The Killing Field

Sundered Forum Killing Field  - Shadowheart 21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC) 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. 21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC)21:18, 3 September 2007 (UTC) Sun Aug 26 19:55:23 3007 Now the Cabrerra Center Sports Forum is about to find use again, for the inaugural session of a new set of gladiatorial fights...

The show begins with a flare of torchfire around the arena's edge. The flames burst into lurid red light, granting the battered locale a primitive and bloody sort of atmosphere. A short procession of guards, two Zangali and two Ungstiri, lead Aadzrian and Rkagar onto the field for all to see - Aadzrian's wrists are bound, but Rkagar's are not, and both are unarmed and unarmored.

The diminutive mistress of the Twin Moons enters last, trailed by her pair of trusted Zangali guards. Her booted feet walk across the sands of the arena floor as if it were newly conquered territory - which, in a sense, it is.

"Welcome to the inaugural match of the Tomin Kora Gladiatorial Games," she says, speaking into a small pocket amplifier so that her voice is clearly heard. "Tonight, a humble beginning; the Timonae Aadzrian against the Zangali Rkagar, in unarmed combat. Their fates we leave to vi; if vi wish, vi may sacrifice vi winnings to free the victor, or gain added entertainment by killing the loser. Bet as vi wish, vote as vi choose. The game is yours."

She walks to the edge, climbing to the grandstands. "Let the game begin!"

Darya heads into Sundered Forum Grandstand . From the grandstands: Darya arrives from Sundered Forum Killing Field .

From the grandstands: Tirax is already seated somewhere in the stands, just watching the game start in silence.

From the grandstands: Marcuccilli sits in the center of a ring of henchmen, fedora firmly on his head and cigar in its customary place in his mouth. A man carrying a holocamera stands lower down on the grandstands, lens pointed at the proceedings. A portable holoviewer rests on a stand in front of the Don.

Aadzrian lifts his bound wrists above his head to the crowd, with a snarling shout. There's a wild, fierce anger in his face, twisted further by the flickering shadows of torchlight. Still, he does lower his hands and calmly enough submit to having his bonds removed by the guards, tucked away for future use. Now freed, the Timonae turns to face his opponent, smirking and cracking his knuckles. "Let-ting it begin," he says, voice low with soft menace.

From the grandstands: Ace arrives from Sundered Forum Grandstand Tunnel .

From the grandstands: Darya climbs up the stairs, her guards in tow. Seeing Marcuccilli, she makes her way towards him. "Is good to see vi," she says. "As an opening match, it is not so bad. Has already opened up interesting additional opportunities."

Rkagar is only clad in his scales and some lines in Zantra painted on his torso in red. He cracks his knuckles loudly and flashes his yellow teeth at the holocam. He raises his arms up and hisses loudly at the crowd, he waves his arms around a few times then nods at the Timonae. "Am ready poop pants."

From the grandstands: Tirax snorts to himself from his seat, muttering something under his breath, Darya cast a few glares.

Ready or not, here Aadzrian comes. As soon as Rkagar issues that invitation, the Timonae dashes forward, no hesitation in his graceful rush towards his opponent. The momentum of that charge is channeled into the first blow, a testing punch that arcs upward towards the Zangali's massive shoulder.

From the grandstands: "I suppose I can't well miss the season opener, as it were," Marcuccilli answers around his cigar, waving at the holocam. "I hope you don't mind."

From the grandstands: Darya shakes her head, amused. "Nyet, ya do nyi mind. There is nyet reason ya should; are games not for benefit of all?" She waves a hand at the field. "Who do vi favor, then?"

From the grandstands: Ace wanders in, pausing at the railing to watch the fighting below. Her expression is schooled and neutral, no signs of emotion on her features, her eyes hidden behind her mirrored sunglasses.

Rkagar glances down at the blow at his shoulder and flashes some teeth in humor. It would seem he wasn't as ready as he thought he was. "Iss SHishhiSH SHishhiSH cusshhH SHishhiSH SHishhiSH cathuth chufffff SHishhiSH ssssiiiss sssrrip," The young Zangali mentions, then waves to the crowd. He lets out a low chuckle as he steps back and then lunges in to try to land a scaly fist at the Timonae's head.

From the grandstands: Tirax leans forwards to watch the two fighting, interest in his eyes.

With effortless grace, Aadzrian dances out of the way, smirking more broadly at the Zangali. "Clumsy!" he taunts at a roar, shaking his head. "Good for not'ing!" Those are all the words he bothers with, twisting as he retreats to snap a leg out in a swift, hard kick at Rkagar's ribs.

From the grandstands: Nixkamich arrives from Sundered Forum Grandstand Tunnel . From the grandstands: Nixkamich has arrived.

From the grandstands: "Ms. Miasnikov, an important part of much of the business I conduct is knowing when to keep my own counsel--and that is in all cases when I do not have absolute control over the outcome," Marcuccilli says, taking his cigar in his cybernetic hand and gesturing broadly. "The arena renovation in the Warren is nearly complete."

Another low chuckle is issued from Rkagar. The blow lands on his ribs but he doesn't even pause. A rough tongue is run over his yellow teeth as he waves to the crowd once more. "Are fast but no can alway dodge." And with that the young Zangali tries to land an overhand blow to Aadzrian's gut.

From the grandstands: Ace shows little interest at all, maintaining an air of indifference as she settles into a seat, watching the action below.

From the grandstands: Tirax continues to watch, pretty much in silence as the fight goes on. Occasionally there's an intake of breath from him, but no other outward signs.

The Zangali's words seem almost prophetic- it's at the very last moment that Aadzrian twists away from that hit, knuckles grazing his bare chest but not impacting directly. Snarling loudly at the near-miss, he ducks and darts low, driving his elbow forward with his weight behind it towards Rkagar's lower belly. "I wil -kil- you," he growls, quite audibly.

From the grandstands: Nixkamich emerges from the tunnel, the fight from down below first catching his attention. He ingests this mentally for a good moment, before continuing his scan across to the rows of benches. The Qua's face is neutral as he quickly makes his way over towards his kapitan. Wordlessly taking a seat, he offers Ace a simple nod.

From the grandstands: "I should think so. You have them quite bloodthirsty," Marcuccilli says, eyeing the fighters. "The new facilities include rather better seating--a handful of luxury boxes, for the rich and--I suppose or, as well--security-conscious. Holocameras for capturing the fight, and a well-secured holding area behind the quarters for the more voluntary fighters. Perhaps one of those, by the way, would be a better match for the Demarian?"

From the grandstands: "The Demarian is no longer stable," says Darya simply. "So - da. Tonight, we found an Odarite willing to fight him."

From the grandstands: Ace nods back to Nixkamich, "The Faux, she should be done soon and then we will be on our way," she says simply by way of greeting.

Rkagar flashes some teeth and lets out a chuckle when the blow hits him in the stomach. The young Zangali brushes a scaly hand across his chest. "Hit like hatchling." He roars then drops a fist in aimed at the Timmy Boy's shoulder.

From the grandstands: Tirax sighs to himself, eyes shutting for a minute as he murmurs something to himself, fixing Aadzrian with a glare, even though he probably can't be seen.

"Canno hits at al!" Aadzrian calls, voice rough and amused, as he whips his body backwards so that the blow sails over him safely. From this lowered position, he gathers himself into an uppercut, right fist rising to the full extension of its long arm to strike considerably above him at the underside of Rkagar's jaw.

From the grandstands: "It'd go a bit quicker if either could hit the other," Marcuccilli says, eyes moving between the arena floor and the holoviewer in front of him.

From the grandstands: "Good to hear." Nix replies quietly, settling into his seat. "The rest of the crew up working on it still?"

From the grandstands: "Is interesting, nyet?" Darya notes. "Most would think Zangali must win the match, barehand. Timonae is unusually quick."

Rkagar moves his snout back at the last moment. "Wait, we hit no talk more." He teases. The young Zangali offers the crowd another lazy wave of his arm then swings it down to strike a hammer blow aimed at the Timonae's shoulder.

Another last-minute, bare dodge saves Aadzrian from that heavy fist, the Timonae leaping to the side so that it whistles past him by barely an inch. He offers no verbal reply this time- only a sharp, feral grin, as one of his long legs flashes upward in an attempt to slam its foot squarely against the elbow of the arm Rkagar swings down at him.

From the grandstands: "Some are down here, some are up there," Ace shrugs, "Been spending most of my time overseeing the work and stopping down here when I am bored. Things seem to be moving along nicely."

From the grandstands: Tirax winces as the blow nearly hits Aadzrian, shaking his head, muttering to himself once more.

The blow lands but nothing comes from it. The young Zangali just retracts his arm and nods. "See, hit like hatchling." He explains. A thick leg is then shot forward, aimed at the Timonae's midsection.

From the grandstands: Marcuccilli simply nods, placing his cigar in his mouth for a moment and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Quite quick, I'd say."

From the grandstands: Nixkamich nods. "No offense to Torr, but the Jackal is somewhat cramped." Nix idly comments, gazing down below. "We leave after this is finished?"

Aadzrian effortlessly leaps backward, the attack not really coming close. Frustration distorts his expression into an ugly scowl, perhaps at the lack of effect his blows are having on the tough Zangali. A rumbling growl building in his throat again, the Timonae doesn't pause for a moment before leaping back into the fray, this time throwing a jabbing open-hand blow towards the center of Rkagar's chest.

From the grandstands: "Is possible may find a place on Tomin Kora after he is freed," Darya nods. "Possibly in pornography, of course. Would vi consider him marketable?"

Rkagar swings his torso to the left, narrowly missing the blow. The young Zangali hisses something out in Zantra and shakes his head. A fist is then sent flying towards Aadzrian's head once more.

From the grandstands: "And it smells bad," Ace says, "Like sweaty socks and stale beer. Is bachelor's home, not family, da? Will probably head back up tonight, da."

From the grandstands: Sinopa arrives from Sundered Forum Grandstand Tunnel . From the grandstands: Sinopa has arrived.

From the grandstands: Tirax sighs, covering his face with his hands for a moment, head shaking quickly.

Aadzrian ducks under that blow just as Rkagar's motion begins- his reaction quick enough that he's given an extra window of action. The Timonae takes full advantage, slamming both fists- right, and then left- towards the Zangali's gut in a rapid cascade of motion.

The first blow hits and a few scales peel off from the blow; Rkagar then twists his form out of the way of the second blow. He snarls, then lets loose a fist aimed at Aadzrian's chest.

Yet again Aadzrian dances out of the way, his graceful energy seemingly unflagging. He cracks his knuckles of the hand that hit, deliberately, beginning to laugh in a rather wild fashion as he darts back in. Again he throws one leg into a fluid snapping kick, extending it to its full length to strike high at the Zangali's shoulder.

From the grandstands: "Well! It looks like that last one did something," Marcuccilli says. "Do we sell food and drink yet? Perhaps rent out beds?"

From the grandstands: "Da," Ace says, "Used to just smell like beer when it was full crew, but now that Torr is on his own? Think he does not know how to use the laundry machines."

Rkagar looks down at his shoulder and nods at it. "Still no hurt." He barks out. The young Zangali has a few peeled-off areas but that doesn't seem to be slowing him down. He snarls out in rage once more and tries to slam a fist down towards his enemy's head.

From the grandstands: Darya laughs. "This is temporary," she says, indicating the stands. "But am liking these notions, da. Casino and Warren can both do both, ya would think. Merchandising, it has options." She taps her lips. "Perhaps broadcast rights with one of the networks?"

From the grandstands: Tirax opens his eyes again, resuming his observation of the fight, looking a little worried now

From the grandstands: Sinopa enters the grandstands and looking around easily spots the crew of the Faux, which she heads for. She goes to Nix side and sits down by the larger Qua, "Did I miss everything?" she asks.

From the grandstands: "Quite. I'd expect your facilities are rather more suited toward refreshments. As for broadcasting rights, E!RN might, hmm?" Marcuccilli tilts his head, waving his cigar. "Although I expect they'll demand proof that people will in fact watch."

The instant Rkagar moves, the moment that fist gives the slightest indication it is to fall, Aadzrian is already gone. He moves with almost preternatural quickness, stepping -closer- to the Zangali to strike a sudden jab upward at his throat- and then darts low and around him in a single fluid movement, slamming his hand forward at the base of the Zangali's spine.

From the grandstands: "Torr does always seem 'dirty', doesn't he?" Nix comments, folding his arms. He turns his head at Sin as he hears her voice. "I don't belive so, but I've only arrived recently."

From the grandstands: Darya shrugs. "We have guests tonight," she says, indicating the stands. "More likely will have to limit broadcasts to volunteer gladiators. But always there are fighters looking to make a name for themselves."

From the grandstands: "Think we are always seeing him between monthly showers," Ace says dryly, still watching the fight with indifference. "Privet, Sinopa, and nyet...is still the first fight of the night."

From the grandstands: Tirax blinks at the speed that Aadzrian moves at, for the first time looking rather hopeful.

The blow to the throat hits home; the young Zangali sounds as if he is choking. A faint tail of green blood bathes his snout. The blow to the spine also strikes true but no reaction is given to it. Rkagar moves sluggishly now but will not stop; a scaly fist is swung out, aiming for the Timonae's shoulder.

Aadzrian leaps out of the way, backwards, his expression a mask of fiery joy. "Gives up!" he screams to Rkagar, half-raising a fist. "Gives up, or I wil broke your limb one by one!" For all that talk of surrender, he doesn't yet give the Zangali a chance to do so, charging in once more and ducking at the last second to thrust an elbow right for his opponent's gut.

From the grandstands: Nicholas arrives from Sundered Forum Grandstand Tunnel . From the grandstands: Nicholas has arrived.

From the grandstands: Sinopa nods, "Alright," she says. "I was hopin' I wasn't too late," she adds as her eyes go to the field and the two down there.

From the grandstands: "I suppose," the Don says, turning back to the fight.

Rkagar takes a few steps back at the blow. The blow hurt, but you'd never tell from the young Zangali's reaction. He just moves forward, green blood still trickling and tries to land a strike at the Timonae's gut once again.

From the grandstands: Nixkamich quirks a brow watching the fight progress, but doesn't decide to comment for the moment.

"I tolds you," the Timonae growls with a suddenly impassive countenance, "to GIVE UP!" He sidesteps the strike with almost contemptuous ease, moving long before it's a danger to him, raising an elbow and slamming it down at the Zangali's extending arm. Then he slips to the side, around to Rkagar's back, and lifts a sharp fist in and up for his ribs.

From the grandstands: Fashionably late, you could say, Nicky quietly makes his way to a spot suiting, to him, to watch the fight in progress. Whether he notes Ace, Sinopa or Nixkamich is undiscernable, the man taking his spot and turning his eyes

The Zangali's arm is pulled back when Aadzrian's elbow hits. Rkagar growls out in rage and looks as if he is going to try for another punch, but then a loud cracking comes from the Zangali's ribs. More green blood flows from his mouth and he slowly slumps to the floor. He then stares at Aadzrian as he tries and fails to push himself up. "Finish job," he growls out, then the young Zangali nods slowly, rolls onto his back, and repeats some lines in Zantra.

From the grandstands: "Nearly over," Marcuccilli notes, fidgeting with his hat. "An upset, as well. Good for the gambling profits, I'd hope?"

From the grandstands: "Hm," Ace says, raising an eyebrow at the fight, "Certainly does not look good for the house when their own security is beaten up by the slave labor." She calls over to Tirax, "Seems as if there truly was nothing to worry about. He takes to this like a rockrat to a tunnel."

"Fuck you," Aadzrian tosses off down at Rkagar, sounding almost... bored? "You is no wort' kil. I wants you to -live- and to know-ing I has winned. Know-ing you is live on -my- mercy." He turns deliberately on one heel, presenting his back to the Zangali, and raises his fist to the crowd- with nothing more than the slightest, faintest smirk.

From the grandstands: Tirax seems apparently rather surprised that Aadzrian has won, but pumps the air with a fist anyway, before peering across to Ace. "Tha' is true. Bu' it don' change th' fac' tha' he's here in th' firs' place."

From the grandstands: Darya checks her PDA. "Hopefuls," she notes. "Bets favored the timonae. Still, we profit either way." She gets to her feet, then, clicking on the small amplifier. "The winner - Aadzrian!"

Rkagar's yellow eyes close slowly but shoot open at the Timonae's words. Angry words are callled out in Zantra but they trail off, growing weaker by the moment. He wipes some green blood off his snout and his eyes slowly start to close once more.

From the grandstands: Nixkamich views the final end of the fight with a flat glance. "Indeed, kapitan." he says. "A slightly bit surprising. Wasn't expecting that result. Impressive."

From the grandstands: Darya heads into Sundered Forum Killing Field . Darya arrives from Sundered Forum Grandstand . From the grandstands: Darya has left. Darya has arrived.

From the grandstands: Sinopa watches the end of the fight, her nose wrinkling slightly then she looks over at Tirax and smiles brightly, but doesn't say anything.

Aadzrian lowers his fist slowly, and it becomes evident the Timonae is breathing hard now there's no need for control. To anyone sitting close, the faint hue of a few bruises is visible on his chest, perhaps from one of the glancing hits, but he gives away very little hint of pain as he turns and kneels by Rkagar. "Figh' brave," he does allow, in a quieter voice. "Is stil to be find honor in lose."

Darya heads down onto the field, directing her own two guards to put Rkagar on a stretcher as the arena guards put Aadzrian back into restraints and lead him away. "For the next battle," she says, "The Demarian Razorback, and the Odarite Krrkrrkrr!" Which, given that vowel-less mouthfull comes out of an Ungstiri throat, doesn't actually get mangled too badly.

From the grandstands: "Let us hope that this does not mean she will keep him even longer," Ace replies to Tirax, "Did what I could, but she refused to deal or to even tell me what she was looking for in the betting," she spreads her hands out in a gesture of hopelessness, though her expression remains neutral.

From the grandstands: Tirax shrugs somewhat. "Perhaps. Don' stop me from tryin'."

Out of the tunnel and onto the field stride a pair of tall, armored Zangali, each carrying a long, steel pole. At the end of each pole is a loop of steel cable, and each loop is slung around the neck of a tall, black-furred Demarian. The two reptiloid's seem to have their hands full forcing the predator out of the tunnel, his erratic jerking making their footing precarious despite their superior size.

From the grandstands: "An Odarite?" Nix notes, skeptical. "An odd matchup for sure." he says, then nodding at Ace. "Hadn't thought of that, actually." he says trailing off as he sees the Demarian brought out. "So...that's what's become of him."

Shortly behind follows a sizable form visible first only as a dark shadow. As the Demarian is escorted onto the field, this figure emerges, and makes itself clear as an Odarite of disastrous size and proportion. He stands taller than most of the tallest of his race, reaching the height of six and a half feet, and his segmented eyes shine inscrutably like oil on water. Red tones are patterned lightly against the black of his carapace, his wings producing a low and steady, menacing buzz. Worst of all, however, is the massive x-shaped polearm he carries in four mighty hands- a Dealbreaker, wielded effortlessly by this monster of his kind.

From the grandstands: Marcuccilli sits back, lighting a new cigar. A man with a holocamera standing down low on the grandstand points his lens at the Demarian, and the Don watches on the small holoviewer in front of him.

From the grandstands: Nicholas raises a brow slightly at the Demarian first, the arch rising further, and sharply at that, at the arrival of the Odarite. Commentary is restrained however, the Lunite leaning forward just a bit as he watches on.

The two Zangali come to a halt in the center of the field, holding the felinoid between them as they wait for the Odarite to get into position. The Demarian plants its footpaws in the arena floor, its claws sliding out for purchase as it gives a sudden tug, nearly yanking one of the guards off his feet. The other guard pulls back on his pole, nearly bringing the now-off-balance felinoid to the ground.

From the grandstands: Ace shrugs, "She refused my offer to fight him," she says simply, "Odarites, they are very quick and can be very deadly in battle. Let us hope he survives."

Silently, the Odarite Krrkrrkrr- as he must be- opens a hand-claw, beckoning the Demarian onward, before he curls it closed once more about one of the Dealbreaker's hilts. He sinks slightly into a ready position, twirling the massive polearm as if its weight was of absolutely no consequence, and focuses those unblinking alien eyes on his opponent.

The pair of reptiloids come together as they recover, loosening the cables that hold the throat of the Predator. It snarls at them, lowering quickly into a crouch as if to spring. The movement of the Odarite catches its attention, however and it turns to regard the creature curiously, its ears perked forward. It seems confused, momentarily, whether to consider the insectoid prey, threat, or merely part of the scenery.

Threat seems to be the choice of the felinoid as its ears fold back, its lips peeling away from bloodstained fangs. Leaning its head back, the Demarian looses a roar of challenge that resounds even in the spacious arena. The two Zangali beat a hasty, but dignified retreat towards the tunnel, leaving Demarian and Odarite to themselves.

From the grandstands: "Just like the rest of TeeKay." Nix says flatly, tossing Sin a nod before going to stare back and shaking his head at the arena. "Looks like things are being made difficult now. Can't say I have any clue on who might be the victor."

From the grandstands: "My money, it would be on Razor if there was any point to betting," Ace shrugs.

From the grandstands: "Impressive," Marcuccilli remarks, glancing over at Darya. "I must commend you on your methods, whatever they may be." He leans forward a bit. "Nothing like a good blood match, hmm?"

Moving surprisingly quickly for a creature of his unusual size, Krrkrrkrr begins to charge in Razor's direction, lifting that dealbreaker in what seems to be preparation for a strike. The torchlight glints off the wicked blades, limning them with faint red before any blow has even been struck.

From the grandstands: The two guards behind Darya shift a little to get a better view of the ring. They do not watch it intently, though; their eyes keep scanning the crowd.

From the grandstands: Darya smiles a bit. "Always there are fighters looking to make a name," she says. "This one volunteered. Perhaps the results will be more exciting for vi to watch, hm?"

The Predator's legs coil beneath it and an instant later it is hurtling through the air towards its attacker, claws bared and spread as it attempts to bring the oddity down quickly. The red maw opens as the felinoid tilts its head to one side, seeking any possible purchase on the carapace of the Odarite.

And before that dangerous weapon can touch Demarian flesh even once, the cat strikes. Krrkrrkrr rears back with a chittering sound that might be pain, Razorback's teeth finding a hold with the sound of cracking and tearing shell. Green blood marks the wound, but it seems to be less than fatal, as with only a brief hesitation of pain the Odarite swings his Dealbreaker upward at Razorback's chest.

The momentum of the Predator's leap carries it easily out of reach of the double-bladed weapon, its footpaws stretching out for purchase on the arena floor. Its fangs still gripping on the crushed carapace of the insectoid, claws snake out, first one paw, than the other as the Demarian rakes at the would-be challenger to its domain.

From the grandstands: "How, should the Odarite lose," Marcuccilli muses, "do you plan on recapturing the Demarian?"

From the grandstands: Ace folds her arms and leans back, still watching the fight unfold in silence.

From the grandstands: "The guards have had significant experience in stunning him," Darya replies. "He will be subdued and taken back to his cage."

From the grandstands: Nixkamich is pretty much resigned to much the same. Keeping quiet, and watching the fight with a contemplative look on his face.

Just like that, it's over. The massive Odarite, so imposing in shape and form, is absolutely no match for the brutal power of the Demarian's blows. Those claws find a weak spot somewhere, a chink in that carapace, and slide in with deceptive ease. Green blood pours out with violent speed, Krrkrrkrr beginning to fall onto his thin knees, outer mandibles clacking together rapidly in hysterical pain. The last noise he makes is in his own native language, but the tone it carries- disbelieving shock- is fairly clear. The second paw meets no resistance as the insectoid topples onto the arena flood, staining the sand with what's left of his rapidly fleeing blood.

From the grandstands: "Now if he takes out the guards, this would get very interesting," Ace says dryly.

From the grandstands: Darya rises to her feet. "The winner - Razorback!" she calls. And then gestures to guards, who ready stun sticks, stun guns and tangler guns. None of them look like this part of the night is at all new.

From the grandstands: "That was...efficient." Nix comments at how quickly the fight ends. He nods at Ace in agreement, eyeing the number of stun weapons trained on Razor. "Don't think it'll get that far from the looks of it though."

The two Zangali guards give each other a quick glance and start to make their way towards the Demarian. The two smaller Ungstiri raise their tanglers up and fire them at Razorback.

The Predator releases its deathgrip on the Odarite, spitting out the green, life-sustaining liquid in disgust. Its jaws spread in a triumphant roar as it turns to defiantly regard the crowd with bared fangs. Its tail sweeps the dirty floor of the arena predatorily for a moment before the Ungstiri attack. The massive felinoid becomes a sudden blur of motion, launching itself to one side in avoidance of the goo-some net fired at him. The first shot is well-behind it; the second, however, happens upon the spot where the Demarian lands, wrapping it in its sticky tendrils.

From the grandstands: "A stun collar would be rather less risky," Marcuccilli remarks. "If properly reinforced, I suppose."

The two Ungstiri quickly reload and fire another volley at the Demarian. The two Zangali rush in after the fired shots and try to strike, one with a stunstick, the other with its fist.

From the grandstands: Nicholas has had enough of this spectacle it seems, the Lunite standing smoothly and exiting just as quietly as he'd arrived.

From the grandstands: Darya nods. "It would," she agrees. "It is worth looking into. However the construction might need to be unique; the cat has destroyed two cages so far in his rampages."

From the grandstands: Ace rises from her seat with a shrug, "Pointless," she says to Nix, heading for the exit.

From the grandstands: Nixkamich snorts and rises up to his feet. Giving Ace a nod, he follows suit after the kapitan.

From the grandstands: "I've some associates who may be able to help in that regard," Marcuccilli says, eyeing the field. "I'll speak to them. Those two are it, then?"

From the grandstands: Darya nods. "For tonight," she says. "Not particularly bad as an opener, ya think," Darya nods. "Am hoping to put together other matches next week."

Enfolded before it can avoid either of the two tangler nets, the Predator somehow manages to get three of four paws on the ground, hissing angrily at the Zangali as they charge towards him. His ire is met by a solid blow to the head from a scale-clad fist, sending the massive felinoid sprawling. The blow from the stunstick goes mostly unresponded to as it strikes the already unconscious Demarian in the shoulder, causing it to twitch.

The Zangalis glance at each other and gruff out some laughter. They slip a the restraints back onto the Demarian and start to drag him out, hissing away to each other in Zantra. Just another day at the office.