing in front of him was a monstrosity born from someone with way too many knives at their disposal. What once was a standard albeit outdated protocol droid had been heavily modified. Sharp object protruded from every inch of its metallic body. All of various lengths and sizes. And he couldn't wait to fight it, it took all his self control not to lunge immediately and wail away. Instead, he stood for now with teeth clenched and fists up, already leaning towards the droid. But head to wait for what seemed like an eternity to him as the host of the event continued to take bets in the stands. All around Peedunkee credits were exchanging hands, more than he'd ever made in his life. Survive one more death trap, and he'd get to take home some of those riches. Finally, with all bets in place the energy in the room changed. He could sense it. All eyes were now on the droid and diminutive blue humanoid below. With a chime from a speaker long in need of replacement, the fight began and he leapt into action.
@Tulos
The ring itself was rudimentary, a hard permacrete floor littered with scrapes and streaks of blood. The edges contained all kinds of debris and rot left uncleaned. All around the ring the remains of snacks and booze were strewn about, once projectiles from the spectators above. Sometimes in celebration, most of the time in frustration. Peedunkee himself already had signs of wear and tear. As he stretched in preparation for his final bout many of his ligaments protested their use so soon after the strain put on them in the previous fights. He checked the bandages around his arms and hands, ensuring they were on tight. The normally grey-hued wraps had become a deep purple at the knuckles. The product of his own blood mixing with that of his previous opponents. His back was covered in a sticky substance thrown by a dug who had made the mistake of betting against him in a match earlier that night. His face was equally battered, sporting bruises and even a couple claw marks from being stomped on by a trandoshan. And yet, even with all that, he was itching to go again.
The final enemy standing between him and a nice payday at the end of the night stood across from him in the pit. Only this time he wouldn't be fighting a humanoid creature. No, the thing standing in front of him was a monstrosity born from someone with way too many knives at their disposal. What once was a standard albeit outdated protocol droid had been heavily modified. Sharp object protruded from every inch of its metallic body. All of various lengths and sizes. And he couldn't wait to fight it, it took all his self control not to lunge immediately and wail away. Instead, he stood for now with teeth clenched and fists up, already leaning towards the droid. But head to wait for what seemed like an eternity to him as the host of the event continued to take bets in the stands. All around Peedunkee credits were exchanging hands, more than he'd ever made in his life. Survive one more death trap, and he'd get to take home some of those riches. Finally, with all bets in place the energy in the room changed. He could sense it. All eyes were now on the droid and diminutive blue humanoid below. With a chime from a speaker long in need of replacement, the fight began and he leapt into action.
@Tulos
