Log:Shock Boxing at the Pit Fighters Palace
Shock Boxing at the Pit Fighters Palace
OOC Date: February 13, 2025
Location: Nar Shaddaa - Hutt District
Participants: Jacs Lessa, Qar-dunn, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Ben Relor, Raan Vren, Valeska Nell, Colo Nell, Callisto, Vianna Soleil, Hani Marake, Yxuara, & Merulia.
"Who will rid us of this troublesome wretch? This Nar Kanji Scurrier who dares set foot upon the hallowed Neon of Nar Shaddaa?!" Oh the crowd roars. There's no one in favour of Jacs numbering anywhere near numerous enough to make a difference to that rumbling and raucous cry for vengeance and humiliation to be heaped upon Jacs. The stench of food, alcohol, why there's even various attendees sniffing and snorting and smoking all manner of narcotics as they work themselves up into a rabid fervour.
"We have a few contenders who seek to leave their mark upon this Eh! Chuh! Ta!" Again the crowd roars their approval. Hate is good. Having someone to shout and swear at? Oh it's cathartic and the hate figure being some Nar Kanji Skitterer? Perfection.
The crowds have gathered and the roar rises once more as Jacs steps out into the pit, a body honed from fighting and industrial tasks. No armour, just a pair of billowy black pants that thin towards his ankles, leaving his feet bare as he treads upon a ring that has seen so much pain and blood. Black streaks adorn his eyes, likewise against his shoulders giving him the feathery impression of some feathered hawk. Lifting his hands in the air, one can see the X-21 shock gloves that are worn upon each hand, coloured a bright and rather shocking and rage laden pink against which the blue sparks clash as he claps his hands together above his head.
"Let the first challenger come forward..."
--
Qar-duun *scatters* his buy-in contemptuously on the apron, spilling creds into the ring itself as he inserts his mouthguard. "Thallenth atthepted," he sneers through rubbercoated fangs. Climbing the set-dressing, he creeps like a questing insect in his native jungle! Burns and scars he's got, but bruises? Those are pending!
--
Bizz has taken off his robe and placed it over a chair, leaving only his black monk pants, and is oiling his plump physique with Moruga nut oil. By the end of it his large pot belly glistens with lubricant. The Ugnaught downs a bottle of Boga noga Hutt ale then puts on his shock gloves, taking care not to shock himself with all of that conductive body oil.
--
Ben Relor really doesn't want to, but he's taking off his tunic. Underneath, his wiry frame is as scarred and burned as Qar-duun. And actually, he's already got some fresh bruises and cuts, so he apparently came primed! He's wearing olive green cargo pants on the bottom, and if it's allowed, he's keeping his boots on.
His R5 droid rolls forward to bleep at him as he straps on his red shock gloves. "Don't gimme that, Five. No oil this time. Last time was bad enough." Ben stares at the mouthguard in his hand next, as though debating whether or not he wants to wear it. While he decides, he drains a large glass of whiskey. Priorities!
--
Raan steps into the chaotic energy of the Pit Fighter's Palace with the steady, deliberate gait of someone who thrives in the fire of competition. The golden hue of his skin gleams faintly under the sickly yellow-green lights, the fractal tattoos along his arms stark against his bare torso as he moves. His entrance is unhurried, his presence cutting through the haze of smoke and the cacophony of the crowd.
The golden-skinned man adjusts the straps on his shock gloves with calm precision, the faint hum of energy crackling faintly around them. His only attire is a speedo-like thong swimsuit in black, the bold choice earning a few whistles and laughs from the crowd. He smirks, tossing a sharp glance toward the spectators, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he waits to step up to the ring.
--
It's been a hot minute since there's been a good shockboxing match, and Valeska ain't missing this for nothing. She's in the stands out of her irons because tonight is date night and she keeps her promises. Dressed in the most casual wear you'll find on Nar Shaddaa, she looks over to the man next to her with adoration and no small amount of mischief in her eyes. "C'mon. When are you gonna let me spar you with some of those gloves, Colo? I promise to go gentle."
Which is a bold-faced lie. Valeska isn't terribly accustomed to the word, but she does love to teases. The Mando-off-duty hooks her arm with her husband's, looking over the contestants as the match is set to begin. "I don't know most of these people. That's how you know we're getting old. But I see that kid from the other night is out there. Curious to see how he does, yeah?"
--
"You know it -stings-, right?" Colo relates to Valeska through a half-smirk and a bold eye shot at the for-once-unarmored woman tucked at his side in the milling crowd. Their view of one-another is excellent--of the fight? Oh, sure, that's nice too. He coils his lips into a tight, puckish mien only for the liar he's trained. "You'll have me flipped on my shebs in minutes the first time I feel a tingle. At least with Baize I know he'll listen to me squawking for mercy. No deal!"
He roars the words with a gesture to the ceiling that's swallowed up by the roar of the crowd, eager to see violence: if not blood, then sweat and tears shall suffice. A Trandoshan scowls over his shoulder at the boisterous Corellian who holds his palm up and promises to be good with but a look. Then he snuggles in further to Valeska and nods ring-ward at the scowling, shirtless youth. "Be surprised if he doesn't wind up in the finals, honestly."
--
Callisto smiles from her seat as she waits for the battles to start wearing her brand new little red dress, black over the knee boots and her silver-looking earrings. Her dark eyes curiously sweep the room, she offers little waves hello to familiar faces before her attention returns to the arena before her.
--
A familiar face to those who frequent the Twi'lick, Vianna Soleil is in the crowd. The Zeltron has a drink in her hand, and a particular light in her eye. This light is the thirst for BLOOD.
Or maybe she just wants to watch sweaty men beat the poodoo out of each other. Is that so wrong?
Of course it isn't. She crosses her legs at the knee, adjusting her long, flowing, but daringly slitted skirt to stay decent. This isn't her workplace, after all.
--
Vega's not fighting tonight. The diminutive Echani is in the crowd and watching those that have decided to fight though. Her white hair is pulled back into a haphazard braid and her clothing looks a little disheveled as she's been working most of the day. Her pale gaze flicks from one face to the next, but does no cheering for anyone at the moment.
--
Brother Bizz remains by his table shirtless and glistening with oil. He does some warm-up moves, hissing as he exhales. He takes a wide stance to make certain his crimson underskirt and black pants do not interfere with his moves. Then a polite belch before the short Ugnaught asks for another beverage. "A Rylothian yurp please!" His beer belly jiggles when he does a few more rabbit punches.
--
Jacs moves with a certain grace, the Kanji Mechanic steps back as he nods once to Qar and then lifts his gloved hands as they spark that blue lightning. Jacs steps in, hands gloves raised and ducks down low as lashes out with a punch towards Qar's left thigh, the sparks erupting and making the arena flicker amidst the wild neon that shrouds the fighters down there. While Jacs puts everything behind that punch, the mechanic dances away still within reach... his bare form glistening as he twists about and seeks to gain the measure of his opponent. Foot work, the sandy floor kicking up a mini-sandstorm as he rises, hands still raised... eyes focused... as he dips back to dodge Qar's counter attack! A flex of muscle, a bit of fancy footwork! Jacs dips and dodges and ducks!
--
Qar-duun absorbs Jacs' punch with a contemptuous smile? "Ah, playtime." The flicker of hope dies out like the sparks, skittering to nowhere against the Malachite Mountain. But his own swing in response is somewhat wild, more power than study, and is easily ducked aside! Perhaps another round will... clarify matters... ?! Or at the very least, loosen someone's teeth!
--
Callisto's dark eyes focus on watching Jacs fight and cheers out as he lands a hit on Qar and manages to fuck Qar-duun's counter punch. "That's right! Get 'em!" is joyously cried out.
--
Ben is a bundle of crackling energy (literally, given the shock gloves), pacing around in circles, swinging his arms, throwing hooks to the air. He's also watching the ring: watching Jacs get his MORTAL ENEMY, Qar-duun, right in the thigh. And when Qar-duun misses? Oh, that's just delicious. Ben breaks out into a vicious grin, showing his smoking-yellowed teeth.
Five rolls in a circle and bleeps something at him, his lights flickering. "I dunno if I get a chance to wail on him, Five, but I sure as kark hope so." He hops in place, throwing some more air punches. Sh-sh-sha.
--
Callisto laughs out loudly in delight as she heckles Qar-duun, "First you are losing rap battles and now probably shockfights. What are you going to lose next to make it the hat trick?" She scoots forward in her seat as the fight continues.
--
The Zeltron lounges, her golden eyes glittering in the light of the fighting pit. So many fists. Not a lot of wails of pain or falling over. Either these guys hit like younglings, or they're really tough. It could be both, but only one is funny.
Her voice is musical as she calls out. "I can hit harder than that!"
--
Qar-duun ignores the cat-calls and loud, public hopes for his humiliation-- only results matter! Alas, although he is possessed of sweaty, Frankenstein's monster-like charm, his outsized muscles cannot seem to connect with the smaller, more limber Lessa! "Come back, insect!"
--
"They're just out there playing with each other." someone comments to Vega. Which causes the scarred woman to laugh. "Nah, maybe it's just a warm up? Everyone needs to make sure they get all the lead out before throwing big punches." she admits. "And fighting a new opponent that you aren't familiar with is always hard to calculate. Might just be misreading the body before attacking." she poses.
--
Raan stands near the edge of the ring, arms down, the faint crackle of his shock gloves humming at his sides and lighting the inked flesh of his legs. His golden eyes track the fighters with sharp precision, taking in every swing, every feint, every electrified blow that lands. The roar of the crowd and the scent of smoke and sweat seem to fade into the background as he studies the matches, his expression calm but intense. Shifting his weight he stretches one arm, flexing his fingers to test the charge in his gloves, readying himself for the moment when it's his turn to step into the ring.
--
"You like a little sting, Colo. You're not foolin' anyone, yeah?" Valeska, with no consideration for the poor schmuck in front of them, props her feet up on the back of the seat. The Rodian turns around to make his feelings known with a snort and a SHOVE of Val's feet off his rekkin' seat. To the surprise of anyone who knows Valeska, she doesn't pick a fight. Again, it's date night and she made a promise. But what she does do is point to Colo while glaring at the Rodian. "You owe him one, yeah?"
That said, she leans up against Colo with a curious look over Ben down there waiting his turn. "You think so? He's got a big enough mouth. Makes me want to punch him the second I met him. Plus saying the line Avery always used didn't help matters. But I guess he reminds me a bit of myself." She ponders this. "So, yeah. Definitely want to punch him."
--
Colo does, of course, like a little sting. Hence the coy smirk that floats to the gambler's face as he faces Valeska's accusation with a simple -look- and...maybe a shrug to cap it off. At least until the Rodian makes his ire known and gives him a reason to laugh. "I think most here owe me one at this point. Hm. I know that one does," He advises with another jab of his finger at some schmuck in the crowd.
The shocking--literally--blows that fall in the ring make the Corellian instinctively wince. The motion takes him closer to Valeska in the midst of it and urges him to shake his head in disdain. "So uncivilized," He murmurs, but picks up Val's thread. "Avery? Didn't realize we were talkin' ancient history tonight. But..." Ah, here he goes with a placating pat to Val's knee. "But maybe don't punch him. I think he's a good one. Just...needs guidance. You did, too, once upon a time."
--
Qar-duun's "absorb the punishment until the opponent tires himself on your muscular bulk" strategy is-- well, not infinite or invulnerable. As Jacs' previous hits begin to swell and bruise, Qar retches. "Ugghhh-- I--" he staggers. "I yield the ring! Take your disgusting money!"
--
"Insect?" Jacs grins and ducks about as he lands another respectable hit, though the sparks seem to dance and crackle and the scent of ionised heat wafts about the ring, Jacs seeks to duck back in and deliver another blow. Dancing about the large muscled opponent, seeking that opening! Seeking to land a blow that'll hurt. The pink gloves add a certain style to be sure, though the Nar Kanji Skitterer as the host termed him seeks to do more than skitter... though the sparking retribution delivered by Qar's own punch sends Jacs staggering back a pace. Snarling faintly, gloves hefted. Winded and certainly feeling that punch, Jacs arches a brow and pauses for a moment. A nod offered and glove offered a second later. "You're one wall of muscle, you know that? Damn..." A bloodied grin is offered.
--
The host's voice rings out with some measure of lip-curling hatred towards Jacs, not acknowledging the end of the fight that didn't end with Jacs smeared on the ground. "Very well..." The words linger on the smoke-tainted air. "That oiled one is next! Get into the pit!"
A long finger extends and points towards Bizz...
--
Bizz leaves his Rylothan yurp half finished and waddles down to the ring. The little Ugnaught monk with the beer belly glistens anew in the lights of the pit. "On your guard sir!" His bald head is already shiny with sweat.
--
When Qar-duun gives up, Ben just looks delighted. He whoops and hollers and claps. "That's what bucketheads deserve!" And he'll make rude gestures in Qar-duun's direction to boot, because he doesn't know when to quit. Five beepboops at him, something along the lines of *Try not to get beat up before you even step foot in the ring.*
"Ahh, what do you know!" Ben pauses to drain his flask, craning his neck to see who's next to climb into the ring. He's still full of energy, bouncing around on his heels and pacing whenever he gets a chance. When he sees it's Bizz, though, he looks, well. Surprised might be an understatement.
--
The red skinned woman shakes her head as the Zabrak leaves. That was quick. More fighting is to be had, so she remains, drink swirling in one delicate looking hand.
The look in her eyes has changed, though. It's calculating now. Estimating skill. Reading the fighting.
--
"Still need guidance," Valeska concurs, watching as the last opponent yields to the match with an appropriate curse. "Damn, they can take hits these days, yeah? You see how he moved? Surprised Jacs got a hit on him at all." Did she see anything out of the ordinary? Not even a little bit. A match is a match and the crowd seems to be loving it all the same.
Wait, what were they talking about? "OH, right. Guidance. Ya know, the Kora beat most of that shite out of me. Mandalore did the rest. Do you think Ben would do okay in the Bloodfields? I don't want to dull his edges, but give him somewhere appropriate to point it at." Thank the Maker Val doesn't hear the 'buckethead' remark. She's too distracted by--
"What the kriff? Is that BIZZ?!"
--
Late, but honestly, rarely does the medic need to be early. Hani is armoured and helmted but she quietly slips her way to the back of the group, her medipac slung over her shoulder, just loitering and waiting for whoever is going to need her services first. Because someone is going to.
--
Brother Bizz closes the distance between them. "My Gundark Slap is famous in three systems!" He's fighting for the money. For the orphans. The squat Ugnaught parries Jacs' first blow and wallops Jacs in the chest, causing a crackle of stun energy: BZZZZZ ZZZZZZ ZZZZZT.
--
Callisto looks beyond pleased that Jacs won the fight and now turns to watch Bizz head into the ring. One of her droids brings her a drink before retreating back to rejoin the others.
--
Jacs eyes the approaching Ugnaut. All oiled and slick and conductive. The mechanic swallows hard and eyes the large target that he has to work with, but also the man's reach. Damnit. Aching a little, Jacs steps forward and rolls his sweat-slicked shoulders. Gloves raised, sparks sparking, Jacs dances forwards and moves to swing, only to find his efforts thwarted! His own swing goes wide! And that leaves him open as Bizz's punch slams into his chest and forces a ragged cough and spittle to erupt from his mouth. Eyes wide, Jacs staggers back a pace and heaves a ragged and oh so crackly breath as the shockwave makes him judder and twitch, and hrrrrrrkkkkk that breath back into his lungs. Oh that hurt... one can almost see the shock-lines etched into his chest... but again he approaches, eying warily. His voice lost for the moment as a cheer rises from the anti-Kanji crowd!
--
Raan watches the exchange in the ring with a faint smirk, his golden eyes gleaming as the crackling shockwaves light up the combatants. The raw energy of the match seems to ripple through the crowd, but he remains calm, his focus locked on the fighters' movements. The sheer spectacle of Bizz's electrified Gundark Slap forces a low chuckle from him, the sound rolling out like distant thunder.
--
"I'm pretty sure that no one got hit like that when -we- were in the ring," Colo tuts, allowing the fog of memory to obliterate his good sense. If he thinks on it, it's likely the hits were far worse in his day. Now? Now he has the temerity to be indignant about the lack of civility!...while enjoying the show. "Wait, you're allowed to yield!?" Sputter-choke-cough!
Val's nearby to let her peacock-Corellian cool down, at least. He pouts and clutches to her, at least before tut-tutting at -her- this time. "No, I do not think he would be okay in the Bloodfields! Yeesh. If you want to see someone head out there again, maybe we can make a jaunt out on our anniversary if yo--" Whatever words he'd been about to say? Gone when the masterful Ugnaught slams into Jacs. "That is definitely Bizz. Oof. I can smell the cooked meat from here."
--
Bizz is like a slick moisturized dynamo out there. He maneuvers around Jacs' blows, bouncing one arm out of the way with his glistening beer belly, then strikes his opponent's thigh with a crackling BZZZZZ ZZZZZZ ZZZZZT. The blow will cause a charley-bantha in the muscle he won't soon forget!
--
An idea flits into Vianna's head. It's not a good idea, but it might be a -fun- idea. Fun for who? The crowd, certainly. Her, probably. The others fighting? Maybe. They may not want to hit a girl, though. Even so, she slugs the rest of her drink down and sets the empty aside where someone will get it.
She rises smoothly, making her way down the stairs towards the edge of the ring. "I want to try," she shouts in the chaos. People probably look at her like she's nuts. She is, after all, tiny and not built like a fighter, much less a boxer. She moves like a dancer, though. That might mean something, or she's just that, a dancer.
"Or are you afraid to hit a girl?"
--
The crowd roars their approval of Bizz, their cheers are nothing to do with orphans being helped, it's all to do with Jacs being pounded into the dirt. And Jacs sure takes another hit, and damn is that sparking connection painful to watch as Jacs staggers under another blow that sends him stumbling down to his knee as his thigh is punched and his own attack thwarted by Bizz's gut. Jacs' limbs are left twitching and his body sways and his shoulders sag. Sparks flicker about his frame, and the scent of 'mildly' roasted meat wafts about the pit.
Jacs sways and tilts his head to spit a wad of blood onto the sand. A crimson grin offered the Ugnaut as he heaves a ragged and crackling breath. "... kriff..." The word hrrrrked and crackles upon the very breath that hails from equally crackly lungs. Yet still, Jacs rises... and swallows hard. A coppery tang to his spit now. "Okay... I got you now..." Those gloves are clearly causing neural damage.
--
Vega's eyes follow the Zabrak towards the door, but she doesn't make anything of it really. She watches Bizz beat the snot out of the poor fellow and there is a bit of a look around before back to him. At least the orphan fund would grow. Good job! She then gives a look to the woman that is wanting to join in the fight and then gives a look to see what they say about it.
--
Hani stands to watch the carnage, leaning back against a table with her arms folded over her chest. She's helmeted, so it's hard to see quite what she thinks of it all. Just a t-shaped visor watching people get zotted. Good times, good times. She glances around to various audience members as well, marking those she recognizes amongst audience and particpants both before looking back to Jacs and Bizz attempting to very very slowly cook each other.
--
One of the pit's goons eyes Vianna and nods. "You can go last." A smirk soon following. "Just have those creds ready."
--
Bizz is struck in his glistening gut, having been distracted by a Zeltron coming down to the pit and demanding satisfaction. "Uggggg," he groans, all of those alcholic drinks starting to demand exit. "Stay down!" He kicks Jacs square in the chest, putting him down in the sand, and then staggers to the side to retch. "BLEGGGGGGGG," is the sound heard, then something wet as vomit hits the floor.
--
Ben lets out an "OHHH!," and then a peal of laughter, as Bizz loses the contents of his stomach. He probably shouldn't laugh since that very well might be him in a few minutes, considering he just drank a whole flask. Ben seriously looks like he's going to explode, so it's probably good that he's next. At one point he thunks himself in the head for...practice? Sure.
--
Jacs retaliates against Bizz's gut, sparking that stomach with a good hard punch as he rises form his almost downed position. A good wobbling punch that sets that tummy into a tectonic tussle! Sparks dance over that oiled belly and Jacs leaving himself open takes the good hard kick to the chest and down he goes hard. Dust rising about him, sand clinging to his sweaty form. His own wretching is more like heaving for breath as he slowly rolls over and slips to all fours, panting, head bowed, spittle hanging from his lips. One goon slips onto the pit and drags Jacs off to the side to likely give him somethign to sniff, ready for the next fight...
--
"Money's no issue," she says with a roll of her eyes. She's used to being leered at, so that doesn't bother her. THe goon's -tone- does, but, well. It's Nar Shaddaa. That's how this place is.
--
"Ugh. I can smell -him- from here, you mean." Valeska scrunches her nose at the Ugnaught in the ring. Look, it doesn't matter that he's kicking butt. She has an axe to grid on the little kriffer that is better left in her head. Hell hath no fury like a Valeska scorned. He knows what he did (like... 15 years ago)! Val crosses her arms over her chest in a huff, kicking the seat in front of her out of spite. The Rodian growls and Val... grins.
That does make her feel a little better.
Enough that she has to concede. "Looks like he's got a few surprises in him. Honestly surprised he's even still alive, yeah?" Her hand finds Colo's, the fingers twining as hazel eyes are glancing around. She's clearly looking for -something- in particular over the hundreds of heads of the deafening crowd. Spotting /whatever/ it is, she points in a general direction and whispers into Colo's ear with a coy grin.
--
Ben spits right on the ground like the savage he is, striding up to the ring, scattering his credits as he goes. He looks incredibly excited, like a star cruiser about to take off into the atmosphere, and he can't seem to stand still. "You ready for this, Lessa?!" His raspy voice, surprisingly loud given how loud the general atmosphere of the place, can be heard over a good portion of the crowd. Red shock gloves activated, fists up, he just can't stop grinning like an absolute loon. His coach, Five, is right near the side of the ring, shaking his astromech head at the spectacle.
--
There in Valeska's voice is all the derision for so many that Colo's used to hearing. He winces as she vents her spleen and Bizz... "Okay, look, I can definitely smell -that-." So can the Rodian ahead of him who throws his hands up and makes to exit. Some sentients with delicate constitutions do likewise, clutching themselves and wondering if they can get a refund. Colo just snickers at the combatants being dragged away. "Okay, starting to re-see the appeal..."
Especially when the lithe Zeltron struts her stuff up and demands to be put in, coach. The Corellian arches his brow at Vianna, but shrugs and nudges Valeska. "I'm more surprised about -that-. D'ya think they'll let her fight? Maybe when Jacs is all softened up." The consideration is murmured, but Val's whisper earns a solid snort and...a grin as he, too, leans in to whisper to the scandalous wench.
--
Jacs slips back onto the sands of the pit. Bruised, slightly toasted, and his gloves sparking as they smack together over his head. Oh his ribs ache. "I'm ready." Shoulders are rolled, the black ink daubed across them flexing like feathery wings as he shifts to approach his next opponent. The crowd loved seeing Jacs get floored. They roar again to lift Ben's spirits. Jacs snorts and spits another wad of blood to the side, further staining the sands as he exhales a crackling breath and approaches. "Best of luck." A faint smirk issued as he adopts that stance, perhaps a little less spritely than that first fight. But with a crack of his neck and a bloodied grin, Jacs approaches...
--
Brother Bizz waddles back to his table. There's still half a Rylothan yurp there so he guzzles it down, then proceeds to wrap his kasaya robe back around his rotund body. He takes a fat sack of credits from the pit boss. For the children.
--
Jacs loosens his stance and rolls his head for a brief moment, trying to just let the pain and tingling sensations drift away. And then the fight is on! Jacs approaches with a predatory lope, gloves raised as he moves in and seeks to block Ben's first thrown punch, lifting his own gloves to meet that attack and causing a sudden explosion of sparks as the gloves connect. Jacs doesn't stop there, he ducks back and delivers a firm punch to Ben's right arm, sparks erupting as flesh conducts and tingling erupts! The punch connects hard, a jerking body twisting punch as Jacs seeks deliver that first blow to the third contender.
Boooooos erupt from the stands!
--
Valeska should've signed up just for something fun to do. She's been out of the sparring circuit for so long she's forgotten how much fun it really is. Her teasing before was just bluster; to prod and goad Colo into those reactions she loves so much. But now that they're in the middle of a cheering and jeering crowd with punches being thrown and puke on the mat? Rekk, she wants in again. Alas.
It's difficult to whisper in a space like this where the shouts and calls in a dozen languages are all vying for attention. So, Valeska's reply to Colo isn't so much hushed as it is at regular volume directly into his ear. Even then, it's not easy to hear, but Colo knows what words to listen for.
Valeska is keeping an eye on the ring because she damn-well wants to see how Ben is going to handle this, win or lose. But everything is contending for her attention against the pull of the man next to her. Their fingers entwine and their quiet conversation continues. Short, abrupt sentences. It's the best anyone can ask for.
--
Yxuara polishes the edges of his claws as he leans on the counter at the food court level, a trio of Squib having rented it out for the evening's event. Pulling out a stylus he crosses out some items already sold out on the big menu board.
The remainder of which which reads: 'Today Special of the hour: Royal Crab Rangoon (4, __c). Also featuring: Yurp (bottle, __c), "Big Hutt" burger (__c), Blue Milk (__c).' Setting his stylus aside he asks a question to the cook behind him before adding, 'Desert: Peach (__c)' then, 'Falutin Pick-Them-Up (__c)'
--
Callisto is now sitting on the edge of her seat for this fight. She winces mildly as she watches Jacs's punch connect on Ben's arm but her eyes are fixated on the fight.
--
Ben barely flinches when the hit lands on his right arm -- just rolls his shoulder, flexes his fingers, and smirks like he barely felt it. He throws a punch, fast and mean, his blue eyes blazing -- and he goes wide. Misses. Instead of recoiling, he laughs, sharp and wild, like this was exactly what he wanted. "Ohhh, this is gonna be fun," he mutters, shaking out his limbs, grinning up at Jacs as he gets low for a moment, fists up, the whites (bloodshot as they are) standing out under his eyes. "You think you're the king in here, huh? Too bad the crowd wants nothing better than for someone to wipe the floor with ya. And that someone may as well be me."
Big talk for someone who just missed. That doesn't seem to phase Relor at all!
--
Every couple invents a makeshift cant of their own, given enough time. Subtle touch, quick gestures, and in Colo's case maybe a little batting of the eyelashes when the moment's good. Now's not the time to break out the dark slashes of holo-vid legend, alas. He relies, instead, of boyish snickering and murmured, short phrases amidst the fight to get his ideas across to Valeska.
Something about it gets his eyebrows to lift and his gaze to lock on the fight at hand. He casts out a look just in time to see Ben take a solid knock on the arm, but get right back into it. That's enough for Colo, who half-stands to pump a fist into the air and chant. "Get 'em, Red Ben!"
Back on his duff a beat later, the Corellian's smirking enough to win an award when he plants his next, clipped sentence into Val's ear.
--
Valeska doesn't join Colo in the cheering on of Ben. However, she has a newfound satisfaction on her face: a long, devious smirk stretching across. One leg crosses over the other, foot kicking in the air with pent-up energy. It's difficult for Val to remain sitting still for too long, but at least she's made a fun game out of it tonight.
"Oh, suddenly got a tountoun in the race, do we?" Val leans herself into Colo while watching Jacs and Ben circle one another. The Nells have a vested interest in how this particular battle pans out. It shows in how sharply they are both watching.
Colo doesn't get another whisper, but he is not bereft an answer. Especially when Ben is on the cusp of another hit. "Of course, dear. It's a win-win."
--
Jacs stalks back towards Ben, circling him and eying the man who seems to have gotten caught up in the fervour of hate for this Nar Kanji dweller. Jacs grins somewhat ferally and skips about as he watches Ben seek to regain the standing he is slowly losing in this fight. Jacs dips in and simply delivers a gut-punch of the same calibre that saw Bizz lose a meal. Jacs so owes Bizz some noodles. Or whatever that puddle on the pit floor is. The sparking punch shocks and stuns, with Jacs stepping back and dodging Ben's own retaliation, having struck first and struck hard. "I'm no King." The words whispered against Ben's ear as he dips by. "No idea what you are though. You going to try any time soon? They're all cheering for you." Oh he smirks.
--
It's true. Ben ain't winning right now. He gets hit -- right in the gut, and winces, standing his ground. That definitely hurt, but he's fighting it with everything he has. "What'd you have for dinner, slashrat stew? Your breath smells like bantha guts!" Then he does something...different. He slams his gloves together, causing an energy surge -- then immediately presses one to Jacs' ribs. That's definitely cheating. Unfortunately for Ben...his next swing still manages to go wide as Jacs moves just enough, possibly shocked by the shock, to get out of the way, leaving Ben stumbling. He whirls around, fury in his eyes now, and spits on the ground again. Looks a bit bloody. The kid seems a little woozy, but he's not down for the count yet. "That the best you got, mud scuffer?"
--
Oh, that won't do. Valeska might smirk, but Colo grins, winces, shakes his head. It's like he can deny Ben's taking the thumps just by virtue of will! Alas, no such luck. He -does- assert some measure of control over Val, however, with a prompt hand finding her calf so he can tug that same knee over his own.
"Just a few," He admits with wry amusement. "Look, Ben's still spitting fire. He'll be fine!" And there he pauses for a moment for the crowd to get over its groans from the latest thud and zap of the boxers before he adds: "But you won't." His turn to be confident? Always. "Win...win."
--
Vianna is still waiting her turn, leaning on the ledge over the pit, probably blocking the view for a few folks in the front row. They probably aren't complaining. She is a very pretty young woman, after all. And that slit is showing a lot of leg.
"Can't you two -hit- each other?"
--
Jacs takes a few steps back, rolling his shoulder and stretching a little in a wild undulation of sweat-slicked abdominals. That strike grazed him, he felt the static tickle of a charge, but little else as he spun. And spun he did... right beside Bizz's puddle of vomit which with a well placed scooping kick, he sends a huge wad of Bizz's lost meal towards Ben, splattering the poor shockboxer with frankly... vile bile and whatever the kriff Bizz ate last. Are those space-carrots?
Jacs grins as he takes that momentary advantage while a few folks up close gag at what just occurred, and indeed, with Vianna's shout, his own retaliatory punch for Ben's harsh insults goes a little wide as he ends up having to fend the toothsome Ben from sinking his teeth into him. Elbow. Kick. Shove!
--
Ben is out. Sad, but he put up a good fight. The next contenders are more evenly matched which has the crowd restless. Not enough blood in their bloodsport. Valeska looks to Colo with a smarmy grin, having won whatever bet they had made between each other. "Well. Looks like your boy lost." With Colo's hand still in hers, she slips her leg from over his so that she may stand up. "Time to pay up."
It as a decent gamble made in the heat of the moment. Just a shake Colo still lost. But soon there are two more empty seats in the buzzing crowd where the Nells once were. They've slipped into the mottled crowd of different species, swallowed up by the throng to who knows where. Who cares? Either way, the gambler will be paying his dues and thensome. Maybe he'll learn to better gauge combatants in the heat of battle.
But it's been over fifteen years, so this might be his best. Either way, win-win.
--
Raan's golden eyes track the fight with sharp precision, his smirk deepening as he watches Ben and Jacs exchange blows, sparks lighting up the pit with each electrified hit. The crowd's energy hums in his ears, but the familiar sight of a certain helmeted figure pulls his gaze from the ring.
Spotting Hani leaning casually near the back, Raan straightens to his full height, his tattoos catching the green-yellow glow of the pit's lighting as he shifts. With a smooth, predatory stride, he crosses the space to her, his speedo-clad form earning a few glances from the crowd as he moves.
When he reaches her, his smirk grows into something more playful, his voice carrying that low, teasing rumble. "Hani," he starts, a faint gleam of mischief in his golden eyes, "I need a favor. I could use a little... oil before I head in there." He gestures to his chest and arms, flexing subtly to show off the fractal tattoos that cover his golden form. "You wouldn't want me to get outshined by all that oil and sweat already in the ring, would you?" His smirk widens, daring her to refuse just as the puke is kicked and a mix of cheers and groans go out.
--
<The difference between "Crab Rangoon" and "Crab Pockets",> Yxuara explains to the younger red furred Squib standing next to him in Squibbish, <"Pockets" is something you can pick, while a "Rangoon" is one of those Imperial words you need a license-->
The Squibs shudder as the bile goes flying and the red-furred Sixkiller-Zalzzabar says, <If that's what they're eating, you should write the sign bigger! They have no taste!>
--
Hani's helmeted gaze follows Raan as he approaches her. She stands impassively as he makes his pitch for the favour. 'Favour'. Even the modulation in the helmet doesn't mask her amused noise at his request.
The way her helmet tips up and down the mostly naked Firrerreolian clearly indicates that she's examining the level of oil smeared all over him. "You look fully glazed to me, Raan. You dont want to just ooze out of the ring after all." There's a clear smirk in her tone. "If you want to be more sweaty, I'm sure that a bit of PT can work up your heart rate just /fine/. Jumping jacks perhaps?"
--
It's just not Ben Relor's night tonight, is it? But you gotta hand it to the kid for trying. He's still full of as much spit and fire as when he started this fight, even if he's a helluva lot angrier now. And this time, eyes blazing, he comes at Jacs and just /grabs/ onto him. Refusing to let go, even if Jacs punches him. His shock gloves come down, slamming into Jacs' side to trigger the highest charge left. That's /definitely/ gonna sear his opponent.
He's banking on that being enough to throw Jacs off his game, and it might be...except somehow. SOMEHOW! Relor manages to go wide again. He missed, he karking missed! How many drinks did he have before this fight?
That might just be what it all comes down to, in the end. 'Cause the gods ain't with him tonight.
--
Yxuara slips a bottle of oil onto the counter and says in his loudest squeak, "Discount, today! Legit fighting oil--as seen just last week at the Meltdown Noodle House story-telling brawl." He made sure to purloin the bottle they were using then. "Since it tastes absolutely horrible--it does--" his whiskers draw back in a grimace, "yours for just 50 credits."
--
Raan throws his head back with a deep, rumbling laugh at Hani's response, the sound cutting through the chaotic noise of the crowd. He leans in slightly, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "I always knew you cared, Hani," he replies, his voice warm and teasing, with just the right amount of mock sincerity.
Straightening up, he gestures broadly to himself with a dramatic flourish. "Glazed? Perfectly so, I think. But you're right, wouldn't want to slip out of the ring like a greased Womp Rat." His smirk sharpens as he adds, "Jumping jacks, though? I'll save the PT for the poor soul waiting for me in there." With that, he steps back, shaking his head in mock disbelief, the laughter still lingering in his tone. "You're a tough coach, Hani. But that's just what I needed, a good laugh to prep for the the fight."
--
Jacs is grappled and with several hard punches into Ben's stomach, Jacs seeks to dislodge the contender. But time isn't on Jacs' side as Ben slams into his side, a rib? There's a crunch for sure. Bruising, sparking, the scent of cooked meat refreshed for the ring! Jacs flinches bodily and snarls, flecks of blood-spattered spit erupt from his lips as he takes that punch and staggers under the power of it. Sparks erupt! The crowd get to see smoke! Sizzling! And then jacs manages to deliver a hard enough punch, and with a sparking grab of his own, he slams Ben into the ground and staggers back, arching his side that is clearly marked from the Ben's final punch. "Stay down..." The words muttered as Goons arrive to aid and assist Ben should he need it and clear the way for the next.
Jacs bends over and grunts, spitting another wad of bloody spit into the sand. The boos roar!
--
Callisto winces as she watches more of the fight for a bright moment. She leans forward on the railing as she continues to be unable to look away.
--
Hani reaches out to give the laughing Raan a turn and then a little nudge on his back towards the ring. "Go get 'em, tiger. You're up."
Hani moves past to go and retrieve whatever smoking heap is left of Ben with little shakes of her head. "I swear, I'm going to start hoping that you go back to just getting shot."
--
Into the space comes Merulia, the Sephi clad in her red poncho slips in post the crowd...well known in the space, but not as a fighter: Meru the healer had tended many a fighter's wounds in this place from the moment she'd arrived on the Smuggler's Moon to help pay for her pilgrimage and to send back to her sisters.
The blonde 'space elf' moves into the space, drawing her gaze toward the fighting pit.
--
Raan steps forward at the call, his golden skin glistening under the sickly green-yellow lights of the pit, each step deliberate and predatory. The fractal tattoos etched across his muscular frame seem alive in the flickering glow, shifting with every smooth movement of his body. The crowd's noise rises in a chaotic wave, catching sight of his nearly bare form, clad only in a sleek, black speedo-like thong that leaves little to the imagination. His lean, powerful physique glistens with a faint sheen of oil, enhancing the sharp definition of his muscles and the intricate patterns of ink that spiral across his skin.
A smirk tugs at his lips as he strides into the ring, the crackling hum of his shock gloves adding to the air of anticipation. He rolls his shoulders, flexing his arms to test the gloves' charge, sending faint sparks dancing over his golden skin. He raises one hand to acknowledge the crowd, his golden eyes sweeping over the arena calmly before locking onto his opponent.
"Let's give them a show," he rumbles, the low growl of his voice carrying just enough to tease the crowd before he settles into position, ready to unleash the storm. A smile follows that bares the sharp, elongated canines as he gives Jacs a wink.
--
The goons are trying to scrape Ben off the floor, but he fights them off. Even now. Even though he's in rough shape. He's trying to stagger away from the ring, spitting blood, when Hani intervenes. "That son of a mudscuffer," he mutters, the rage and adrenaline obviously still coursing through him. "I'm gonna get him. I'm gonna get him, someday." He seems intent to try and get away from Hani, angling towards the bar. At least until Five rolls over and starts bleeping furiously at him. "It barely hurts," Ben barks at Five. He glances over his shoulder at Raan and -- something about the sight of the guy seems to spark the hatred and rage in him all over again. His face is practically a mask of it at the moment.
--
Yxuara's neck hackles stand up and the Squib moves a clay jar closer to him, preparing to pour out a cup of Falutin Pick-Them-Up if Ben glares in his direction. A free drink is better than a punch in the nose, you can bet! The others duck under the counter, one to inspect their boots, the other looking for something in a carton.
--
"Ben." Hani's voice is firm through her helmet. "I am above knocking you out, one way or another." She is hardly a push over as she,and Five makes the attempt to herd Ben back towards the medical area where her kit is already waiting for them.
Hani catches Ben's look back into the ring and she pushes him towards a chair. "Do not pick anymore fights tonight."
--
Jacs watches Raan pad onto the sands of the pit. Another contender. One more after this? He's aching. Whatever the goons are giving him to sniff and keep him going for now isn't holding back the pain as well as it could, but it is keeping him upright. A nod is given Raan and indeed said opponent is given the once over. "Smuggling porgs?"
A wink following swiftly as he lifts his fists, gloves crackling and sparking as he takes a couple of steps back. A roll of his bruised and inked shoulders. A little skippity skippity skip and Jacs slowly begins to circle his prey. "Put on a good show and you'll get all the cheers, I promise you that... but then... you'll get them anyways."
--
Oh, Ben will certainly grab that drink from Yxuara before Hani manages to drag him off. He's vibrating with energy as he falls into that chair. "No promises," he says, grimacing, glaring from Hani to Raan. "Who's that peacock? He has a punchable face." We'll see if Jacs agrees with that assessment.
--
Spotting Ben's...state for want of a better way of putting it, the young woman does move closer, tilting her head as he's tended by the Mandalorian and clearing her throat lightly. She'd met Ben before but...well, there was a lot of faces to know on Nar Shaddaa.
--
Hani reaches for her scanner as she crouches down next to Ben's chair, not even commenting on the drink. Because clearly what he needs is booze atm, but that's a fight that the medic is not having right now. "Do you choose people to punch based on who I'm friends with? That is going to be a terribly inopportune choice for you."
There's a glance up as Merulia approaches, Hani's helmeted gaze settling on the Sephi as she clears her throat. "Yes? Can I help you?"
--
The Zeltron, still leaning, still in the way of some very happy people in the front row, shouts down. "Getting tired? Save some energy for me!"
She's so getting popped in the mouth.
--
Ben downs about half that drink in a go, still keeping one eye on the fight, angrily smoking his cigarette. He jerks a thumb towards the ring, scowling at Hani in disbelief. "That guy's your friend? Why?" Poor Raan. Ben hating on him for absolutely no reason! Good thing Raan's got other things to worry about.
He squints over at Merulia, and then an eyebrow goes up. "Ice Cream Girl," he says, because that seems to be how he remembers her...perpetually.
--
Raan moves with a predator's grace, his golden skin gleaming with sweat and oil under the harsh pit lights as he ducks low, narrowly evading Jacs' initial crackling swing. The faint hum of his own shock gloves mixes with the roaring crowd as he sidesteps, his tattoos rippling over taut muscles with every fluid movement. "Smuggling porgs? Maybe," Raan replies with a sharp smirk.
Pivoting on his heel, Raan counters with a quick jab, but Jacs twists away at the last moment, the electricity from his glove sparking against empty air. Undeterred, Raan shifts his stance and leans into another attack, only for Jacs to weave past him and come in fast with a blow.
The crackling punch lands hard against Raan's right arm as he raises it to block, forgetting it seems about the very glove that hits him, the jolt of energy forcing a low grunt from his throat. His golden eyes narrow as the pain lances through his limb, muscles twitching from the impact. Rolling his shoulder, he steps back to shake off the lingering shock, his voice low and steady. "Not bad," he growls, his golden gaze locked on Jacs, "you are a great fighter."
Shifting his weight again, Raan braces himself, ready for the next round. The crowd's roar grows louder, feeding the storm brewing in the pit.
--
And with a roar that is met by some boos and perhaps one or two cheers, Jacs charges forward to grapple and punch at Raan! But there's simply no opening as the fight clashes and sparking punches are dodged and blocked! Jacs pivots and catches something amidst the jeers and the boos. Tired?! Jacs manages to make out Vianna and grins as his sweaty self shifts and ducks again, only to swing and connect that sparking punch with Raan's right arm. A good tingle-inducing wallop of charged violence! Jacs is indeed feeling tired. He aches. He knows that he's going to hibernate after this, and probably consume way too much booze to dull the pain as his body showcases all the bruises. First punch to Jacs! And Jacs issues a pained roar as he too feels the pain sparking along his arm, more so from the ribs that got a good crack-inducing punch last round.
Even so, Jacs dances, light on his feet as he meets Raan's gaze. "Great? You're too kind..." Jacs dips and keeps his gloves raised. "... know they're cheering for you." A nod given, and indeed, Jacs seeks to step in once more...
--
Yxuara's hackles settle down as the Squib turns to glance at the next fight before looking back at his companions. <What are you doing on the floor?>
He puts the stopper back on the clay bottle and hmms idly, watching this next fight. <Running low on the seafood. Maybe we should radio up the ship and have them send us some of those what-they call them--> "Sausages. This crowd would eat them up, you can bet."
--
"Merulia," she corrects, as though 'Icecream Girl' was not quite the monika she wanted to be known for. Turning her gaze towards the fight with each blow, she gives a little whince before drawing her arms up to cross at her bust, though the Poncho concealing her figure made the motion quite understated. "The Healer...and you, well, you look like you decided to argue with a small wookie."
--
The crowd's roar grows deafening as Raan keeps his stance tight, his golden skin glistening under the pit lights as he readies his next strike. His tattoos ripple like living art over his muscles with each precise movement, the sweat and oil lending him an almost otherworldly gleam. But the intensity of the fight presses on, Jacs moving with surprising speed despite his battered form.
Raan throws a swift jab, aiming for Jacs' side, but the mechanic ducks just in time, and Raan's shock glove swings through empty air once more. The next thing he knows, Jacs closes the gap, his electrified glove crackling against Raan's body. The punch doesn't just connect; it ignites the sheen of oil covering Raan's body, and a sudden burst of flame bursts along his golden skin.
A sharp grunt escapes Raan, more surprise than pain as the fire licks at his flesh, turning his striking visage into a blazing spectacle. Before he can react, Jacs follows up with a brutal kick, sweeping Raan's right leg out from under him. The force sends him sprawling to the ground, a rolling wave of sparks and fire lighting up the pit as the crowd gasps and cheers in equal measure.
Gritting his teeth, Raan rolls across the sand, trying to smother the flames licking at his skin. His movements are swift but pained, the crackle of burning oil mixing with the crowd's roars as pit goons rush toward him. By the time they reach him, Raan has managed to extinguish most of the fire, his golden skin scorched in places but his tattoos still etched defiantly over his body. He's hauled off with his smirk faint but still there as he mutters, "Guess we put on a show, huh?" before the world fades to black.
--
Yxuara waves his tiny paw, in good humor, "No argument here! It is a free drink! Others can be negotiated."
--
"Merulia...right." Ben runs a hand over his face. The adrenaline seems to be finally winding down a bit, and now he's starting to just look...tired. "I'm not that hurt. 'S fine." That's clearly not true, because he's obviously bruised and bleeding.
He takes a moment to watch the fight, eyebrows raising as sparks equal fire. He lets out a breath of a laugh. "Guess it's good I didn't oil up, huh, Five?" Weirdly, though, he doesn't sound...convinced?
--
Jacs swept in with a certain need to finish Raan quickly. Not because Raan was easy, but more because Jacs was truly beginning to ache. Every movement was pain. Sparking tingling pain from the damage of the shocks and indeed those bruising connections. Jacs limped for a step and then exhaled as he stepped into range and lashed out with a vicious kick that was delivered out of necessity.
Jacs dodges and weaves from Raan's own retaliation and takes full advantage of the attack with a good solid punch that sparks against Raan's oiled form. The sudden eruption comes as a surprise to Jacs as he steps back, his glove likewise alight. And well... putting Raan down is of the utmost importance as he delivers that kick and plunges Raan into the sand of the pit.
With Raan rolling amidst the sand, Jacs is soon shifting to kneel and smothers Raan with sand scooped by his gloves, while taking care to not touch the scorched fighter. "Where you buy that oil from? Get yourself to a bacta tank." The words offered amidst the boos from the crowd, with Jacs stepping back and letting those nod shod in shock gloves aid and assist Raan from the pit. "Certainly put on a show." The words offered after Raan as he watches the Firr be taken away. Dragged from the pit and deposited into the care of a medic. Likely one certain medic who won't be too impressed?
The Host snarls. A finger pointing towards Vianna. "One more!"
--
"Would you please sit /still/." Hani growls at Ben as he smokes and drinks while she's evaluating where, exactly, he's broken this time. There's a list. It's not short. Shorted out, possibly. "What do you mean by why is he my friend?" She asks, incredulous.
Hani is getting out the ointment to start dealing with the various burns that the shocks left behind. "Those ribs dont look good, Ben. Nor does that arm."
The roar of the crowd prompts her to glance over to the ring just briefly and she watches Raan.. catch fire. Because of course he did. There's muttering, not in basic, too quiet to properly be picked up as she turns back to tending Ben.
--
Vianna points at the host. "If I'm still upright at the end of this, you're kriffing next, you swine," she snarls back. Without further preamble, she vaults the railing, falling into the sand and landing gracefully. The crowd roars. Probably because they got to see some skin. She shuffles her feet in the sand, testing the footing, before she trots to the downed Raan, stealing his glove as he's pulled from the ring. Adjusting it to fit her hand the best it can, she slips it on, flexing her fingers and letting it crackle.
"So. What? You swing first? I swing first. Same time?" She pauses. "And I'm not oiled, and if you want me to take my top off, that's not free."
--
The Host sneers and waves a hand dismissively at Vianna and the crowd cheers for her spirit! Oh they pity Jacs. Male or female, it matters not. Vianna's fiery entrance is met by a faintly lopsided grin as the bruised mechanic steps towards her. "Not oiled might just mean it hurts a little more... or does it do the opposite?" Jacs pauses for a moment and exhales a slightly wheezing breath as he eyes the energetic Zelt.
Jacs gestures for Vianna to pad deeper into the ring, his pained form giving an idle stretch as he watches her approach, his gloves lifted as he adopts a fighter's stance, and slowly circles, seeking to close that gap steadily. Not taking any chances. Though the thought of being knocked on his ass does bring a smile to his lips, if he blacks out... no more pain. Closer... closer...
--
Ben grumbles, but he does stop putting toxins into his body for a few minutes. It's not often that Hani loses her patience, and he must get that. "I just mean, how do you know that guy?" Who's probably coming this way as he speaks. Ben's gaze is following him as they heads his way, and then briefly distracted by Vianna getting into the ring.
--
The petite Zeltron eyes the much bigger man with an easy confidence. She doesn't move like a seasoned warrior, though much of it is the same. Fluid grace, unshakable confidence. Though there is a flair to her movements, a promise of something that isn't violence. Still something of the flesh, though. She can feel all of the eyes in the arena on her, her own glittering gold ones on her opponent.
She lets him get closer, her whole body swaying to unheard music, or she's just staying loose. When she decides he's close enough, she moves like a viper, striking out with a coiled fist in a blur of red and white, the glove buzzing like some insect from some hell planet. Her aim is true, but a little off from where she wanted to hit, but, hey, a punch in the arm is nothing to sneeze at.
--
"We've worked together." Hani explains briefly to Ben as she works on patching up the young man. "Sit up please." She moves to help him sit up such that she can bind up his ribs, carefully in deference to the burns that come with the reality of shock gloves. "You are going to feel this tomorrow." She looks over to Five. "I wish you all the luck in keeping him quiet enough to heal, Five."
Hani does glance to ensure that someone is helping Raan make it to the medics. Ideally no longer on fire.
--
Hani clearly had it handled, and the Sephi healer wasn't going to elbow her way at the Medic's work, especially one who was a Mandalorian. Still, she turns her attention back towards the display at the burst of flames, a quiet little hiss of a wince before she lifts a hand to step away. "That is almost certainly going to sting."
--
Jacs exhales and prepares for the fight, he aches. But it drives him on as he dips into range of Vianna's swift and rather merciless attack. The sweaty and slick fighter certainly looking every inch the pit-dwelling lunk alongside the freshly arrived Vianna. Though once in the pit, glamour hardly has much to do with it. She's speedy, she's swift, and she hits hard. Jacs is soon stumbling back under her approach. A gentle nod is offered, though that's about it as he admires the fluid grace of his opponent.
His own attack punches air, Vianna swaying swiftly, while that crackling gauntlet slams into his left arm and sends him spinning as the tingling numbness spreads from the violent retort. The searing whiff of burnt flesh drifting, ionised air crackling and Jacs slinks back with his fists raised, moving with less grace by notable degrees. But for the moment, even as his left arm dips a little as nerves twitch uncontrollably, Jacs seeks to keep his guard up.
--
Ben sits up, a bit stiffly, wincing a little as his ribs shift. Five spits out a piece of red flexiplast at Hani, presumably for her to read. And he looks up at Merulia as she steps again, giving her an almost embarrassed look. "Uh, thanks." 'Cause she was trying to help. Meanwhile, Vianna seems to be doing better in this fight than he managed to, which is probably not helping his healing process.
--
"Oh my," she coos, using her best 'Bedroom Voice'. Well, the best she can in a loud, stinking arena. Some of the effect is lost. "You are tough, aren't you?" His silence just makes her giggle a bit. When his counterattack comes, her feet slide through the sand, and she makes it look like she's dancing, swaying her hips to the side and then sliding around the fist. It's close, she can feel the crackle of the glove as it passes inches past her bare abdomen, her long white hair flaring as she pivots.
She strafes around Jacs in a spray of sand, crossing her ankles and nearly sitting in the grit, lashing out and driving her crackling fist into his right thigh, just below the hip.
--
There's a glance to the flexiplast as Five helps the translation and there's a little noise. "Thank you, Five. We can do better than that if we need to." She looks up at Merulia, her helmeted gaze upon the other sentient. "Are you a medic?" She makes some assumptions. "Can you take over bandaging up Ben while I go retrieve Raan?"
--
Callisto winces and whimpers as she watches Jacs get hit by Vianna, softly uttering to herself, "No..." Her right hand raises up to cover her mouth as her jaw drops. She can't look away but the worry is still evident in her face.
--
Jacs is certainly starting to feel it. "I want you..." He spits to the side, teeth bloodied as he staggers under the assault that slams into his hip and sends him down to one knee. "... to know I'm not going easy." His head bowed for an instant. "... wouldn't disrespect... yerr good." His voice a little slurred. Too many shocks likely giving his lil' grey cells cause for alarm. A breath, and slowly he rises, limping evidently as he tries to catch sight of the graceful and balletic brawler. "Defin-nurrttt-ley earrned creds if you win." His voice slurring towards the end as he hops about, much to the amusement of the crowd. Oh their cheer the Zelt. They fear the Zelt! The Host? He is making ready to leave before Vianna realises.
Jacs inhales, chest swelling and ribs giving him cause to wince and lift his gloves once more, jabbing at the air as they crackle... and in he moves again, seeking the ground or some unlikely victory.
--
Called back to attention by Hani's words? The woman blinks, nodding her head lightly and lifting her hands before reaching under her own poncho to withdraw her own kit and offer it up. "A healer, from a place that is...prone to seeing people injured." Her accented tones offering the kindest summary of Dathomir one might ever hear. Still she nods, moving towards Ben to indeed take over the bandaging and retrieving her own supplies. "You are welcome...perhaps you can pay for the next time I decide to try the 'icecream' in return," the words are said in jest, even as she began to bandage with the deft confidence of someone who'd done so -way- too many times before.
--
Ben's brow furrows as Hani is apparently leaving. Frowning slightly, he turns back to Merulia as she continues the healing process. "Uh...yeah, sure." Ben almost cracks a smile. "Would prefer it if the ice cream had booze in it, though. Or on it. Or was just straight-up booze instead of ice cream." His gaze flits to the fight again, but he seems to have lost all of his own fight. He's deflating fast.
--
Hani watches just a moment as Merulia takes on Ben's injuries and she gives him a gentle squeeze to his uninjured shoulder before she's picked up some highlights from her med kit. She starts wending her way through people to go find where the unconscious Raan has been stashed and settles herself down next to him, to start checking him over. Her voice is quiet, even with her helmet, as she speaks to the formerly on fire fighter.
--
Jacs takes a deep crackling breath as he dips a touch fluidly, perhaps helped in part by the fact he's hardly stannding too lucidly, more of a flowly punch drunk state with mild neural damage from the sparks that have constantly attempted to reset him. Sure Jacs isn't in the greatest of conditions, and Vianna has sure helped put him there with the last two sparking connections of shock glove and wild moves. But with Jacs drawing back his right arm, he dips into Vianna's guard as she rises. His sparking glove erupts as it slams into Vianna's stomach and sends her to the ground, skidding through the dirtied sand of the pit. Yeah, he probably deserves those boos. He doesn't move to assist her, he just takes the moment to catch his breath, resting his palms against his knees and drinking deep breaths of air that just don't seem to fill his lungs.
Straightening, Jacs waits. He paces and circles Vianna as he waits for her to rise, not being drawn in even despite the dirty fighters that likely exist within the pit fighters here. Like those who bite and kick vomit. Ugh. Could this be a win? Or a Loss. Jacs knows it could be either at this rate. He pads... loping like some wounded beast on the sands.
--
Bets are being placed. Cred chits are dancing about various palms and into various pockets. The Zelt! Or that damned Nar Kanji rat. It was overwhelmingly leaning towards the Zelt... until that punch... but the odds still favour the Zelt.
--
Raan lies sprawled where he was left, his golden skin marred with scorch marks and patches of soot from the earlier flames, along with mud, sand, and probably worse. His tattoos, while singed in places, remain striking against his lean, muscular frame, a defiant testament to his resilience. His body glistens faintly with sweat and residual oil, his hair damp and streaked with soot, clinging to his sharp, angular features. His speedo-style swimsuit, somehow still intact, clings to his form.
Despite the burns and bruises marring his golden skin, there are already signs of recovery. His Firrerreo physiology works rapidly, the edges of his wounds visibly knitting together as his natural healing kicks in. Still, the toll of the fight is evident. His right arm and leg bear the worst of the damage, the muscles twitching faintly as if protesting the strain.
--
Vianna, sprawled on the sand, coughs once. "That one's on me," she groans. Nobody in the stands is getting a free peep show. Too bad for them. She draws a few more breaths, getting her breathing back to steady before she gets up. She even does that weird, bending her knees to the side, using them as leverage points, and she just rises without her hands touching the ground. It's graceful, and absolutely showing off.
"My one weakness," she says to the pacing Jacs. "I'm not as tough as I am quick."
She sets her feet, sweeping one around her in a great circle, the slit in her skirt finally giving the folks in the stands the leg they wanted to see. "Finish the game," she says to herself. She lunges at Jacs, trying to use her size and speed to her advantage. It would have worked better if she didn't leap at the last instant, driving her crackling fist right at his face. It could have gone worse, she makes contact!
So does he, though.
--
"Even you are going to feel this tomorrow." Hani comments to Raan as she rearranges limbs into something more comfortable, clearly unconcerned with his mostly naked state. She settles her scanner down his right hand side, evaluating the wounds that he's picked up there which haven't already started healing over.
"And I'm not carrying you home, so you'd better wake up before too much longer." Hani notes to the still unconscious Raan.
--
What a conclusion. It could have happened during any of the fights. But it doesn't. It ends now. The last fight. One punch-drunk Jacs and one winded Vianna, fists clenched, stances as limber as they can be as they wait... kriff it. Jacs advances with purpose, pained movements certainly not helping, but Jacs is trying to push through the obvious suffering as he begins to pick up speed once Vianna is up and no longer prone.
Feet are kicking up sand as Jacs' right glove sparks violently. Drawn back as he throws himself into the attack, leaping a pained leap, freckles of sand following and arcing in his wake, clattering softly amidst the other grains beneath that are cast in his shadow. Jacs draws his right arm back and soon realises that he is now committed and can hardly avoid Vianna's own attack.
His pink gloves laden with electric rage connect.
Vianna's glove also connects.
Sparks erupt violently.
The two leaping, arching, fists connecting. Vianna's crumples Jacs' face as it connects, two teeth spiralling off across the pit! Blood. Spit. His own fist grazing her chin, the electric crackle and prickle of the charge easily felt as his own glove slams into her left shoulder to drive her down hard.
Jacs also falls hard, crumpling and rolling over once. And then? Unmoving.
--
Yxuara slaps the counter as the Squibs hop up to look, "He's down!" <Did we bet on him?>
Whiskers twitch annoyingly, <They're both down.> Disgust. "Game's fixed!" comes the shrill call from Sixkiller-Zalzzabar.
--
The rush of victory hits as her fist blasts right into the man's face. However his strikes as well, the jolt being enough to overload her nervous system, hurtling her to the ground in a flutter of white hair and cloth. She skids in the sand, coming to rest as the dust starts to settle.
She'll feel it when she wakes up, but she's still WAY better off than Jacs.
--
The faint sound of Hani's voice cuts through the haze as Raan lies motionless. His golden eyes crack open just a sliver, stealthily taking in the sight of the helmeted figure leaning over him, her scanner busy at work. The corner of his mouth twitches into the faintest smirk, betraying his attempt at playing possum.
When Hani's visor shifts slightly in his direction, he knows he's been caught. Letting out a low, exaggerated groan, he turns his head slightly to spy on the fight still raging in the pit. His golden eyes sharpen, catching the moment Vianna lands her strike and promptly takes one in return. With a soft chuckle that quickly turns into a wince, he mutters, "Put the other fighter next to me... the female..." He throws in a weak wink, his smirk widening despite the pain.
"You know," he teases gently, his voice carrying that familiar playful rumble, "you always know how to make a guy feel special, Hani." He shifts slightly, grimacing as his healing body protests the movement. "Thank goodness we went and got this speedo earlier today. Imagine the damage the fire would have done to my junk..."
--
The Host seems delighted at both Jacs being down and Vianna. The hooded creature rises and smirks. "And this concludes all." Oh there's cheers for Vianna and howls of rage for Jacs, or are they cheering him being unconscious on the ground. Could be either. Either way, creds are now furiously exchanging hands back and forth as creds are called in.
--
The patching doesn't seem to take all that long. Indeed, with the salve-treated bandages in place? He'll be back to completely healed in a couple of hours it seems. With that done, Merulia settles herself down, instead watching the fight between Jacs and the Zeltron as the pair exchange blow after blow...the climax of the battle, the pair falling? Well, that gives her quite the upset and there's more than one person almost certainly angry for the loss of their bets.
The Sephi however? She applauds!
--
"Keep dreaming there, Romeo." Hani comments dryly as she resettles that arm before adding more banadages that will be soon extraneous when Raan's healing takes over.
"I cannot believe you ended up on fire." Hani shakes her head a little and then she ensures he's comfortable before watching the end of the last fight. And oh yes, that IS the end of the fighting. "Jacs looks rough. Let me go give him a check over."
--
Poor Jacs. The goons are leaving the mechanic on the ground for now... bruised and battered and shattered. And finally barely conscious, perhaps that should be lucky Jacs. He can't feel a thing if he isn't awake.
--
Yxuara packs up their booth before the manager comes by to clean them out of anything they might have remaining of worth. It being a decent haul, the Squibs refrain from collecting anything, aside from the occasional walk over and glance at the fallen warriors. Yxuara produces a Life Day hat and sweater, holding them forth as he requests, "Sign this--with your very valuable signatures, perhaps?"
--
