Coloring The Circle: Red!

[Poe]

​The lights when dark around the swamp, spurring chants and hoots from the crowd, turning them into a blood frenzy. Each fan, seated by their criminal status in the galaxy, rose to their feet, knowing their credits earned from unsavory means would prove for great entertainment. The air of boredom from the earlier fight cards, a last man standing style tournament, had quickly abated, when the main event was a breath away; and just as they cheered with premature ejaculation, they all fell silent when the Munn grabbed the mic, a singular circular light highlighting his anorexia figure standing in stagnant water.

​"Our main event tonight on Dagobah pits two fighters who have fought through adversity to reach this moment, to claim the title of Dagobah Pit Champion! Unlike the previous rounds of this macabre tournament, this one claims a victor when one competitor can no longer fight. These last two will fight with no weapons, no armor, no Force, no death, but more importantly; no karking whining! So let's announce our first finalist!"

​Swinging his left hand around his head for effect, he dropped it methodically next to his hip as he pointed to a rotting tree. ​"We have Satia, a tall drink of murder. This beauty has not only knocked out each of her opponents, she has sadistically took the opportunity to taste a bit of their flesh. Uh, can we say creepy? But this Monster from the bloating flesh of the Nal Hutta pits comes tramping through the swamp water, like she wants to attract Dragonsnakes."

​Wearing nothing but moss-covered mud on my naked body, I moved upon the hill where the fight is to commence, dragging my jagged claws against my pale skin; smiling with a wet smile on my lips. Being the first to arrive, I laugh, while shaking a finger at the fools who spent so many credits to see a fight, knowing if I broke from the hill instantly they would run from me with a squeal in their voice. Fools, karking rich tasting morsels.


[member="Tyr Helgryndr"]

 

[Progflaw99]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Co8Qo4hTyb4​

Silence. The sounds of chanting drowned out by the noise reverberating within his own mind. His heart, beating rhythmically with each step as he began his ascent. Bodies shifted with each step, allowing him passage. The flutter of flames filled the air as torches appearing from the crowd lit - his name was known to few but those who knew it began to chant, a subtle rattle of instruments filling the air. There the behemoth stood, his piercing gaze set upon the apex of the hill, features taut behind the scraggly beard. Dark markings covered the man's face, his weathered skin and scarred flesh speaking of battles and wounds endured. Not just anyone survived the Krieghold. Tyr wasn't just anyone.

The man stood a giant, though not of titanic proportions - tough sinew and dense muscle rippling as he beat fist upon his chest as the chanting intensified, his voice joining those around him. With each beat the torches fluttered, flames dancing in the darkness. The crowd was nothing to the man, the lights nothing - the chant... it was what drove him forward but it too was nothing. As his eyes fell upon the crest of the hill he saw her. Likewise his body glistened, a dark sheen of sweat and dirt, all which adorned the man's flesh. Each step forward, another skull crushed, each breath another foe's life taken - Tyr was as a god.

He had one goal, one objective, and he would see it through - to the bitter end. He would endure, as he had at the Krieghold. As he had this very day in the pits.

[member="Satia"] ​