Shadow Dealers

[Insoulent]

Glorious Jewel? Arkantos had always wondered why the Hutt named the planet glorious jewel, it was... strange to him. Odd, really. There was nothing glorious there, though it reflected the Hutts perfectly. Slimey and nasty. Maybe in their view, this was truly a glorious jewel, but then what would that make a Corusca gem?! He donned his black flight suit, with his blaster holstered upon his hip and nothing else, his casual travel wear. It kept him warm, or cool, depending on what he needed, and it survived most forms of temperatures.

Arkantos had been on the planet few times before, but never for leisure, usually business. But he had decided to come visit the gladiator ring of Borga the Hutt. He had delivered some beasts to him some time ago, and before that been invited to one of his parties after his release from prison. He seemed rather likeable, Borga, a Hutt with a bit of respect on how things worked. He had even been in the center of the arena, although it was to help some trapped guests of Borga, who ended up being drunken ex-Sith. It was a tale for another day, but for now, he was checking out the fighters. Recently, Arkantos had thought of a plan to rise through the ranks of the Cartel. While most Hutts focused on more nefarious deeds such as spice, smuggling, slaving, and other things of that nature, Arkantos had something else in mind. While not perfect, he wanted to start a group focused on protection, as well as a guild. It wouldn't be the most profitable, but it would definitely be one of the most feared. He had no intentions of claiming Bounties for the rest of his career, Hell, he had no intentions of running a business either, but he decided while he was with the Hutts, he had the opportunity to truly start something from the ground up.

The crowd cheered as the Rodian Gladiator fell, a large Whipid towering over the corpse, with the head of the Rodian within his fist. It was a simple form of entertainment that Arkantos saw no joy in, but he wouldn't speak his mind here, he knew better. The announcer informed the crowd that it would be the last fight of the day, and the crowd then dispersed. Arkantos stayed behind, waiting for... something. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something in his gut told him to wait. He climbed to the bottom of the steps in the arena, looking down from the railing onto the arena. A group of Borga's men appeared from a hallway in the back of the arena to begin to remove the carcass of the Rodian.

 

[Eii]

[THE DEAL]​​

Eight stepped hard on the tack-of iron; his padded feet made nearly no-sound as he crossed across the high-top beams of dura-plated steel, and plats. Nothing, not even his shadow seemed to be cast across the arena as he walked across the world-that few would ever get to know. It was his-neigh his honor and duty to provide for what his contract required, and today it was as simple as standing watch over the potential threats in the area. He continued on-matched at the half way mark as he crouched down, much like an animal at roast and began to scan.

His sighters-locked onto a nearby-male. ELOHIM AEON potential alias...bounty hunter, risk assessment dangerous and non-compliant. Suggested-course of action, execution. As his targeting-system continued to lock; the recording motions were set; all his sensory-assignments began to activate. His vision-recorded into his memory unit, all the sounds around him filtered and his mind set on the voice of the young male, even at this distance he could hear him. He had to plan for the moment to strike-down onto him from the heavens. His visual caught sight of a slowly-incoming predator nearing one of the cage handlers.

A Nexu, a feisty little bastard wasn't it? Under-the donned mask he neither smiled nor truly acknowledged it. All he did was move overhead; standing above the durasteel grid, and above the young creature as it closed in. Its prey unknowing, yet as the hunter hunted, so was it the prey. It was quick, and harsh; as it moved in in a jolt of motion. Eight dropped from above; his blade drawn in the midst of motion; the crack of his reinforced heel on the ground; and the splatter of a near-clear reddish tint across the field. As the momentum cleared; all that could be seen was a black-armored man with a songsteel katana-fashioned blade through the head of the creature. However, atop of all this. He seemed to be wearing a winter-kin (japanese fashioned winter-coat; think free flowing fur) across his shoulders.


​

 

[Insoulent]

It roared. And then it grew silent. The dark figure was suddenly shrouded by the fur that dragged behind. The head of the Nexu hit against the floor hard, as the body fell, a puddle of blood slowly creeping closer to its killer. Arkantos raided his eyebrow, looking at the black figure, curious a bit, as he'd seen nothing of him before the drop. It was... good. Damned good, really. The light shone upon the blood-stained blade, a certain way only one kind of metal did. Songsteel. Arkantos knew the metal well, it matched even Cortosis and Beskar. Whoever this man was, knew proper equipment was vital in survival. Arkantos kept his gaze at the figure still, his elbows resting upon the guard rail. The beast handlers all went in a frenzy, but kept their distance from the man. They feared him almost. It was funny.

He wanted to see who this man was, the best way he knew how. He gripped the guard rail, and pulled himself over it, landing on the gladiator ring. He made a small thud, though the impact of the fall was absorbed in his boots. He spoke a bit as he walked closer to the mysterious killer. "It's rather easy to kill a beast. Though, I should ask you, why you'd kill one of Borga the Hutt's. Curiously enough, these handlers don't even attack you. Can I ask your name? Better yet, what are you?" he questioned. The figure's next answer, or move, would decide the course of this interaction.

If he was an enemy of Borga's, he'd fight him there. While he had no primary allegiance to anyone but the Force, he was quite fond of the Hutt, and if this man was here to attack the Cartel Arkantos' duty was to protect them. They had a purpose still. As did he. He only hoped the man was a friendly. It'd be a shame to make an enemy out of someone so talented.

 

[Eii]

[THE DEAL]​​

Eight didn't even seem to move for a few moments; his blade slowly drawing from the flesh of both the beast, and the sandy-blood soaked ground of the Arena. Slowly his full-lean form stood up; just in front of the incoming male before a soft-spoken voice could be heard-nearly mechanical in type due to the mask's filters.

"If I was an enemy of this "Hutt" he would be dead, nothing more and nothing less,""​

He seems almost certain-no his voice made it sound like he was, or made it sound like he could get the job done. His-visor quickly flared- a small glimmer came into focus as it zero'ed in on the male with ease; various changes in the coloration quickly lite up the area to him; his heat-type, body information. The most fundamental information came into view right away-and slowly the rest came into play. That combined with the information gained from the h-net, made it quite simply to figure out who he was-or partly at least. His blade-was swiped across the ground; the blood leaving the once stained blade as it splattered onto the sandy-terrain, and as quickly as it was.

Was pressed-back and into the sheath in a slow, and precise movement.

"I am Eight, we are the Shadow. Now, do you offer tribute for our time, our eyes, and our ears? or do you not wish to form a pact of our dedication?,""​

​

 

[Insoulent]

Arkantos stayed still as he heard the mysterious figure speak. He stared at him as he spoke, looking into the metallic plates that reflected the Bounty Hunter's face. The assassin's actual voice was almost drowned out by a mechanical, almost droid-like voice. Android? No, his movement was too fluid to be mechanical. It must of been a mask, or maybe a vocal implant. Regardless, he didn't even flinch as the figure moved to throw the blood from his blade. He looked away for a moment, to see that a drop of blood landed his boot. He looked back up, as he explained himself. Eight. "The Shadow". No, a Jedi? No Jedi Shadow he knew of moved like this. No Jedi, besides himself. But even then, from his movements, Arkantos wasn't so sure he could do everything this one could. It was a body that had been trained for many many years, and it was apparent as he sheathed his blade, it was almost as if he trained years on end to be so precise.

Arkantos had spent many years around Mandalorians, and he could spot a killer, a real killer, from a mile away. It wasn't like a Sith, who took joy in their dominance, no, this one was different. He honed his body, his entire life, revolved around killing. He could tell, he could almost smell the blood of the assassin's victims. This man, he was a true Assassin. While Arkantos surely had similar skills, he hadn't trained nearly as much as this one. He hug to the shadows, like one himself. It was almost his nature.

"A tribute?" he paused, looking curiously. It was the first thing he said, the only thing really, his posture still the same. Had this man just asked him to fight? This man trained to kill, but Arkantos, he only killed from necessity. Still, the Warrior within him would not back down from a challenge. "And what would this tribute consist of, Eight?" he asked, as he looked the man up and down. He studied the man's posture, if he had wanted to kill Arkantos, he surely would have already, so maybe he had been asking to see his skills. Either way, Arkantos would oblige. He only hoped he was there to talk. He seemed like an interesting ally to have.