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Cell Block C Same Fighting Room as [member="Jynx"]
This room was new. The sick overseers had decided to fill the darkly lit room with ankle high water and a multitude of seething, vicious people. Luckily for Rocu (and a much to the terrified chagrin of the many combatants), there were many bars to swing from on the ceiling. This favored Rocu mightily, but he was no longer in a murderous stupor anymore. Now, he was simply himself as he maneuvered above the heads of the men and women fighting for their lives. If he wanted to intervene, he had but to merely drop down on top of someone he did not like or merely just slash downwards with his sharp tail to slice someone up.
He saw a spectacle that gave even he pause. As if recreating the battle of David and Goliath into a twisted prison ship rendition, a small woman (Jynx) was giving a large, burly man a run for his money. She turned the tides through sheer skill and tactics and this lead him to cheer her on from the ceiling.
"Yes, YESS!! Win!---" but, then he saw a psycho with a shiv try to charge the small woman while she was busy finishing off Goliath. Hatred boiled up from his heart and turned to bitter bile in his mouth. He dropped down on top of the psycho, he could reach Jynx, and repeatedly stabbed the man with his tail from his superior vantage point over the crumpled man. He yelled down at the psycho,
"No, no, NO!! Not fair!"
After the man underneath him was nothing more but a bleeding, twitching mess, he looked up at Jynx, smiled and gave a thumbs up. Of course, his bared fangs and glowing red eyes could accidentally be taken for malevolent intent, rather than the approval he was trying to convey.
I've been dragged into the room. The droids have talked to an official who appears to be regulating the game. Once in awhile them look at me and I glare at them.
One of the two droids comes over to me and says, "You are to fight in the arena after this match. You will be pitted against an experienced fighter named Bloodrag. You must fight to the death to survive and earn essentials for living."
I watch the match as a large man fights against an animalistic skinny person. The skinny man bites, claws, and is practically insane. The large man is slow but strong. Eventually he gets a hold on the small man and chokes him to death. He holds his arms up in victory and is escorted off for his wounds to be treated. The body is disposed off. This entire thing makes me sick. I don't want to fight, but a determination to survive comes over me, and I know I will do what I must. A cool calm comes over me, and the angel and the devil on my shoulder battle.
"And if I refuse to fight?" I ask the droid hovering over me.
"Termination. Now go meatbag."
That basically settles it. Kill or be killed. I'm trying not to think about it. But it also quells some of my fears and worries. These are all evil druggies. They've all obviously killed before. Think of it as dishing out justice. The ongoing mental battle goes on in my head a I get up on feet and walk into the arena. I quiet my mental argument and focus on the matter at hand. Whoever I'm going to be pitted against will definitely have enhancements. I have to be ready for anything. I wait in the center of the arena for my opponent.
He comes out of the crowd, psyching everyone up for a fight. He's a dark skinned scarred man with dreadlocks. He only has orange pants on and a blood red scarf around his shoulders. That explains the name.
"Fight." The droid says, echoed by the cries in the crowd for fresh blood. I exhale and raise my fists.
I will be gone till Thursday night, maybe longer. These interactions are all minor and allow a lot of room for you guys to be creative in the direction you want to take it. Improv is the best after all. When I get back if we are in need of more interaction I will make a more lengthy story based post for the rest of you. Thanks for being patient and enjoy. (I know it's not much, sorry, real busy past week and this week. )
Posting Order
Cell Block A: [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] [member="Joran Del-Finn"] [member="Cathul Thuku"] [member="Silas Miu"] [member="Aerin Kath"] (Like the name change. )
Cell Block A Lt. Authellia's Skybox, Negotiation Room. Time: 23:05:35 Gear that is around: Multiple amounts of torture tools. Clipboards, Heavy Books, and Guns. Nearby: Lt. Authellia | [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"]
The droids stamped down into the cold metal floor, dragging the poor swine into the room. The smell of chemicals reached them. A sign that her orders were fulfilled, only not to her liking. The blood from the previous prisoner that endured was left, scattered about the room. It was a visceral scene, but in the Purgatory, what wasn't?
Lt. Authellia couldn't resist as she slammed her fist down onto the metal table. A dent forming as she thought about the incompetence of her own crew. This wasn't the time to get heated over such a minor indiscretion. Her hands grabbed onto the white cloth. It peeled back slowly as she revealed an assortment of knives, mallets, power tools, and needles with clear serum, waiting to flood Nate's bloodstream.
Lt. Authellia grinned, being threatened by a prisoner was worse than most things. She wouldn't stand for it. The sinister lieutenant snatched a small knife up from the metal cart. Turning towards Nate she shook her head.
"Let's see you repair this!"
Lt. Authellia lunged her arm forward. The small knife ripped through the air like a rocket. The swift motion was second nature to her. Poking and prodding the insubordinate of her Cell Block made her a ruthless woman. The droids gripped Nate tighter, hoping his incredible strength wouldn't knock them off their heels. Lt. Authellia screamed maniacally, the thirst for Nate's despair engulfed her. Authellia's eyes grew dark, a shade of venomous green taking over. Her composure was no more, if the knife connected, Nate's right lung would be punctured.
Next are his legs, we'll see who the short stack really is!
Cell Block C Sponsor Room Time: 23:07:21 Gear in Room: Plants in Clay Pots, A few Guns(On some of the suits.), Lightsaber(On unknown Acolyte), Pen. Nearby: Dorian Kel | [member="Nicair Claden"]
Dorian stepped forward. Bald and large in size he took a good look. He could tell that the Mandalorian was already thinking of the many ways to kill them, Dorian knew because he had once done the same. Spotting a killer was easy when your entire life revolved around it. Dorian had started from nothing, manipulating and eliminating those in his way brought him power. It dawned on him that unlike the other prisoners that were carted to see him earlier, [member="Nicair Claden"] was different. He was a fighter, a winner in the most convenient way.
"Nicair, you see I..." Dorian cleared his throat and gestured to the other behind him. "We, would like you to fight for us. I can not, unfortunately; release the details of what you'll soon endure. However, Mr. Claden, credits are no object. The galaxy can give you your needs, but I can give you what you want."
Dorian couldn't help it, he wanted Nicair for himself, the thought of taking all the winnings and deleting the partners behind him, caused a smile. He would need to know Nicair's true answer before that could be arranged.
"I ask that you will accept my sponsorship, and in return, the remainder of your time on this ship. Will...be much more suitable for a Mandalorian of your stature."
Dorian was flawless, his enticing speech should have hooked him, but Nicair was surely a different breed. The force user on guard stepped forward, careful about the Mandalorians reaction. If he had to, he would kill the prisoner. Dorian wouldn't be happy about such an outcome, but in the end everyone was replaceable.
Cell Block C Lt. Camimur's Old Arena, Water Room. (Below Normal Arena) Time: 23:11:09 Gear Damaged by Water: Rusted Pipes, Floating Wooden Stakes, Heavy Metal Discs(In water.), and Steel Hooks (6 inches each, hard to use.) Nearby: Lt. Camimur | [member="Rocu"] | [member="Jynx"]
Quick and smart, she dodged every attack. Lt. Camimur watched from the side. Thirty men and women, fighting for survival in the moldy, forgotten ring. It was smaller than his new one, but it had its days. He continued to watch the fight as Toni tugged on his sleeve.
"Sir, I...well." Toni hesitated, finally finishing his sentence. "Don't you think Llor Bel will be displeased if she dies in there. Even Authellia will have a say."
"Relax Toni if she can't hack it, I'll jump in."
The sound of the prisoners around the royale shook the walls. The vibration lifting the spirits of the fighters. Stakes were plunged into necks, legs, and worst of all eyes. Screams of pain tore the chants asunder, rippling through the Purgatories halls. It was a savage battlefield, war in its most primitive state. Water kicked up into the air as they moved. The musty smell of rot became more and more apparent. The busted pipes above leaked water, but at the tiniest of pace. The flooding was caused years ago, by Camimur; himself.
It was a fight much like the one unfolding before him. His height was nothing to write home about. In fact, he was roughly smaller than his opponent, when it happened. Long ago, a prisoner had gotten loose and instead of the normal cruelty, Camimur challenged him to a fight. The prisoner had a reputation, undefeated against any who found him in the ring. Offering the prisoners freedom, Lt. Camimur would only allow it if he was bested in combat. So, when Camimur killed the prisoner, he shoved a long metal, sharp object through the chest cavity of the challenger. This lead to the rupture of pipes above. The cause for the leak was Camimur's own victory. The past was the past.
Caught off guard, he watched the prisoner [member="Rocu"] leap from the higher level, killing the assailant after Jynx. The fight was just getting started. Camimur smirked, soon things would become interesting...
Cell Block B Vixen's Room (For now) Time: 23:15:33 Gear in Room: Lipstick, Pens, High Heels, Small Box (Inside: Unknown), and Small Dagger (On Vixen's Thigh Strap.) Nearby: Vixen | [member="Dax Fyre"] | Two Guards outside the door.
"Dinner." Vixen's voice was silvery, taunting at the strapped down [member="Dax Fyre"] with her big fiery, eyes. "I haven't taken a bite in quite a while." She played with the tiny box in her hand and smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to eat you."
Vixen placed the box down onto the table. She leaned forward with vigor, smelling the stench of his filth. She had a feeling he was gifted in the force and because of it she chose him. Vixen knew exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it. Circling to the back side of the stretcher, she unsheathed her dagger, cutting him loose. His hands were free now, a sign of trust.
"I need you to kill someone on this ship, but I can not promise you your safety. chances are you'll be tossed into the same, mindless game like all the rest." She giggled. "It could save you, save us."
Vixen was a true artist, an artists of lies. She clung to the hope of others and waited till their failures brought them over the edge. The only reason she had boarded the ship was to have fun.
Some people existed to save and protect. Vixen existed to watch the world burn...
Cell Block B Hallways of the Purgatory | Cafe Time: 23:16:12 Gear in Cafe: Cafe Trays, Loose Metal Beams, Ropes, Spoons, Knives, Forks, Condiments, and Kitchen appliances. Nearby: Talga 'The Iron Grip' | [member="Thresh Sken"] | Tracer Droids x2
Talga ran, her large mass force great strides. She was close, she could sense it. Her droids had scattered looking for the escapee, but still nothing. No shots fired, just her heavy breathing and silence throughout the halls. She pivoted on her back foot and turned the corner, her speed unmatched as she reached the cafeteria. Talga stepped into the room, lights shining down onto the centerfold of the floor. [member="Thresh Sken"] had been spotted.
"Stop Thresh!" Yelled Talga, as she blasted forward with great speed. Her arms stretched outward as she went to tackle the poor bastard trying to get away. Soon her droids would be able to cut him off, at least she hoped.
The droids cold metal hands gripped his biceps tightly, dragging him into a freshly cleaned room, yet the floor was still covered in blood. The amount on the floor only left so much to the imagination, and that made a red flag go off in the back of his head. There was an abnormal amount of blood on the floor, like someone had the throat slit and were left upside down.
Pulling against the droids holding him, he was promptly shoved onto his knees, his eyes growing brighter, the sound of sparks popping greeting his ears. Looking up at the woman as she smashed the table, the hands of the droids would have begun to smoke, the heat radiating off of him growing not intensity. Then the gleam of a small knife caught his attention, and then it was shoved right into his chest, and the tip tore through his lung like a hot knife through butter.
A small gasp escaped him as the fire dimmed in his eyes, blood streaming down his stomach and onto the floor. His chest heaving, he would grasp for any air, only managing to have blood rise up into his throat, as the wound couldn't heal with the life still in him. Wheezing, he struggled to lunge out and tear the woman's head off, but there were more than four battle droids holding him back, all of their boots magnetized to prevent his escape. Veins pulsating, he managed to wrench his arm free, taking the droids arm with his as he brought his fist straight into the woman's face, putting all of his weight and power into that punch, but his weight wasn't balanced, so the blow went wide, only glancing off of her cheek, but it'd still probably knock her down. Before he could pull the knife out of his chest, two more droids rushed in, restraining him. Not being able to breath successfully, his vision was blurry, and he had trouble standing upright.
As the woman was probably trying to recover from his punch, he feebly tried to focus on the knife stuck in his chest, willing it to slowly pull itself out. Slowly losing consciousness, the knife began to move, unroll it clattered onto the floor, blood stil pouring out of the hole until it closed. Feeling his lung slowly seal itself back up, the blood draining out of it, he gasped for air, spitting onto the floor, a red blotch beside him.
Location: Cell Block C Sponsor Room
Nearby: Dorian Kel
An offer he couldn't refuse, that's what sat before him. It was clear as day, the man before him was transparent, "Fight for me, or your life will become more hellish than it already is." His eyes scanned the others in the room, no doubt they all had a means to kill him, escape was impossible, taking down one or two would be challenging but overall pointless. The years had warped his depression to sociopathic levels, still, he wasn't ready to die just yet, he wasn't one to get on his knees either. What to do. The deal made sense, it was fully beneficial, yet what's life without a little chaos, why take the logical option when the best stories come from the stupid, illogical responses to completely reasonable situations. He did what came naturally, spat in the man's face. A punch to his face stopped his speech before he could get his words out. After spitting out the blood he spoke.
"Meg narir gar ganar o'r tkiriyr aruetii?" <<What did you have in mind outsider?>> A bloody smile spread over the warrior's face. It was disturbing.
Dax watched the woman as she spoke. "Don't worry, I'm not going to eat you." she said. He watched her as she leaned forward and placed a box next to him. He watched every single move. And then she drew her dagger. The gleaming edge shone in the light. Dax grit his teeth, bracing himself for the impending, excruciating pain. There was a brief snapof leather and then the restraints were gone. Surprise flashed in Dax's mind as he sat up, rubbing his wrists from the tightness of the restraints. Dax gave the woman another look. If there was one thing he knew, it was not to trust an attractive, mysterious woman on a torturous prison ship who suddenly freed him...yeah definitely don't trust those ones. "Number 1, lady, is what the frak is in the box, number 2, I'm a Jedi...and Jedi don't kill people just cause someone asked nicely."
Location: Cafeteria (Cellblock A or B?)
Gear: Prisoner's Garb
Nearby: Unknown
My breaths were coming ragged now as I entered the cafeteria. Nowhere to hide. Just tables galore. And nobody in here. Must not be meal time, then. I briefly glance to both sides, trying to determine my next move. Nothing on either wall near me. Just the other end of the cafeteria was the only exit in sight. I start to run again, when all of a sudden I'm brought to the ground by Talga. She wrestles me to the floor, trying to pin my arms behind me.
"No" I say, barely able to speak. I'm still trying to catch my breath. "No!" I say again louder, determined to not to get caught. I would have turned invisible to make it harder for her, but I didn't have the concentration available at this moment in time.
"NO!" I yell, though I don't know why. It's not like she'll listen to me. We struggle for another minute, my small figure able to slip out of her grips, but her imposing figure just managing to wrestle me to the ground at the last minute. Dimly, I hear a bell in the background, but think nothing of it. I'm too busy trying to escape my captor.
Finally exhausted, I lay on my stomach, with Talga holding my arms behind my back, forcing me ever deeper into the floor. I ache all over, beaten and bruised. I'm assessing the extent of my injuries when Talga leans down towards my face. "Nobody EVER escapes me," she hisses in my ear. "And I mean NOBODY" It is then that she looks up, and her grip on me slackens enough so that I am able to lift my head also.
There are beings flooding into the room, the ones at the front already crowding to see the spectacle, me, being pinned down by a sole guard. It must be mealtime, because the room just gets more crowded, and some beings pay no attention and go ahead and get their food.
But the majority are looking at me. "Please... help" I manage to croak out. This results in Talga tightening her grip on my arms and increasing the pain twofold, but somehow I manage to keep my head up, looking right at them. Seeing what they will do. Waiting for their reaction. Will they free me or leave me to the crew? Tense moments pass as I wait for that question to be answered.
Location: Block A, Caffeteria
Equipment: Prisoner Jumpsuit, socks
Nearby: [member="Thresh Sken"] (if it is mealtime, I'm there)
the spectacle of a Defel being pinned to the wall by a guard did indeed get Aerin's attention, he waded through the crowd carefully after making sure they weren't any of a certain Trando's buddies. " Guy's what in the name of the-, why aren't we doing anything , lemme through if you're just gawking, karking move ya nerf patties..." Aerin walks up behind the guard and taps on her shoulder, when she turns to look who it is Aerin punches her in the face(more the faceplate of her helmet), in the process also elbowing a Bith, who got too close, in the stomach. Enraged at this the Bith throws a punch right back at Aerin and ends up hitting the guard, who in turn pushes both Aerin and the Bith back and causing a chain reaction within the group of gawkers to start a riot in the mess hall all surrounding this female guard and her Defel detainee. Hopefully Aerin could nab the Defel and get him out after the riot was caused, and hopefully he'd come out of it with only a black eye and a few bruises instead of missing teeth, hopefully the other guards wouldn't notice them and hopefully Talga would be busy and not remember Aerin's face.
"good moshpit's always fun on the Purg... you okay little buddy?"
[member="The Loremaster"]
and whoevers next in cellblock A
Location: Cell Block C
Equipment: Fists and a drug
Nearby: [member="Jynx"] and [member="Rocu"] beneath the arena.
My enemy charges at me suddenly, letting out a bloodcurdling scream as he does. His fists flail and punch wildly, making him an unpredictable foe. He runs towards me, and bares his teeth at me. If his plan was to intimidate me, it worked. I think he's insane. He leaps towards me and I sidestep. One thing my father always told me was to fight smarter, not harder. Bloodrag, I believe that's his name, lands with a thud and growls in his rage. He slowly looks at me, and I look into his eyes and see the glint of a madman behind them. My blood runs cold. I'm fighting a madman with a drug induced rage who wants to kill me. Not my best day.
I try to step back slowly. This seems to trigger Bloodrag and he rushes at me. His fists fly and I'm hit in multiple places. I grab one of his arms and throw him off of me. Rag goes flying and hits the cold floor a couple feet away. He gets back to his feet and screams again. I'm pretty sure he isn't going to stop these animalistic attacks soon. Deep inside, I pity him. Whatever part of his mind that's still sane must be tortured by the acts the drug is making him do. I'm determined to put him out of his misery now. It's the right thing to do. Or maybe I'm trying to convince myself that it's ok.
Back in reality now, or so one could say, Rag charges me again screaming and flailing again. I'm ready this time, and I bring my fist back slowly. Gathering my strength. Rag gets in close now, and I punch. I hit him right in the chest, right below his collarbone. I hear bones crack, and he whimpers. He runs back a couple paces, looks at his chest where I hit him, then looks up at me. Hiss expression is hard, even cold. His eyes could pierce the toughest of durasteel if they could. Rag walks towards me, darting in and then darting out. He lands the occasional punch, and they hurt. But I hardly feel them. I'm still full of energy and this suppresses the pain.
Rag grows more confident with every successful hit and run. He becomes more daring, darting closer and closer. Just a little farther now. You're almost in my reach. I think. Rag darts in, kicks my knee, and darts out again. I fall, faking exhaustion and fatigue. Rag grows excited at this victory. He screams again, it sounds almost happy. He rushes towards me for the finishing blow, but I'm ready. He gets in closer, then I use all the energy in me to whip around and grab his throat in my hand. He gurgles and scratches and punches, but I feel nothing. Nothing. I start squeezing and tears flow from my eyes. Rag continues fighting, but I stop him by slamming him into the ground. He moves no more.
I kneel on the ground. The fights over. I should be happy. But I feel empty inside. I killed a man, put him out of his misery, but that brings no forgiveness to my actions. I am dimly aware of being escorted out of the arena to a shocked silence, and slow clapping. Words are spoken, but I don't hear them. When I open my eyes clearly again I'm in a medical room. I look down to see myself covered in scratches, bruises, and white wrappings covered with blood. I groan and close my eyes and go to sleep.
Location: Cell block A
Equipment: Jumpsuit, lightsaber
Nearby: Joran Del-Finn
"It's unfortunate, but I feel that I can no longer condone what the prison does to its inmates. Bipolar and other insane prisoners will do the operators no good. I'm afraid you're bipolar - just that I'm making you see that there is still good in you after all. But did it get the last shrink killed?"
Far from suggesting that either she or Joran will take part in an escape plan, Cathul was a little uncomfortable about the prisoners lately. She was visibly unhappy about the treatment inflicted by the wardens on the inmates - she knew that mistreated prisoners would make them insane, and that she knew it would impair their ability to live and function upon release. Because she was sworn to the Hippocratic Oath back on Ando Prime upon graduation: to do everything in one's power to get the patients better.
"I mean the prisoners no harm - this prison has its load of flaws that makes it less than suited to proper life after release. But who is that Zuba you speak of anyway?"
Location: Block A
Equipment: A gentleman doesn't speak of such things(Jumpsuit)
Nearby: [member="Cathul Thuku"]
"Lady, I don't give a warm piss about what you condone or what happens to my fellow inmates. Murderers, rapists and savages down to the very last one, they deserve what ever happens."
"I'm bi-polar?" Joran laughed openly in her face. "I've said all of ten fucking words to you and already you've got a diagnosis?"
Joran laughed at her again "The only thing you're making me see, Love, is that you're clearly unqualified. When the higher-ups had to replace the good doctor that used to sit in that chair, they must of really scraped the bottom of the barrel."
"Who ever gave you your diploma was obviously crooked. Sorry, sweetheart but you got scammed." Joran's voice was at first calm and collected but it got an edge to it as he threw the insults at her.
Joran had to laugh at her again "This place isn't for rehabilitatio, Love. That is abundantly clear. Mean all the harm you want, it don't make a difference."
Joran turned to the armed guard that was required to sit in on all therapy sessions (since the last therapist had his skull crushed in) so he could be escorted away when the Twi'lek said something very very interesting.
"How the fuck do you know Zuba!" Joran shouted knowing he never said the name out loud.
"Do you work for that son of a queen!" Joran shouted again jumping out his seat so violently that the chair went skidding across the floor.
"I'll-" Joran never got to finish telling he what he was going to do because the guard did his job. Joran was struck with a vicious and violent blow from the heavy stun stick the guard carried, Joran was hit so hard he went crashing to the floor, bleeding from the massive wound that opened up above his right eye.
Joran was hit so hard that his eyes stopped working. Joran didn't even have the time to try and comprehend what was happening before the air was driven from his lungs by a steel toed boot crashing hard into his midsection, at this point Joran figured out what needed to happen.
Joran rolled over to his stomach and put his hands behind his back for the guard to slap a pair of bracers on, which he did only after using the stun gun on Joran. Every nerve in Joran's body was set on fire, it was all too much, his body gave out on him and he passed out in a pool of his own blood.
Joran would wake up later in a part of the prison he had never been prisoner 1138 had just joined cell block C.
During his time here Jakkor had been in more fights than he could count and through all of them he had become the victor. There were many ways that he killed the other prisoners many included his makeshift Gaffi stick,and the use of the force. He even beat a raging Zabrak with his bare hands. Throughout much of his combat he relished in it fueling his power with each challenger that he would use the seductive power of the dark side everytime. With time after a couple weeks most of the inmates had stopped trying and decided to not attack the battle crazed tusken only to focus on each other or the weak inmates.
his cell was decorated with limbs or fingers of dead inmates he had slain,and it also proved to be a warning to the inmates to stay away from his territory under the penalty of death. For now Jakkor meditated despite using the dark side to survive and hold his own he still focused on the light to bring him peace in such a place of dark despair and to calm his nightmares brought upon him from his PTSD. He had heard that he would be heading to a place called the arena and he was curious but slightly excited at such a thought.
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