Ask Nar Shaddaa Bone and Flesh

Veles

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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.

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Laeonas Tannaras

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He'd gone out of his way to avoid AMS for three years, before he'd finally found his stomach again. Mataou still haunted him, and he was still uncomfortable being on a world so badly infected. The Syndicate job had been one thing; he'd be in, and he'd be out. But Nar Shadaa was another; with nearly the entire planet reduced to an infected mass, it was dangerous just being in a room like this. All it would take is one infected crawling up from the sewers, and within hours, the entire sector would fall.

But Nar Shadaa's reputation as a lawless haven for the scum of the galaxy hadn't gone away, even if 97% of it's population had turned into flesh eating corpses. The smell had gotten worse, sure, but that just meant even more flies were drawn to the shitpile. He had gone here once before nine years ago, before everything had gone to hell, and the experience was very different. At that time, landing had been as simple as getting off the ship. But times had changed; not only had he bought his own ship, but he was searched.

Searched. On a Syndicate world.

It was a perfectly reasonable desire, ofcourse. He was entering the last bit of Nar Shadaa that hadn't completely fallen to AMS. One infected could be all it took to end the smuggler's moon. But it was still a shock, and it was an even bigger shock when the port authority refused his bribes. That Nar Shadaa's customs office had greater integrity than most FWA landing pads said quite a bit.

Yet when he'd arrived in this pit, he was able to forget the ongoing pandemic rather quickly. Compared to even the most excessive cantina's he'd ever been to, they all looked like hubs of temperance and chastity. The spice dens were open, and their contents were abundant, and cheap. People openly copulated in the middle of the room or in booths, and the booze was shared freely. It was chaos; debauched, degenerate chaos.

He loved it.

He didn't take the opportunity to engage in most of these sinful pleasures, however. Laeonas was much more interested in the central entertainment; a fighting ring in the middle of the room. For the past few rounds, one human male had brought down a number of different opponents. Of slightly greater height and a slightly heavier build, he brought down man after man, woman after woman. It was impressive, and Laeonas startd to feel tempted.

It was the same kind of temptation he felt when he saw a bottle of booze. The same kind when he cut a line of spice. The same kind when some boy or girl gave him that look. The same kind, but not the exact same. It was desire; not to drink, abuse, or go at it, but to test himself. Rarely did he get to engage in a proper melee these days; almost all his fighting was done with a blaster, or a saber. One of his deepest passions was hand to hand combat, but rarely did he get to practice, especially with someone both talented and passionate.

Now, he'd get that exact opportunity.

One man, an Aqualish, went forward first. Laeonas leapt to his feet, yanking the man back by his collar. Tossing him a few feet, Laeonas hopped over the rubber rungs of the ring. A wicked smile had stretched across his face, and he let out a laugh.


"You'll GET yer turn!" He shouted, pointing at the fallen, and visibly angered Aqualish. "Ai see th'at look," He teased, cracking his neck as he began unbuttoning his trench coat. "Don't worry, ya can take th'at out on me... after Ai've put this guy in tha ONE 'ospital on this force fersaken world!" He screamed, letting the jacket fall. Beneath was a black tanktop that barely hid a thin, but toned frame. Shifting into a basic stance and bringing up his arms in a guard, it was obvious that he wouldn't be like the Rodian who'd just blindly thrown punches at the other human.

This was going to be so much fun.

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Veles

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He stopped pacing and stood tall in the middle of the ring as a man approached from above, eager to get in one the fun. Cinere sized him up as he always did, noting his stature, weight, and whether there was any crazy in his eyes. There was plenty crazy in the eyes of this guy, and it all came tumbling out the moment he opened his mouth, speaking with an accent that made it sound like he was crossfaded under the effects of every possible strain of spice in the galaxy.

Cinere broke into a grin and used a hand to ruffle the sweat and dust out of his hair. There was nothing he could do to keep it from hanging down over his face at this point, on account of him being soaking wet. Not that he cared. The Force granted him all the sight he would ever need.

He brought his fist up in front of his face and approached the man slowly. There would be no bell to start the fight, so Cinere simply decided he might as well dive right in.

He threw a jab, but the man raised his hands to block it, so Cinere attempted a right hook, which was also met with a block hard as a brick wall. Right after, he followed with a left hook, but the challenger blocked that too, despite the strength the Sith was pulling in his punches.

He could tell when he was fighting a worthy challenger, so Cinere took one step back and raised his hands in a close guard. A storm was coming.

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Laeonas Tannaras

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Rolled a 10, Vamp rolled a 16; 14 carries over, 24 v 16

The attacks came, but they weren't strong. From the past few hours of fighting, it made sense that the other human was beginning to tire. He'd brought down opponent after opponent, and he'd grown confident, while his stamina had been drained. A bad attack against the wall of defense he put up didn't just leave Laeonas unharmed... it left him invigorated. He couldn't help but grin as he brought his guard down.

Throwing himself at the man, a barrage of punches with an inhuman level of speed were tossed. The man's defense was good-- almost as good as his own, in fact. That same fatigue made it just a bit worse, however. Even perfection wouldn't have been able to stop the rolling tide of Laeonas' blows. They weren't particularly spectacular, but he had the momentum of a truck. He was fresh from the sidelines, and ready to kick ass.

Punch after punch collided with the man's guard. He was good at shifting, meeting the man's blows. It almost seemed supernatural, the speed of his reflexes almost matching the man's own. In plenty of ways, Laeonas almost thought that he was going up against his own mirror image. But in plenty of others ways, they still differed. He didn't think he would allow a blow to the ribs like the one he'd just delivered hit him. He didn't think that his entire right side slamming into the man's guard would succeed... but he wouldn't bother checking to see.

Throwing himself back, Laeonas panted. Hard.

This was already fun. He couldn't tell where the night would go. Maybe the man would recover and double his efforts. Maybe they'd get a repeat of what had happened. Maybe The man would rebound, and be able to bring Laeonas down. None of the options were impossible... and he was eager to see where the fight would take him.


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"Uf... uf... hf."

Cinere blocked blows like a man possessed, vocalizing every hit. He felt the bone of the man's knuckles slamming into his forearms again and again, but he persisted through the pain, despite the blood beginning to trickle slowly from the areas hit over and over.

And then the crazy bastard slammed his entire body into Cinere's guard, and the Sith was forced to break it. The man's shoulder collided with his collarbone, sending a white-hot spike of pain through his nerves, but Cinere just gritted his teeth and launched his attack as the man was throwing himself back. The Sith lunged.

He threw a mean right hook right into the man's jaw, which would have him seeing stars, and dopamine coursed through his body as the hit connected. The crowd roared, and they were showered with beer and credit chits. He tried to follow it up with a jab, but it did not hit its target, instead weakly slamming into his opponent's right arm.

His feet danced below him as he made his way around the man to his right in a semi-circle, guard once again up. Neither had said a word during this entire exchange, but they wouldn't have heard each other either way--the crowd was too loud.

"Break his spine!" yelled a frail Rodian.

"Gouge out his eyes!" followed a deep-voiced Barabel.

Cinere grinned. The crowd was loving them.

OOC -- Current score is 1 to 1.

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Rolled a 3, Vamp also rolled a 3. 10 carries

The attacks against the man were successful, and for a moment, Laeonas thought he'd be able to bring the man down. He had pulled back, ready for whatever the man would try and respond with. At least, he thought he was ready. The right hook caught him almost completely off guard, and his defense was poor at best. The block with one of his arms did nothing to stop the other man's fist from colliding with Laeonas' jaw. It hit, and it hit hard.

The man staggered backwards, but he also threw himself back as well. He needed to digest what had just happen, process in the few moments he had. He had to focus, move past the pain. No, not move past it... that wouldn't do. He had to use it. He would turn his pain into anger; anger towards the man who'd cause it. He'd let that anger fuel his next strikes; and he'd launch himself forward.

But Laeonas wasn't exactly used to practicing the dark side. In spite of his attempts at focusing, his attacks were sloppy at best. The man's blow hadn't been perfect, but it had been enough to unbalance him. Enough to slow him down, cause him to become sluggish. The blow that came next was a sloppy, barely coordinated mess... but it had a chance to succeed.

The other man's defense didn't exactly look strong, but he had momentum. Still, Laeonas maintained his advantage of being fresh into the ring. He needed only a few seconds to recover, and depending on whether or not the next counterattack was any good, he could have those seconds. It wouldn't be enough to win him the match, but it would be enough to keep him in. He didn't bother saying anything to taunt the man, sound drowned out by the cheering crowd.

But through the pain, noise, sweat and blood, he was still loving this.


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After his iron-clad defense, Cinere sprung into action, throwing out blows to make his opponent lose his balance. It seemed the man had been dazed by his previous attack, but only enough to ensure he didn't try to catch the Sith with his defense down, because all of his blows were either blocked or missed.

He'd messed up the attack, so Cinere tucked his chin in behind his hands and kept his guard up, aware that he will need a few moments to recover--which his opponent would definitely be looking to take advantage of.

He prepared himself for the onslaught of blows likely to come.

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Laeonas Tannaras

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Rolled a 5, (+5 from carry= 10) Vamp rolled 10.

His opponent had had a pretty decent when he'd tried to attack Laeonas. He was still unbalanced, still recovering from the blow just a few seconds earlier. The man had momentum, and he could've used it to bring Laeonas down right than and there. With how badly Laeonas had defended himself, that should've been all he needed. The round would've been over, and in spite of how many he'd faced, his opponent would be able to prove their superiority.

But that didn't happen. There was no knockout punch, no assault that broke through Laeonas' mediocre defense. No; instead, the man had fumbled, badly. His blow had just glanced off the poor guard Laeonas had put up. Blinking a few times, Laeo actually had to do another double take. It took only a split second, actually disorienting the injured man. He was finally able to refocus, and shift towards assaulting his opponent.

But he was still off balance. Sure, he was able to use the small amount of momentum his opponent had let him gather, but it wasn't enough to make his attack anything more than decent. These blows were less precise, and just a hair slower than what he'd been able to manage when he first entered the ring. The crowd was able to pick up on it, and they pounced; not literally, ofcourse, but verbally.
"HARDER, HIT HARDER!" One screamed, "KRIFF HIS SHIT UP!" "SHATTER HIS NOSE!"

The cries of support washed over him, and he could feel his fatigue begin to burn away. It wasn't enough to make a difference-- yet-- but he felt reinvigorated. Any doubts about being worn down were gone, and he was filled once again with the manic desire to bring his opponent down. It was like he had just stepped into the ring all over again. The only differences being that he had several bruises... and these shots were way worse than his first attacks.


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His opponent peppered a weak showing when it came to offense, giving CInere time to relax before the next skirmish. The man's light blows stopped and that was when the Sith realized it was his turn. There was an opening.

He threw out such a perfect flurry of jabs and hooks that he would later watch replays for training. There was no way he could miss that.

Except he did. Because his opponent dodged every single one of them. There was no way he was fighting a non-Force sensitive, he realized, so Cinere turned it up a notch. He grumbled at last, stepping back a bit and shifting back up to a guard. And silently, he gathered the Force to himself.

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Rolled a 9, (+3 from carry= 12) Vamp rolled 12.

His opponent's attacks came, and they failed to bring him down. They actually missed, of all things. Laeonas hadn't even been dodging all that well, yet his beast of an opponent failed. The attacks failed, and Laeonas' shoddy defense had barely even been grazed. He had something that he hadn't expected to have; momentum. Momentum to move, momentum to gather himself-- and momentum to attack.

The force came-- but it came slowly. It didn't fill him as great as it could be, didn't bolster his strength as was necessary. But combined with his momentum, he had an advantage. It would take a decent defense to defend against what came next. His opponent would have the opportunity to gather himself for a brief moment. Than, he threw himself forward.

He was still impressive, coming at him with a strength that could only be summoned from the force. Dodging would be possible-- easily, in fact. But the blows that hit were classic, what one could expect from a proper boxer. Blow after blow came, hitting the man's guard, missing, all with a force that a normal person couldn't summon.

The crowd was loving it. Laeonas' counterattack was everything they could want. The bloodthirsty masses would see him throw blow after blow, and even though his opponent didn't go down, it was entertaining. They wanted this to go on, after all. It wouldn't be any fun if he just won, ofcourse. They wanted to watch teeth go flying, they wanted to hear bones break.

They wanted the kind of violence that they'd get if they went out onto the real Nar Shadaa.


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His opponent's Force use did not go unnoticed, but it only made the fight more exciting. Cinere couldn't help but wonder whether he was fighting a Jedi or just a random guy who didn't know he was Force sensitive. He wanted to see the man past his limits.

Cinere launched an attack, unphased by the man's offense. But just as he had blocked before, so did the man, because nothing got through. It was almost like they were growing tired.

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Rolled a 15, (+1 from carry= 16) Vamp rolled 11.

Shoddy blow after shoddy blow came from the man. They were met by his barely passable defense, though one did manage to get past and scrape his left side. The blow didn't cause any real damage. It had, however, pissed him off. With a snarl, Laeonas pushed his frame forward, his attacker sent backwards. He could feel the force pulsing through him, feeding it with his frustration, which was growing into anger.

That was when he sprung. The barrage that came next was precise, powerful, and far from average. The force burned in him like a rising sun, radiating the world in burning light. Every punch, every grunt, every frustrated attempted at a blow, all fed on the building anger. The audience might have not wanted his opponent to go down just yet, but Laeonas definitely did. He should've won by now; that he hadn't was either a personal failing of his, or his opponent was to strong.

Neither option was one he would accept.

Despite the furious assault, exhaustion was pulling as hard as it could at his muscles. They'd been going at it for several minutes by now with barely any time to rest. Even the most well trained fighters usually took time to catch their own breathes, but not him. The force sustained Laeonas as much as the air filling and emptying out of their lungs. It was a variant of the technique he'd developed to stave off starvation and thirst, and it came in handy during extended physical exercise.

The attacks simply failed to stop. On and on he went, even as the blows grew increasingly erratic. His form began slightly more sloppy, and his punches carried a little less weight. He was growing sluggish... and a bit more hesitant. In seconds, he began to realilze just how open he was. He wouldn't stop his assault, but he had to hesitate so he could be ready for the inevitable counterattack.


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The sweat and dust came flying off his body as blows rained down on Cinere. He kept his head down, behind the guard he'd formed with his arms, also cowering over just enough that his chest was protected. Like this, he was unstoppable, he was deep in a bunker, somewhere no one could even touch him. But keeping it up hurt after a while, and the mirage faded.

A blow hit his face, feeling and sounding like a slap, not a punch. Though the damage was weak, it woke him back up to reality. He'd almost given up the match. But he was invigorated now. With new purpose, he stepped forward toward his opponent.

He drew from the dark side, imbuing his anger into his punches, letting loose a barrage of hits charged with the exhaustion, pain, and tension of fighting for several hours at once. He threw in his frustration at not having this fight over with, his irritation with being covered in blood, dust, and sweat. He let the man have it, punching indiscriminately, regardless of any defense, be it weak or strong.

And he did hit the man, twice in the face. Left, right. Quick and simple but very destructive. A good attack, though the fight was not yet won.

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Rolled a 14, Vamp rolled 10 (+1 carries over, total of 11.)

The man had known that his attack wasn't perfect. He'd been growing slower, more tired. Barely any of his blows had managed to hit, and from the reaction, they wouldn't be enough to stop his opponent. It hadn't gotten very good results, and Laeonas wasn't sure if it had even been worth it. However, had he known the reaction, he wouldn't have attempted it at all.

What came next was a barrage that made his own feel like light work. The quick defense he'd put up only even held because of how much momentum he'd gained from his last barrage.

How did he have any fight left in him?

Hours he'd gone in the ring, beating people down again and again. It was a wonder he was even able to stand, especially after all Laeonas had put him through. He'd looked winded, near beaten; he'd looked ready to go down after a few more blows. Than out of nowhere, the air had shifted, his opponent had been reinvigorated, and he'd been able to summon his full strength against him. What in the hell had ha-

The left hook swiped over his guard at an angle that just grazed past his forearm. He'd barely been able to shift his head to the side-- but it didn't matter. Knuckles met the flesh of his cheek, colliding with the bone beneath in a sickening crack. Reeling, Laeonas could do little more than stand idle as the right hook came next. Falling backwards, it was the ropes that caught him.

He'd lost fights-- many, many fights in fact. Yet not one had ever gone so poorly in such a short period of time. To go from the cusp of victory to literally hanging off the ropes... in less than a few seconds? What an absolutely humiliation. It wasn't something that happened... to
him.

It wasn't something he allowed to happen to him.

This one wouldn't take this victory from him. He was strong, and that strength fueled the power he drew inside him. Those feelings of inadequacy, of humiliations-- they burned through him like anabolics, fueling his muscles at the cost of everything. He'd opened the door for the wrong to slip through. The controls were empty, the seat was vacant; waiting for a new pilot.


And it happily chose to take the wheel.

Hate, venomous and corrosive, burned off him. Anyone with even a slight connection to the force would feel the air shift. That aura that radiated off Cinere was powerful, but it wasn't matched by the rising bile in the back of Laeonas' soul. The pain he felt didn't disippate-- it magnified.

Newly invigorated muscles lunged forward. Not in a stance to deliver quick punches, no-- but in a grapple. A complete change in technique that Laeo reserved only for moments like this. Charging forward, the man he faced would have to options: evade, or endure. If he chose to confront Laeonas head on, the man would be grappled around the back. The butt of Laeonas' head would be pressed up into his chest cavity-- and Laeonas' fingers would intertwine, and his hands would come down in one, powerful motion.

That was assuming the man didn't evade, or try and escape. But something told Laeonas that he wouldn't manage to do either.


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It seemed that Cinere's latest blow struck a chord within his opponent. He felt the familiar shift of the air, the burst of energy right in front of him, the overbearing darkness that lingered like the smell of death. He knew what was about to happen, but he was far too tired to try to keep going, to tap into the Force himself and to put this part-timer in the ground. Oh, how he would have loved to. He'd avoided relying on his powers too much today, aware that it would be unfair and likely make every fight fast and boring. Not everyone had such fair-play apparently, or maybe the man was just that desperate. The Sith knew his opponent was tired, but he wouldn't have expected this.

He was pulled into a grapple and he decided breaking away would be too difficult. He readied his body to defend, but an outlying punch slammed hard into his right eye, causing his entire skull to light up with pain. Disoriented, he was forced to eat blow after blow, the only thing he could see and hear being the crowd watching and yelling at him to fight back. So he did. Well, he tried his best.

Cinere desperately grabbed the man's arm at the forearm, his frustration and pain coursing through him freely. The Sith didn't even realize as his hand heated up, but the additional exertion--using the Force while being pummeled--resulted in overexertion, and the world slowly turned to black. As he lost consciousness, he let go of the man's arm and slowly slumped down, turning into dead weight and forcing the opponent to let go. The burn would leave a very small mark on the stranger's skin--so light that it would be hard to spot if he weren't looking for it specifically, but in the chaos of fighting it would be impossible to zero in on it.

He clattered to the floor, slamming his body down, dust kicking up around him.

All things come to an end eventually, especially the good ones. Cinere had certainly had a great run tonight, breaking every single in-house record. His arrogance, however, seemed to have orchestrated his downfall, because had he simply thrown the towel in and gone home without taking this fight, he'd have left as the undisputed champion. No one would have been able to take that victory from him.

Still, how was he supposed to know he was fighting a Sith?

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Every subsequent blow down into his opponent's back was harder than the last. With the added strength of the force, Laeonas was almost surprised that he didn't hear ribs snap. He'd shattered boards when he'd put this much strength into his blows before. His opponent could endure a heavy amount of punishment, and that was undeniable. Even after allthis time, all these fights, and after all this damage, he was still... "standing."

But what came next was far more jarring than a simple show of endurance.

The movement by the man to reach behind him and grab his forearms absolutely shocked Laeo. Even if he'd had the time to react to it, he would've never been able to anticipate this. Nobody had ever pulled off something like this when he had them in this position. It wasn't done... but this man had managed it. The question of how didn't matter though-- it couldn't matter with what came next.

All at once, the flesh of his arms began to cook. Aquamarines shot open, and Laeonas let out a scream of absolute agony. He had faced a lot of damage before, stray blasters included-- but all his worst scars were left by the kind that provided incendiary damage, or at through flesh like acid. This was the same type of agony he'd have to endure for days in a gang hideout, bacta being used to keep his vital systems alive, but not to heal surface wounds. As quickly as it began though, as quickly as it ended. The pain stopped, and his opponent slouched over.

Completely unprepared for his opponent slumping forward like he did, Laeonas fell down next to him. The crowd had been going wild, their screams so loud that Laeonas' agonizing cries being completely muted. Yet at the sight of the both of them dropping, the screams fell silent. Whispers replaced them, with the most audible being focused on whose bets had been won or lost.

Quickly, the muttering grew louder, chatter opening up about who had fallen first. Some argued that since the long haired challenger had hit the ground first, "the champion" was undefeated. This group had been the more vocal, seeing as how they'd all assumed that the guy who'd won uninterrupted for hours would continue to win. Yet a smaller group-- one that had begun tiny, but had grown over the course of the match, as the longer haired human had put up a better fight than anyone, argued different. They said that due to the champion falling unconscious first, he had lost-- making their guy the winner.

Yet the debates were silenced as Laeonas-- battered, bruised, and also burned, began moving underneath his opponent's knocked out body. Slowly, he rolled the other man off him. Flipping onto his stomach, Laeo crawled over to the ropes, pulled himself up, and stood. For a brief few seconds, the crowd remained silent. Than, in one glorious instant, they erupted.

Cheers boomed, the entire room going mad for their new winner. Hours of fighting, and that champion-- that undefeated monster-- had gone down. Sure, Laeonas had had the advantage of fresh arrival. But the challenge he'd put up, and the practically theatrical performance he'd given had won him lots of support. That majority who'd been against his victory lost their loyalty, with only a smaller minority complaining about their very large bets being completely lost.

Laeonas looked down on the other man-- the other force user. How none of them had realized what he was, he couldn't tell. Perhaps he hadn't needed to push it to the point of using the force on his opponents. Yet that burning sensation he'd felt didn't leave him with any illusions. It had been a force user that had won for so long, and a force user that had defeated him.

Laeonas remembered a line he'd told himself all those years ago. "Yer a kath 'ound amongst bantha in a fight with tha rest of 'em." That had been proven wrong on numerous occasions, ofcourse. There were skilled men and women across the galaxy, all very capable of fighting him. Yet this... this man, had almost proven that thinking correct.

It was to bad that he'd happened upon another kath hound.


@vamp

///End Thread

 
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