Fight Night, the Night of Fight, For Fighting in the Night

[Allan]

Somewhere in a Dive Bar in the Galaxy, likely deep in the Seediest of Planets
Probably on Tatooine

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPF82Lx0dtI

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Cheering Erupted in the bar as something banged into a wire cage. Sorrow erupted also. It was the flow of credits, the circle of life as bets started looking up and down. Another being slaughtered, put to the wire. There appeared to be a thick-cut trandoshan being drug out of the arena. ​

​

An Announcer came aloud on an old, crackling speaker. His voice filling the air of the now-silent arena with promises of further glory and amusement as the eight day celebrating a random Hutt's birthday came to it's fruition.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and other beings of varied genders! As our Lord's day of Birth comes to the end of it's Eight Day of Celebration, we bring you a special gift! The Storied Halls of Concord Dawn have given tribute to our Lord, a Mandalorian deemed to unrefined for his family,"​

​

Allan stumbled into the Arena as he was shoved through the cage by men with stun-prods. When the door closed behind him, the stun-cuffs fell from his wrists. He'd rub them and look around, the sounds and sensations of the thronging crowd around him blinding him for a moment. After a moment, the Announcer picked up speaking again. Allan ground his teeth, angrily.

"A violent being, knowing only taste for blood! Yet our Champion, Terraxus the Indomitable, has only a taste for retribution and victory! Let us watch and Celebrate our Lord Further, by giving him yet another Barbarian to destroy!"​

​

http://www.beastsofwar.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Terraxus.jpg​

​

The Announcer Quieted. Allan stared down Terraxus a man (?) larger then he himself, and ground his teeth further. The Concordian turned his head at the beeping of a screen, determining weapons. Terraxus seemingly got the same weapon he'd been using, an axe. And as Allan's name came up, it spun again. He prayed for something of worth, something he could work with and find another day of life.

Fate Conspired Against him, it seemed.

He was granted a Cudgel, a beat-stick meant for livestock and vagrants, as they brought it to him he could hear the crowd laughing. Somewhere though, a flit of red-hair came across his vision.

'Mary,' he thought to himself. His self-loathing, sorrow, and rage culminated in a thunderstorm in his chest. A Broken heart throbbed deep within his chest, and the grime-covered Mandalorian clawed at it. It left furrows on his chest as he did so tribal tattoos gleaming under the dirt.

"Ha! See the coward?" Shouted Terraxus. He chucked sand into Allan's face. "I give him mere heart-attacks by existing in his proximity!"

A Warrior's Rage bellowed in him like a Forge kicking on, and he swung at whatever felt right. Blinded, and angry for somebody taking the sight of her away from him he followed where he remembered the offender had been.

Crack. ​

Followed by Silence. ​

​

The roaring of the crowd that had ripped back up fell quiet. He heard a Man gurgling, and his eyes saw red again once he got the sand out of them. Witnessing what had once been a proud and arrogant man, Allan saw a child tip-toeing with a bleeding skull and half of a tongue. In rage a fist lashed out, striking him against the cheek and sending him into the wire cages.

He heard metal clatter against the sand, and pressed further. Terraxus brought his hands up to cover his head, and Allan reared back and brought his cudgel down against him.

Crack.​

Followed by Screams.​

​

He had shattered wrists like they were made of glass. The large man send his foot forward, still wearing some form of boot. It connected with a chin, and laid Terraxus on his back. Rolling over, he attempted to crawl away. Using the bits of rock still inside the wire, he'd pull himself forward. Allan raised up again, on the edges of his toes this time as Terraxus managed to crawl up the wire trying to get help.

Crack.​

Followed by Silence one more.​

​

Terraxus' skull completely split again. Allan's Cudgel lay partially implanted into his head. His chest heaved, not from exertion but pure rage. The body was limp against the cage now, and he shifted his shoulders and swung from the side, connecting with a temple. The body slumped against the ground and he began going to work on what was left, unable to stand the sneering face of the man.

Crack. Crack. Crack. ​

Squish.​

​

Still, silence.​

​

As if by Shock, the crowd remained silent. The bets had ceased going less then a minute into the fight, with two other Mandalorians somewhere in the crowd smirking at the money having been made. The crowd continued it's silence, and Allan had finally stopped swinging. He'd rotate his shoulder, before spinning and hurling his weapon at somebody who'd gotten to close to the wire. A violent war-cry erupted from the gray-matter, blood, and bone chip covered Mandalorians' lips. After a few more moments of silence, explosive cheers erupted from the crowd.

"Mandalorian! Mandalorian! Mandalorian!"​

​

He could almost hear Diz and Barc laughing underneath the crowd. And to himself, he noted that one of them would chide him for creating a following.

Maybe he could afford the things he needed now with his cut.

 

[Allan]

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[William Griffin]

Tatooine, one of William's favourite places, he often found himself walking through the streets collecting debts. That's how it worked on the sandy planet, people wouldn't pay back the person who loaned credits to him. The teen sighed as he entered a sweet bar filled with cheering. Passing through the entrance the teen would instantly have to duck, a splash of beer almost hit him. He restrained himself from beating the guy to death. William pulled his hat down further as he neared an arena, the top was covered by a cage, and all the onlookers would peer down to watch the fight. He sat on a table near the cage and peered down into it as a man was pushed in, the speaker system sounded as a man began to speak. The man in the arena was a Mandolorian, if the announcer didn't say it his tattoos would give it away. He turned to on of his men, who wore almost the exact same attire.

"Danny, go ahead and place a bet of five hundred credits on the other guy." Was all he said as the second man was introduced. He was much bigger than his Mandolorian opponent, his weapon...A war axe...The Mando ended up getting a farmer's weapon. The teen would nearly die of laughed as he watched the Mandolorian claw for the weapon. The much bigger man would mock the Mandolorian.

William smiled as he saw Danny make his way back and sit next to him. "Danny, pay attention, you see that Mandolorian? He's being mocked by the bigger guy. That's the thing, you should never mess with a Mandolorian...Much less mock one. They are a brutal people...A war driven people and casting them off from their family only makes them more aggressive..." He would say as he grabbed a drink off of a waiter's tray. Danny would tilt his head. "Then why'd you bet for the other guy?"

He would take a sip before smiling. Looking back down to the arena he would watch as The Mandolorian connect his first hit..."Because while Mandolorians are a war people, they are too prideful, it'll blind him...And he will lose."

The Mandolorian went in for a good first hit and a nice crack was heard. That first hit was the beginning of the end for the bigger man. Soon the bigger man would find himself attempting to claw at the cage...That was a mistake. Soon after the man was dead...The crowd silent. The crime boss took his flat cap off and swore.

"Danny, go get closer to the cage...See if you can get a better look of the Mando." The teen would say. Instantly the man was hit by the farmer's weapon. The teen wide eyed took another sip of his drink before swearing again.

"Chit..." Was all he said as the crowd began to chant Mandolorian over and over again. The teen pulled his hat on before walking over to Danny and picking up the cudgle. He looked at Danny's bloody head. He was gone.

He would let out a short whistle and two men with the same flat cap arrived at his side. "Come...Let's go find that Mandolorian. I must have a word." He would growl as he moved the cudgle between his fingers.

He was down five hundred credits. "I want to return this weapon." He said with a sigh.

[member="Allan"]

 

[Allan]

http://orig09.deviantart.net/f458/f/2013/011/7/6/demon_3_0_concept_by_deldatoa-d5r4vl4.png



Allan was out back rubbing his hands together now that he'd been armored back up. His helmet, hanging from his hip, was now horned on either side. Like an old-school devil painting by some Echani artist locked in a Monastery all day, he was hunched over. After a few moments, he'd slip his helmet over his head and go back in to collect his winnings. The Bookie behind the counter was frantically counting something and trying to make it add up.

Apparently, he'd broken more than somebodies skull. Diz and Barc were already there, waiting with crossed arms and low-whispered threats. The Three Concordians looked at the Nemoidian who then looked up and asked if he could 'Write them an IOU,' for the last fifty thousand. Reaching forward through the bars, Allan gripped him by the shirt and hoisted him up to eye level along the rusty metal.

"Ya'll be givin' me the Bah then, Mate. Uud hate to shut you down for rigging bets and not having enough money under the counter to pay betters. Cuud also burn 'is place to kriffin embers, you follow?" the staccato dripping of the flamethrower as the napalm dripped onto the counter and left a burned patch of the wood. "Just a clicker mate. Gettin' an errant twitch is unhealthy for you, yaknow? Just a hair jittery from smashing that buggers head 'in."

He didn't care about the men around him, Diz and Barc would deal with issues should they arise. Three armored Mandalorians trained as a unit were not lightweights. The only thing possibly more unhealthy then that was shitting on a Darth's throne.

[member='William Griffin']

 

[William Griffin]

The teen would look back at Danny's body. Damn he was a good gangster, never questioned the boy's leadership and followed orders like a trained war hound. William would glance back to his two sharply dressed underlings. One of them looked towards the betting area, three men in armour were harassing the bookie. The gangster would turn to William and whisper in his ear. William would give a nod as his gripped the cudgle tightly in his left hand. He would begin to walk towards the betting area. Boy was it crowded. In the center of it all...Three Mandolorian men.

"Alright lads, we do this by the book, no brawling unless they strike first." He would pause. Waxed would growl.

"Look boss, they just killed Danny. I say that's grounds for retaliation, nobody crosses us." The man said. William waved him off as he pushed his way past everyone. The center around the bookie room was empty...Only the three Mandos stood in the middle. One of them held the bookie and dropped napalm across his counter. The teen would whistle loudly and any noise in the bar was silent save the murmurs from the crowds. He would then stare down the three Mandos. The teen then held out the cudgle and dropped it in front of the two other Mandos. The sound of the drop echoed throughout the bar. He had better be careful with the Mandolorian people, they were a war machine that could rarely be halted. He would give a brief smile before clearing his throat.

"Now I wouldn't go around harassing the bookie mate..." He would pause as he reached placed his hand in his coat pocket. "I suggest you release him and apologize to me and my men.” he would say, his face stern, the two men next to him stood silent, their faces just as stern.

The ciggerete hung from his lip, ashes fell to the floor.



[member="Allan"]

 

[Allan]

Arrogance.

Allan knew that well. There were quite a bit of people who felt that way. Pushy, with their footing. Forever clawing for more recognition.

It always ended in tears. And Blood. The Sharp Whistle irritated him. The Bookie said, 'Look, I can go crack the safe open. I'll go grab the rest of the money'.

Allan looked at the Nemoidian again. 'Lek. Go Grabbit Mate,' he'd then slide him back down and let him go. 'Ten minnuts, yeh?' and off the Nemoidian went. He'd then turn around himself.

Diz and Barc turned around. Barc had come in with his short-barreled rifle, an updated model of the A280. It was slung across his chest in a fashion that made it easy to maneuver. His fingers rested on the handle of it and he'd plant a foot over the cudgel before shifting it backwards towards Allan. When the man's hand went into his coat-pocket, the weapon came up. "Hands out yer pockets, bugger. One," Diz followed suit, raising what looked like a shotgun.

Allan shifted past Diz and Barc, moving towards the man who addressed him. The carbon-scored armor he wore, Beskar put through the fire and found stronger on the other side, glistened a little in the dark. Evidence of something else. Something that had been done to it, made it hardened. As he neared the bold and brash fellow, it'd be apparent he gave two poodoos about the cudgel on the floor. He had another one, something more battle-used. Hanging from his belt was a longer-handled weapon with a node of iron in the head, studs around it, with what appeared to be needles and glass also jabbed into it. It most definitely did not fit the standardized gentlemanly warfare that was expected of most.

He was broadchested, thick-cut, and looked like something that belonged in the Galactic Encyclopedia under the term 'Bear'. From his attitude, he appeared to be no less irritable. "Ah dun owe you an apology, skeezer," as he spoke, his helmet turned. There was a stripe along it, that appeared to run the length of his armor. It was not paint, it was not extra plating. Something else, something different. "And as fer yer men, only thing I'll apologize mate is their poor taste in clothing," his electronically modulated voice was still full of malice. He himself adjusted his footing, a scalp dangling from his belt rubbing against the other being as they were a tad closer for comfort. "Bookie knows what 'is job is. I suggest you learn yours a tad better. If ya can't tell, bloke, m'not in a good mood when people try to cheat me what they owe me,"

[member='William Griffin']

 

[William Griffin]

William watched as the man let the bookie go and he scampered off. The three Mandolorians then turned to him the first thing he noticed was how shiny the three's armour were. One of them would say for him to take his hands out of his pocket...The one with the blaster. He weighed his odds as he stood there smiling, the teen removed his cigarette from his mouth puffing out a cloud of smoke before bringing it back to his lips. He would when let out a stale chuckle. The teen had decided to keep his hand in his pocket. Testing the Mandolorian's patients.

The two men standing on either side of William were watching silently. William would smirk as the one who had been harassing the bookie stepped forward. His armour differed from the basic Mandolorian Armour, but he was Mando all the same. The teen would notice the weapon on his belt, it was definitely something else. He would softly start to chuckle as the man spoke.

"Who does this Mandolorian mutt think he is?" One of his men said loudly. The other one chuckled before responding. "He's a bloody imbecile, what he is."

The teen heard laughter from the crowd as the man said that he was sorry for the way the gangsters dressed. William laughed along for a second before smiling...The man moved right up next to William. Looking down the teen would notice a scalp. It was touching his suit. The two gangsters were about to move, but the teen held his hand up, signaling them to stop. He silently listened to the man speak about how he didn't like being cheated...Then he suggested that William learn. Somewhere in that small rant the word Bloke was uttered. More ashes fell to the ground as the teen pulled his hat off and handed it to one of his men. Now he was really showing his age. He would keep a stern look on his face before responding.

"You don't like being cheated...Well I suggest you not cheat people yourselves. I have a dead man back there, and that was your doing...mutt." he would say putting much emphasis on guy. He would then eye the Mandolorians that stood back. They seemed well trained, cocky as hell though.

The teen would look at the scalp, that was mad, it was clear the man was bonkers.

"You said that I should learn my job...What job would that be you bloke?" The teen said with a small fear in his voice.
[member="Allan"]

 

[Allan]

Mutt.

The status of being impure, unworthy.

Unclean.

She was a mutt to them, his Mary.

"Easy Mate. Big guys not the best of temper. That's a Death Ring, sorry you lost," Barc piped up. He was also the face of the group, and the best at reading people regardless. The green-armored Mandalorian tried to push past the violently twitching Allan. "There's a good rule of thumb though, something might help you buddy. Don't bet against Mandalorians. Specially the big ones," Barc reached from the winning vouchers and offered two of the two-hundred-and-fifty pages before saying, "Your dead Man wasn't that good. Allan here's great with a club, but that was a helluva handicap. So tell me," Barc would then shift on his feet before moving the voucher pages between the two of the hirelings, "Which one of you monkeys has the tighter leash, Yeah? Is it you, Cock-knob? You seem like the more quiet and Docile one," Barc's armor only shined when light hit a clean patch. Other then that, it was grimy and battle-worn. He'd move the pages over to the other guy, "What about you, Potato Jones?" He'd poke them towards the man who'd called his fellow Concordian a Mutt. "You seem like the stupider one. Didjer mom drop you when you were a child? Shame. All the shame it must be knowing her son lives his life at the beck-and-call of a what...Fourteen year old?" the older looking Mandalorian cocked his brow up.

Still, Allan twitched. His hands balled up, tensing and relaxing in a habit that culminated from fits of rage.

"Barc, vod," spoke Diz, from the back. His shotgun was still up and sighted down on the man on the left now. "Al's going to explode. Maybe ya oughta just come on back, let him do what it is he's going to do?"

Barc didn't move. Instead, he'd look at the Henchmen on the right. "S'gotta be you right, Mutt-Man? Because to be honest, you certainly should have dressed better if you were going to have to muscle up on a Mandalorian," there was a moment of silence, a smile. He'd then shift his foot between the large man's feet and bring his head forward. There would be a loud noise.

Smack.

While this occurred, the shotgun blast for Diz went off nanoseconds afterwards, lighting up an area just far enough past his brothers the spread only carved a small furrow in Allan's shoulder plating. Very few in the crowd were seriously injured, past the one Henchmen who was right on top of it.

Ffump.

And during all of this, still Allan twitched. His right hand, armor plated on every inch of his fingers with the full-enclosure gauntlets meant for space combat, soared up and hopefully around the boys throat. His other hand came around, and onto his head. The size difference between the two and the teens likely still developing skull made the set of fingers on the crown of his head stop just below his eyes. Roaring started as fingers dug into skin, and pushed bones either out of place or likely cracked. Surely enough, natural speed and surprise played a part in this.

But Allan was much faster then a human could feasibly be. Barc knew this, Diz knew this. The man in the ring found it out the hard way. And now the kid would too. At the hands of a man who'd rather crush his skull then deal with his lip.

And to think, he didn't even get to use his snazzy one liner before the bar brawl that would have been interesting. They'd have scuffled, become friends and moved on hopefully.

No, he'd called him a Mutt. They'd called his Mary a mutt and he beat them dead for it.

The way things were heading? The likelihood of this child joining them was outstanding.

 

[Allan]

[member='William Griffin']

 

[William Griffin]

One of the Mandos told him to take it easy, and gave him advice never to bet against Mandolorians, especially the big ones.The Mando then began speaking to William's companions, the one referred to as "cock-knob" simply stared the man down. The Mando then moved over to the one he referred to as "potato head" criticizing him he was about to say something, but got headbutted by the Mandolorian. A shot rang out from one of the Mandos shotguns and potato head dropped. William was taken aback by this. He would go wide eyed at the sight, while he was used to violence, he hated when one of his guys got killed.

The Mandolorian referred to as Allan would finally moved only to grasp his hand around the teen's throat. He would quickly grab the man's wrist trying to pull out of the choke. Sadly the Mando brought his other hand to the back of the teen's head. Pressure would be applied to the back of his skull. The teen would cry out in pain as his cigarette fell from his lips onto the floor. His eyes would water a bit as he hung above the ground.

"Wait....Wait....I'm sorry!" The teen would panic gasping between each word. He would look to the docile companion who just stood there in shock.

The teen looked to the Mandolorians with pleading eyes.

The silent one would bolt out of the bar. The teen would cuss shafting the man as he ran. "Bloody......Coward." the teen choked out softly.

[member="Allan"]

 

[Allan]

Allan squeezed.

'Not so tough are you now, bugger?' he'd think to himself.

He almost didn't hear his companions behind him shouting at him to step.

"Goddamnit Allan, let him go! Fuckers only a kid!" Diz would grip at his arm now, braver then Barc was. Barc stared silently, and after several moments Allan let go. It did take some pleading, however. His knuckles popped audibly, and he'd rear his foot back before attempting to kick the shit-head in the ribs. Afterwards, he'd simply move to leave and wait outside for his friends. Barc would walk over and hoist William up, very likely.

"Well, that's a change. Tip for you," he'd stuff the offered vouchers into the man's jacket before patting them. "Don't smoke cigarettes. They slow you down and cost more then they're worth. And when you hire body guards, hire ones who wear armor. Mandalorians are always safe bets," there was a tad extra, and off the other two Mandalorians went after Allan. The Bar was still rather silent, and when the arena kicked back up again folks went about their business. The bookie was back though.

"Excuse me, Sentient Customer, did you see those Mandalorians? I went to get the rest of their money and they appear to have left early. Surely you can get it to them?" The Nemoidian would shove the fifty thousand worth of vouchers into William's hands. "I'm afraid the big one will kill me if he sees me again," and then off he headed.

Perhaps the Mandalorians forgot about the last fifty. Perhaps they had what they wanted and the rest was for William.

Either way, Fifty Thousand and Five-Hundred or so Credits for a bit of an asswhipping an evaluation of hired help?

Shit, wasn't really a bad haul.

[member='William Griffin']