Vesajilic Gladitoral Opening Ceremonies

[Vonlin]

((OOC thread, please read before posting))

Nal Hutta, Bilbousa, Vesajilic Colosseum.

Expectations hang heavy in the air as the massive crowds in the stand grow restless and impatient. It is a humid day on the swampy planet of Nal Hutta and sweat clings to everyone present. The smells of the different foods and drinks being sold by the many vendors fills the nostrils of anyone near them. The Colosseum is packed completely full from top to bottom with every seat sold out much to the Hutts happiness. A few especially unruly and already drunk spectators have already been thrown out by the guards in an attempt to keep the crowd under control. The bookie booths within the Colosseum set up directly behind the stands are full of frenzied gamblers attempting to get in last minute bets. Everything has been planned out in great detail so that it will be a grand day in celebration of the opening ceremonies of the new Blood Sport Colosseum in Bilbousa, capital of Nal Hutta.

High above the arena, built into the stands and attached to a luxurious and spacious spectator box is the center focal point of the arena; the balcony of the editor of the games. On that balcony His Great Obesity Durggorra the Hutt lays overlooking the crowd, his hands gripping the edge of the balcony as he leans on it slightly. Behind him to either side flank two personal slave girls, Twi'leks wearing the colorful and revealing outfits befitting their position. As the two slaves steadily wave giant fans over the Hutt they both stare ahead blankly. They serve mostly as props and their purpose is to display Durggorra's status and wealth, he pays them no heed.

Standing at the rear of the balcony is an array of guards holding their weapons and standing at attention. The whole balcony and spectator box attached behind has a shield projected thinly over it protecting the criminal overlord and other Hutts in attendance from any would be stray blaster shots.

Behind the balcony, scattered within the luxurious spectator box are over a dozen other Hutts lounging and eatting as they wait for the games to start, each Hutt being attended to by their various slaves and personnel. Some of the Hutts are Vesajilic family members and related to Durggorra, others are prominent rival political figures and important leaders on Nal Hutta and the last few, like Nasca the Hutt, are the owners of the gladiatorial ludii who have entered fighters today as a contribution to the opening games. All of them are guests of Durggorra the Hutt and have been invited to watch the games with him and the other bigwig Hutts from his viewing box.

Durggorra gets the cue that everything is ready and raises his arms up in a wide gesture. As he bellows in Huttese his deep rumbling voice is magnified by speakers around the Colosseum, <"Welcome, welcome! May this day of games and combat be worthy of christening this new Colosseum, my gift to the people of Nal Hutta and the galaxy as a whole! May the blood shed here today for your enjoyment and entertainment be both awe inspiring and glorious! To start things off I present to you good people the execution of a dozen murderous criminals of Nal Hutta, justice to be carried out before your eyes by my hand!">

In the pit of the arena stood twelve individuals in a circle, chained to the ground. In reality several of them were actually criminals and murders but some of them were just rivals who had made the poor decision of opposing the Vesajilic Hutts. As Durggorra's words echoed across the stadium three large gates slowly rolled open on the floor of the arena. From behind the gates emerged three angry and hungry rancors who had been starved up until this point to ensure a good show. The rancors charged out and one by one mutilated the various chained victims who were defenseless as they were torn from limb to limb in a spray of blood. The crowd went wild with their long wait finally over and immediately fell into a blood-lust at the tremendous display of power from the rancors.

Durggorra watched all of this with a half-interested face as he plunged his hand into a near by live food tank and grabbed a large alien frog, shoving it into his mouth before swallowing it whole.

With only a few limbs and hunks of bloodied meat left in the arena rancor tamers walked onto the sands ready to cow the rancors back towards the gates they had came from. As the two dozen tamers worked to clear the field of the rancors Durggorra raised his hands once more and spoke, <"Justice before your eyes! Their blood spilled in exchange for the blood they took from their victims! An eye for an eye. Let it be a warning to any who seek to harm the good people of Nal Hutta!>" Or a warning to anyone who crosses the Veasjilics he thought but did not say.

<"With that I now present our first match of the day. A special rare breed of fight because you are all lucky enough to lay witness to two mighty mandalorians in combat with one another! I give you the ferocious Tal Pullvis, a gladiator who has been forged into a weapon at my very own ludus. I offer his talent now for your pleasure in battle against Tal Verda the challenger!>"

After the rancors were all caged and cleared from the sands of the arena floor two new gates would roll open on opposite sides of the arena, revealing each of the fighters.

 

[Crosby]

((Ill go first i guess.))

-In the arena-

Tal sat staring out his gate into the arena as the ranchors tore the prisoners to peaces like they were big slabs of meat. He once would have been surprised at such a showing, million dollar beast to kill worthless prisoners, but nothing the Hutts did shocked him anymore. There were three others in the area that he had never met before, but he talked and joked with like friends.

<"Lets hope we dont end up like them! Hahaha!"> He said loud and hearty way.

He was anxious, he had the butterflies in his stomach that he had before every fight. He was going through his pre-fight ritual of stretching and warming up, he then dropped to his knee's and prayed for protection. Afterwards he sat cross-legged breathing in through his nose deep into his diaphragm and out his mouth with his eyes shut, repeating slowly <"Undefeated, undefeated, undefeated..."> completely muting out the sound of the crowed as if he was in a different place.

He was picturing the battle in his mind, he was defeating his opponent over and over again in his mind, playing out different scenarios each time.

<"the ferocious Tal Pullvis, a gladiator who has been forged into a weapon at my very own ludus. I offer his talent now for your pleasure in battle against Tal Verda the challenger!"> and just like that, he was back and ready to go.

He got his swords from a squirrely looking man with an eyepatch, and walked out the gate with his arms raised basking in the glory as the crowed roared. He looked at his opponent as he walked forward, studying him for weakness from the very moment he saw him. Verda was a much bigger man, big enough to draw the crowds attention from the smaller Tal. The smaller man stopped about a quarter of the way across the arena and drew one sword, pointing it at his opponent, challenging him to strike first.

((Hope its not too skinny, sorry if it is.))

 

[Saint]

Norman "Suicide" Saint sat within one of the adjoining areas to the arena floor. The crowd had been given a taste of what was to come. Their appetites wettened with the blood of humanoids and frenzied. Start big and end big. The rest was just... heh... fodder. He looked over the weaponry they had issued him. Unfortunately, they wouldn't allow him to bring his custom hardware onto the arena floor with him. Heh. Probably a good idea considering what kinds of folks actually -volunteered- to participate in actual gladiatorial games.

Upon registration, Saint went with an alias instead of his full rank and name. No need in announcing that he was an Imperial Storm Trooper. Norm the Storm was what he had decided upon. One thing about aliases is that they could cause confusion if you had something totally different, then someone caught on and called you by your real name. Of course, it could backfire on you too, but then again, most times, Storm Troopers had their helmets on and weren't exactly recognizable as individuals.

Now as two other gladiators made their way out into the arena, the one thought pressing on his mind was: I hope the payout is worth the risk...

 

[Guardian Six]

Gambler, Isomer Bridge

Isomer heard the commentators announce the first two fighters of the opening ceremonies, Tal Puvis vs Tal Verda. He knew who was fighting and who was worth betting on because the entire cantina had been waiting for this moment all day, the bartender even threatened to kicked anyone out of the cantina if they disturbed the fights. The barkeeper even passed out biographies of the fighters, He walked out of his chair and talked to the bartender and placed 500 credits on Verda, only time would tell if it was the right decision.

 

[Kassa]

Upon arriving, Grethallion has inducted herself into a carriage, supported by four of her most strongest Nightsisters. Red, satin curtains enclosed either side. Two more Nightsisters stood beside the carriage, watching their master.

With the massacre of the "criminals", or people that Durgorra didn't like, was more of the taste that came into the Moff's mouth, she eyed the Rancors hungrily. Great pets, they would make. She would have to talk to the Hutt about them later.

Grethallion's guards reached into the basket, removing the elderly woman on her cushion. Placing her and the cushion on one of the bleachers, she looked on in interest as a Mandalorian Warrior stepped into the arena.

Clapping her hands, more so as a sign for her bodyguards to split into lines of three and stand next to her than it was for applause, the patiently awaited the other man or woman who would be inducing the fight.

"This fight should be good. A Mandalorian would make an excellent bodyguard, depending on where his loyalties lie. If he's with the general Mandalorian population... Or if he's with the Alliance, I do believe we shall pay him a visit," her ancient voice croaked, sort of like rust.

 

[Syn]

Mistral had gotten his ticket inside and sat down, he was flanked by two of his men but remained out of the way. He was ready for the sith lords to arrive as he sat in a crowd of spectators and stayed at the highest row. With his back was against the wall and leaned forward putting his elbows on his thighs slowly to watch the show as he spoke to the men by him. "I want you guys to be ready in case this goes to hell." Slowly Mistral leaned back as he brought his hand up to his chin and thumbed his chin. He was getting antsy and didn't want to get another screw up on his record.

 

[Phil]

Spectator

Enter the Mandalorians

The doors to the stadium opened up and the sounds of heavy footsteps was heard as The Mandalore made his way through them, accompanied by a Prime Guard and Aspect, as well as three specific chosen Mandalorians to come with him. He was garbed in his heavy Mandalore armor with his cape covering his shoulders and back, which also concealed his rifle, pistol and sword. He was aware he and his men had prices on his head and he dared for anyone to make a move on him and his men. The ship they had arrived on was still in orbit above Nal Huttaa, and on his word they would ran down fire and send for extraction should things get too heated.

But he was not here just for a show, he was to get a meeting with the host of these blood games and get some straight answers from him. He was going to find who put the price on his men and he was going to settle the score for good. Once he and his people had entered the stadium, he found a reserved seating place for him and the ones he registered as he took a seat, Aspect and the Prime guard sitting by his side should any non Mandalorian try to get the jump. He already informed his men on the true mission at hand, and when they would move in and get some answers from the Hutts. He also told them that they were not to cause any sort of trouble for the Hutt or any spectators, but it was fine to defend themselves if needed.

 

[Count Sam]

"Well looks like the fun is about to begin.."

The Sith Maruader muttered to himself as the games started and as he observed Mandalore walking into the arena. The Sith also sent a teleknetic message to all the Sith that were filling the Colessum that Mandalore has walked into. Of course they were disguised and hiding their presence unlike those foolish Mandalorians who just walked in as if they were gods who had the power to force anyone to fear them without having to do anything. It is not like the Sith really cared about what they did or said.

The Marauder then tilted his head and went back to watch the games, but at the same time he made sure that Mandalore was still under his sight. The young marauder also hoped that something fruitfull would happen today and that they would go back to their lord with some good goods, or at least he hoped so from the deep bottom of his heart.

The Sith as usual was wearing his light armor beneath his disguise and had dual lightsabers with him.

 

[Kassa]

Grethallion's pupil-less eyes seem to pulsate as she watch a Mandalorian sit down a bit away from her. She chuckled lightly. Her bruised face stared at the man's figure, so twirled a hand.

The Nightsisters surrounding their Moff went from straight lines to a tight, parentheses-like barrier. Their Lady chuckled lightly as they became her mother bears. Basically, it was like her people considered her grandma.

Only, this grandma had to be protected and was capable of some -extremely- black magic. With age, came wisdom and know how.

Even though she wasn't a Sith, Grethallion was part of the Imperial party. Thus, one of her Nightsister guards was a Sith member. The guard casted a glance toward her Mistress, whispering into her ear.

"I know, my child," she croaked, her ancient voice raspy. "Keep your guard up. Keep a watch on their movements. Report that to those sending messages to the one communicating to you,"

The guard nodded, and seemed to press her own temple. A wave of telecommunication entered the Siths' minds.

"Moff Grethallion of the Imperial Government is here. She wants eyes kept on all Mandalorians and Galactic Alliance members. Also, make sure to keep an eye on the Hutt. Lady Grethallion wants to speak with him,"

 

[Count Sam]

Vanderguff was waiting for the Dark lord to show up but he didn't instead the young Sith received a message that he is to retreat at once and that the mission was aborted. That was an enough reason to make the young Marauder angry but instead Vanderguff kept his emotions in check as he informed everyone with him through the force about this annoying news as he made his way out of the Colessium and to his ship.

he surely had a long way back and the young Marauder was obviously not in the mood to fly his ship...but well he had no other choice.

Vanderguff hissed in anger as he activated all the systems in his ships and started his journy back to his temple.

 

[Michael Scott]

Chang Lokem watched the holocam from his quarters that had been provided by the Hutt. He was cleaning his sword, wiping off numerous amounts of shavings from when he sharpened his blade, and anxiously waiting for the fight to finish. He had already cleaned his armor and his blaster, he was only cleaning his sword to pass the time. Chang threw his sword down and laid on his bed, closing his eyes to rest before it was his turn to fight. It had been a long time since he had an uninterrupted sleep.

 

[Syn]

Mistral looked up when he felt the sith tell him to abort, he didn't know what was wrong but he looked at his men standing and beginning for an exit. "Let's go boys." With a look back at who they were supposed to ambush Mistral exited the building and went back to his ship with his men. Quickly Mistral made sure everything was ready as he took off for the ship, he might just be able to get back in time for well anything since this mission was scrubbed.

 

[T.J]

Falling in step lock beside his Mandalore, Delmon's head was held high and his stance as aggressive as the many bladed weapons that adorned his armor. The armor in question was a dark pewter base with deep sage secondary markings. His twin beskad were fastened tightly to his backplate, and his assault rifle hung loosely from its strap hung across his chest. Several knives hung from his belt openly, while many more still remained concealed to be used later if necessary.

Before that day the young mandalorian could honestly say he had never been to Nal Hutta, even with his bounty hunting experience. Afterwards, he would say he would never want to go back.

A far cry from his native land, Nal Hutta was a steaming waste heap of a planet ruled by a equally putrid and dishonorable species known as the Hutts. While he had had dealing with said species in the past, never had he even thought of venturing into the proverbial lions den. In fact, he had been the first to object to Mandalore's plan to meet with the Hutts in person. His experience with them had taught Delmon that they were a cowardly species, and would stoop to any low to attain what they desired. Even with the promise of no bounties being while the blood sport was taking place, Delmon highly doubted the Hutts would pass up such an opportunity. This fact, coupled with Mandalore's unshakable decision on the matter forced Delmon's hand, which was what lead him to accompany his esteemed leader in the first place.

Delmon was on edge, and the prickly feeling on the back of his neck he felt reminded him of being stalked by one of the many predators of Dxun. Silently he scanned the crowd with his visors range finder, trying to sniff out the source of his paranoia. Upon hearing the loudspeakers around them signal his leaders name, the mandalorian elite instantly began planning escape route after escape route and a number of combat scenarios that had potential of happening. Because of this, the hunter within began creeping into his consciousness ever so slowly.

Leaning ever so slightly in towards his Mandalore to initially get his attention and then activating their shared comms network, Delmon spoke.

" My lord. I must re-iterate the danger we face. While I have no qualms with fighting our way out of here, I see no need to walk into an ambush we already know exists. Malicious eyes watch our every move Lord Mandalore... I feel them like the beasts I used to hunt as a child.... We must keep our whits about us."

 

[Michael Scott]

Chang heard his name being called as he opened his eyes, one of the servants entered his chambers and told him that one of the fighters had to back down. Chang was excited at the news and immediately donned his armor and grabbed his weapons, a blaster pistol and his two vibroswords along with his utility belt that held his detonators. He was ready, he began remembering his hatred as he stepped out of the tunnel and into the ring, he was ready to fight...and ready to kill.

"PULVIS!" Chang called as the crowd cheered, "LET'S FIGHT!" Chang gripped his swords tighter and took his fighting stance.

(((I don't mind if you want deathmatch or not, just specify before we begin whooping ass.)))

 

[Miranda]

Namir Korrero, known as "Flying Snow" amongst the smuggler and pilot circles that made their careers in the Outer-Rim, had been waiting for his droid affiliate to arrive at the grand arena of Bilbousa and was growing impatient. As an agent working for the Merkatua, sworn enemies of the Hutts, he felt a few waves of unease spread through him as he watched the swarming crowds flood through the great iron gates into the colosseum.

A cigarillo's burning tip reached Korrero's fingers. He let it fall into sentient traffic and rubbed his singed thumb and index finger as rickshaws pedalled through the clogged street. Bilbousa, City of Divine Slugs, shifted on.
Saffron-robed patrons strolled along the sidewalks under the shade of black parasols. Children ran in clusters, shoving and swarming, laughing and calling out to one another on their way into the arena. Street vendors extended arms draped with garlands of swamp-flowers for bloodshed offerings and held up glinting amulets of revered gladiators to whisper holy protections to their favoured contestants against every brutal fate that could and most likely would befall the doomed souls.
Food carts smoked and hissed with the scents of frying oil and fermented fish while around the ankles of their customers, the flicker-shimmer shapes of Nal Huttese felines twined, yowling and hoping for scraps. Korrero gave up on the wait and slid into the moving crowd and floated along it as if he were driftwood in a river.

This was to be Korrero's first time as a spectator of the Hutt's gladiatorial contests. It's about damn time, he told himself with shame. He was committed to learning and understanding the Hutts, know your enemy Namir, always - his old mentor's words rang clear in his mind, but his resolution risked waning and becoming a nebulous depression.
The fighting ground, or execution ground rather, was a little way fore of the captial city's centre, a huge stone rotunda with sails sliced into decorative patterns, in the thick of the merchant and commerce quarters. The arena was a ring of seemingly imperishable rock with benches laid in gradients on sloping decks, facing into the huge circle of dust and sand. Opulent gondolas hung from the high arcing walls around the edges of the arena. These were obviously the private boxes of the rich.

With a flourish of credits and a brief word to the bookies, Korrero freed up a seat in the middle-row. A scarred man beside him nodded in regard and then continued to talk to a companion next to him in a low voice that outlined the politics and personalities around the arena. "That's the Vizier of Hoontaksh", he would explain, "come to make up the money he lost at the start of the podracing season. The woman over there with the black veil never shows her face. She's said to be a member of the House of Falling Leaves - deadly assassins but ferocious gamblers too...", Korrero simply listened and cast his eyes over the personages that the stranger was mapping out to his friend.

Vendors sold food and spiced wine, and bookmakers shouted odds. The festival, as it seemed to Korrero, was a pretentious and profane event, like most of what went on in Bilbousa.
The crowd were not all human.
Bloodhorns sounded, and by some chemical trickery the dim lights of the arena burst suddenly into red. The crowd brayed enthusiastically.
Korrero did not cheer or shout, but sat still through the vulgar raucous.
"Where's that fecking droid?", he muttered to himself and looked about the stands.
At least the general bloodlust was honest, he thought, contemptuous. There were enough scrambling bookies to show that this was an industry, whatever the Hutt elders might pretend. Korrero was here on behalf of his syndicate, and his task was to disrupt this display of arrogance and profanity. He would soon shut those languid, fat and gaping mouths of the Hutts.
In any case, Korrero, for the moment realised wryly that he was tense to see what would happen in the blood-sport. Excited.

 

[Crosby]

(((Honestly its up to you, lol, i'm indecisive, don't make me decide...)))

More than furious with his opponents withdrawal Tal was pacing back an forward at his gate. Verda's leaving was understandable, but the gladiator had his eye on the mandalorian and wanted to fight him since he first saw him fight.

His new opponent had walked into the arena, a fierce looking man but Tal was not impressed.

<"You replace a 7 foot tall monster with a five foot tall dwarf! Hahahahahaha! You should bring the rancors back out!"> Tal said loud enough for all many of the fans and especially his new enemy could hear.>

 

[Michael Scott]

(((Non-Lethal)))

Chang drew his sword in his right hand and his blaster in his left, he began running towards his enemy. He began focusing on his opponent, planning what limb he would cut off first. Finally when Chang was in range of Pulvis, he shot his blaster three times and jumped, he came down with a downward strike after throwing his blaster at him.

"Go!"

 

[Saint]

Norm watched on as the two gladiators finally began to engage each other. There really wasn't much to go on yet save for the fact that one of them was a Mandalorian. Already that gave him a boost in the ratings, though it would mean a higher payout for those who bet on the other guy... IF he won, heh. Questions rose among those nearby. Questions like, what happened to the other Mandalorian? Did he suddenly lose his spine? Comments followed as well like, what sort of Mandalorian was he if he couldn't or wouldn't compete after already pledging himself?

One thing was certain, the image and perception about the Mandalorians had just gone down, even if only a bit, in the minds of many based simply off this one perceived cowardly act. In truth though, it might not've been his fault at all, but some -other- reason that stopped him from participating. Regardless though, as was most common, people would come to their own conclusions and facts, usually tainted with some unfavorable opinion. The announcement came over as well that Mandalore himself was in the arena.

Krath, how would -he- react to one of his one Mandalorians no-showing a martial contest he had commited himself to, and at that, so publicly to boot. Norm shook his head lightly as the thoughts zipped through his mind while he watched the contest before him unfold. Sure didn't seem favorable for the non-Mandalorian. Norman began to wonder if this was going to be a fight to the death. Did Mandalorians participate in anything but when faced with an opponent who was not a Mandalorian? Guess they -all- were about to find out...

 

[Crosby]

Tal stood still at the other side of the arena as his opponent rushed towards him. He didn't immediately see the blaster in his opponents hand but by the time he did a red bolt skimmed across his right arm and another two missing completely. He smirked for a second but he was soon in danger, he saw the blaster flying at him completely ignoring it and directing his attention to Chang's attack; parrying his opponents attack with the sword in his left hand then dropping his other sword putting his hand in Chang's armpit to attempt to throw the man over him as the blaster that was thrown at him before bounced off his chest.

((Sorry for the wait.))

 

[Michael Scott]

Chang was being held by his opponent and was thrown away from the Mandolorian. He quickly stood up and swung his blade horizontally upwards, following through with his feet in case his blade missed.