Feeding the Beast, Part III

Sundered Forum Killing Field  - Shadowheart

A wide expanse of sand and turf, the central field of the old Cabrerra Center Sports Forum once saw prisoners-turned-gladiators fighting for their lives - and the amusement of the audience in the stands. Now, lit only by the violet and blue glow of the Tomin Nebula, the old killing fields are relatively silent, cluttered with wreckage and debris from the collapse of the landing aerie platform. Arrayed in a circle around the main forum are several steel crosses that are affixed to the structure - they look a lot like crucifixes of some kind. A few ledges can be seen along the north wall, formerly used for competitors in three-dimensional competitions. A tunnel leads off to the competitor's ready room.

Two large Zangali, one of whom has a stunstick strapped to his back, walk out onto the arena floor, each holding a long metal pole. Each pole ends in a loop of steel cabling and each loop is wrapped around the neck of a surprisingly unkempt-looking, black Demarian. Despite their superior weight, the two reptiloids seem to have to strain to keep the Predator between them as it struggles against their pull.

Some have the devil's own luck. Despite Ailith's near endless amount of warnings, Franceza ventured out on her own... And made it here alive. Not that she had a clue where she was walking, but she heard about this place, seemed as good as any. She took a seat, lured by the prospect of a fight. Digs her hand into a bucket resembling popcorn. Ish. Taste ain't half bad, she continues eating. Sits forward when the guards walk in.

Rkagar has a tall Timonae woman in his grip. He looks down at her with pity in his yellow eyes. "Must not do...." He murmurs to himself. The woman starts to bawl when she sees the Demarian; she looks over to Aadzrian in confusion.

The Demarian isn't the only one who comes out, a Timonae striding along behind him, flanked by two Ungstiri instead. Less formidable guards for a less formidable fighter, perhaps, although a good look at Aadzrian would suggest he isn't entirely useless- little more than muscle and bone without excess weight and an easy grace to his stride. Upon seeing the woman, his lips thin very angrily. "Te hel is t'is?" he demands of Rkagar in a heavy accent.

The two Zangali somehow manage to drag their irate, snarling captive to the center of the field and turn towards Rkagar, nodding to him while keeping firm hold on the Predator, their feet planted against its erratic and powerful tugging.

On the bench above, Franceza sniffs, wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Peers down at the arena. She has a clear view, but still, it's a ways off. And don't do Demarians and Timonae all look the same anyway?

The Timonae woman wails when the beast is turned to her. She tries desperately to get away, but is held firm in Rkagar's grasp. She starts to sputter off in Timonese to Aadzrian, obviously begging. The young Zangali for his part cannot bear to look at either Timonae at the moment. He just forces her to he knees and starts to walk back to the entrance. The Timonae female is too frightened of the snarling Demarian to even try to flee again.

"-Damn- it," Aadzrian snarls helplessly, looking all around the killing field to get a good view of what's going on. For the moment, he doesn't look directly at the Timonese woman- perhaps he doesn't dare to himself. He begins to sidle across the field in her general direction, slowly, the Ungstiri guards watching him with smirks- but not yet firing at him.

The Predator gives a sudden jerk, nearly pulling one of its guards off of his heavy feet. The two of them draw together, still keeping the felinoid at the end of the poles. Hesitantly, they loosen the cables and lift the nooses from the Demarian's neck. The armed reptiloid draws out his stunstick and holds it out in front of him as he retreats past the kneeling Timonae.

The Predator rolls its neck to loosen the kinks before following the pair in a half-crouch, letting loose a bone-shattering roar, its bloodstained jaws spreading wide as its challenge resounds through the arena.

Franceza doesn't speak Timonese. Not a word. Good thing fear's universal. She takes a moment to look around her at the other spectators, but only finds bloodlust on the faces she meets. Suspicion dawning, she looks back to the field. This really ain't a boxing match... At the roar, she nearly drops her bucket.

Large, pleading eyes to Aadzrian, but the Timonae on the ground nearly looses it when the roar hurts her ears. Whimpering, she tries to crawl back now, her survival instinct kicking in slowly. Shaking badly, she babbles soft words, over and over. "Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me..."

Aadzrian pauses a moment to breathe something to himself in disbelieving Timonese: "Dear Maidens, I guess I want to die." And then, he begins to wave his arms. "Hey, you!" he shouts loudly at the Predator. "Yes, I is talk to you! Be come over here! You want eat -me-, yes?" The Ungstiri guards stare at their captive, as if he's utterly lost his mind. Which, perhaps he has, the way he's even jumping up and down to catch all of the Demarian's attention.

The Predator barely seems to notice the crawling figure until the two Zangali pass her, leaving her between them and the Demarian. The black-furred creature lifts its head slightly, its nostrils twitching as it scents the air, its silver eyes regarding the woman with a hungry glare. Sudden noise draws the attention of the felinoid's ears through, soon followed by its eyes. The Predator's brow slides forward, narrowing its eyes as its ears fold back into its mane. A low growl and bared teeth greet the fortune-teller as the Demarian shifts its course. The Zangali guards turn to stare at Aadzrian in blank confusion for a moment until the armed one begins striding towards him, brandishing his stunstick. "You shut up!" he hisses, "Or be shut in cage again!"

Popcorn falls back in the bucket, from Franceza's suddenly frozen fingers. Her eyes dart to the Timonae jumping about as she breathes softly, "Eat me? You're joking..." There's some snickering behind her but when she turns and looks into the snarling face of a beerbellyed man, she quickly focusses back on the fight.

The Timonae woman manages to scramble to her feet and while her eyes shift between Aadzrian and the Demarian, she -slowly-, shivering step by shivering step, tries to leave the arena, backwards. Even then, her fear is such a panicked whimper escapes her lips.

"I wil no be say -anyt'ing else-," Aadzrian declares- loudly, holding his hands up peacefully to the guard. "I canno stand-ing, watsh woman of my peoples be eated. I forgets my-self. Wil no hap-pen again, yes?" This all is said in that same strident tone, though he does shut up afterward, holding still- and staring at the Demarian. The Ungstiri guards scowl and raise their guns now, evidently quite prepared to stop Aadzrian if he interferes one more time.

As the Zangali come between the Predator and Aadzrian, the Demarian pauses, eyeing the intervening reptiles in frustration. It roars angrily once again, then a faint motion in the corner of its eye catches its attention. It begins to quietly make its way towards its retreating prey. The Zangali, satisfied when Aadzrian shuts his trap and when the Demarian decides to go after an easier target, stand still, eyeing the Predator warily.

Carefully, Franceza sets the bucket down, and is about to rise when Razorback moves forward, the light overhead highlighting him clearly for a moment. She frowns, uneasilly, but wants to get a better look before she'll leave.

The Timonae woman blanks when the Demarian turns to her again, something he can probably smell clearly. She turns and starts for the north wall. Not so slow anymore.

It seems to be all he can do to simply watch at the moment, Aadzrian's body taut with wiry tension. He does watch, single-mindedly, seeming ready to bolt at any moment even with the Ungstiri guards' attention entirely on him. "Escape," he murmurs, though the tone of his own voice seems to suggest he knows that it's hopeless.

The felinoid takes off after the woman at an excellent clip, its voice still quiet as it moves rapidly across the arena floor. After a few moments, it leans forward, its arms taking up the position of forelegs, aiding in the pursuit.

Franceza gets another, better look at the Demarian, and her face blanks in quiet realisation. Unable to suppress a shudder, she forces herself to look at each and every individual on the field before she rises and goes to leave. Her action causes some mild commotion on the benches, people throwing cups and snacks at her.

One panicked look over her shoulder is enough to give the Timonae woman the strength she needs to speed up her pace, racing across the sand towards the ledges ahead. She wails in her desperation.

Anger quickens Aadzrian's breathing, his hands tightening into fists so clenched that his sharp nails begin to dig painfully into his skin. Yet the Timonae shows no real sign of noticing, *staring* so intently at the struggle currently going on that his eyes look half-crazed in their widened state. "Razorback!" he finally yells, a single pained word of rebuke and something very like despair, enough to net him a solid whack across the shoulder from one of the Ungstiri's guns, a hit he doesn't attempt to evade. He winces at -that-, a hand idly raising to the affected arm before it falls and he goes right back to staring in hopeless hope the situation will change.

The stunstick wielding Zangali brings his weapon up for a strike at the Timonae, but seems satisfied with the action of his smaller comrade.

Meanwhile, back on the field the Predator snarls angrily as the Timonae opens up her lead on it, though the frustration only seems to slow it down.

Running in the opposite direction as the Timonae woman, Franceza manages to reach the top of the stands, where Aadzrian's yell pauses her momentarily. Wiping beer from her hair, she looks back, knowing eyes now darting to the Demarian.

No look back this time, self preservation taking over in the running woman as she sees the distance to the ledges grow smaller with each step, her fear giving her the wings she needs, and a little hope. More determined, she runs on.

"Yes, come -on-," Aadzrian murmurs softly to himself, his voice intent, in some sort of encouragement to the Timonae woman she undoubtedly can't hear. "Up on te ledges..." It's enough to net him an utterly exasperated look from the guard nearest by, but no more attacks this time, as he's not actually interfering. "Please, Razor, to be wake -up-," he mumbles helplessly. And stares, and continues to stare.

Though its pace continues to flag, the Predator seems to press closer to the Timonae now, its breath coming fast and hard as it pelts across the expanse of the arena.

Franceza stands frozen at the top of the stands, unable to take her eyes off the drama unfolding. At least the other spectators are doing the same, so she won't have to dodge food anymore.

The Timonae woman needs to slow her pace a little in order to jump to the first ledge. She doesn't dare look back, though she hears the laboured breathing closing in. Desperate, she leaps.

Aadzrian watches, silently, unmoving, now completely riveted himself to the drama of whether or not she'll make that jump she's reaching for. His one fist that's remained clenched all this time has slowly tightened, and a tiny trickle of blood is welling up, a single drop falling to the arena floor, but it's completely overlooked in the moment. The guards themselves are equally absorbed, though one with a look of blood-thirsty glee while the other merely looks... disquieted.

As the woman executes her leap, the Demarian's lower legs extend, launching it forward towards its quarry, paws outstretched to knock her from the air to the ground below.

In growing terror, Franceza can't take her eyes of the scene. The roar from the crowd as Razorback pounces the woman drowns her own horrified whimper.

At the stands, the woman's scream isn't even heard, likewise drowned in the wall of sound hurled to the field. She had her arms stretched, fingers nearly touching the ledge when the Demarian's weight knocks the air right from her.

Somehow, despite a catch that likely signals imminent death, Aadzrian remains rooted to his spot and staring. He trembles with anger and reaction, his face distorted into a helpless snarl, but he doesn't move and trigger the ire of the guards that flank him. The gleeful guard cheers aloud as the woman's caught, pumping a fist in the air.

Coming down to land on three paws beside the woman, the Predator lets out a roar of triumph as it snaps out the fourth at the back of her legs, seeking to keep her from running off again.

The crowd roars back in appreciation, encouraging the Demarian to take off the leg entirely. Franceza watches, frozen.

Still trying to get her head around what just happened to her, the Timonese woman yells out in pain as her skin is ripped, hands clawing at the sand in her attempt to escape her fate. She tears nails, but no matter the bleeding fingers, she continues to try.

Aadzrian opens his mouth to cry out, but nothing comes, his clenched fists rising and falling steadily. His teeth grind, his face contorts into an impossible mix of horror, sorrow and mostly rage, but still- he watches. Trembling with the effort to hold himself in place, silent and still otherwise, he watches.

The Predator moves to stand over its prone victim, on all four paws a low growl of irritation emanating from its throat as it casually leans down to rake its fangs across the woman's back to rip a portion of the flesh off and discourage further attempts to flee.

The crowd goes mad.

The Timonese woman writhes in agony, screaming. She attempts to roll onto her back to escape the pain. Any thoughts of running away have left her, her only need her immediate survival. Desperate, she tries to throw sand into his eyes, but feels the darkness closing in on heself.

It seems to be too much for Aadzrian, finally. He takes a few faltering steps forward, then a few more before the Ungstiri guards point the tangler guns directly at his back only perhaps five or six feet away. "One more step, dhat is it, da?" the gleeful one remarks conversationally, while the other one simply frowns anxiously and keeps the weapon at the ready. Breathing raggedly, the Timonae holds still- perhaps just for the moment, but he holds still, halted in his approach.

The Demarian hisses angrily, pulling back its head as sand is flung into its face. It slams a heavy, claw-laden paw towards the woman's shoulder, seeking to pin her to the ground on her back as its jaws swing around towards her throat. As the fangs begin to snap shut, they stop just short of the point at which they would begin to cut through the Timonae's larynx, seeking only to get a firm grasp on her windpipe at the moment.

A cheer goes up from the crowd, throwing cups, beer bottles and whatnot into the arena to show the appreciation. "Kill! Kill! Kill!" The chant rises from somewhere, is taken up quickly. Franceza runs away, feeling sick to her bones.

Razorback can feel the flow of air slowing down as her eyes roll back, the woman losing consciousness. One hand drops back to the ground, the sand slipping from still fingers.

"I -can't-," Aadzrian growls finally, helplessly- and turning sideways so that none of the guards is directly at his back, begins to nimbly dart towards Razorback and the Timonae woman, keeping his eyes primarily on the guards and his body in a defensive posture even as he does so. The Ungstiri are mildly surprised, judging by their brief hesitation, but it doesn't take long for the tangler guns to fire their liquid projectiles at him- which, ducking and rolling, the Timonae adroitly dodges on his way.

The two Zangali seem to have been engrossed in the spectacle at the time that Aadzrian makes his move. One of them, however, notices the escaping Timonae with an angry hiss, nudging the other. The two of them take off after the Timonae at a lumbering pace, attempting to catch him before he can interfere.

With its teeth clamped tightly about the woman's trachea, the Predator's head gives a sudden jerk upwards. Its paw presses down firmly on the woman's chest as it attempts to rip her larynx out through her throat.

The crowd goes mad as blood squirts from the woman's throat.

Aadzrian sets off as quickly as he can across the floor, but the treacherous ground shifts underneath his feet. He continues to look back at the guards with their tangler guns as it impedes his progress, the Ungstiri both getting off another set of shots before he moves out of an advantageous range. The first one manages to just hit him, but it's enough to cover the Timonae in sticky webbing, slowing him to make the second shot hit much more easily. Between the two, he's quickly weighed down by a cocoon of rubber, struggling against it more or less in vain.

The Predator spits out the mass of cartilage onto the arena floor, loosing a roar of defiance towards the crowd, daring any of them to challenge its claim to the kill. As there seem to be no takers, the Demarian's jaws reach down again as it begins the process of devouring its meal, accompanied by periodic tearing or squishing sounds.

The crowd goes madder as blood continues to pour from the woman's limp body, the Demarian feeds.

Aadzrian stops his useless struggling long enough to turn his head and watch, breathing out a wretched, "No, damn it..." The Ungstiri steadily approach, one chortling at the killing, asking Aadzrian- evidently in high good humor- "Do we need stun you, or are you done?" Turning his gaze slowly up to them, the Timonae murmurs in a voice gone suddenly devoid of emotion, "Wat is point? Is not'ing I do now. No more reason figh." "Goood," the guard replies, his grin almost a sneer. "Maybe dhey let you out of cage sooner, dhen."