Lightside Sith 040

AN: the song of the day is Mars: https://youtu.be/Jmk5frp6-3Q?is=MsB-IGL6NEk-GZgu kind of interesting that this planet looks so much like Korriban, and fits the Sith so well, huh?

~~~~~~~~~

As soon as he was finished registering, the guards seemed to know who he was, and ushered him down a tunnel. There was little explanation, but from what the group organizer said, his first bout wouldn't be a 1v1 duel, or chaotic mosh pit of a fight, but a team battle. 

There, waiting for him, were about 24 cloaked Human men who formed ranks on both of his sides. In their hands were a collection of ancient weapons, and curious enough, they all had a symbol on their chestplates. It was an eye…the eye of Naga Sadow. 

Kaine furrowed his brow, wondering just what game was being played. 

Reaching the end of the tunnel, a large porticulus style gate slowly rose upward, the sound of rusty gears lifting a great weight groaned into the surroundings. 

Vast amounts of light pooled into the tunnel, and a wry smile spread across Kaine's face at what he saw inside. 

It wasn't the typical giant circle of dirt, as most typical arenas were. No, what awaited him was a wooden sailing ship. There were three other gates that opened simultaneously, but only one of them had people boarding boats. The other two gates released some aquatic monsters. One thing that looked like a giant squid, and the other released a dozen creatures similar in size/teeth to a great white shark. Whilst the 24 gladiators were filing onto the row boat, an announcer's voice boomed throughout the venue, eliciting wild cheers from the tens of thousands of audience members up above. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the noble Grakkus has grown tired of dusty arenas, and has deemed fit to entertain you with something new, something unique! 

Prepare your credits to wager, lifeforms, for today's challengers are something special. 

In the southern corner, representing the Sith Empire of old, and current CIS Warlord, the victor of Ryloth, the slaughterer of Trandoshans, killer of Jedi, weighing at 200lbs of pure muscle, you know him, you love him, it's the Big Red Machine, KAAIIIIIIINE-NAH!!!”

Upon this exclamation, the gladiators by Kaine's side thumped their weapons on the deck, and began to chant various pseudo-Sith slogans. 

“Break my chains, set me free!” 

“Break my chains, set me free!” 

“Accompanied by 24 Sith Acolytes.” The announcer stated. 

Rolling his eyes at the ‘Sith Acolytes’ rubbish-they were clearly 24 random crimnals-he couldn't help but be impressed by this quick setup. Raising an eyebrow, Kaine stared upwards, and saw a luxurious viewing box. Watching the entire proceedings, Grakkus the Hutt was oozing with hidden pleasure. He imagined the slug was like a super nerd getting to watch his favorite comic villain fight IRL. Shaking his head, Kaine turned back to observe his opponents, searching for weaknesses. 

Waiting a beat for the cheers to subside, the announcer then introduced the other group. 

“A natural to aquatic warfare, this young Jedi Knight is a student to High Council Member, Kit Fisto. Capable of healing drastic wounds, and an expert in Form I, it's the Hero of Christophsis, Drowner, Nahdar Vebb!!!” 

Surrounded by 24 clone troopers dressed like Antarian Rangers-basically a leather get up with a similar vibe to the Rebel trooper outfit-the Mon Calamari Jedi Knight stared across the water at him. 

Kaine felt the skin on the back of his neck pin-prick as he got a sense of danger from this man. Not to be deterred, his own mind pulsed back, driving that probing force away. 

On the surface, they seemed ‘evenly matched’ but unfortunately, there was also a body of water present, giving the fish-man an advantage. 

“Let this battle for the fate of the galaxy begin!” The announcer finished, and a horn sounded, starting the event. 

Kaine didn't even say a word, and the cloaked men began to row forward. One man began to hit a beat on a giant drum, whilst another cracked a whip in the air. They were the very image of a Roman wargalley sailing out to do battle. 

Meanwhile, at the other gate, the boat was still in place, as the clones were looking to their Jedi General for orders. 

Nahdar blinked his large eyes, withholding any annoyance due to the situation he found himself in. 

During his mission, the Mon Calamari had been going village to village on a distant world, providing healing to all those in need. Ambushed by a midget pretending to be a child whom he had been healing, he had been poisoned, and eventually captured. The clone troopers surrounding him were from the unit tasked to protect him, and he had a friendly rapport with Commander Tone. 

Logically, he had at least five different methods to escape, but only one of them included the rescue of these innocent clones. Leaving by himself was certainly viable, but went against everything he had learnt on his road to becoming a Jedi Knight. 

“General Vebb, do you think we can take them? We clones don't hear much, but I've heard a few snippets from some civvies about this Renstar fellow, none of it good.” Commander Tone said in a low voice. 

“I fear conflict is inevitable. However, be prepared to act alongside the Sith just in case.” Nahdar murmured. 

“General?” Tone questioned, unable to comprehend the order, yet still followed through without question, sending his men to man the oars. 

“It stands that as we were captured against our will, so too was Renstar. The Hutts often act without disregard for others, interested in satisfying their own greed. And I sense a great deal of greed from that muscular Hutt. This conflict is something he greatly desires. I aim to take that from him.” Nahdar calmly stated. 

“...very well, General, I'll let the boys know.” Tone nodded, then turned away. 

Watching the Commander walk up & down the ship, Nahdar tightly grasped the weapon in his hand. With his lightsaber missing, Grakkus the Hutt had seen fit to equip him with the most preferred weapon of his ancestors: the trident. Yet despite this familiar feeling, the Mon Kala would not let down his guard. 

Rumors had been swirling about Renstar, and it was no secret that the High Council had debated about that Sith many times. As a student of Kit Fisto, he knew a bit more than the average Jedi, but he didn't know if he could trust this info. Afterall, Renstar had killed a Jedi, that was a fact. 

Taking a deep breath, Nahdar sat down in a meditative pose, and began to commune with the Force. Should Renstar choose violence, then he would be met with the steadfast, unyielding nature of a Jedi Knight. 

Whilst the men of the Republic were gathering themselves, Kaine stood in the bow of his ship. His crimson cloak fluttered on an artificial breeze, and his red-skinned face cast a harsh reflection in the water. 

He turned the great Sith warblade in his hands, and thrust it forward, gathering the accumulated emotion of the crowd, and bringing it into himself and the crew. Although the technique was crude, it filled the sweaty oarsmen with a supernatural fuel. 

“Forward. Whatever Grakkus has promised you sorry lot-be that freedom, credits, or women-I promise you double so long as we go forward.” Kaine demanded, buoying their morale. 

One of the oarsmen suddenly stopped rowing as a pale, jointed shape slid beneath his oar. Farther out, a broad-backed predator surfaced, exposing a ridge of hooked spines, and cruel looking tentacles before disappearing again.

“Eyes forward. Anything down there has to get through me first.” Kaine harshly declared, suddenly swiping his large blade forward, and slicing a forearm-thick tentacle in half that had been attempting to snake around his ankle. 

High above the arena, the Hutt reclined beneath purple awnings. Servants crowded his dais, constantly feeding, and massaging him. With one hand, Grakkus casually lifted a barbell weighing over 1,000lbs, whilst with the other lifted a jeweled drinking bowl. Nodding towards the announcer-a small alien dressed in colorful livery-the herald spoke into a microphone built into a beast's horn to make the performance ‘authentic.’ 

“The Sith king! The champion of the Jedi! Let the waters decide your fate.” 

A gong sounded, and the clones-who had been waiting around-now began to row in sync, swiftly outspeeding the gladiators who had started first. 

Kaine looked back at his own uneven oars, and clucked his tongue. 

“Together!” He struck the flat of his blade against the prow, grasping even more swelling emotions, and funneling that excitement into his crew. “Are you with me!?”

The gap narrowed as both sides began to pick up speed. Vebb slowly opened his eyes from meditation, realizing that conflict was inevitable. So be it. 

“Brace!” The Jedi called.

“Port oars hold!” Kaine shouted. “Starboard, pull!” His boat slewed sideways, and the Republic's ram missed by a handspan and tore along the rail instead. Three oars exploded into splinters, and many men tumbled from their benches. The impact threw Kaine against the prow hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs, whilst someone Wilhelm screamed going overboard. 

Grappling hooks came over the side, and Vebb’s clones began their assault before Kaine’s rowers could recover.

“Shields up! Board!” The clone Commander roared, and was the first to charge. 

The first troopers crossed behind overlapping shields. A gladiator rushed them, swinging an axe overhead, only to be met with a shield to the chest, halting him in his tracks. A spear followed beneath it, sending the man tumbling into the now frothy pink churning depths below. 

“Stay together!” Kaine roared. “Make them fight for the deck!”

He caught the next spear on his blade and drove his shoulder into its owner. His gold colored plate armor crashed against the painted iron. The clone staggered into the men behind him, blocking their passage while Kaine’s gladiators formed around the benches.

Then Vebb leaped across the heads of his men, his trident came down toward Kaine’s face.

Kaine turned it aside with his shield, but the butt of the shaft struck the back of his knee as the Mon Calamari flowed behind him like a curtain of water. Vebb followed with a thrust beneath the golden breastplate towards his spine. 

Kaine twisted to the side, resulting in the trident slipping off to the side. The Jedi withdrew before the counterattacking warblade reached him.

“You could yield.” Vebb said, leaning back from the swipe, and stabbing a gladiator behind him without looking. 

Kaine glanced toward the Hutt’s dais, then tripped a clone with [Telekinesis] that was about to stab him, sending him off the ship. 

“Your words won't work, Jedi. But I tell you what, give me a good fight, and I might just let you live.” Kaine smirked. 

Vebb remained unruffled in the face of this naked aggression-truly the hallmarks of a consummate Jedi-and resumed his attack. 

Pushed back due to the encroaching clone troopers, and swiftly dying gladiators, Kaine met the Mon Kala between the rowing benches, where the trident’s reach became somewhat troublesome. The warblade hammered against its shaft, to which Vebb feinted, giving ground. The alien stepped over an abandoned oar, kicking it forcefully at Kaine's wounded knee, and caught the sword between two prongs at the same time, twisting sharply. 

Kaine went with the movement, slammed a golden vambrace across the Jedi’s arms, and drove him against the rail.

Around them, blades rang and men shouted for help. A clone dragged a wounded brother clear of a stampede, whilst a gladiator repeatedly slammed down his axe upon a corpse until he was covered in blood. 

Vebb was being pushed towards the water where a large group of tentacles were rising from the water, eagerly, hungrily reaching forth. The warblade was in a great position to press downward, drawing a thin line of blood from the fish-man's cheek. 

“Do you yield, Jedi?” Kaine pressed, using his great strength, and mental power to press the advantage. 

“Jedi. Never give up. Never. Surrender.” Vebb grunted, parrying aside the blade, at the cost of taking a heavy gash to the shoulder, and a split trident. At the same time that he was falling over the railing, he used the broken shaft of the trident like a spear, and gouged it deeply into Kaine's unarmored abdomen. 

Pain burned down Kaine’s lower chest as the taste of blood & victory spread across his lips. Fueled by adrenaline & other powerful Sith hormones, a euphoric sense of power filled his veins, and he turned towards the clone troopers to take them on next. 

However, a warning in the Force came from the water. 

Turning towards the threat, he beheld the Mon Calamari placing glowing hands over the serious wound on his shoulder, mending it in seconds. What was worse, was that he was standing on the head of that giant octopus alien. They were now allies. 

“Are you willing to listen to me now, Sith?” Vebb smiled. 

Kaine slicked back his black hair, and met the wide bulbous eyes of the Mon Calamari with twin burning golden orbs. A wild smile spread across Kaine's face. 

“What was it you said earlier? Never give up? Never surrender?” Kaine asked, violently ripping the stick from his abdomen, letting blood flow freely from his wound. 

“Renstar, you madman, you'll die. You're supposed to be an enlightened Sith, what is this behavior?” Vebb questioned, incredibly shocked that events did not transpire as he had anticipated. 

Kaine thrust his blade into a nearby already dying gladiator, and the runes on the weapon began to light up one after another. 

“All the galaxy is watching this fight, Jedi.” Kaine said in a low voice. “I cannot appear to be weak…however, if we can invite Grakkus into this pit, then perhaps…” Kaine quickly whispered, using the Force to send out his intentions more than his words. “Play along~” 

The Mon Calamari closed his eyes, then showed a look of resolve. ‘If working with you means freeing my men, and eliminating this evil…then I shall do what I must.’ 

Kaine grinned, and began to let loose with a wild laugh, acting very much like the barbaric Sith for the cameras, and prepared to put on a performance for the ages. 

Just how much LP would he get performing for a live audience of over 50,000?!