Pit of Rage

Posted on Tue Mar 18th, 2014 @ 11:16pm by Thane & Zrad Rezer† & Bomoor Thort

3,034 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Combat Pit, Jericho
Timeline: After "Caged"

OLD

"I just 'ad an idea!" He exclaimed, clicking his finger and thumb as he rose from his chair. "We could dose 'em up with stims! Boss' got an 'ole load of 'em stored up for summin' big an' fun. We might as well jab these two up and 'ave ourselves a little ring match." His eyes then wandered up to the ceiling, imagining something even greater. "Might even make a few creds whilst we're at it!"

Thane was not surprised, but it did not stop his eyes from darting to his Ithorian friend, his concern for their well-being and longevity increasing. Even in his wearied state, he had committed himself to playing whatever games these cretins insisted on forcing upon them; anything that would prolong their existence on the mortal plane increased their chances of survival and rescue, but this proposed battle would certainly be the end of one of them. Probably him.

"If we-" The Human strained a cough out, his chest scratching and thumping in pain with the effort. "If we refuse?" He demanded of them, gripping one of the bars to better angle himself - another thing that caused excessive and near-intolerable pain to rush through his body. Barely able to get his eyes to focus on their jailers, Thane was convinced many of his ribs were broken, or at least greatly bruised. He retched, but his empty stomach provided nothing as he once again slumped, knocking his head on another bar in the process.

The Trandoshan held his head next to the cage, his dirty-green scales now inches away from Thane's own ragged exterior, "There is no refusal. Cannot run from your own shame. Indeed, fight is the only way to redeem score."

With that, he ran a claw swiftly down one of the bars creating a piercing squeal. Neither of the force-deprived captives found the energy to flinch but the sound rattled the man at the table, "Right then," he leapt up, "Enough talk. Let's get some men together and have some fun with our new pets."

NEW

The stench of death clung to the grime lining the base of the pit. A mixture of blood, sweat and other ground remains had left a concentrated ooze that offended the senses. However, the crowd now growing about the pit seemed impervious to the odour. For many, the stench was not much worse than that they carried upon themselves every day, while for others the smell triggered excitement as it was almost always the herald of some gruesome but thrilling event. A tense babble began as news of the fight spread amongst those present.

An intense, stinging pain coursed through Bomoor’s back as he was flung into the hole from the force of a stun baton. With a definite thud, his body hit the floor. He was bruised and aching everywhere but the fall did not hurt as it should have. Something was dulling his nerve endings and re-routing all his energy to his endocrine system. Between hazy memories of being beaten and dragged away from his cage, Bomoor recalled a sharp prick in his arm. He rose slowly and felt the area in question. The skin there was particularly numb and there was a small dab of blood, no doubt as a result of the unskilful use of a cheap pneumatic dispenser.

Suddenly, the great stench of the filth he knelt in became horrendously apparent. He tasted the salty, musty tang as the fumes entered his sensory system through his mouths. It made him sick. A deep and painful sickness that only grew while his body became more and more alert as the unknown chemical he had been administered brought his bodily systems into overdrive with powerful hormones. His head shot around as he heard another, less-weighty thud across the pit. Although blurred and shaking, he could see that the figure that had landed there was Thane.

“Thane!” he managed to shout vigorously, although he could feel the evident strain this had upon his vocal chords, “What is going on?”

A familiar sound called to him amongst the rest, an echoing timbre that should have brought comfort to Thane but instead served frustrate him as it was drowned out by the cacophony of other noises blaring down upon his overly-sensitive ears. Dirt had entered his mouth and nostrils as he had breathed in a large quantity of the stale air just moments after their captors had forced some stimulant into his body.

Whilst cold, that was not the reason why his body shook as he pushed himself up, finding a great measure of unfamiliar and unreasonable strength that was not his own having been given to him, his muscles numb but working beyond their usual capacity without the Force.

Rising, the Caanan staggered for a couple of steps. The noises enforced the sensation of being surrounded, claustrophobia tugging at his further disabling mind. For a time, his mind had flooded with clearer and more concise thoughts, but following his tumble into this arena, they had struck him at an increased pace but lost their meaning, or he was at least failing to grasp one for more than a moment.

Thane then jolted forward a step, retching up nothing as his heartbeat struck out against the interior of his chest at an incomprehensible rate. Looking up, he sighted a large figure he was aware to be known to him, but whilst his eyesight seemed keener, it was a chore to maintain contact as they flitted about him.

An anger not unlike that which had consumed him so recently somewhere dark, engulfed by lightning in a dangerous temple of stone, began to rise from deep within him. Clenching his fists tightly, unfelt blood began to run from where his nails dug into his palms, dripping to the ground to join other bloodstains.

Unable to help himself, he felt a shout of both pain and frustration leave his body, oddly emboldening him, his chest feeling stronger and body quicker. Thane knew he was not meant to be in this place; he had been captured, beaten bloody and left to suffer for some sport.

He grew angrier, turning about him to scream in hatred at the jeering unrecognisable faces looking down upon him. Memories of a metal-clad villain with his great beasts flooded to the fore of his mind, panic gripping him somewhat as he briefly considered that was what was now becoming of him; a battle for his life against some monster these scum had unleashed upon him.

A sturdy stick was thrown to the ground beside him and Thane instinctively grasped it, bloodied hands smearing the polished wood a deep red. Movement to his side immediately grabbed his attention, and the Human turned, eyes wide and weapon raised, to see a hulking figure some feet away.

The Ithorian's gaze attempted to pierce the dim light. His dark eyes were fixed on Thane but his mind began to wander back to another dark time when his friend had turned on him. Images of a twisted human burnt into his mind and, in the gloom, he saw him again; the dark-sider that had fought him. The man who had betrayed him. A growing anger welled up inside him, overwhelming his baser instincts and causing him to utter a warning growl that echoed around the pit.

Bomoor tightened his branch-like fingers and set his body in a ready pose, like a Bantha preparing to charge, "Stay back... fiend..." he warned between large intakes of breath, which inflated his trunk to its maximum size. He watched as the man before him began to pace, weapon in hand and always facing Bomoor. It was an unspoken threat issued back at the towering Ithorian. As the drug plunged his consciousness deeper into delirium, he thought he could see a red glint from the figure's gaze.

He readied himself for a charge, certain that the threat was about to strike at him.

The beast was preparing to ram him, Thane could see. It had bulked itself out following its terrible roar, body tensed and prepared to throw its whole weight into his smaller frame. The noise the creature had made had caused his body to tense further, almost feeling the vibrations flooding through his body, a feeling not unlike that of falling from a great height.

Shuddering, Thane brought his weapon further back, his mind racing from indecisive and muddled-yet-loud thought to the next, his mind raging and screaming at him as he straddled between two thoughts: attack or defend. As soon as the monster shifted just slightly, his decision was made for him and the beleaguered Human let out his own war cry.

As sickening as the effort was to make such an incredibly noise - at least judging by the rattling in his own pained head - Thane began to sprint towards his foe, still roaring as he swung his stick around with all of his might directly towards its elongated head, where two sparkling beads of eyes sat as his target.

The Ithorian was slow to react and he was struck firmly across his trunk with the human's blunt weapon. However, a combination of his already thick hide and the chemical that was currently dulling his nerve endings, he felt barely anything. In response, Bomoor threw his arms out, battering his aggressor's side and sending him flying back several metres. He watched the man skid back and quickly jump back up, apparently unharmed despite the strong blow.

With a far fiercer roar, Bomoor threw himself towards the dark figure. However, the man was again lighter on his feet and skipped to one side, leaving Bomoor barely enough time to stop himself hitting the pit's wall with full force. His right arm grazed the rough wall while his other side felt the dull sensation of another strike from his foe's weapon. Blindly, Bomoor again swung his arm in the direction of the strike and he felt the satisfying sensation of striking the man in the back.

He turned to spy his foe lying winded upon the ground. Through gasps for air, the man reached out for his weapon lying beside him. With an angry wail, Bomoor brought his log-like foot down upon the outstretched hand. With a definite crunch, he heard several small bones shatter under the weight. The intense burst of pain was enough to cause Thane agony, even through the effects of the stimulant and the resulting wail nearly matched Bomoor's own. The Ithorian suddenly released his foot in response to the cry, although he did not know why the sound pierced him so.

He watched as the man shuffled swiftly backwards, clasping his bloodied hand.

The pain racked his whole body, bile attempting to flood once again out of Thane's mouth, yet still to no avail. He glared with hate-filled eyes at the creature that had crushed most of his hand; the bones of the outside of his hand and little fingers were shattered, broken or contorted, but the pain began to subside as his rage once more started to grow within.

Thane attempted to seize the weapon again, but found his hand could not adequately grasp it, forcing him to bring his offhand in to assist him. Muscle memory instinctively let him drop into a better posture, one that he knew was familiar yet seemed so alien without the familiar hum of something he held dear. Just as he brought the stick backwards to lurch towards the hulking mass, it was already smashing its way into him, one of its trunk-like arms around his abdomen, large yet powerful legs carrying them both with some speed towards the edge of the pit.

Although he did not quite see it, Thane heard something smash against the creature's bulk, causing it to falter in its stampede. Losing its footing, the beast was unable to maintain quite as much speed, but the blow still winded the comparatively-small Human as both combatants fell away from one another.

Gasping for air, Thane's sight was becoming more blurred and grit had almost blinded his left eye. Rolling over in an attempt to bring himself up, he saw what it was that had saved him from a more disastrous encounter; what appeared to be shards of porcelain were strewn about the ground near them both, and a large piece of it was firmly embedded in his foe's back.

Despite a moment's mysterious reluctance, Thane summoned as much energy as he could and reached out for one of the shards on the ground near him, his blood and grit smearing the off-white substance a dirty red. Stumbling, he nevertheless rose and marched with as much speed as he could at the monster, the shard raised high as he prepared himself to leap upon the beast's back and impale it.

Distressed by the sudden attack from above, Bomoor growled louder and rammed the edge of the pit with his hulking form in an attempt to threaten the many jeering faces looking down upon him. He was only mildly aware that his opponent stood behind him. Suddenly, he felt something grasping his back - the man was attempting to climb upon him. The Ithorian shook himself violently in an attempt to dislodge the unwelcome passenger but he had a firm hold. A terrible fear clutched his chest and, within an instant, he had drawn in a vast amount of rancid air through his mouths and swollen his hump so that it arched upwards like a great air balloon. Then, although the strain on his already-tender throat was great, he expelled it in a great bellow that shook the filth upon the ground and seemed to rattle the very structure of the station itself.

His attacker withdrew his hands in a vain attempt to shield his ears and immediately fell from Bomoor's back. The spectators all turned away, their ears ringing and their stomachs turned from the intense vibrations. Bomoor himself stumbled away, clasping his neck and wheezing. The chemicals in his body refused to let him pass out but his eyes began to swim as the pain caught up to him. His other arm found his back and felt a growing pool of blood where he had been pierced multiple times but he could not yet tell how deep the wounds went.

Falling down, his eyes drifted upwards, expecting to see the warped face of his attacker looking down upon him with mocking laughter as he extinguished the life of the weakened Ithorian. However, there was no man and, as he looked higher he saw that the crowds had stopped cheering from the edges of the pit but were turned and silently staring towards something else that Bomoor could not see. Their gaze followed it as it made its way forwards and into view. It was a towering humanoid figure. A man, it seemed, that somehow evoked great anger from within the crippled Ithorian. He seemed to be shouting but Bomoor could only distinguish the dull tones of his voice. While normally a strong muscular response would have protected Bomoor's own hearing from his cry, his body was weakened and had left his own head buzzing. He could only see the man now gesturing into the pit while waving a weapon towards a number of men in the other hand.

With a sudden flash, Bomoor watched one of the men who had dragged him here stagger backwards.

For a moment, it appeared as though he looked down, inspecting the gaping and steaming hole carved out from within his abdomen before going limp. Before the body could even collapse to the floor, the large figure nudged it, sending it spiralling down into the pit, lifeless bones crunching with the impact. The whole affair seemed to prompt action from the others present, many clambering to make gestures of goodwill and/or subservience to the hostile entity.

His eyesight almost entirely impaired and his hearing replaced by nothing more than a high pitch screeching, Thane was completely unable to gather his might to stand once again, resting upon his knees with his head clutched firmly between his hands, as though increasing the pressure might somehow alleviate the pain the monster's roar had brought about.

Although vibrations all about him sung of some conflict still brewing, he paid no heed to the movement in front of him until it was too late, his ragged clothing clutched firmly by the vice-like grip of an armoured hand. With his body practically going limp from the overexertion and trauma he had gone through, Thane was manhandled with an ease by the large figure now dragging him across the pit.

After what felt like several minutes of dragging and apparent hoisting, Thane felt himself being pulled upright and pushed against a stone wall, a small bit of jutting-out metal digging into his back, not that it bothered him greatly amidst all else that had befallen him. Whilst his hearing was still poor, there was no mistaking the spittle and loud noises pummelling his face for anything but aggressive words, but it was the heavy smack across his cheek that forced him to finally and properly try opening his eyes.

Bleary and still unable to truly focus, he nevertheless knew the man before him to be familiar; large scars decorated his grizzled and ageing features, near-insane ice blue eyes boring into his very (fading) being. When Thane did not respond to the heavily-armoured man, he appeared to grow angrier, although it was not fully aimed at Thane himself. Even so, the hatred that began to mount within the former Jedi at the sight of his fellow Human stirred just the smallest amount of rebellion that remained him, and he mustered just an ounce of strength to spit in the man's face, a murky bloody lump that landed upon his chin.

At that, the man actually smiled - a vicious, inhuman thing - before thrusting Thane into the arms of another figure nearby. What happened after that, however, was unknown to him. Passing into finally into a disturbed haze of unconsciousness, his last tangible idea was of a lost friend named Thort.

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