.
Nar Shaddaa
0132 local time
"Kshh, kshh, kshh, ksh--"
Bumpf
Sweat, saliva, and a small bit of blood sprayed from the man's extremities as Cinere's fist connected with his jaw in a brutal sidehook that had sent his brain rattling around in his skull and likely broken his jaw completely. The Rodian's body fell to the dusty floor like a sack of potatoes, his hand slamming down with a very nasty thump. Immediately, two men ran out from a door in the durasteel wall ahead, grabbing the knocked out opponent by his armpits on both sides and dragging him out of the ring.
Cinere thumped both fist on his bare chest, the sound of flesh on flesh ringing out underneath the roar of the crowd. He roared too, expelling all the adrenaline, sweat flying from his body as he raised his arms to the crowd. There was no announcer to narrate his win, no bell to signify the end of rounds, and nothing besides a ring and a crowd thirsty for blood. That was good for him.
"ANYONE ELSE? ANYONE ELSE?" he yelled, and the crowd cheered back. Some threw credit chits at the Sith, and he even saw a bra fly out from somewhere. "SEND HIM IN! COME ON! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!"
This was, of course, just some fun weekend activity that he'd gotten into recently. Fighting in the slimy underground of the Smuggler's moon was probably not something many Sith would do--obviously, considering the noble lineage of most of the Sith Council--but Cinere found it not only built character and taught one how to take hits, but also was a very effective way of directly learning hand-to-hand combat. He'd had his fair share of training back on Dathomir, so he had become quite the elite boxer, evident by the no less than 6 fighters he'd down tonight, even shattering the face of one when he accidentally hit too hard.
He paced around the ring, face down at the dust, waiting for the next contender. This would likely be the last of the night--he was tired, and it seemed like no one else wanted to fight him since they were too scared.
@Tom