Weapons and Wagers. (Salisha)

[Nemesis]

"Like it er not, bub, dats da price." said a husky parts dealer.

"25,000 credits for a used guidance system; that's robbery!" TX replied with noticeable irritation in his voice.

"Well yer welcome ta look for a betta deal elsewhere, but I'll guarantee ya ain't gonna find one. Not here anyways." the salesman spoke, a pungent fragrance of his last meal still clung to his breath.

"I have half a mind to do just that!" The flustered droid turned to his master for confirmation of the threat. Unfortunately, Nemesis' attentions lie with a growing crowd in the marketplace's center. Sounds of clashing metal could be heard even above the boisterous haggling and bartering.

"Master..." TX firm, yet politely, nudged the assassin's arm. "...are you listening to me? Master?"

His pleas were quickly cut short by a swift, decisive answer, "Pay the man."

With a heavy sigh and obvious reluctance, TX did as he was instructed; handing the dealer a data pad containing the required amount.

"Nice doin' bidness wid ya." An enormous open mouthed grin spread across the merchant's round face; revealing numerous missing teeth.

As the droid backed away from the stand, he once again voiced his opinion. "I don't understand why you just let him get away with this...this...." his words halted with the realization that Nemesis no longer stood beside him, but instead had ventured over to the now enormous gathering of spectators.

The flock of beings herded around a small circle drawn in chalk. A hot Dantooine sun warmed the audience and sword wielding men that competed amid loud cheers.

After a brief and seemingly effortless struggle; a large, blond haired man was declared the victor followed by the emergence of a short, elderly gentlemen who called out to those watching.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen as you can see the champion, Vorn, has easily defeated another opponent! This latest win raises the purse..." pointing at a good sized satchel to the side, "...to 5,000 credits! That's right I will give 5,000 credits to anyone that can defeat, Vorn, in combat! Do I have any takers?!"

Vorn began to brandish an impressive broad sword, swinging the heavy weapon about in order to prove his dominance.

"Anyone, anyone at all!" The ring master called out again.

[Sentinel Salisha]

"Go on dearie," spat a man behind her, pushing Salisha forward into the mass of assembled people shouting for blood. "I wan't to see you fight, but I'd rather see you bleed!" He mocked, slamming his fist into her lower back as she fell down to her knees before having a chance to take action.

"We have a challenger here!" Bellowed the soused man she had previously encountered at the marketplace earlier that day.

"Leave me alone fool! You reek of the alcohol that has no doubt terminated what little is left of your brain cells." She snidely retorted, kicking him in his shin while she was down.

The man nodded to his men, gritting his teeth in retaliation as Salisha found herself encompassed by an army of the rugged looking scoundrels. Two men drove their steel toed boots into her ribs, while one got behind her holding her in a head lock as the other seized her weapons.

Salisha moaned as three ribs were cracked, making beathing a laborious ordeal.

"Give me those swords," barked the leader named Grouse, the man she had tagged in the leg.

"Be still woman, whilst I carve my initials into you. You shall be my slave, wench!" His lips curled in the satiable satisfaction of taking revenge.

Salisha tried to lash out with her feet but was knocked out cold by a callous blow to the jaw.

"Ah, that's better," he nodded approvingly to his Lieutenant. "Now my handiwork shall be more legible without her moving about," he grinned, moving the barbed end of one sword near the swell of her left breast.

Planting the hilt of the other sword in his body guard's palm, Grouse pushed Page towards the ring, ignoring his voice of protest. "You take the challenge!" He then averted his attention to his Lieutenant. "I wan't her cuffed and brought to my shuttle! Can't have my slave disfigured by Vorn. First, the marking my dear." His lusting eyes skirted over her voloptuous prone form, sneering in perverted delight at the notion of what he would do with her later while alone.

[Nemesis]

"Leave me alone..." These words came screaming into the assassin's ears. The desperate outcry was well timed, falling within a minor lull in the crowd's deafening roar.

Nemesis' head snapped to the right, gazing across the sea of humanity. Finally, his ivory gaze settle upon a woman being brutally assaulted by a pack of visibly drunken men, who bore less than honorable intentions for her.

His hands slid upward along his back then across the glistening silver hilts of twin blades. Yet, as he began to draw his weapons and execute a brazen rescue, the warrior halted.

Much to his dismay, he realized that any open conflict would surely result in the deaths of countless innocent people. His arms fell to the side once more. Another way must be found.

He turned his attention back to the center ring and witnessed a frightened man, of poor constitution, be forced into accepting the challenge. In that moment, an answer had been presented him.

The ebony hunter stepped through the swelling throng of spectators and across the chalked line. As the ring master's mouthed gaped, preparing the announcement for the next competition, he was cut short by the gasps of those around him. The hoard's interest now lie with the dark clad soldier who drew a thin line, approximately a foot in length, then stepped onto his line.

"What's the meaning of this?! What are you doing?!" Shouted an irritated master of ceremonies.

"Accepting your offer." answered the warrior.

"By drawing a line?!" was the reply.

Nemesis focused on Vorn and his apparent partner in this side show.

"Yes, and now that we've all heard your generous offer, allow me to make one of my own."

Leaving his present stance, he began to pace around the make-shift arena; speaking to both the audience and their host.

"I will stand with both heels firmly planted on that line. If during the coarse of our contest, Vorn should force me from my poise, then I will give you ten times the amount in this purse."

Wild laughter ensued and surrounded him as he made his way back to the line.

"However, if I shed Vorn's blood then I win the purse, but if I shed his tears then you will pay me five times the purse."

The heels of his boots locked into place, directly atop the line. The assassin's eyes then looked to Grouse, patiently waiting to establish whether he too had taken the bait.

[Sentinel Salisha]

Grouse was sucked into the bait like a lost ship through a black hole. He arrested the activity of his signature on flesh, slapping the hilt of the sword in his Lieutenant's grasp.

"Guard her while I take a closer look. This guised man has either got to be teeming with hyperspace sickness or an assassin. I can't miss this show," his foul breath polluting the already stagnant air ingested by the herd of captivated spectators.

Glancing down to Salisha still out cold, he muttered softly in invitation, "We got all the time in the world, Blondie." He pinched her cheek, sprinting ahead into the wall of the mob, cursing for them to make way, an obtrusive elbow jabbing up at unsuspecting patrons if they failed to move by his command.

Page spread his arms wide wondering what to do as he caught a glimpse of his leader. Grouse waved him back into the crowd to the relief of his guard, not acquainted with melee combat.

The Lieutenant turned Salisha over to her side as he cuffed her, then layed her back down as he took a knee by her, stroking her silken hair, then running his hand down to her cleavage. The young dark haired man in his twenties, as cocky as he was good looking, bent down to kiss her. Salisha came around by the sensation of the pressure, and out of reflex bit down on his lip. He smacked her across the face driving his knee into her throat slowly cutting off her air.

"Would be a pity if Grouse got his hands on you, doll. His used goods dont fare too well. I should take you as my own," he winked, wiping the blood from his mouth, pressing his knee harder into her trachea.

Salisha's eyes almost rolled back as she fought for air. Out of heated desperation, she moved her knees foreward, following with her feet to try and offset her captor. He caught her motion, unsheathing his dagger driving it into her left thigh. The warrior woman screamed, onlookers paying no attention as her cries were drowned out by the thunderous shouting eminating from the crowd.

"You fight back, you get hurt. One more move like that and I twist the blade," he spoke flatly without remorse.

She nodded, as shock gripped her in its nest of anguish. Her leg and ribs were throbbing as she again found herself slipping back into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

[Nemesis]

As anticipated, his prey was foolishly following a well laid trap perched on the edge of being triggered.

With the first goal obtained, he was directed back to the center ring, where a portly master of ceremonies was ready to speak.

"Surely you jest!" stated Vorn's accomplice, tainted with loud chuckles.

"I assure you, I make no jest. Do we have a deal?" was Nemesis' simply reply.

The announcer scratched the tops of his head, shrugged his shoulders, then said, "Alright....but first, be so kind as to tell us what you would like written on your grave stone!" Upon his words, the crowd burst into riotous laughter.

Yet, in all that was said and done the ebony hunter never flinched. He held steadfast to his position, keeping a wary eye to Grouse, ensuring his quarry had not slipped away.

The champion wasted no time in charging a seemingly helpless man, who had not drawn a single weapon. Moments before an impending broadsword would have surely cleaved the challenger in two, Nemesis dropped under the blade with deft care and one motion was all he required to draw twin meter long blades from hilts strapped to the back.

Vorn's second pass, more fierce than the first, was comprised of several slashes, all of which were easily deflected by his opponents precision movements while retaining his ever constant linear poise. The blonde hulk could have been swiftly ousted by his midnight adversary at any given moment, however Nemesis' objectives lie outside this heated exhibition. Their clash had to appear closely contested in order to command the audience's full attention. This cycle continued for several minutes, as excitement and gathering grew.

Finally, in one last attempt at victory, Vorn cut down toward the assassin's feet to force a leap from the line. His action worked, but as Nemesis leapt he held the unwavering point even while above the line.

As he landed, the hunter's left sword parried his foe's enormous weapon from his hands whilst the other blade came along side Vorn's throat then held fast.

There the pair stood. The champion was unarmed and at the mercy of his challenger's blade. Nemesis tilted his head slightly, seeking the reaction of a captive audience.