Walking a Twisted Path

The crushing impact left him wheezing for air that wouldn't come. His entire body felt shattered, and yet he couldn't drop to the floor and die like he desperately wanted. Why? His head dropped and it became clear. A pipe from the wall found its way through his torso. The power of the push against it allowed the bent metal tube to punch through his armor and flesh. He reached up and grabbed it with his hands, held on desperately with all of his rapidly fading strength.

He raised his head and focused his sight on the approaching, blurred shape ahead of him, a humanoid form with a pair of crimson plumes radiating out from it. The lightsaber of his opponent, and his own, wrenched from his grip moments before.

"Why?" he tried to ask, but all that came from his mouth was a ragged gurgle as a bubble of blood burst upon the man's lips.

"This won't do. No. You have...Had...a long way to go to be ready for it. You've failed."

Blackness was quickly overtaking the impaled man's vision; the voice seemed to come from the deepest part of a black abyss.

He tried to speak once more, to the same result. Words couldn't form, his hands slid from the now slick tubing that had him skewered. The cold, creeping darkness rushed over him. The last thing he saw were those blazing red streaks in the void.

*nods in approval*

Posting up what I have. I'm getting back to work on this ASAP.
Comments and critiques are welcome. If I make mistakes, kindly point em out for me. <3
Warning: This starts out all mushy.
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Nothingness overwhelming. There was no light, no darkness, no sound, not even the cold touch of the pipe embedded in him to grace his senses. Memories flashed and burned in his mind...An imprint of the Academy. The quiet rage and bold schemes in subtle micro-wars for superiority. Memories of her. The beginning of the path, back home...

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"Hey, you." A tired, contented voice whispered in his ear. "Wakey wakey."

Tureil groaned, and tried to roll over, hoping to block out the hazy voice with a blanket. A quiet giggle rang out and warmth pressed against him.
"Hey...You can't stay in bed forever!"
"Watch me, Liera." he said with a tired smile. "You're still here so I don't have a reason to get out of it."
The warmth of her body left him as she got up and stood at the side of the bed, her long black hair a mess, a smirk on her face and her hands on her hips. “Well? How’s this for you? I’m not in the bed now!”

He chuckled and groggily sat up straight. Quietly snickering in victory, Liera left the room, leaving Tureil alone. Tureil ran a hand through his dark hair and reluctantly left the warmth of his bed, his gaze turning to the window on the opposing wall. The Coruscanti sun shone brightly, and speeders zipped by as their business drove them along.

“Have you got a match tonight?” Tureil snapped back into focus as he heard Liera’s voice ring out from another room.
“I-I think so, yeah.” He called back, as he removed his night clothes and threw on his light gray “uniform” for his fight later. “I think it’s an Aqualish I’m scheduled to go up against. Then again…Tayko likes to surprise me.”

“He almost got you killed the last time! That Twi’lek had a blade with a Devaronian edge to it!” The raven haired girl called out, her tone a mix of concern and anger.

“That fight also got us this apartment, even after the small ocean of painkillers I had to swim in was bought.” The man replied, with a laugh. “The fights aren’t normally like that, and you know it.”
Liera quickly walked back into the room, also dressed for work in a jumpsuit still bearing scorch marks from tools, with her fists balled up at her sides. She punched Tureil in the shoulder, a hurt look on her face.

“I’m more worried about you than an apartment.” She sighed exasperatedly. When she saw the man grin widely before her, she hugged him tight, her head resting against his chest. “Look, I know you think you’re invincible. But you’re just human, alright? Just…Be careful in there – You aren’t playing with toy swords and blasters.”
“You worry too much, missy. I’ll do just fine, especially if you’re there to cheer me on!” He learned down and kissed Liera on her forehead before pulling away and looking down at her. “That reminds me..Have you got time to make an appearance tonight?”

“No, Tur I can’t…There’s a big order coming in at the repair center. Lots of protocol droids coming in from some Senators assistant.” She frowned and hugged Tureil tighter in apology. “But I’ll be watching the match broadcast while I work. Look good for me, hmm?”

“When don’t I?” he chuckled.

She smiled lightly and slipped out of the man’s arms. He kissed her goodbye, and made his way out of the apartment.

The day crawled by slowly for Tureil. He zoomed about the Coruscanti airways on public shuttles, simply watching others going on about their day. The act let the man “empty” himself, let his thoughts slide away for a brief spell, keeping him calm before the match. He’d release his enthusiasm and vigor in the battle itself, not before it began.

After many groups of Humans, Duros, and various other species had crossed through his vision, his wrist-chrono chirped its alarm, bringing the man back into full awareness; An older Rodian was staring back at him, sputtering wildly in Rodese, apparently angered at the assumed disrespect.
“Sorry there, sorry!” Tureil smiled weakly and put his hands up in a half-shrug. “I’m getting off on the next stop. Sorry!”

He hopped off the transport the second it slowed to a stop, hurriedly making his way through the city-planet’s walkways. There was hardly a quiet second; First the ships, shuttles and transports overhead kept buzzing, droning and blasting their way through the skies, the chattering of the people around him, walking in throngs to wherever pleased them. Soon, the tides of the apparent ocean of sentients swept him up. The fighter could tell he was getting close to his destination; in between the booms and dull, distant roars of the sky’s traffic overhead came the muffled cheers, shouts and the occasional hushed explosion from a large building ahead. He finally made it to one of the Coruscanti dueling circles, and his current form of employment – Tayko’s Tower-top Arena. Everyone simply called it T3. It was the only such dueling circle in the area, and quickly began thriving under the owner, Tayko’s, hand.

A few more moments passed before Tureil and the crowd surrounding him came within sight of the entrance to T3. A set of very tall sliding doors made in a mixture of durasteel and bronzium, which granted the doors with both a soft golden color, with the addition of incredible durability. In the center of the doors was a stylized image of two vibroblades crossing eachother, blade up. Chained to either side of the frame were some of the ‘mascots’ of the establishment – 2 very old, very quirky T3-M4 units, their mock-fierce droidspeak blaring out more like a bark than typical, expected beeps and whirring.

Molto bello...

Get it in

Relatively short update today. But I figure it's best to update while I've got the time. As always, critiques are welcome and if you spot something odd, tell me. <3

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As Tureil passed the entranceway, into the long, wide hall, a dull, roaring din assaulted his senses. People were packed in the building. Clustering around the viewscreens, some men and women were cheering, others cursing their luck. The announcer’s and the duelists’ voices blared out at every angle from the grouped up humanoids. Down a floor below, the fighter knew, was the actual arena. Circling above it, and extending to the building entrance was called the Wook’s Walk, named after an alleged favored fighter of Tayko’s in the early days of the dueling circle. Cheaper seats rang the Walk above the dueling arena proper, so that spectators could stare from above as challengers brawled below.

Through the somewhat dimly lit hallway Tureil walked, wrinkling his nose as he passed by pungent clouds of blue rankweed smoke billowing out from a group of trandoshans growling excitedly around a viewscreen. The fighter chose to take one of the winding staircases down to the floor below instead of a repulsorlift. The stairs gave him the better view of the two options. Down below, a fight was already taking place. Tureil smiled, excitement beginning to flow through him, from the fire that seemed to have sprung up in his chest.

Two humans, as far as he could see as he descended, were locked in hand to hand combat. The first fighter, a giant of a man, towered over his dark skinned opponent. Both were cut and bruised, but they continued to launch brutal assaults on each other as if each blow the other landed on them fueled the duelists on to greater displays of endurance. Tureil ran a hand through his hair and let out an impressed whistle; the duelists had a knack for their ‘art,’ and had the audience roaring from their perches. The smiling fighter was frozen in place now, caught up in the marvelous show.

The taller man had his legs swept out from under him as a fine kick from the dark-skinned brawler smashed into the back of his knees. In a flash, before the tall man could begin to get up, his opponent lashed out viciously with his hard-heeled boot. Blood spurted out from the fallen brawler’s nose and mouth, and he could no longer persist in the fight. He slumped onto his back and raised his arm shakily straight into the air above him. The signal spotted, pyrotechnics lining the outer edges of the arena floor burst into life, with roaring flames shooting up from their enclosures as if cheering madly for the fight themselves. The audience was wild, shouting in ecstasy or howling in distress. The din of the room was almost deafening. Below, the dark skinned man helped the injured opponent up from the dusty ground, supporting him as they limped off to the impatiently waiting medical crew. Tureil himself, caught up in the fervor, clapped and shouted his praises to the two men before continuing. He would be heading past the medical area on the way to the locker room’s notice board. His fight was scheduled within the next two hours, and he hadn’t much time to dawdle.

Just because I love ya'll...I'm ending this right when things actually start to happen. <3

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It was easy enough to tell where the medical area was in T3 – just follow the sounds of humanoids shouting mixed with groans. Not even the losing side of the spectating crowds can howl in anger as finely as an enraged duelist insisting he was fine after taking an injury. Sadly for most, they were usually wrong, and shortly after the shouting began, arguments would be ended with the sound of a hard thud as the fighter found the ground rushing up to meet him.
There were only 5 people in the med area at the time Tureil found his way there.

3 fighters, including the two Tureil had cheered for, sitting or lying on cots, and the 2 medics that tended to them. One was busy tending to the pair the young fighter had spectated, the other was opening up a medkit with an irate look on his face.

“Han…You’re lucky tonight. You could’ve lost your eye if you were hit much harder…Your pars orbitalis took a nasty crack, along with your maxillary…” one medic said to the third fighter, with a grim look as he applied kolto to the area.
“Wassat mean, duck?” the man groggily asked in reply. His uncovered eye was still unfocused.

“I think you meant ‘Doc,’ and it means the Wookiee you took on pretty much broke your face…Next time, don’t be so enthusiastic with your jeers. Wookiees’ tempers are a thing of nightmares.” The medic sighed and set aside the canister of kolto on a nearby table. “Be happy your arms are still attached to you, and not on this.”

“There was a fight between him and a Wookiee?” Tureil asked, standing nearby. “That seems like an odd pairing.”
“T-tellin’ me…” The man called Han said as he lied back down on his cot with a groan.

“Quiet, you.” The medic said with a growl. “You got into that fight against all advice…You’re a rookie and you fought a veteran.”
Tureil chuckled and gave his well wishes to the pair before moving up to the cots the tall man and the dark skinned fighter were at. Before he could open his mouth however the second medic cut him off with an upheld hand.

“Can’t visit these ones, Vita. Sorry but I’m about to give ‘em some painkillers before I take em to the kolto tanks. They broke up eachother’s ribs pretty bad. And Jarvis here – “ he nodded at the taller of the pair, “messed up his knee when he got his legs swept out—“ he turned his gaze to the dark skinned fighter, “by Ridain. I don’t think either one’s too chatty. Come back in a few hours and they’ll be free, Tureil.”

“Fair enough.” Tureil replied. “I’ll just say this…Good fight, boys. Hope to see more like it. I’ve gotta get moving, so get well soon.” With a wave he left the medical area and continued to his destination. It wasn’t long before he found himself in the room Tayko stayed in, the same room that housed the duelists noticeboard.

Tureil was reminded immediately that Tayko was no ordinary Hutt. He was not the corpulent, greedy, thuggish stereotype that befell, usually quite fittingly, the rest of his species. He was a mutant – he was of the rare few that grew hair, and he sported a large, finely maintained beard that grew almost all the way down his front. Perhaps because of his already outcast status, he kept himself in astounding physical shape for the slug-like species, having his body bare as little fat as possible. He kept his business fairly clean, but still expected to make profits, like any other of his species.

Sitting comfortably on a large chair against the wall, surrounded by cushions, the odd gastropod beckoned the fighter over with a wide smile.

“Vita, my boy. You’re early! That eager to make me money?” he started in Basic as he beckoned to Tureil.

“Of course. I’m hoping to earn some more for myself tonight, Tayko.” The fighter replied with a smile. “Mind if I have a drink?”

“Only the finest water for you.” The strange Hutt chuckled as he passed Tureil a bottle. The fighter accepted it with a grin.

“Cheapskate of a slug. Thanks.”

The Hutt’s chuckling turned into a roar of grumbling laughter as Tureil drank his fill. “Next time I’ll strain it through my beard, give you some natural Huttese flavoring. Now.. Go and check your fight status…I think you will enjoy the change.”

“What’s a Swokes Swokes?” Tureil asked in confusion as he returned from the notice board across the room.

“A worthy opponent, I’d say…”, replied Tayko slyly as he lovingly ran his fingers through his facial hair. “That’s all you need to know, my boy. Make me my money and you’ll get your share – if you win. Now, get ready! You have an hour.”

Tureil wasted no time in making his way to a secluded spot, tucked away from the eyes and ears of other sentients. He rummaged quickly through the pack at his belt. He pulled out his comlink and sent out an urgent call to Liera. After a few moments her familiar voice replied, sounding confused and somewhat amazed.

“Tur? What’s going on?”

“Liera…I’ve got a fight in an hour and I—“ he began quickly before Liera cut him short.
“This is going to sound weird but I knew this was going to happen,” she said slowly.
“…What?” Tureil replied, dumbstruck. “I usually call you before my fights…”

“That’s true…Sorry, it’s nothing. The work orders have got me worn out and…and I don’t know. What was it? What do you need?”

Tureil shook his head slightly and found his train of thought once again. “Do you know what a Swokes Swokes is?”

“A what?” Liera’s voice came buzzing over the comm. It was obvious she was as clueless as Tureil himself.

“Do you have any droids in the shop today that have information amassed on species? Religions? Martial arts forms?”

“I…have an archivists droid in here, but its vocabulator’s been melted. I have a spare lying around but I’ll need about 20 minutes for a quick fix for you. Damn it, one of the droids are malfunctioning agai—STOP IT, it’s breaking the equip---!“

The comm ended abruptly and Tureil growled in frustration before thrusting the comm back into his pack. Too curious – some could say worried – about his upcoming opponent, he struck his lover’s strange initial response from his mind. He was as prepared for his fight as he could be without being in the ring already, so all he could do was let the minutes on his wrist-chrono slink by.

He knew it was time for him to find his way to the arena when Tayko’s overdramatic fanfare rang out through the building’s comm speakers, and broke out into a run. Tureil had once witnessed what happened when this occurred: Twilek models hired for the day strode out into the middle of the arena, scantily clad with a banner above their entrances, showing support for one of the fighters. Once they reached the center of the ring, they began their dances, with vibroblades held aloft. The whirling forms of the females drove the contestants and the spectators wild, and the excitement simply exploded once the comm’s fanfare reached it’s height. Each Twilek finished their dance with a final movement: Driving their blade deep into the ground at their feet, where the name of their fighter’s opponent was drawn into the circle’s floor. Depending on the rules of the match, these blades could be the weapons used for the battle.

But it was not the case for the young fighter. As it was in the fight he witnessed, Tureil had agreed with Tayko to fight hand to hand with his opponent, the strange Swokes Swokes. The strange Swokes Swokes, who Tureil had learned nothing about since he learned of the change in the fight’s lineup. His inner calm beginning to crumble apart, Tureil forcibly shook his head. He couldn’t get cold feet now…He had essentially promised to win for Liera. He couldn’t begin doubting himself now when her eyes would be looking upon him.

By the time he had made it to his entry point, he was sweating, and the Twileks dance had ended. He looked across the fight ring and spotted the hilts of the vibroblades glinting darkly in the floodlights. Lowering his gaze, he saw his name on the ground, pierced by one of the dancers’ blades. A few few to the side was his opponent’s, similarly stabbed. Iirta Iirta.

“Iirta….Iirta?” the man repeated slowly. It seemed familiar, as Tureil repeated the odd name to himself several more times, trying to remember where it came from.

He heard rumbling chuckles behind him and turned quickly to find Tayko stroking his beard with a smile on his slug-like face.

“You alright there, my boy?” the Hutt asked, still using Basic. “You look like you’re a spanner short of a toolkit. Not getting cold feet, hmmm?”

Tureil cleared his throat and replied thickly, “No.”
“No I’m fine.” He continued after a moment. “I was just wondering where I’ve heard that strange name. Iirta Iirta. Has he been dueling long?”

“He’s been going through the dueling circles for a few decades now. Legal and otherwise. He’s racked up more than his fair share of trophies…You’ll earn your pay today, Tureil.”

“Would today be one of the illegal ones, Tayko?” the fighter asked cautiously. The smile on the Hutts face widened almost unnoticeably. The human growled and turned back to the entryway. It was almost time. The Hutt spoke up enticingly.

“Five times your usual pay, boy. Go now.”

Tureil walked out slowly from the shady hallway into the bright lights of the dueling circle as the crowd exploded into excited cheers, and roars of anticipation. They had come to see blood, and he did not think they cared too much whose it was.

The twilek models still stood in the center of the ring, and now were busy strapping amplifier comms around their necks. One, a Lethan red, spoke up enthusiastically.

“Welcome to Tayko’s Towertop Arena! T3…!”, she cried out, raising her arms as the crowd cheered wildly once again. “Today’s fight has been sponsored personally by our fine patron, Tayko the Hutt!”

Amidst more cheers, the second twilek, a Rutian blue, spoke up. “Our fighters tonight are putting their lives on the line! Their waivers have been signed as their duelist’s licenses and they know what fun they’re in for tonight!”

“I sure as hell didn’t!” Tureil yelled furiously, though he was easily drowned out in the noise of the arena.

“These boys have it cut out for them, don’t they? We have two winners walking in here! Only one’ll walk out as the victor tonight--” the Rutian continued unabated.

“Or even walk out at all!” cried out the Lethan model, a mock-vicious smile spreading across her face.

Both models laughed heartily as Tayko floated into the ring on a golden repulsor-throne. He had a hand-held amplifier out and he was laughing along with the two models.


“The main event!” he called out dramatically in his gravelly tones. “It’s here! From the western side comes Tureil Vita! Winner of thirty-nine duels, eighteen of them high-stakes! I hope he knows how high they are now!!”

Tureil growled in frustration before thrusting his right fist high into the air above him, roaring along with the applauding crowds.

“And coming from the eastern doorway comes a newcomer to T3!” Tayko called out as a ring of boos and jeers came flying from around the Walks. “Don’t give me that! He has more experience than any two of the fighters here, ladies and gentlemen! Beating the best for over 4 decades, here comes IIRTA IIRTA OF MAKEM TE!!”

The crowd’s excitement died down quickly as they saw Tureil’s opponent enter the brightly lit center room. Tureil felt disgust well up inside as he saw what he’d be up against. It walked slowly on reptilian legs, ending in three-clawed feet. They supported a heavy torso, head, and arms, with sickly pale, loosely hanging skin covering the entirety. It had to have been a full head taller than Tureil himself. The eyes of this creature struck the young duelist the most as he gazed upon the creature stomping across the floor; they were pure, unending blackness, devouring the light, even as they dimly reflected the world. The alien ran his grubby hand over its horn-covered head, down its flabby, scar-covered face and ran a thumb across its thick, near non-existent neck. He pointed across the floor and smiled, the flat, wide mouth revealing many sharp teeth.

Tureil beckoned cockily and spat at his feet. He had to put on a show even as a sickening feeling crawled across his thoughts. The way this creature moved – lumbering, jerking – the scar…Even its name. He had heard a story of this being before. But where? Tayko’s voice boomed into the ring, snapping the fighter back into reality.

“And now, LET THE GAMES BEGIN!”

Nice... can't wait for the fight!

Aye. I'll get to work over this soon.

In case you guys don't know what a Swokes Swokes is.... here's the Wookie article on em.

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Swokes_Swokes

Ugly shits, but apparently great fighters.