It's only a flesh wound...

[Bad Karma]

Location: Coruscant (Slums)

- FIGHT 3 - The Main Event​

SLAVE #420​

vs.​

SLAVE #317​

WARNING:​ ​ ​ ​ SLAVE #420 IS A GRUESOME SIGHT TO BEHOLD. WE STRONGLY ADVISE THOSE THAT SUFFER FROM A WEEK STOMACHE TO LEAVE THE STADIUM OR VIEWING PLATFORMS. REMEMBER THAT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.​

---

The information flashed upon the various holoscreens that hung above the pit, which was a modest fifteen by fifteen meter 'grave' with six-meter walls and an electrified cage to contain the combatants. The vast majority of the white sand that covered the floor of the pit had been tainted red. Slowly, as the spectators took notice of the announcement the complacent arena once again began to stir in preparation for the main event. Most of them had come solely for this contest, it was rumored that someone had found a boy incapable of dying... that the slave was death incarnate. While some anxiously awaited the fight, there were some that had taken heed to the warning upon the screen and decided to wait and just hear about the outcome from someone. The noise level continued to rise until a single gunshot rang out signifying the start of the match... With powerful strides and a swagger uncommon to that of a slave emerged a tall dark-skinned male riddled with tattoos where the eyes could see. The man was a giant... broad shoulders, bulging arms, and hands large enough to grip an average sized human skull. His pants were clean and did not appear to have any scars that caught the eye, this slave had been well kept and rewarded. He made his way to the center of the pit and proceeded to turn in a full circle with his arms extended out from his body. It was as if he relished the attention... the moment... when he completed his turn, he was facing the entrance that housed his opponent. "Death has come from you poor slave..." said the slave with a tone that carried that same swagger that seemed to ooze from his very pores. "... but there is no need to hide... you're only further shaming yourself." Although, little did he know... that lurking within the shadows of the confines of that small cube was a true menace... the monster... "... poor slave... poor slave... poor slave..."​ The whisper was so faint that it failed to reach the ears of the man who sat muttering the words repeatedly. Lost within the realm of his mind the slave preferred to remain within the comfort of the shadows instead of the bright lights of the pit... though, as the cry of bloodlust from the crowd grew louder the slavers became impatient and eventually took action. Slim rods crackling with electricity emerged from various holes within the small confines driving the reluctant combatant out of the shadows and into the light... The crowd fell silent as a few hundred eyes fell upon the creature that stood hunched over before them. Many questioned if it were even a man... The sound of three sharp cracks came from the beast as he rolled his head upon his shoulders in an effort to loosen his neck... two more came forth as he rose from his crouched position and arched his back. As he straightened out his silver eyes were towards the sky, ignorant to the crowd and the man standing before him preparing to end his life. None of that mattered though... because he was not locked inside of his prison. The box was a horrible thing to suffer through for even a day... now imagine twenty years... only to be removed two or three times a year for this very reason. To Kill. "Come for me?... COME FOR ME!"​ The deep guttural cry of the smaller, yet unmistakably more menacing of the two beings filled skies and further intensified the utter silence of the masses. What followed was something that no one expected... "BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"​ His maniacal laughter continued well into his advance as he bound forward with rapid strokes of his legs to close the gap between them. As the distance grew smaller, the slave dropped his torso and preceded forward in a gait similar to some kind of animal... hands and feet carried him forward at a brisk pace. Just before reaching the stunned warrior before him, the beast drew up two handfuls of the coarse sand below and launched them at his opposition. Following up with a series of kicks and punches to the man's sides, thighs, and head... he was ruthless... though, not all things could be this easy for him. It was not until he smacked into the ground with a sickening thud that his mind finally relinquished itself to the darkness and he lets that last shred of humanity slip away. Still attempting to suck air into his lungs the animal rolls and slowly rights himself, only to end up with a boot from his opponent colliding squarely with his ribcage sending him reeling. As he lay there, clutching his left side and gasping for breath... the dark-skinned warrior took the opportunity to bask in the glow of the enchanted crowd... his crowd.

 

[Black Noise]

Yet, sitting in the crowd, one being sat unimpressed. A woman with hair longer than her own body and a blindfold over her eyes. Leaning on the rail, face upright, the woman tapped the rail impatiently. Her eyes, sightless for so long, 'saw' far more down there than the roaring crowd all around. The dark skinned man who basked in glory, the Sith Master found him so uninteresting. Slowly, she grit her teeth and focused mentally on the fallen animal in the arena.

Extensively examining him, Mira Albion found the beast far more interesting than the supposed 'winning' humanoid. Neither Force Sensitive nor intelligent enough to not turn his back on the enemy, the dark skinned man, from Mira's viewpoint, was like the pinnacle of what a non-force sensitive could become. Those who were not gifted could only bring themselves so far, they could only train themselves so hard. But, there was always a limit, and once they hit it there was no greater they could become.

The animal of a man, the thing that was once human, was more like the untrained Force Sensitive. He was great, powerful, but seemed to have lost his humanity long ago, taken from him by those who both feared him and saw him as a weapon. Humanity, that was something he may never regain. Being that he stood now as a weapon, there existed only one thing in which he could do. This being, Slave #420, he could kill.

With a twist of her hand, a chair slid over from behind and up under the Master. Sitting back, Mira crossed her arms and reached out to the Slave's mind. Perhaps he would hear her, perhaps he would not, whether he chose to allow her into his mind or not was his decision. Even a beast could resist a thought pushed at it's mind if not force fed.

"What will you do now, monster? Inhuman beast. Hideous demon. Unholy stalker, what will you do?"

 

[Athrun Zala]

There were times when even shadows had to venture out into the light, and indeed, the shadows became most apparent. At the same time most were accustomed to the shadows, and so ignored them. That's how he was in a sea of people, one of the many shadows that went unnoticed among the masses. Much of the time he preferred staying in the undercities of various worlds, but occasionally he would venture out into the public. It was easy to blend in, but harder to assault unsuspecting prey; there were always too many witnesses. And yet he was in a location one would describe as sickening and inhumane.

Eugene let out a yawn as he gazed up idly at the holoscreen, depicting the next match. It was commonplace to pit slaves against one another, as the roaring crowds found immense entertainment in the "sport". But in a way, Eugene found it amusing. Slaves were the workforce of many planets, and while the brutality of their masters often ensured death, many ended up stronger and brutal as a result. Didn't the masters know, that in time, they could end up training their own rebellion? Another thought amused him as he glanced down at the slaves, one large and obviously well cared for, and the other...the other looking like a creature from the dead. Those rods the slavers used to keep the slaves at bay were one of their only means of protection. Indeed if one pitted a slave against his owner, the owner would be hard pressed to survive without the use of a superior weapon. So in a way, he found the slaves more interesting than the stupid guards hiding behind their glow rods.

But the one standing on the ground, basking in his self-centered glory and cheers of the ground was a...fool. The thought flickered out like a momentary wave that caused the man next to him to pause in his shouting. Few scars littered the man's body, and as a result the man was foolish. Weak. His strength meant nothing, his battle prowess, the same. He wanted glory, and he had let himself become vulnerable. The only thing he deserved at this point was to have his spine broken and pulled out of his back. Do it. The only way to become strong was through survival, not through pampering. It only proved the point of his own upbringing.

The other man was a wretch to behold, but he had seen enough in his time to passively gaze upon him. He was strong, but uncontrolled. The one downside to the brutal practices of the slavers. But one could be tamed, with time. Men were forged, men were broken. There was another thing about him that he couldn't place his finger on, and he usually could. He sniffed the air, running his tongue across his teeth. His senses were bombarded by the otherwise filthy stink of the place, but there was something else. Someone in the crowd carried the intoxicating scent of the force, and it made the probiscises in his cheeks tremble. Somewhere in the crowd, was a force sensitive, trained or not. But with so many sentients of varying scents, screaming their heads off, he couldn't place it. In fact there was another force sensitive, but this one seemed to stand out, creating that buzzing sensation in his head. But if he reached out, he could make his own force sensitivity known.

So he didn't, instead moving his eyes away from the crowd and back to the contestants. The one, gloating and weak, and the other, crazy and uncontrolled. Who would win? Well, if he had any sense left, the dark skinned one would stop basking in the crowd and turn around. And if the other was smart, he would capitalize on this serious error. Who owned that slave anyway, he wondered? In the end it didn't matter, one would die. But he wondered how the fool would react under pressure, under true pressure. So he sent out a single word across the pit to the dark skinned slave, a word that only he could hear and would carry with it a certain ominous feeling. Run.

-------
(OOC: I asked to join, and was cleared.)

 

[Bad Karma]

Pain. It was something that the beast had become accustomed too... In truth, feeling that burning sensation course through his body was practically more comforting to the man than the absence of it. It meant life, which meant that eventually there would be an opportunity to exact revenge. He had been conditioned this way... twenty years of torture and never knowing what it was like to have a satisfied appetite would do that to a person. It was during this time, as he was channeling that pain into fuel, that something reached out and touched his mind. ""What will you do now, monster? Inhuman beast. Hideous demon. Unholy stalker, what will you do?"" said the mocking voice within his skull. Through a clenched jaw he pushed himself into a seated position and proceeded to look all around him in somewhat of a frantic state. To the spectators, it would seem as if the beast had merely lost that final piece of humanity within him... and in some respects, they were right. The sudden appearance of the voice left the man wondering if the thought had been one of his own... It was then that Fenton remembered where he was and what his purpose was here today. With a sharp intake of breath through his nose, only a small grunt escaped his lips as he shuffled his feet beneath him returning to the crouched stance of a savage animal. His body was coiled tight like a spring, muscle and sinew rippling across his frame as the beast involuntarily flexed repeatedly. With closed fists, knuckles resting upon the sand, and a slight bounce in his heels... one could easily tell that the rotting mass was not out of this fight yet. Being the savage that he is, Fenton never seized the opportunity that his opponent had stupidly given him... no... he wanted to see the fear in the eyes of the warrior before him. Then something changed... the once arrogant warrior boasting for the crowd suddenly became unsettled. His head snapping around to look wearily at the beast of a man whom was simply... waiting. As he took in the appearance of his adversary something caught his attention, the corner of the creatures mouth began to twitch before ever so slowly spreading into a smile that barred his yellow teeth. That is when the fear hit him and Fenton seized the moment. "... no more..." The words were barely audible, yet held a tremendous amount of weight. He was growing tired of these games... tired of this existence... and so he finally gave into the darkness. His vision went red, heart-rate increased, and the slight tremor in his feet earlier had evolved into a force of its own. A single tear fell from his left eye... "NO MORE!" Cried the forsaken one as he burst forth from his crouched position. Empowered by the years of anguish, he was moving at a rate of speed far greater than that of an average human and when he collided with the bear of a man. The sound of bones snapping could be heard throughout the complex, which was followed shortly by a scream that didn't sound appropriate coming from such a man. Fenton wasn't finished though... wrapping the man into his arms and using his momentum as leverage, the warrior was lifted and driven into the ground with a sickening crunch. Once he had positioned himself atop of his fallen adversary, the menace proceeded to rain hammer fists down upon the warriors skull. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH The blows continued to strike like lightning and before long the man's face had caved in and the crunching noise evolved into more of a squishing sound. The crowd had gone silent and remained that way, until the starving man... tore a portion of flesh from his victim's face and plopped it into his mouth. Just as he had begun to chew, the crowd erupted in both outrage and sickness... Their cries fell upon deaf ears... The slavers were rushing into the pit armed with various weapons. They had come in force, not to restrain the creature chomping happily upon the flesh of his own kind, but to kill him and he was severely outnumbered. There were ten of them and he stood alone. Fenton began to laugh maniacally as his eyes took into the frightened looks upon the faces of his slavers. With the knowledge that death was at hand, the beast slurped a tendon into his gullet that hung like a piece of spaghetti from the corner of his mouth. He knew that death was calling him... but what death didn't know was that this particular beast was forged within the flames. He was death incarnate. Using the anger that fueled him... Fenton lashed out at the one directly in front of him. He had successfully removed the man's throat in a bloody display, before he was swarmed by the others.

---

OOC: Wanted this to be more detailed, but unfortunately my two year old has come down with the flu and made getting a moment to myself impossible. Feel free to join in on the fun now guys. ;D

 

[Negative Blessing]

A lone figure stood in the shadows, her black cloak folded around her small frame and the hood draped over her head leaving only her lower face exposed, unknown to those around her nor did she appeal to them. The masses were concentrated on the fight between two slaves in the pit and the figure in the shadows was slightly confused by the various emotions she was senses from the crowd. She could not comprehend why people, mainly the scum of the galaxy, flocked to these events. Was it because they lacked the necessary skills in life to compete in such events themselves, living out their fantasies through the two combatants below? Was it because the greed that had drawn them to this sight before her promised them both a profit and entertainment at the expense of others? Or was it when the crowd looked upon the two slaves they saw nothing at all except two beings beaten and bred and forced to to engage in some ritualistic macabre dance of death? She scoffed at all these thoughts.

She knew why she was here. The Force had called out to her. She felt a tremor in the Force, primal, raw, and unpolished. When she dug deeper into the Force, she knew it was not the stench of a Jedi but something more dangerous and dark. She could hear the faint whispers of the Dark Side calling out to someone and yet, they had not opened their mind up. Guiding her through the back streets of some named planet she refused to put to her memory, the Force had brought her here to this scene. She reached out through the Force touching the minds of everyone, including the first four fighters from the previous two fights and felt nothing. But the pull was there and it was growing stronger.

Suddenly like a flash of light, the presence she was seeking had appeared. Moving from the shadows she pushed her way through the crowd to see with her own eyes at what had drawn her to this arena. What she saw put a sinister smile upon her face. This being reminded her of Darth Sion is some ways and it was this being that the Dark Side was speaking to. She watched as the being fought and destroyed his opponent, but to the horror of the crowd and slavers, the being began to consume the flesh of its fallen foe. The figure in black watched as the pit doors were flung apart and several slavers rushed in to kill this slave, a title this being would suffer no more. Through the Dark Side of the Force, the figure felt his anger rise and she inhaled it deeply.

She watched as it killed one of the slavers but saw several others had swarmed the being and was now hell bent on killing him. She snarled at the cowardice of the slavers and using the Force, she leaped into the air landing next to the being, as blood and gore dripped from his mouth. "Is it not law that if a slave wins a contest to the death that the victor has earned its freedom? Yet here you stand like cowards and breakers of your own laws intending to kill him, rather than release him," the female figure said pulling back the folds of her cloak exposing the two hilts that dangled separately from her waist.

One of the slavers, a tall and rather ugly creature pointed his finger at the female and bellowed in a disrespecting tone, "Do not speak to us about our laws Sith. We do..." The creatures eyes bulged slightly as its dirty fingers reached toward his throat to pull and claw at the invisible hands that were firmly clutching his throat; shutting down the air flow to its lungs. The creature began to lift off the ground as the female replied, "You will not speak to me in such poor manners again!" With a flick of her wrist she broke the neck of the creature and dropped his lifeless body to the pit's blood crusted floor.

The slavers, stunned at what just befallen one of their comrades, did not see the Sith unclasp her two hilts but they heard the familiar snap hiss as the two black and purple blades hummed into existence. Without taking her eyes off the slavers, she said the being that drawn her to this place, "Freedom is not a concept that is granted....but earned." She charged at the slavers and in quick fashion, one by one they fell to her blades.

Standing in the centre of the pit, her humming blades on the sides of her and pointing to the ground she said to the crowd, "This being is a slave no more! He has earned his freedom through contest of battle and if any of you have a different opinion on this matter, please feel free to come down here and indulge me until we have come to some sort of understanding." When the crowd refused to stir into action and the other slavers began to slowly flock in the opposite direction of the Sith and the now freed being, she turned her attention to the being.

"You have suffered greatly...I sense your anger....I sense your hatred....I sense your hunger...but it is without direction and it serves you no just cause or grants you a true purpose. You seek revenge against these slavers....you seek justice for your suffering...and I shall give it to you. The Force flows through you and the Dark Side calls to you...seeking to cradle you in its dark and cold embrace. That is your destiny and that is your true fate. Your body writhes in pain but I can teach you that pain can be used to fill such passions. But before that can begin....you must prove that I am not wasting my time nor have I saved a pathetic creature who I thought was powerful and fearsome. You seek revenge....you seek your justice....then there, take it," the figure says pointing at the slavers trying to flee the scene. "They are unarmed.....but so where you when they sought to destroy you, punish you, belittle you."

The Sith Master stepped to the side allowing this being a clear path to his ultimate goal, a chance to shed his chains of restrictions and a chance to embrace his freedom.

 

[Black Noise]

The Sith Master stood as the monster beat the other man to death, laughter on her lips and clapping resounding from her hands. Indeed, this man was a monster, a demon, an unholy stalker, and Mira loved every bit of it. All that strength, all that hatred, all of that pain. Mira found every bit of it utterly intoxicating. Stepping out onto the railing and standing atop it, she waited and 'watched' as another Sith leapt into the fray of the arena.

Crooking her head, Mira observed the other Sith through her Sight, reading in on the being and recognizing her fairly quickly. Sith Masters were few and far between, so it was not uncommon for Masters to know of each other even without having met each other. Though, that did not mean Mira knew very much about the Togruta, Grima Volitu. All Mira knew was what she had heard from the lips of acolytes, and what she heard did not give her much more than an inkling of a want to instigate a fight with the Sith.

'Watching' the woman cut down the slavers, Mira shook her head at the lack of enjoyment the Sith seemed to take in it. Alas, Mira knew that very few were like her, very few took enjoyment from the heedless slaughter of beings for slaughter's sake. Applying her enjoyment to others was simply not acceptable at times. Crouching low, Mira continued to observe as Grima Volitu ordered the monster to kill the fleeing slavers. Although Mira had the intense, burning desire to go down there and claim the monster for herself, she waited.

 

[Bad Karma]

Silence. It was unbecoming... and went completely against the grain of the events that mere seconds before had been chaotic. The crowd had been rendered speechless, but by what? As his eyes began to come back into focus and the ringing in his ears finally egan to subside, Fenton pried himself from the sandy floor of the pit to balance himself upon an elbow. With a shake of his head the remaining cobwebs werbe swept from his mind and the beast of a man allowed himself to take in his surroundings... to discover the reason as to why he was no longer being beaten. He was sure that he could hear a woman speaking on his behalf... though for what reason?

Then he heard it...Snap-hiss... The unfamiliar sound filled his ears and a sudden surge of light forced the sinister being to divert his eyes momentarily. When he turned to look back towards the brilliant glow all he could focus on was the movement of the know obvious twin blades of light that seemingly danced upon the wind, their wielder seemingly invisible at the rate of speed she moved at... or so it seemed the him. One by one, the slavers fell to the deadly weapons... their wounds quickly sealed shut from the heat of the weapon. It wasn't until the remaining nine men had been cut down that the alien female with red skin and white markings began to speak once again.

" This being is a slave no more! He has earned his freedom through contest of battle and if any of you have a different opinion on this matter, please feel free to come down here and indulge me until we have come to some sort of understanding." Wide eyed, the slave turned to gaze upon the faces within the stands and the common trait that lined the face of the masses was fear. The rhythm of his heart began to race...

Is it really that easy?... That a woman, though talented as she may be, has single-handedly freed me? What is this wicked power that she harnesses? Questioned the demonic figure... though, the Sith wouldn't keep him waiting for answers as she quickly fell into another monologue about his existence.

"You have suffered greatly...I sense your anger....I sense your hatred....I sense your hunger...but it is without direction and it serves you no just cause or grants you a true purpose. You seek revenge against these slavers....you seek justice for your suffering...and I shall give it to you. The Force flows through you and the Dark Side calls to you...seeking to cradle you in its dark and cold embrace. That is your destiny and that is your true fate. Your body writhes in pain but I can teach you that pain can be used to fill such passions. But before that can begin....you must prove that I am not wasting my time nor have I saved a pathetic creature who I thought was powerful and fearsome. You seek revenge....you seek your justice....then there, take it," It was then that she lifted a single finger to point towards the remaining slavers. "They are unarmed.....but so where you when they sought to destroy you, punish you, belittle you." These final words were spoken as she stepped to the side, as if to reveal the path to Fenton's future... his destiny.

By this time, the menace had resumed his all-to-familiar animalistic crouch and upon realizing what the Sith Master was bestowing upon him, the devious grin that rarely adorned the face of the monster once again found a home among his features. Trapped within the confines of his rotting teeth were bits of flesh from the recently slain... a reminder of the true nature of the beast at the Sith's feet. With a slight shift of his neck, Fenton allowed that sadistic face to gaze upon the face of his "savior", followed by a barely recognizable nod of the head. A sign of acceptance and understanding from the uncivilized being; and with that the hunted had become the hunter. Only two remained... his own slaver and the man who organized the fights, both of which were driving forces that have fed Fenton's insanity.

Allowing a small grunt to escape him, Fenton bound forward from the crouched position that he'd come so accustomed too. As he moved across the pit, hand over feet, the beast located a short length of chain from the sand and lifted it while maintaining his stride. Quickly, shuffling it into his mouth for temporary storage.Taking another powerful stride of his arms upon the ground the beast quickened his pace across the arena that rivaled an average human's sprinting speed. He was now closing upon his prey, and decided that the organizer would be first. His stance shifted to a more humanesque fashion, hands no longer used for movement, and proceeded to spit the chain from his mouth. Which was effectively caught and quickly brandished high above his head and sent into a consistent and steady swinging motion. Whenever the fat organizer was finally within striking distance Fenton utilized the inertia behind the swing to deal astonishing damage to the man's skull. Effectively, crushing the back of the man's cranium into the remainder of his head... resulting in instant death. Turning his attention towards the man that had tormented him for his entire known history...

The owner was a bit more elusive... which forced Fenton to think of various locations that the man would attempt to hide, but he knew nothing of this city. All he'd ever known was the cage, which was likely the reasoning behind the beasts preference to hold himself in that crouched animalistic way. Though something was guiding him... driving him towards something... or someone.

When he spotted his masters ship and could tell that it was prepping for departure. Instincts kicked in and the animal took over... vision clouded and mind devoutly focused on the kill... He moved like a ghost towards the freighter and managed to sneak inside without notice. Once inside, the cries of his former comrades fell upon deaf ears... His focus was unwavering and as he moved through the past the desperate souls, Fenton would stare them down with his bloodlust intoxicated gaze that would quickly silence them. As he reached the cockpit, his former master came into view seated within the pilot seat frantically punching buttons and flipping switches. He had no idea that Fenton had managed to track him back to the ship, or that he would've been capable of navigating through it without alarming his crew... until the chain was slipped around his neck and he was pulled into the shadows. It was then that the animal leaned in close enough to whisper into the man's ear.

"It's time for your cleansing... Master...I wonder if you will be able to survive the process... or will the pain simply be too much for you..." To further intensify the man's fear, Fenton allowed the light to fall upon his grotesque face for just a moment... flashing that award-winning smile laced with flesh and blood. "... Let's find out shall we?"

"NOOOO! Please! Please! Don't do this! No...don't... ugh ugh ugh..." The man's screams were sure to be heard for miles... and Fenton was taking great pleasure in every single anguish filled cry. The acid bath had been completed, which consisted of the monster literally dropping the man into the tank of acid that they'd used on him. Once, he was done he'd made his way back into the arena. The Togruta Sith still stood there, whether she had followed and watched, or simply remained there as she seemed to have was beyond the animal. Now, that his bloodlust had been sated anyone could see the physical difference in the man's posture. Having retained the still savage looking upright stance.

What now...

 

[Black Noise]

Mira could not take it anymore, the slaughter, the smell of blood and the feces of men hastily crapping themselves out of fear worked Mira up into a frenzy. The Monster was no unhoned weapon of evil, smashing blindly through his enemies like a Gundark. No, this monster mirrored more the beasts known as the Vornskr, demonic, hound-like animals with a taste for Force Sensitive blood. Yes, that is who this stalker reminded Mira of.

The Sith Juggernaut leapt from her position atop the rail, gathering the forces of the Dark Side to herself as she did, and landed between the monster and the Togruta Sith Master. Grinning wildly, the blind woman called out to Grima Volitu, attempting to not laugh as she did.
"Well, I don't know about you but I've seen enough. This one is mine, Master Volitu, be on your way."

The way Mira spoke, the way she stood, the manner in which, like a flood of blood pouring into an endless, darkness filled canyon, the blind Echani gathered the Dark Side to herself, all screamed battle. She wanted this man, she desired, perhaps even lusted after the darkness that was the monster behind her, and she was prepared to fight for it.

But as she stood, defiant and angry as ever, the Sith Master wondered how much Grima Volitu knew of her. Mira knew of Grima Volitu, she knew the Sith Arcanist was a manipulative woman who demanded respect of all whom she saw, but did she know of Mira? Mira, the Sith Juggernaut famous of dueling every single apprentice she ever had before taking them on, the one who trained the, presumably, late Battlemaster of the Late Jedi Order, and the one who's strength was demonstrated in a tie duel between the current Sith Warmaster himself.

Did Grima Volitu know of Mira Albion? Or did she wish to find out?

 

[Athrun Zala]

Who said arena fights couldn't be amusing? It had just gotten that much more amusing, and he leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms against the railing, his eyes watching intently. The crowd was in shock at the proceedings, which had gone from the creature winning the fight, to the slavers trying to kill him, to the new woman in the field. He pursed his lips, was that the one he had sensed before? His eyes flickered left and right as he watched every move, every sweep of her sabers that ended the lives of the slavers. It was a show of power that he wished he were apart of. Indeed, it had been too long since he had participated in anything more than eating the soup of a strong sentient. His tongue moved slowly across his teeth, hearing the final hiss of the lightsaber and cry of pain emitted from the last man. It was far too tempting to jump down there himself.

However the crowd didn't seem to share his enthusiasm. There was awe, there was terror, but mainly there was terror. He could feel it emanating around him, and the two that had been seated beside him got up and ran. Ran for the exit, along with others who didn't wish to be apart of the proceedings, lest the slave or the lightsaber wielder turn on them too. And perhaps they were right, and perhaps not. Had he had his way, then perhaps they would've had something to fear. But there were too many for that and he held these thoughts at bay. He concentrated on the newest person who had joined the fray. He hadn't noticed this one before, or perhaps it was the other one he hadn't noticed. Regardless, he could feel the same dark presence emanating off of her, and it made him hungry. It made him so hungry, he wanted to taste her soup. He wanted to taste them both. He wanted to come out of hiding again, and drain them of every drop of their force. But he remembered the first time he had foolishly attacked a group of sith. Though without the force at that time, they had been a formidable enemy. There was no telling that these two didn't know eachother and wouldn't gang up against him. There was no telling how powerful they were or how well trained they were. Could they resist an anzat's mesmerization AND the force?

He got up and began moving down through the crowd, sending a simple telepathic message to those around him to move aside. A path was cleared for him and he moved easily through the sea of sentients, coming down to the second row, very close to the ring itself. He kept his concealment of the force in place, but it was difficult. The presence of two, no three, strong in the force was absolutely tantalizing. He had isolated himself for too long from the sith, and now he was feeling the effects of it. He had stopped relying on the force so much to sate his needs and returned to his old ways of feeding. It didn't matter to him, but three against one might be too much even for himself. If only there was a way to split them up...his eyes flickered about the arena. Patience was the game, it was always the game. Eventually they might split up, and he would have his chance.

To the rest of the crowd, Eugene was another face in the crowd with no name. A face you were likely to forget because it wasn't important. A face pale with a grey tinge and framed with short brown hair and green eyes. He was dressed all in black, a color that tended to blend in the shadows, and was therefore ignored. He wore a simple tunic that was reminiscent of the ancient black sith uniforms of past, only not as thick and certainly with less flare. His daggers were at his sides, sheathed in black covers and their handles a dulled ebony color. His shortsword, hung at his side in a similar kind of sheath with a similar kind of handle. However these were all hidden by a black trenchcoat he wore, long enough to extend above his ankles and hide the two and a half foot length sword.

To them, he was human, and non force sensitive. His proboscises hid in their cheeks, but they trembled at the proximity of the darksiders, wanting to be out and free. "Be still," he commanded quietly. You'll get your chance. Those near him calmed in response, but he couldn't help it. His force aura was beginning to leak as his hunger began to grow. But perhaps with their own auras, and the untrained one of the creature, he would be ignored as another hopeful unaware of his power in the crowd.

 

[Negative Blessing]

"It took you long enough to reveal yourself Master Albion and join us here in the pit. But why do you of reek of jealousy Sith? Oh...you wish to claim this being as what....a spoil from a victory you did not earn," the Sith Witch mocked. She had heard of the Sith Master Mira Albion and of her past accomplishments. Pointing her finger at the cannibal she added,"You wish to claim this being as yours....after he earned his freedom from one slave trader only to walk freely into the hands of another who spouts of ownership. I wonder what he thinks of that?" Grima shot a glance over at the monster then looked back at the other Sith Master, revealing no expression on her Togruta stripped face

Grima, pulling the flaps of her cloak about her, begins to walk around the pit shaking her head then stopping, lets out a bellow of laughter. As her laughs subsides, she says, "The Jedi gather themselves in a vain attempt to rebuild their Order...and yes, the rumours are true and whats more, there are forces amongst our own Order seeking to rebel against the Empress and the Dark Council, and yet, what do we do? We stand here squabbling amongst ourselves over one Force sensitive who has proven what? That he can kill relentlessly....bah, one needs not be a Sith to extinguish the light of a living sentient. 'Tis no wonder our Order collapses when we allow such petty altercations dictate our common sense."

Grima turns her gaze to the crowd watching them file out from the arena and she smirks at them for she has caught the scent of the other on the prowl. She felt the trappings of the Force in him upon her arrival but it was not him that had drawn her to the arena. Yet this one seems to think he is immune to the strong mind of a Sith Master, thinking he walks about undetected. Still, she mentally applauds his efforts. Grima returned her gaze back to Master Albion.

So Master Albion truly wants this beast for herself? Grima could fill the swirls of the Dark Side gathering in the Sith Master but she was not alarmed. To what end would it serve me to fight another Sith Master, only if to weaken the Sith Order from one of our deaths, for the right to train a being who may not survive her teachings Grima thought as she locked her gaze onto the eyes of the other Sith Master. No, she wished to see the Sith Order flourish not destroy itself! If there was one thing in this galaxy she could truly love, it was the Order that has raised her since childhood and gave her so much, asking nothing in return.

With a cold smile dancing across her lips, she nodded her head slightly and said to Master Albion, "You claim him....but does he wish to be claimed by you? Will he far exceed your expectations you set before him....or will you be forced to kill and discard him for his short comings? Do you think you could control and contain such a being....or will one day your flesh satisfy his hunger? I find myself eager to see what becomes of your attempts to train him."

Turning from the Sith Master, she gives the monster one last look then Force leaps out of the pit while in her mind she knows she has won a small victory here today for the Sith Order but will Master Albion come to the same conclusion. Grima will allow the monster, the former slave, to choose his own Master for now. Stopping at one of the exits and she turns her head toward the figure moving unnoticed through the crowd. Grima smiles and ducks out of the arena.

 

[Black Noise]

Mira 'watched' Volitu, listening to her speech with a quiet disposition and a smirk. Volitu was certainly a strong Sith, with a fairly good head on her shoulders and a mindset to improve the Imperium as a whole. She saw the weaknesses within the Sith, she clearly could pick out the causes of the Sith's problems, and Mira believed the woman sought to fix them. However, Volitu made one mistake in her speech, she was speaking to the wrong audience.

Mira Albion was a former Imperial Knight and a former Jedi Master. She had seen all three sides of the Force and, rather than coming away wiser, she came away as one who did not give a damn. Mira had no concept of common sense, disregarding that for her more favorable ideal of chaos and destruction. Killing those who annoyed her, usually other Sith, and letting live those she found interesting, often Jedi. Unsurprisingly, Mira did not fit in the least with the Sith of the current era. A destructive force that, if the Sith could pin it on her, would likely have been put down for her crimes long ago.

Grima had her faults but, if she operated correctly, she would cause the Sith to flourish in a fantastic manner. Mira would never be like her, and frankly had no inclination to be. Turning to the monster behind her as Volitu left, Mira spoke.
"We shall see, now won't we?"

Holding out her arms, Mira grinned wildly and spoke to the slave. Her armor 'clicked' idly as she did, crimson plates tapping crimson plates, she still wore the armor of the Imperial Knights. It was a relic of her days past, and the first true family she ever had.
"Do you have a name?"

 

[Athrun Zala]

His eyes flickered upwards as the twi'lek hurled herself into the air, landing in the midst of the crowd leaving. Most of them were hurrying out, leaving only a few behind. He took in a sharp inhale, committing her scent to memory. It held alot of power, trained and still more to flourish. And she had separated from the two in the arena. He gave the creature and the miraluka one last glance, before he himself got up alongside another. Slowly he walked, following the ebb and flow of the crowd and her scent. He had lost sight of her, but he could now follow her with his eyes closed. A few telepathic messages to a few participants and they stopped to let him by, and he had soon cleared the exit. They flowed out through the hallways, afraid that the sith would follow, or the creature, or someone. They were plain and simple scared.

So he leaned against the doorframe, letting the rest go as his eyes searched over the various species in the crowd. He took in a deep inhale, ignoring the sweaty dirty fear tainted weak minded fools, and concentrated on the twi'lek sith's scent. He could still pick up her scent along one of the hallways, so he walked, using the nearby sentients for cover.

(OOC: Blegh, didn't mean that to be short, but didn't feel like I could write much.)

 

[Bad Karma]

An air of uncertainty washed over the beast... a sensation unlike any that he had experienced thus far in his life. The conversation between the two women, both of which displayed a true finesse in their entrances into the pit, left Fenton's head spinning. They spoke of Jedi, Sith, and the Force... none of them holding any weight to the creature that stood seemingly between them. His comprehensive of the subject was non-existent. Having been practically isolated since birth, the menace had never had the opportunity to learn about such things. It wasn't until the female of some alien origin turned and walked towards one of the exits that Fenton began to have some sort of understanding as to what their conversation had truly been about. One of them wanted him... whether to own the beast or what... that was the true question.

Then the woman in red armor, with ankle-length white hair, and what appeared to be a bandage over her eyes turned to face him. There is something about this woman that I can't help but find... Fenton allowed himself a moment to draw a deep breath in through his nose. The slight breeze that carried her scent to him at that exact moment left the beast with a mouth watering sensation. There were only a select few notes that he had noticed and yet they elicited a physical reaction out of the cannibal. Dirt, dried-blood, some kind of floral shampoo perhaps, a hint of feminine musk, and death...intoxicating.

When her arms lifted and a broad smile crept across the face of the female warrior, as if offering an embrace of sorts, it created conflict within the monster... His head shifted into a slight angle to the left in a physical expression of his confusion, but tentatively he stepped forward to her. It seemed that gravity would not allow him to be apart from this woman for a moment longer and that timid shuffling of feet quickly shifted into a sprint, straight into the woman's arms. She had barely managed to get out the question regarding his name when Fenton's arms wrapped tightly around the armored woman. Instantly, Fenton's craned his head forward to sniff at the neck of the woman in his embrace... two long draws of breath followed by a tiny lick, so that he could compare her taste to her scent.

This was his first embrace... and he was reluctant to relinquish her and so he answered her in a whisper into her ear. "No name... only my number..." Another long pull through his nose interrupts his thoughts for a moment, but recovering quickly the man continues. "You can give me a name?"

---

(OOC: Seriously, name him whatever you like... whatever Mira would call something like him. After all, he is essentially going to become your pet. I'm finding myself unfond of the name Fenton for him. Seems like a name of someone nicer than a monster such as he... so yeah.

 

[Negative Blessing]

Grima stood amongst the crowd, cloaked and hidden to the naked eye through her power, Force Cloak, as she watched the unnamed man walk by her looking, and maybe even hunting for her. She had touched his mind briefly when she stood in the Arena talking to Master Albion but only brief enough to plant into his mind her own Force signature. She never made a habit of strolling through the hallways and corridors of the Sith Academies seeking out an Apprentice; no, she allowed them to seek her out and if the proved worthy enough of her teachings, she would see to it they rose through the ranks as a powerful Sith; well trained and well disciplined. Only if they survived her teachings. So the seed was planted and it was time for this man to water the idea.

Grima watched and observed and studied the male Anzati when he took up a position against the door frame. Through the Force, she whispered into his mind, "Only the weak willed allow themselves to lose sight of their goal....letting distractions plague their thoughts." Grima smiled to herself when she saw the male begin to walk again in search for her. She was impressed by his tact but she was controlling the situation and now it was time to end the cat and mouse game.

She strolled up to the man and fell in step with him just as she "appeared" out of thin air. "I sense a confusion inside you...perhaps some sort of conflict. That is good...'tis conflict that makes the galaxy survive and stay honest with itself. Conflict is also the Sith way, without conflict we would grow complacency and vanish into extinction. But I am getting ahead of myself am I not," the Togurta Sith Master said shooting a sideways glance in the direction of the Anzati.

The duo walked a short distance in utter silence until Master Volitu broke it, her voice taking on a more soothing and friendlier tone. "Very few touched by the Force walk amongst this planet or visit this section of the city for fear of enslavement. Force users are prized from both the Jedi Order and the Sith Imperium. The Jedi would snatch you up and brainwash you on false tales of heroism...how your life is meant to serve others....how your life is meant to be cast aside in the protection of the weak...and the best part, they would teach you the only evil in this galaxy falls on the shoulders of the Sith. Funny, evil has been around much longer than the Sith...so I wonder about how that concept was born. Perhaps fear of the unknown"

As the man begins to open his mouth, Grima raises her hand to let him know she is not done talking. "The Sith on the other hand, we believe in self-preservation....that your life is yours and only yours and you can and will defend your existence by any means necessary. Unlike the Jedi Order who seek to create mindless automatons, we teach individualism...you should never wish nor pursue to be like another. Why? Heroes....most people in the galaxy have them but that is criminal. If one imitates their heroes what happens when their heroes commit atrocities or falls from grace....those that worship them will surly fall with them. Do you wish to have your life fall to shambles because someone you call hero betrayed you? Of course you wouldn't. Also, we Sith, unlike the Jedi, seek to increase ourselves but that Anzati, is another tale for a different time."

Stopping the stroll, Grima reaches out and lays her hands on each of his shoulders. "The Force is in you and I know you crave more from it...to learn its secrets and mysteries. But where would one seek to learn about the Force? From the Jedi? The Jedi are all but gone and what they know of the Force could not save them in the war. If you wish to learn more about who you are or what those feelings that are swirling around you truly mean...you only have to take my hand and allow me to walk you down the path of greatness. However, if you do accept this...know that I will not promise you riches....glory...or even fame. What I can promise you is power....knowledge....and the freedom of the restrictions that are holding you back."

Grima releases her hold on the man then takes a step back, extending her left hand.

((( O.C.C. For the record, Grima is a Togruta not a Twi'lek LOL )))

 

[Athrun Zala]

This woman was amusing, Eugene thought as he regarded her with a faint smile that neither spoke of peace nor bad intentions. She had appeared out of nowhere, or at least she had tried to, and it was clear the game was no longer a hunt. It had turned into a different sort of game...who could outsmart and outlast the other? He ran his tongue over his teeth as he walked along with her, letting her talk, letting her try to convince him to join. As they walked the crowd was thinning around them, with only a few sentients moving back and forth. It would be very easy to take this sith down with little interference or witnesses.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she had put her hand up, so he stopped. He took in a deep inhale, letting her words run by him as he subtly looked her up and down. She was a female togruta, but she didn't look very old and wise. If he guessed correctly, she was only in her thirties? Maybe forties. Hardly enough time to consider herself a master over him. It was why the whole situation amused him. Here she stood, "sensing" the force in him, when he had trained with the sith long before she was even born. Other species, they had such a high opinion of themselves...

"I know who the Jedi are...and I know who the Sith are..." he began finally, his eyes flickering down to her outstretched hand. His eyes moved upwards again, locking onto hers. His eyes glowed faintly as he tried to hold her in place, to trust him, to mesmerize her into letting him take her soup. "You see, my species walks among the galaxy...many of us are ancient, some of us, not so old. Your life goes by so quickly, with barely enough time to grasp onto it..." He took a small step forward, his proboscises trembling slightly but remaining in their pockets. "I met a sith like yourself. He was powerful...so powerful..." His eyes almost glazed over, and he pushed harder with his mesmerization. "He was tasty. So are you..." he whispered seductively as he leaned in near her ear. He could almost taste the force power coming off of her. "Are you sure you know everything about me?"


(OOC: Togruta. So sorry. I knew it was something like that.)

 

[Black Noise]

Mira often opened her arms, among the Sith it was a broad challenge. Her arms out was a clear message of 'come now, try and hit me, I know you can't,' and they never could. When the monster shuffled into a charge, Mira resisted her instinct to instill the Force into her fist and break the being's face. She resisted because she sensed his intent, and his intent, along with the combination of him actually following through with an embrace, caused Mira to burst into uncontrollable laughter.

She reached around him as best she could, and while he was not exactly tall, Mira still stood almost half a foot shorter than him. Her grip was surprisingly strong for such a little woman, and she embraced him back, laughing all the more when he licked her neck and sniffed deeply of her. Leaning close to the monster's ear, Mira whispered back, her voice carrying a mixture of happiness, sweetness, and the dark tone of one who couldn't wait to something absolutely horrible.
"Esurio, how sound that?

Mira knew not the origin of the word, but she knew its meaning. To Hunger, and that hunger could be reflected upon anything. In this being, she saw a hunger for strength, for guidance, and for control. He would gain all these things and more with Mira, it would simply take time.

 

[Bad Karma]

He could feel the tension within her... it was evident in the way her entire body seemed to constrict internally, her muscles turning into a bundle of knots upon him initiating the embrace. The laughter that soon escaped her diminutive frame was something that he hadn't expected, though he did notice that she seemed to relax through the laughter... something that he found solace in based on the sheer amount of power that he had felt radiate from her when she confronted the Togruta who had saved him. As he stood with eyes closed and arms wrapped tightly around the new fixture in his life, Fenton simply drank in the woman's existence... social etiquette was out of the question for the monster. He had been locked within a cage for his entire existence and so he ran on instinct. And right now, his being revolved around the long-haired vixen wrapped in his body and consuming his thoughts Mine. When she lifted her chin and seemingly rose onto her tip-toes to speak into the ear of her beast. A chill ran from the base of his skull to disperse into the ground on which he stood. The tone her voice carried was electrifying. "Esurio, how that sound? " Refusing to let go the demon of a man could feel the shift occurring, times were changing and for the first time in his life he had a name... his freedom... and a new found purpose. The excitement that coursed through his veins was unbridled joy, though it was tainted as black as the depths of space by his lust for power. So that never again would he fall victim to a life of servitude... these thoughts brought on a powerful spike in the surrounding force. "Ess... Essur... Esurio..." The name struggled to find a place within his mouth, though felt right once it had finally escaped. "What do you wish of Esurio?" The tone in which the young menace spoke revealed the true depth of the question that he had asked... There was absolutely no submission, instead it carried an edge to it that requested guidance or direction. He would not submit to the idea of being beneath her... no, he was her equal. Or at least that is how he saw it. For the time being.

 

[Black Noise]

Letting a cruel grin creep over her face, Mira leaned in as the monster, no, Esurio, finished speaking. Mira reached out through the Force to Esurio and anyone who dared remain nearby, watching the Master and her new apprentice. What she forced in her reaching was not her presence, but rather, it was an application of Force Fear. Mira, a master of mental abilities and psychological warfare through the Force, would have no trouble with attacking anyone, even another Sith, with Force Insanity. But that is not what she did. What was attempted was the instillation of fear into Esurio, though fear for what she would allow his own mind to control if he was not capable of defending his mind against her.

Leaning in, she whispered in his ear, her voice as sharp as a knife and tone darker than black.
"What I wish is for your to become strong, strong enough to control yourself, and strong enough to let loose when control is not necessary. Now, follow, if strength is something you long for."

Mira would let go of him then and move to get going. If Esurio allowed her to go, she would begin making for a transport outside. There wasn't much space, in Mira's relative opinion, between this world and Zoist, but no time need be wasted. Zoist, a frozen planet of darkness and evil, would be the perfect world to train Esurio on. He would learn much there, and Mira believed the frozen world was the only place the beast's endurance could truly be tested on.

 

[Bad Karma]

Dread... this wasn't simple fear that enveloped the mind of the monster. No, this was something much worse. The sudden onset and intensity of the spell had placed the beast into a state of panic, and his grip had momentarily tightened enough to potential harm his Master, who he still clutched at. Though fear was something that Esurio had been bathed in countless times... he was accustomed to it... home within it. My keeper is me... I hold the keys. Never, will I break... through death I am free. The small rhyme had been something that he had adapted during his cleansing. He never cried out... not a single time.

"What I wish is for you to become strong, strong enough to control yourself, and strong enough to let loose when control is not necessary. Now, follow, if strength is something you long for." With those words his Master cast him loose... here he was thinking that it was him in control of the embrace and it had been her the entire time. It was at this moment that the beast allowed himself a moment to really think upon those words. His feet had yet to move, though his head turned towards the woman in red armor, the Sith Juggarnaut, his Master... and what he saw obviously pleased the grotesque being. Evident from the blatant smirk upon his face. "Hmph... sounds good to me."

And with that he had been reborn... the day had started like nearly every other day had. Pulled from his cage by the collar around his neck and forced to kill for the enjoyment of his owners... no name, no purpose, no excuse to live... But now... the once animalistic posture that the tormented soul once held himself him had been cast aside, he now stands tall and proud. Though there is a still a slight dip in his upper torso, no doubt a sign of the beast that remains trapped within. He walked with purpose in his gait and a twinkle in his eye. The collar had been discarded upon the sands beneath him and a name had been given to him. He had everything that he'd ever wanted... though, the much larger picture had yet to be revealed to him... the Dark Side was calling out to him. He just needed to be given the tools to respond.