Blunt Trauma

[H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOletMMI0B4[/media]

Pain was an unknown sensation to most droids, it wasn’t necessary in their design to feel pain, or suffering, or emotional and physical trauma. Hardline was different from them. He was designed to simulate a real living being, but instead of being made from flesh and blood, he was made from steel and oil. The Selkath he was fighting was by no means a weakling, he was a rabid animal at this point. He had no clue what they did to the poor creature, but it was by no means a good thing. The creature had socked Hardline right in the abdomen, and while a normal creature would be pained immensely by this action, the creature seemed to pay no mind.

Hardline had been pitted against this creature in a fight to the death for the entertainment of the masses. Slaves were pitted against each other in vicious fights, the loser would die, released from the torture of slavery, the winner got to return to the cages, and the torture. Hardline had his memories stolen from him, his memory core removed and held by the tournament host. His memory core was replaced with a generic one taken from a battle droid, he had no memory of his past, his values, all he knew was fighting. He still had his special droid brain, the one that gave him human thoughts, emotions, dreams, everything one could think of, but at the end of the day what was a being without its memories.

Hardline reeled back from the hit, he was not scared of the punches, he was scared of the claws, if they cut a hydraulic line, he would be dead in the water. He stepped back and observed his opponent. It would be impossible to determine his next move, he was the definition of feral, he was probably drugged up into this state to increase their ferocity. Hardline did not know it at the time, but Selkaths refused to use their claws in a sane state, so chances are, they “coerced” the creature into a state that it would. The only thing Hardline could think to do was move to strike as unpredictably as the creature would.

He extended his blades and charged the creature. Hardline swung for the abdomen from the right side, but the creature was able to juke to the side and swipe for Hardline’s own right side. Hardline quickly blocked with his right arm before jabbing with his left, he was unable to hit, and they both retreated to assess their opponent’s situation. They were well matched, but the creature was starting to show signs of exhaustion from the long fight, Hardline could capitalize on that, eventually. He had no problems with fatigue, but he was much easier to disable, it was a war of attrition that neither could afford to lose.

[member="Causstik Rahn"] [member="The Matador"] [member="TK-24"]

 

[Causstik Rahn]

Causstik watched intently as the machine fought the Selkath. It was clear they were an even match. Causstik had drove the Selkath to insanity using glands from a Firaxan shark and now the sentient was reduced to that of a feral animal. Even if it won the tournament odds are the creature would have to be put down. A serving girl walked by and Causstik snatched a pair of tankard from the tray. He shoved one towards his comrade Matador and greedily began to sip his own, taking great gulps of the ale. He nearly choked as the machine made a move, but was parried by the Selkath.

“RIP HIS THROAT OUT!” Causstik roared over the cheering of the crowd.

He shot out of his seat, spilling his drink everywhere, and began pumping his fist in the air “FINISH HIM!” Causstik barked.

He was growing impatient, he demanded to see blood. Causstik sat back down as the Selkath and droid took a moment's respite. He looked to Matador and gave him a toothy grin

“I’ll bet you a thousand credits the machine goes down in the second bout. He's nothing without his memory core,” Causstik said, his voice hissing like that of a snake.

He eyed the pair carefully, his head propped up by an arm that rested on the throne's armrest, his other hand holding the beer lackadaisicaly. He reached into his armor and withdrew a small cube. Inside was the droid’s memory core. He was sure given this disadvantage the machine would lose...

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

"Imagine yourself without your scales, your size or even your ability to capitalise on your strength Cauustik." The Matador commented, he had observed for the most part quietly. He had no great love for watching others fight, but as the warlords of Cerberus; they had to start somewhere. They had much in union together, the Warlords; but they knew they required much more.

The Matador had been watching two spectators in particular; the robot and a warrior that had fought throughout the tournament [member="Causstik Rahn"] had subjected him to. "Warriors are not just flesh and bone, they are just as mind as well that proves their mettle. If he survives, we give him it back. There's no discussion on that. But, he hasn't won yet."

The Matador did not partake in drinking ale anymore, it dulled his senses; which he wished to keep sharp at all times. His weapons rested uncomfortable against him in his seat, thus he stood with arms folded. A small bug flew onto his crushgaunt, he flicked it off. The small bug tried to force its antenna into his flesh, it reminded him of most of the people here. Leeching off of others.

 

[H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E]

The two circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move, reveal a weakness, show an opening. The crowd was loud and distracting, as the two warriors eyed each other the crowd began to chant something, Hardline didn’t know what it was, it didn’t matter anyway. He lost the ability to understand language with his memory core. The small cube was able to hold 10 exabytes of information. The technology to replicate it known only to him, hidden on a small encrypted drive that only activated during a severe emergency, not that he had any knowledge of this either, even with his memory core, it was safely hidden away, only to be found when his creators desired it.

The creature snarled, and then rather suddenly, pounced at Hardline. He had little time to react, his normal extremely fast reaction times were slowed by the low data bandwidth the cheap memory core provided, he dodged out of the way, barely in time, but the creature got a swipe at his right arm. The claws tore into his armor plating, reaching into his internal circuitry and tearing out a cable. His blades retracted half way into their sockets, they were more like daggers than swords, and they were stuck extended. He would have to be careful. He quickly lunged back, forcing himself at the creature, attempting to shove it to the ground, and while the creature forced him back and away, He got a good stab into the creature’s abdomen, but it seemed to pay no mind to the blood loss.

The crowds roared, this is what they had come for, a fight, not a staring contest, Hardline realized he would not only have to win, but also please the crowds. He was irritated by this, greatly. He charged the creature again but got a heavy sock to the abdomen, somehow knocking the several hundred-kilogram droid back onto the ground, and 6 inches back. It was extremely painful. He decided to lay a sort of ruse, to try to get the creature to assault him on the ground. He had something prepared.

Hardline feigned a malfunction, slightly twitching, remaining still on his back, he would not make a move until the moment was right. He had sensors beyond his vision, he could see where the creature was even when it wasn’t in his vision, it would be critical in this ruse. When the creature pounced He caught it on his blades, two new holes piercing its abdomen., and threw it back with his legs. Yet again, despite the blood, and the severe beating, the creature seemed to not be bothered by it. He rose up from the ground eyeing the creature, waiting for it to initiate the next bout as it got itself up off the ground.

 

[Causstik Rahn]

[SIZE=11pt]Causstik watched as the fight intensified. The distraction was much as the crowd erupted in roars of glee. Causstik himself was back on his feet cheering for the Selkath. But, Matador’s voice brought him back to reality. “Yeah, i’ll give him the cube back…” He said boredly. He was much more keen to watch fights than discuss the makeup of a warrior. All Causstik respected was strength and the willingness to use it. Right now it appeared the droid had the upper hand, but Causstik was positive the Selkath would come back for blood, or in this case, oil. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Causstik chugged the rest of his beer than slammed the glass tankard on the ground. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Another!” He roared in delight than remembered Matador hadn’t even touched his. Causstik snatched the glass from Matador’s armrest and began to down the ale. He let out a boisterous burp as he finished half the drink and smiled in a half drunken stupor. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Whoever wins this will have to fight my favorite contestant. A mad claw of a Wookiee,” Causstik paused take another large gulp of his brew “The thing is big and a silver back at that!” Causstik growled in delight.[/SIZE]

[member="The Matador"]
[member="H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

A mad claw, he had heard of that pronoun being attached to particularly dangerous wookies. Most of whom were large, and fierce warriors.

"We could use both, we need more warriors. Not dead ones Causstik."
As much as they were different, he knew the trandoshan was capable of reason. "We could recruit both into our ranks. They could prove useful. Better use out in the world than here, the same could be said for most slaves."
Yes, that was an attack of some kind. The Matador greatly disliked the backward way these people lived. But all the same he knew the attraction of fighting pits.

He watched the rabbid selkath and robotic assassin exchange blows. There were a hundred ways he would've dispatched the selkath by now, he was rabid. As much as primal rage counts, you could double it for using your head.

You need to know how to throw a punch, otherwise it won't matter.

[member="Causstik Rahn"]
[member="H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E"]

 

[H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E]

The creature knew now that blood had been drawn its time was limited, it would become more and more desperate, and as it lost blood it would make more and more mistakes, Hardline would have to capitalize on that, but the creature did not seem to mind the pain, it had a strong will, that was for certain. The creature charged and the two combatants began to compete in a long dance of death. Hardline just had to wear down the creature, using the holes in its abdomen to drain the blood from its veins. The creature swung, and hardline evaded, attempting to get hits without exposing himself.

The creature charged, and Hardline gracefully stepped out of the way of each charge, occasionally getting a slash at his arm or his side, furthering its demise. The creature got more and more desperate as it slowly died, but they continued in their dance, the creatures blood slowly dripping down onto the ground in considerable amounts, it started slowing down, becoming less aggressive in its charges, it was dying. It was time to end the poor creatures suffering.

Hardline let the creature charge one more time, this was the sloppiest charge yet, Hardline plunged his blades right into the creatures hart as it came, gasping as he did. When he dropped the creature off his blades it fell to the ground still breathing. Something in its eyes changed however, the rage died, the feral anger fell away, revealing whoever the creature once was. Hardline kneeled down next to the creature, staring it in the eyes. The Selkath looked at him and smiled, it was crying at this point. It handed Hardline a slip of paper, crudely scrawled on it was a person and a place, it appeared to be written with charcoal, probably written before he was turned. It looked Hardline in the eye and said “Thank you.” His body then fell limp, all that was left was a genuine smile. Hardline closed the Selkaths eyes. It was now free.

Hardline knowing his memory would probably not survive the fight slipped it in a compartment in his chest, and forced that memory into a section of flash memory stored deep within his chest designed to hold highly critical information that needed to survive his own demise should It occur. He felt a duty to deliver that message, assuming he survived this ordeal in the first place.

Hardline stood up, the crowds cheering him on. He was triumphant, but he didn’t feel like it.

[member="The Matador"] [member="Causstik Rahn"]

 

[Causstik Rahn]

Causstik watched as the Selkath charged the droid like a mad bull. Over and over, the machine dodging the crazed fishman and making systematic stabs aimed at draining the creature of life. It reminded Causstik of a picadoré. Something he imagined Matador should be familiar with. Finally the fish made one last charge and the machine spun deftly around the creature, with arms extended blades pierced the beast heart and the droid guided the selkath gently to the ground.

“YEAH!” Causstik roared.

Several Trandoshans shot out of their seats and began chanting at the machine to finish the fish, but rather than end it's life the droid and fish seemed to share a few last words. Whatever they said it mattered little to the Trandoshans. A pair of large T’doshok entered the arena with stun pikes and prodded the machine into a corner whilst another entered and removed the Selkath’s corpse. Causstik eyed The Matador carefully then smiled. He withdrew a stack of credits and slid them towards the Mandalorian.

“I was sure the fish would've won…” he growled quietly. He stared at Matador a moment longer than said “I’m sure the next contestant will beat the droid for sure. A giant of a Wookiee. We found the Mad Claw whilst hunting the lower levels of Kashyyk. He had single handedly killed a Terrentatek and when we found him he was feasting upon the creatures poisoned flesh and blood…”

[member="H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E"]
[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

"Slaying a Terrentatek is no small feat." The Matador admitted, eyeballing the small grouping of credits that had been slid in his direction. What was it for? He didn't understand, he looked back at Causstik with some confusion. Had they perhaps bet on a Victor and he was unaware of it? For a moment he was happy in the convenience of his chosen warrior winning, he didn't have any credits on him.

He still didn't quite fully understand the concept of currency in the world. The Tol Varen did not have many values beyond those ancient and mandalorian. He had no personal desire for credits, but his people would need them to survive the wars to come. But he understood the concept of possession, his possession of skill and his armour pleased him much.

"A mad claw." He remarked, his words filled with an assuming arrogance that wasn't shared by his thoughts. He knew very little terminology. What, is a mad claw? He asked, reluctantly showing in some form his ignorance of the world.

[member="Causstik Rahn"]
[member="H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E"]