Log:The Running of the Rancors

Run run run run

OOC Date: October 26 2020
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants:
Runners: Nerys Greystorm, Tarion Tavers, Mujiji, Merek, King
Spectators: Khalim, Ora, Imani, Saanvi, Domino Graystorm, Liz'diot, Ariel Teral, Zhu Yan, Sumi Kora, Avery Ihala Kora, Tarq Najjic
GM (and Kezzy the Beastmaster): Malik Ren

The short story: A mysterious host sponsors a dangerous game for Nar Shaddaa's most daring thrill seekers.

The long story:

The PIT FIGHTERS PALACE! Where fortunes and freedoms are won and lost, with blood and glory!

All manner of fights are put on here, every day of the week, but tonight is a very special event... In one of the largest arenas, sunk into the ground with stands all above, the roar of horrifying beasts can be heard behind rusted and blood-stained durasteel gates. In the center of the ring, a petite little Rodian, the famous Beastmaster Kezzy, is strutting about cracking her electric whip to get the attention of the fans!

"Hims, hers, thems, gentlebeings of all shape and description, the time has come for the RUNNING OF THE RANCORS!" Kezzy announces, to great and deafening applause from the stands. "Our brave contestants aim to outwit and outlast several terrifying Rancors, captured directly from the jungles of Felucia! Stripped of armor and defenses, with no hope to survive the beasts except for their own fleet feet! Who will win? Who will triumph? Who will win the grand prize of TWO MILLION credits??"

More cheers and applause, and camera droids whiz in toward the contestants. "Runners, step forward and introduce yourselves!" Beastmaster Kezzy declares, and the cameras zoom in on each in turn!

Far at the top of the stands in a VIP box, a shadowy figure steeples his ringed fingers and smiles beneath the shadowy hood of his robe. Some men watch a game to relax. Some men host a bloodsport tournament.

Word had been passed all around the Smuggler's Moon that there was quite a spectacle to be had at the Pit Fighter's Palace and Avery, not one to miss out on glorious spectacle, had decided to come down and watch. Thus it is that the Obsidian armored Mandalorian finds himself in the stands eagerly awaiting the event with a bag of snacks and a delightful concoction with which to wash it all down. He sits relaxed with his T-visored helmet off and placed beside him but, as relaxed as he may be, the Tracer carbine was still present, slung across his back. The usual crooked grin graces his lips while dark emerald eyes dart over the pit and the crowd that has assembled to watch.

Nerys had done many foolish things in her life. In truth, were one to ask any of the many friends and family that had had to pull her out of terrible situations she really ought not to have been in, when she really ought to have been down the plughole at the end of the galaxy, she could foolish for the Space Gods. But it had not killed her yet. Close but not quite. And so, here she stood, waiting still as a statue, as she watched the crowds gathering in the arena. She had chosen a simple fitted bodysuit of black fabric, perhaps to mask the blood, perhaps to make the slashing and rending the rancors were sure to give her more apparent for those who were watching from the cheap seats. This was the Hutt District, after all. There were many cheap seats. Her hair was intricately braided, worked into a crown at the back of her head so that it could not be grabbed or pulled.

When the cameras approached, and the time came for the introduction, she spoke only two words. "Nerys. Greystorm." What other words did she need?

"This...is a terrible idea," remarks the man named King, looking around at the other contestants. It /is/ a terrible idea, but there's also the potential to make lots of money, so it's a wash.

Stepping up to introduce himself he looks around for a microphone to talk into, but, not finding one, he just looks up at the camera. "Uhh...King," is his loquacious introduction, the man all-around unsure of what to do with his hands.

"YESSSS! BEHOLD!" A man clad only in a pair of burgundy trunks raises both hands towards the sky. One hand is a normal hand; the other, a skeletal metal that appears to have been exposed from under normal skin, judging by the way it sort of sprouts from an otherwise-ordinary forearm. His scantily-clad body gleams with a dull sheen, and the short-shorts are trimmed in gold foil with the phrase 'Ra-Ra' picked out in Aurabesh rhinestones across the seat. A pair of light shoes are his only other concession to clothing.

"My naaaame is TARION TAVERS, the greatest bounty hunter that ever lived!" Debatable, but he's already moving on to his next accolade. "CHAMPION of the FIVE SABERS, if it had ever finished! MASTER of the CORESTAR BRIDGE JOUSTING TOURNAMENT OF 1159! OWNER of the CRUDE TARGET MOD SHOP, ALWAYS THE LOWEST PR-" the camera moves to the next contestant.

"Two million?" Mujiji demands of the other contestants. "I thought it was 1.5? Is it two? Are they gonna try an' jip me out of my winnings?" Standing at a solid one foot, eight inches, the kushiban looks a great deal less impressive (if that ever could have been the word used to describe her) without her bandolier of volatile explosives, and willingess to use them without regard for anybody's safety, including her own. She has, however, tied a bright red strip of cloth around her forehead to keep the sweat out of her eyes. "Because two mil would be a lot better. This whole no armor thing feels a bit racist, I'm - I'm totally fluff t'the wind here. Naked as a krayt dragon's arsehole here." Oh, are they filming these introductions? You're welcome, audience.

Merek decided to come in to participate, while he was not sure he would win, it was a wonderful kind of test for his skills. All the same, he nods to the contestants, "Well, looks like only one person is winning," he notes, then adjusts that nice dark attire which he wears.

"HEY YOU!! YEAH!..BRING THE MEAT ON A STICK AND ALE OVER HERE! I DON'T CARE IF ALL THOSE PEOPLE ARE THERE!" Sumi yells from her place at the poor soul carrying concessions on a cart. Sumi pulls out her cred and waves it. "LET'S GO, REKKSTICK!"

Rancors?! Thalia's never seen a Rancor, nor people running from them so this is something that has piqued her curiosity. Not that she is going to be running, she's not athletic like that. Nor is she completely crazy. The redhead is dressed in normal clothes today, not her dancers clothing that she is usually in. She looks over the crowd of people and there's a shake of her head as she looks for a seat to take and to get her medpacs ready if they are needed...because she is sure that someone is going to probably end up being bitten, or dismembered.

The camera focuses on Merek and gives him another try! "Introduce yourself, baby," Beastmaster Kezzy encourages.

"Dekstar Winnie," Merek answers.

Domino is standing on a crate waving a few glowsticks "Last call to make your wager! Last call! Any wager paid in cash paid out to all winners! LAst call!" Sure, preying on the compulsive was a lil beneath Dom but since when has that ever stopped her from being...well. Dom.

"Excuse me. Dreadfully sorry. Watch your feet. Hey, hands off! Oof. Ah. Oh." With much stepping on toes and the occasional wobbling, Tarq reaches the space currently occupied by - Avery's helmet. "Hey there, big man! I will join you. I can hold it for you." And then Tarq is settling down next to the helmet, and starting to reach a hand over like he's going to scoop it up. He's decided the classics are best tonight, so he's wearing a straight-line dress and high heels. "Tarq Najjic is happy to have a warrior at his side during the bloodiest of games!"

"Sounds fake but okay," Beastmaster Kezzy reports to the camera with a dashing Rodian smile, which is like a tiny curve of her little Rodian mouth. She hops onto a circle in the sand and gives her whip a crack! "Up and away we go!" Dramatically, the circle turns out to be a disc that rises into the air, and disappears her off into the bright glare of lights, up to some kind of clever scaffolding.

"RELEASE THE BEASTS!" Kezzy cries, and there is the great and terrible clanking of chains, the tortured grate of rusty workings rising up!

And then the rancors step forth, two of them, looking hungry and upset! Both ROAR, a deafening sound, with gobbets of stringy spittle stretching from upper jaw to lower across the awful maw!

"YASSSSS!" Came the unmistakable voice of a Bith engineer that many were likely familiar with. "It is I, Liz'diot The Omniscient!" There are words about payments and the like, wagers. "Ten Thousand on the Mustache Man. HAHAHAHA!" HE is walking on a pair of janky cyber legs, gone was the hover chair. The Legs though where very rudimentary and simple yet he hand managed to splice in some neon runners onto that. "You better Win KING! Hahah!"

Avery hears Sumi's voice ring loudly over the rest of the crowd noise and his eyes snap about to locate her. With a widening smile he lifts his hand to wave greeting to his clan mate, the gesture turning shifting to motion her over if she deigns to. In the meantime, he's shifting backward to allow Tarq to squeeze by and plop down next to him, tugging his helmet slightly closer to allow more space. "I'll just move it closer to give you more space." At that, he shifts the goodies into his other hand to extend them toward his bench buddy. "Snacks?" The voice of Domino catches his ears next and, though he doesn't have any credits in which to toss in, the prospect crosses his mind for the briefest of moments.

What a man what a man what a mighty Zhu Yan! You see, there was money, and then there was tactical suicide. The bejacketed and utterly glorious smuggler was five and a half feet of pudgy unfit goodness, best propelled forward by rockets and not legs. So, like the sane person he pretended to be, he was in the stands somewhere next to Sumi with a bottle of something alcoholic that belonged in a basement (not a nice basement where one stores casks but one where people put the trash) and yelling at the spectacle before him. "GO YOU LITTLE BASTARDS! GO YOU TINY MURDER RABBIT! And also King. BUT MAINLY THE MURDER RABBIT!"

This was not a race. Not really. This was a test of endurance. Knowing when to apply pressure, when to release it. Nerys, who had turned aside from considering the crowd, spared only a single glance as the pitmaster disappeared to safer spaces, before she turned her eyes to the true spectacle of the night. And then, the race began, and she moved, fluid as a deer, feet beating an even pace against the sand of the course.

Domino hops down from her crate and makes her way through the crowd, seeking a suitable vantage point to watch the crowd and maybe some of the Rancor chow race. Nimbly she wiggles and darts through foot traffic up into the stands.

Imani has secured herself a seat in the stands, slouched back comfortably in her seat while she waits for events to commence. She hasn't placed any money on the match, but she is watching intently as each runner does their introductions. "I don't know any of these people," she says in a perky tone that contrasts with her dark clothing. She's got snacks and a drink with her, idly snacking between commentary. "Who here has the best odds?" She isn't asking anyone in particular, just whoever is near enough to hear the question.

Khalim had, in fact, just seen a rancor skill but two days earlier. At a zoo no less. He peers down from the stands, the creatures looking - even at this distance and vantage - as terrible as he'd imagined. Toting an uncapped Corellian in one hand, and a flyer advertising the details of the Running of the Rancors in the other, he simply watches from mid-way up the stands as the runners make their first breaks from their starting positions.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. King is a curious type. He likes to see cool things, so he begins the race by taking a looooong look at the big ol' beasts that are lumbering forth. "Didn't know they'd be that big," he admits, running a hand down his face to straighten his moustache before he turns on his heel and takes off in the general direction of 'away from the rancors'.

Thalia's emerald gaze goes wide when she hears the sound of the Rancors and then they trundle into view. Yup, those guys were impressively monstrous and terrifying. She scoots a few steps back from her intended seat and swallows in a bit of a nervous bout. Then she smoothes her hands over her jacket and continues on her way to find a seat with her bag over her shoulder and keeping most of her attention on the runners out in the center.

Standing there, grinning a cocky grin, adjusting his waistband to accentuate the imagined taper of his four-pack abs, Tarion looks up sharply as the roar of the rancors cuts through his thoughts. "Oh, right. Rancors." He stands there for a moment, staring at the creatures as they begin to lumber towards him and the other racers, then glances over his shoulder towards the track. "Wait a second, where do we actually /run to/?" While he mulls this over, a claw smashes into the stage near his light footwear, startling him out of thinking and into running, taking off after Nerys's flash of red hair. The moment of consternation fades, relaxing back into that easy, lopsided smile as he starts to remember his own mythical invincibility. "Is that all you got?!"

It's time, then! Mujiji squats, all four little feet absolutely primed to kick off - but then the time comes! The beasts are released, and everyone takes off - and she is immediately at a disadvantage amidst the pack of greedy sentients; there are feet everywhere, and hardly anyplace safe for her to turn! She finds herself stuck, and when she turns - it's there. Drool and teeth and hunger - something long buried and ancestral kicks her prey brain into high gear, and she darts aside and away from those gnashing jaws! Was it the thrill of the chase, or the cheering? Whose to say!

"RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNN--oh the ale guy is here." Sumi pays for a few ales, a meat-stick, and shoos the guy away, finally settling in next to Zhu Yan. She takes a bite from the snack and laughs. "SOMEBODY GONNA DIE TONIGHT! RUUUUUNNN! HAhaha!" Sumi was glad, for once, it wasn't her down there in harms way. Long, noisy drink of ale is taken and she sighs. This is the life, right here.

Tarq Najjic takes a handful of crunchy - somethings. Nuts, maybe? - from Avery's snacks with a grateful smile. "Thank you, new friend." He has yielded to Avery's desire not to let a stranger just carry his Mandalorian armor helmet. He thinks he hears a familiar voice, though, when Imani asks for odds, but he doesn't have any. He just knows that "That Kushiban has some steel in her spine." He then takes to admiring Tarion from across the field. "Someone knows how to put on a show." When he fails to run from the rancors for a bit, Tarq leans forward. "Is he.... oh, good. That is SHOWMANSHIP." How else to explain Tarion's pause as rancors come thundering towards him?

So that's what a rancor looks like! Kriff! Avery is all at once very glad he's not in the pit running away from those monsters. Two million credits is a ship load of money but fleeing from one of those things makes the sum seem paltry. Still, this should be good and he raises his voice to join in with the cheers and shouts that lift in the stands. He scoops out a handful of deliciousness and chews on it thoughtfully, his eyes, for the moment, glued on the six little runners as they sprint away from the lumbering beasts. He shakes his head to Tarq's musings, uncertain why anyone in their right mind would be in such a predicament. "I honestly have no idea... one has to have a few screws loose I feel." Still, he is right... what a show!

Merek looks to the gathering of the two rancors, then nods a bit, while he gives a look to the Beastmaster Kezzy, then he nods a bit while beginning to run, "Alright, well I'm not sticking around to get eaten!" The man can actually run, with a wave to people, "You all stay safe!"

"Ohhhh it's a very VERY close call for the Kushiban! Humans are looking great! It /would/ be mostly humans that enter this... amirite?" Beastmaster Kezzy laughs, and a large percentage of the alien-heavy audience laughs with her. This IS some human shik. Every other species has more sense than this. Except for Mujiji. Every dataset has an outlier.

The rancors stomp forth and roar as their swipes with heavy clawed hands, their snapping and grasping jaws, miss the tasty targets! Deprived of food, they fail to catch even so much as a Kushiban, and their dim little minds are frustrated. But as they begin to take the measure of the sandy arena, and begin to understand the prey has nowhere to escape, they are starting to get faster and more accurate....

Nerys had started the pack, but what had been one fleet-footed redhead was now a field of competitors, and that made running a difficult thing. Rancors must be avoided, that was true, but so did other runners, whom, she was sure, would prove just as dangerous an obstacle, should they begin to drop like flies. There were few predators so fearsome as rancors, and they knew their business. And they were getting closer, the small woman only just avoiding a vicious swipe, ducking down with a preternatural grace as she fled on.

Run, run, run, run! King's essentially shut down every other part of his body that's not dedicated to that one purpose. He doesn't want to get picked up and eaten, because, all in all, that sounds like a terrible time. So, he just keeps running. Like a graceful space gazelle. Look at him go.

"Hahaha, I am so going to win this," Tarion chortles to himself as he chugs along, settling into an easy pace that will clearly be fast enough to carry him to ultimate victory. "I'm not even running hard! Hahaha! Ha ha. Ha. Ah. AHHHHH!" The laughter turns to panicked gasps and a scream as one of the rancors, actually a familiar face, suddenly closes the gap between them and reaches out a mammoth hand towards him. Before the claws can reach him, the bounty hunter puts his feet down harder, widening the gap again but starting to puff now as he goes, a nervous laugh escaping as he sees death once again fading into the rearview, quick glances over his shoulder now regularly being stolen to be sure that the creature isn't bearing down again.

Domino hands Liz a Datapad, "Keep that on ya, It'll reach me if you can't find me later for your payout. Ask around anyone will point you towards Peaches." She assures the Bith. This done she dissapears into the crowd, hopping up now and again to try to see through the crowd looking for a suitable perch.

"You think?" Imani asks Tarq on the matter of the poor Boneless Wing down there. She washes down some of her crispy chip like treats with her drink, then sits up a little higher to watch as things start getting good. Or horrifying, depending on how you feel about bloodsports.

She's escaped! She's survived! Mujiji twists, turns, and leaps from spot to spot like some graceful beast on a holo-documentary! She turns! She slides! She leaps into the air and -

The maw closes around her, and Mujiji disappears entirely in the mouth of the rancor. For a long, LONG moment, it would appear that she has been swallowed, never to be seen again - but when it next roars, the kushiban leaps out of that maw, slimy but alive! Slimy, but victori-

The next step it takes flattens her like she is nothing, and Mujiji does not move from where she has been crumpled like roadkill.

Merek keeps on with that running, he can do what he does best, which is to try to be running away. There's no words at that point besides, "I am Dekstar!" He then points to his face then to that person announcing, he watches Mujiji be taken in by that rancor, "Ah no I like them, why!" Then he keeps on because he needs to win that money.

Thalia takes a seat down towards the front, easier to get to injured people sometimes. But, she really wasn't going onto that field. She wasn't that courageous. And then there is a flattened Kushiban that happens and there is a wince from the redhead as she digs into her bag. "Hey, can someone drag that...ummm...adorable ball of fur this way?" she makes a motion to come this way, like there isn't two murderous beasties running about trying to eat people. Everything is FINE.

First ale done, plastic cup thrown down, and the second ale is started. That's when Mujiji meets her fate. Sumi throws her meatstick down toward the arena. "OH COME ON! MOO, YOU'RE QUICKER THAN THAT!" She sits back down, glaring and drinking. "She's gonna feel that in the morning." Burp.

"Oooooooooh!" Avery exclaims, flinging some of the snacks in surprise, when Mujiji is caught and chomped by one of the incredible beasts. He winces in sympathy for the female Kushiban as her race, and health, have come to a sudden end. He nudges Tarq with an elbow, motioning toward the fallen contestant in the pit below. "Obviously we're both not in there, but would you even consider something like this? How much would it take to get in there for you?" he asks, brushing some of the nuts and savory items from his armor where they spilled. Once satisfied with his 'cleanliness' he leans over to offer some of the treats to Imani nearby.

The crowd collectively goes "OHHHHHHHHH" in the way that crowds do when Mujiji gets royally CHOMPED. It's delighted and horrified and excited... it's why everyone is here! To see people get chomped, this ain't Chandrila! Then the crowd goes, "OHhHhHHHHH??" when she falls out of the maw like a half broke chip, and then "OHHHHH!!!!!" when she gets stomped! Fights erupt in the stand as bets were paid too soon and revoked and repaid! It's pandemonium!

A pair of battered droids with a stretcher trundle out in no hurry to collect the Kushiban from the arena floor. There's no official arena medic, but surely some kind person in the crowd will volunteer!

"And then there were FOUR!" Beastmaster Kezzy cries. "Their odds improving all the time! Who will be the last standing?"

"YAS, mustasch man!" Liz cheers, not really being able to tell whether or not King is actually winning or not. He moves to stand next to Sumi and Yan. "AHAHAHA..." A bottle of amber liquid is produces, the cork popped, and then downed the gullet of his mouth sphyncter. Glug Glug Glug.

Imani notices the treats offered in her direction, eyes moving from container to the man offering it. He's answered with a bright smile. "Hey, thanks. You can have some of mine too," she offers in return, tilting her container with crispy chip like shards in it at Avery. She helps herself to some of the offered snacks, popping one into her mouth. "I 'unno if I'd ever want to do something like this, you know? Feels like a big risk when there's a lot more I have to be doing with my life."

Tarq answers instantly, "Ten million." He watches Mujiji with an expression halfway between horror and delight. "Oooooooh." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "They had spirit, didn't they?" When Tarion first evades a rancor, he rises to his feet. "Yessss! That one is going the distance! He has to! No one else will own the winner's circle the same way!"

"Aw NUTS!" exclaimed Yan, before realizing that maybe he should really be concerned for his employee. "That's a thousand credits gone." Okay maybe not. "Right. Liz. Hold this," he said to the half-robo-Bithtacular and gave him a bottle that really belonged in a mechanic's shed instead of a bar. Then he gave the horrible excuse for a sentient a poke in the horrifying chest. "Don't drink it. I gotta go look after our murder rabbit." Tempting fate, there. Now, where in the hell was Mujiji being taken?

And then there were four. Nerys, who had no mind for anything but the course and the threat chasing on her heels, missed the fall of the kushiban, though she knew, from the sound of the crowds precisely when it must have happened. It was the thought that she might be next that kept her fleet of foot, lungs not yet burning for air, muscles not yet screaming. She had a bit more to go. Hopefully, enough to see her through to the end. Time and fate would tell.

Mujiji is /dead/. Hearing the pandemonium, King spares a glance over his shoulder and spies the downed Kushiban. A clicking of his teeth is all he can muster. Naia or somebody's gonna have a field day putting that little bunny back together. ROCK. King's attention snaps back to his line just in time for him to mantle over a wayward stone that would have surely spelled his demise.

Domino finds a good vantage point just in time to see Mujiji get mauled. She slow blinks, her complexion goes a most unflattering ashen and a hand crowned in ornately painted fingernails presses against her mouth as if forcing down a sudden upwelling of pile. WHY did she think this was something she wanted to see again?! Still looking decidedly queasy she hops down from her perch and vanishes into the crowd.

Crunch. Munch. Sip. "I'm late, who's dead." Asked by Ora behind Liz'dot amid the roar of the crowds, young chick wearing a foam headband with a bright red rancor atop it and teeny little aliens on springs lining the bottom 'running' from said rancor, with the blinking words 'RANCORLICIOUS' projected above, "...We have a /murder/ rabbit?!" Asked with a lingering look of question towards the retreating Yan as he disappears into the crowd, smile widening ever brighter as her drink is brought to lips, bag of snacks tilted towards the creepy Bith, "So great." Best employers ever.

"Oh, /hell yes,/" Tarion exults jubilantly as he catches Mujiji's trampling out of the corner of his eye, turning midstride to more properly enjoy the downfall of one of his competitors. Turning, with the joyful glow of bloodlust and greed suffusing his eyes with a delighted gleam, his ankle catches his toe. He tumbles, rolling through the dust, his coating of oil picking it up and coating him like the grossest beigneTT. And then the rancor is upon him.

Maybe the rancor remembers him from their encounter on Felucia; Tarion doesn't, but its brain might be larger than his. Either way, it snatches him up like a beigneTT from an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffeTT, and slavering jowls chomp with an almost smug, bestial satisfaction, taking his left arm off at the shoulder. The mechanical arm.

The reaction is immediate, a shocked, disappointed, disgusted growl of revulsion and distaste as the enormous beast tosses the bounty hunter towards one of the walls, spitting out chunks of cybernetic limb like bones from a fileTT of fish that was assumed to be boneless.

A shuddering thud later, the delimbed man lies in a motionless heap against the far wall, spurting blood from where the rancor took off more than what was mechanical. Surely he must be dead.

"Worth it," comes a tiny croaking voice.

Merek keeps on with his running while he would look back to people, and nods a little, "Alright, well it looks like I need to keep on running." Why did he agree to this? Right, the money. The man looks to Tarion and begins to keep on running.

Saanvi steps in with a large medical duffle slung over her shoulder. She scans the large crowd and marvels to herself, "I had no idea watching Rancors hunt prey was considered sport. I will never understand amusement if this is what is done to amuse oneself..." She begins to make her way around the arena, transfixed for all her words.

The crowd is loving it. A few, like Domino, find that the blood sports were not to their taste after all, but the rest - they are HERE FOR IT. Screams and cheers greet the fall of Tarion Tavers, and just like with Mujiji, the dented old arena-droids trundle out with their stretcher. They load him on. They don't care if you're not supposed to move spinal injuries, they aren't programmed for finesse or for giving a flying flip about the needs of organics. Get the bodies off the floor, that's it!

As the screams and cheers for Tarion's demise settle down a bit, Beastmaster Kezzy speaks up again as MC! "The rancors have got the taste of blood now," the little Rodian observes cheerfully in her buzzy high pitched voice. "They'll be unstoppable soon!"

In unison, both rancors roar, as if to agree!

Somehow, Thalia and Murder Rabbit connect and the medic quickly gets to stabilizing the ball of bloody fluff. Because that was pretty horrific. "Hey, just hang in there, you're going to be fine." she murmurs as she tends to the Kushiban. She's quiet as she works but there is a look up when something hits a wall and she winces as Tarion's arm goes the other way of his body. "Oh..that had to hurt." she murmurs.

Avery waits until she has selected some of his treats before placing the bag on the seat next to him to grab a bit of hers. "Thank you!" He remarks with a smile before popping the chippy goodies in his mouth to chew. He nods to her assessment of the running, as well as Tarq's claim of ten million. "Maybe with armor...." the slicer muses, his entire expression wincing once again as another contestant falls to the viciousness of the rancors. "Eeeeeeer... maybe not." comes the admittance. He rather likes his arms and legs where they are, thank you.

Again, that cheer rose from the crowds. There really was only one reason for it. And then there were three. And that was no comfort, for once any beat of prey caught the taste of blood in their mouths they became more dangerous and not less. And so, on she went, Nerys navigating the field with the air of one who had long experience. She had learned the course too, and she was using it to her advantage. Just be sore to mind the puddles of blood. Nobody wanted to get bogged down in those. Even that tiny, bitty one. Preach.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! RUN!" Sumi screams from up in the stands with a voice accustomed to combat. Yelling at a bloodsport was hardly cause to lose her tone. She finishes her second ale and starts looking around for that concessions guy again.

Now Tarion is /effin' dead/. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. King is slowing down a little bit as he continues his mad-dash away from the horrors unfolding behind him. His moustache continues to flap away in the wind, but King is an /old/ old man. "Aaaagh, this sucks so much," he groans, still managing to put one leg after the other. "Shoulda....shoulda just taken that bodyguard gig...but nooooo...thought it would....woulda got borin'..." he complains, slugging along.

Tarq is left standing where he was, mere moments ago, pumping his fists at Tarion eluding death, watching Tarion re-lose an appendage and change. He stares for a moment, then looks back at the rancors, then sits down slowly. He crosses his arms on his chest, sullen. "The most interesting ones are gone. I don't really feel - invested." Words notwithstanding, he is staring at the survivors, if a bit more clinically.

Merek looks then to those nice rancors that want to make him a nice little snack, then he keeps on. Eventually, one of them would begin to sweep at him, which would make the man begin to shift forward, almost being sweeped by a claw! "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Liz glances toward Yan as he takes the bottle of booze is handed towards him. He cradles it like a small child, his own child, even if its cheap swill. He watches the man leave before uncorking it and chugging that down his gullet as well. He was a horrible person, and not to be trusted. Why else would he be here.

"Three there were, and three remain!" Beastmaster Kezzy announces as all the runners make it around the puddles of blood, the irregularities in the sand, the suspicious bones littered about the arena floor! "The runners are getting the pattern of it now, but they can't run forever, and the rancors are getting faster every lap! Who's your money on? I like the one with the red hair!"

The rancors are briefly distracted by fighting with each other, a terrible THUD as one hits the other with its giant clawed hand, and Kezzy cracks her whip at them. "Get out of it!" she scolds. "Back to work!"

Somehow, this is effective, and they refocus on their prey!

"You know what's amazing, he's so old but he runs like he's only like, a hundred." Ora says to Liz despite him not engaging in conversation with her, chick pushing past the side of the drinking Bith Liz, moving in to get a better look at the runners, "KING, USE YOUR SPIT TO SLICK BACK YOUR 'STACHE! AERODYNAMICS OR SOMETHING!" Screamed out fruitlessly as the crowd cacophony is drowning, jumping up and down from heel to toes as she sends her snack bag contents flying up and around, little puffed kernels of goodness flying wildly, "Aahahah ..." Laughter then as she bites the inside of her cheek, grinning with a sidelong glance to the Bith and his booze, "He better not die. Can you bring him back to life, Liz'dot, if he does? Oh, get him a chair like yours. Put his head in a jar ..he can still give pointers on how to point and shoot. GO KING, RUN THAT OLD ARSE!"

Nerys could feel the rancor coming up behind her. And worse, she could //smell// the rancor coming up behind her. Damned keen sense of smell. How did she turn that off? //Could// she turn it off? Something to look into. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a clawed arm coming around to try to scoop her up, and she jumped, foot kicking at the arm as she pivoted out of the line of fire with a flip and hit the ground, teeth snapping together as she braced the impact and took off once again.

Oh god, they're getting closer and people are dropping like flies. King is pretty sure that he can see the end of his life approaching quicker than a grav-train who's engineer needs to piss, and it's making him sloppy. A mistep here, a stumble there. He doesn't have much left in him.

Saanvi makes her way along to the side of the pit, placing her medic's bag up beside her so it's in prominent display. Not a neon light or a flashing banner but hopefully from her current vantage point she will spot patients in need of medical attention as they're hauled away.

Thalia wipes her hands off after she is done tending to a few folks that had been injured. Tarion...that's a job that she's not equipped to handle and she knows that. Plus they've got to sweep him up off the wall and part of the arena first, so, she'd just watch and see what else was going to happen here. She gives a look towards where some of the cheering comes from and there's a chuckle. Maybe she wasn't so sane after all.

Merek is picked up in that Rancor's fun teeth, then gets swished about by the mouth, though eventually it notices that he kinda tastes like metal. It then throws the man along to fly along in that arena, that blood flowing from bite while he spins, "Wooooooooooooooooooooooo! THIS IS---" then he's slammed right into the wall, cracking bones along with cybernetics, then falls to the floor which then cracks even few more of them. "... I'm Dexstar," he manages to state, then holds up a hand while he begins to roll over onto the side and looks up, hand lifted with a two finger salute for folk, then he's laying in the pool of his own blood. Well, he gave them a show, that's what matters.

Liz was far too busy chugging down booze and emptying the bottle, which is why he didn't exactly spring to respond to Ora. "He's Morellian. He's old, BUT YOUNG. If only he would let me extract his NONA MACHINES for study. I could seek the Seventh Dimension and shed the bounds of the Sixth Dimensional shelf!" He gives a nod, "YASSS. If he dies, between my dear sweet Flarna and I we can resurrect him. Make him stronger, faster... BETTER!" He looks around for more booze, "SUMI GIVE ME BOOZE!"

"Oh, snap, I jinxed her," Beastmaster Kezzy remarks with a high pitched Rodian laugh as she had JUST said she likes Nerys best, and then a rancor tries to snap Nerys up almost immediately! The crowd is already howling when Nerys seems like toast, and then they're positively screaming when she evades them with a super-human feat of determination and agility! "Now that's what I'm talking about!" the Beastmaster praises with satisfaction, "That's what I call enterTAIN-- Ohhhh! There goes Dexstar! Look at him fly, baby!"

Alas, a rancor has indeed snapped up Merek, First of his Name, Scion of the House of Black, the Artist Formerly Known as Dexstar, chomping him down to-- ah, taste taste, ew, not food. It flings him out! Yuk! A roar of frustration follows, and the rancors each have a single target to focus on now, as the droids wearily go to fetch Merek off the field and deliver him to the not our problem table.

And another one gone, and another one gone... another one bites the dust. Avery's hand is frozen over his drink, those deep green eyes of his latched onto the carnage taking place in the pit. "This is...." He swallows, hand finally clutching the drink and bringing it to his lips to wet his whistle. "I hope they're all alright." he remarks, unsure if that's even a possibility with limb and cybernetics alike thrown to the side in such gory display. Somehow his gut has stayed put through the violence, could be something to do with his previous training, that or he's just so far away that this doesn't seem real. Certainly, were he in the pit, it would be much more than fiction.

"DEXSTAR IS DEADSTAR NOW! HA!" Sumi yells just as the concession guy arrives. She gets Liz a bottle of spicebrew liquor, the worst tasting and cheapest label on the market. It'd take an iron gut to drink that. Meanwhile she's taking her seat again and laughing/drinking/snorting.

Half-way en route to the almost-corpse of the murder rabbit, Yan turned to check on the status of his bottle. It was a mistake, you see, as the inevitable had happened. "LIZ!" he erupted, pointing and shouting at the monster that sometimes called himself a Bith. "That was MINE! I swear to god I am going to wring your neck until you are dead and then disinfect my hands in a blast furnace!"

"They're probably not dead," Imani assures Avery, giving the man a sturdy thump of reassurance against one shoulder. "And they knew what they were getting into when they did this. No one doesn't know what they were getting into when they have to go up against rancor, right?" It isn't actually much reassurance at all, but she's trying. It's just hard to when the bodies really start piling up.

Saanvi watches the maulings and marvels, "It is amazing the variety of abuse sentients can take. Oooh, I will get to treat injuries I have never seen before!" She realizes, perking abruptly as she witnesses the casualties.

With the contestants he cared about out of the picture, Tarq is free to judge the destruction of the remainder like a fine wine: "MmmmmhMMMMMM. Dexstar - a thrill seeker, to - the - last." He claps slowly for the maybe-alive, maybe-dead fellow. "We should all be so true to our natures in death." At spotting yet more cybernetic parts, he raises an eyebrow and says loudly to Avery, but easily overheard: "More parts. Did they all run because they had less left to lose?" He ponders the quandary as he waits for the next casualty, lighting a cigarette.

Thalia stays on the sidelines for now, the redhead with the long braid giving a shake of her head over the amount of blood spilling everywhere. And the amount of cybernetics some of these people will need replaced. Dekstar is too far away, so she doesn't go tromping across to see about the downed man. She is standing close to where Mujiji was though.

"I don't wanna _see_ or -know- what his nona machines are-" Ora begins as gives her empty cup and bag a shake with a glance into each before dropping them on the floor at her feet, crunching her left foot onto each, "But I am down to clown with the for whatever dimensional hoodoo you be onto." Sumi? Sumi? Swiveling her head around for a brief moment she looks for the dangerous lady, "Oh, she bringing booze? I like boo-" OOOH. The announcer garners her attention with 'enterTAIN', her swishing back on a swivel as she lets out a rowdy, "OH HE WENT DOWN. OR UP. DANG!" Dexstar, she lookin' at you fly, baby, "You /see/ that? KING, MOVE THEM YOUNGISH OLD BONES! I believe in YOU!" Settling once again on her heels in time to catch a glance of Sumi over her shoulder she grimaces out a half-smile, "I mostly believe in him, he's sorta sketch at times -- Summmi, heeeeeeeey." A greeting, before attention shifts back to see WHO GOES DOWN NEXT, "OH. If he /dies/ I get his ship. Because I already /sleep/ on it. Oh." Conflicted, a pained realization dawning, "Oh no, I can't fly it. KING, DON'T DIE. YOU HAVE TO TEACH ME TO FLY. RUN!" Said with a flail of her arms.

It was a show, right? That's what they were all here for. And whether or not that was //actually// her intention, Nerys did give them one. You see, the problem with thinning the herd, is that the prey became easier to catch, and one of the rancor gave a giant leap, attempting to land itself right on the small woman's back.

But Nerys //was// small. And she was also wily, and as the rancor leapt, it's claws aimed for her spine, she heard the tread behind her and twisted, rolling out from beneath that looming shadow and coming back up. It was nearly to the end now, though, of that she was almost sure. For good or ill.

"Hellfire, I'm so tired," King says, feet dragging as he continues to trudge along. Everybody's dying and he's getting real nervous. His usual reaction to fight or flight is to just stand menacingly in a corner and quickdraw his opponent until they die. That doesn't work because that mean Rodian took his guns, so he's left with the only other option that he's not super great at!

A nod to Imani's reassurance as his body rocks from the thump. There's no way to be certain of their states at this moment, but he does see the scores of medics below and... she does have a good point. Avery takes another sip of his beverage and sets it down on the bench beside him. "That... I definitely agree with." the slicer admits to Tarq, "Meeting death as one would welcome a friend is truly the way to be." Something, something, Mandalorian code. His eyes dance across the strewn limbs and enhancements, an eyebrow slowly arching higher, "You might be on to something. Though I imagine there might be a rise in pricing on cybernetic attachments shortly after this event concludes. Need verses demand, or something." He's not into business but he's certain that's a phrase that's been used before.

"She's tough to kill, huh? Hire that one for your team later.... or the Mustache Fella who's kept a foot ahead of everybody else all night!" Beastmaster Kezzy seems to approve of both contestants as they continue to outrun the dangerous animals with which they chose to enter a ring.

The Rancors are PISSED now and start slamming wildly at the prey with their huge clawed hands!

Thalia notices something out of the corner of her vision now that there is a less frantic running. She's seen that finally dressed Tarq before and there's a moment taken to give him a wave, because she's not completely without manners. That and he has pretty shoes. "That old man is going to be hurting in the morning...if he's not dead." she murmurs to one of the other medics. She was being honest! But he could surely out run some of the young folks.

Tarq Najjic shakes his head and takes his cigarette in hand. "There goes another. She was fast, I thought she-" Pause. "Have you ever seen someone move that fast?" He replaces his cigarette between his teeth. "She /looks/ human. Some planets, they say they train them from birth for their role in life."

Liz glances to Ora and if Bith could smile it'd be the most insufferable uncouth thing in existence. "YASSSSS." IS all he can say as Sumi gives him Booze. Though as Yan chides him, he offers it to his 'boss' as a peace offering. "Shut it you Poopy Booby head and drink this instead. I hear it's better." Also... if Bith could wink, he'd wink at Sumi.

There were days. Days when Nerys thought less of herself than others. And then there were days when Nerys was forced to think only of herself. This was one of those days, as she pushed herself, past the threshold, making use of every ounce of speed and style she had to move. She ducked, she weaved and yes, in her way, she prayed. She prayed the prayer she always prayed. 'Let me get to the next screen.' Because some things were important. And that was the most important thing of all. Maybe more important than the the claws that tried to rake at her, the teeth that gnashed at her, than the spit she could feel hitting her back, her shoulders. Her hair! She worked hard on that hair. Darn it. Okay, she paid good money for that hair to be done. Whatever. She lived on Chandrila now. They did that sort of thing. Shut up Inner Nerys, keep running!

"Heeeeeeeeey!" Sumi says in a slightly girlish way, waving at Ora, her hand flapping drunkenly. "SOMEONE DIE ALREADY! LET'S SEE SOME MORE BLOOD! AHHHH!" Sumi is everyone's biggest fan in bloodsports. She's /all/ about the bloodshed and death. "RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!"

Lemme tell you buddy, there's a faster gun. Comin' over yonder when tomorrow comes. Lemme tell you buddy, and it won't be long. Til you find yourself singin' your last cowboy song.

King's slowing way down. All of those aftermarket parts are running out of juice and eventually the Morellian man comes to a stop, his hands resting on his hips as he tries to catch his breath. "Ah....son of a b-"

FWOOM

. A rancor swipe catches every bit of the lone wanderer, his body folding and snapping every which way until he's sailing like a blind-fire missile towards the stands.

BZZZR

The force field protecting the fans zaps King real hard and sends him sailing towards the ground just as fast as he hit it.

THUMP.

Ladies and gentlemen, King is /EFFIN DEAD/.

Avery blinks, amazed at the speed in which Nerys was moving. "Well... yes, I have. But she's certainly up there." he admits, unconsciously sitting forward in his seat as the rancors close in on their targets. Had Avery's upbringing been a normal one, he simply would have turned to stare at Tarq, a very human eyebrow raised on a very human face, with a very human look of disbelief being given. As it is, he simply shakes his head and admits, "No... I hadn't heard that." even though he, himself had been raised for his whole life to do many things that he didn't wish to. Rather, things he would do but not for reasons that he agreed with. And then it was done... after Nerys' amazing feat of acrobatics King stopped and was immediately set upon by a furious rancor. One swipe and the man was sent against the wall, his broken body thudding to the ground shortly after. Avery finds himself blinking for a few moments, unsure if he should cheer for the victor or if the jubilation was too much for those that may have perished.

Saanvi looks around for any other medics or event staff who look like they're waiting to go see the survivors. If she spots any she'll queue with them if she doesn't she mills restlessly, sizing up the work that's likely to be waiting for her.

Tarq Najjic twitches as King caroms off the force field that seems so close to him. He leans back, bumping into Imani. "Ah, yes, miss, I- oh, Imani!" He pats her knee. "That was... was...." He doesn't know what to call it. "Now what? They will still catch her if they don't pull her away, or put them back- you know," he says dryly, "I bet the Hutts would love to let someone believe they won, only to let them get eaten in their moment of triumph."

Sumi asks, Sumi gets! BLOOD! Poor King is down, and now the crowd is really screaming as financial winners and losers immediately begin to shout at and attack each other. "The King is dead.... long live the QUEEN!" Beastmaster Kezzy announces as her circular grate starts to sail back down toward the floor. "Get the decoys!" she commands, and a pair of Ryn scamper out, brightly dressed and hollering loudly (and in terror) as they run to lead the rancors back to their cavernous holes behind the grate.

The droids come out to fetch King, carefully, he's a hero, and Kezzy curls an ornately decorated canister into the end of her whip, then whips it at Nerys! "Careful honey, don't spend it all in one place," she warns with a Dazzling Rodian Smile, and the roar of the crowd deafens everything else.

Up in the VIP stands, the shadowy figure smiles, and laces his fingers together.

"I'll be watching you, clever girl."