Revarse Pre'nal'ivorn
Nov 5th, 2004, 10:24:19 PM
Revarse Pre'nal'ivorn stood in the middle of a sand arena. There were seats and stands all around- and there was even an owner's booth. There were people in the stands- not many. They were servants of owners. People who were in the booth with the man that owned him. The Zabrak was a slave- given up by his own family to pay a debt owed.
Oh, they were let out of slavery. They were let out of their debts. They were given what they required to survive. But Revarse wasn't. No, he was put to work as a child. But he had resigned himself to learning, despite his 'masters' bidding. He was quite intelligent, though he didn't rely on that.
No, he relied on his prowess as a warrior. He'd been trained for his masters arena since a young age- and he excelled at it. That, and his...ability to harness an unseen force to aide his movements, made him a lethal killer. Unstoppable. He killed anyone, or anything he came up against.
And that was why he was here again. Now. He had killed so many, and gotten his master so much wealth off bets, it was time for his freedom. Before this game, he was promised his freedom upon his success. The sun beat down on his black and blue flesh.
He wasn't normally this color- no, in his childhood he had most definitely been white, until his teenage years, when he became a killer. That's when his owner had thought an idea- to tattoo him with the similar markings of an evil in the past.
They mimicked the markings of a warrior of similar race. They tattooed all his body blue and black- replacing the red with blue. He looked exactly like a clone of that warrior; the former scourge of the republic who nearly caused it's downfall, and had slain a Jedi Knight of the order.
He looked to the owners booth, as a large number of men left gates and doorways into the arena. He canted his head to the side, as he gripped each of his sharp swords. Two, one in each hand- and they were of a metal he had no idea. His master had said not to worry about it's material. It was of no concern to a slave.
He got in his battle stance, and he waited for a signal to be given.
Oh, they were let out of slavery. They were let out of their debts. They were given what they required to survive. But Revarse wasn't. No, he was put to work as a child. But he had resigned himself to learning, despite his 'masters' bidding. He was quite intelligent, though he didn't rely on that.
No, he relied on his prowess as a warrior. He'd been trained for his masters arena since a young age- and he excelled at it. That, and his...ability to harness an unseen force to aide his movements, made him a lethal killer. Unstoppable. He killed anyone, or anything he came up against.
And that was why he was here again. Now. He had killed so many, and gotten his master so much wealth off bets, it was time for his freedom. Before this game, he was promised his freedom upon his success. The sun beat down on his black and blue flesh.
He wasn't normally this color- no, in his childhood he had most definitely been white, until his teenage years, when he became a killer. That's when his owner had thought an idea- to tattoo him with the similar markings of an evil in the past.
They mimicked the markings of a warrior of similar race. They tattooed all his body blue and black- replacing the red with blue. He looked exactly like a clone of that warrior; the former scourge of the republic who nearly caused it's downfall, and had slain a Jedi Knight of the order.
He looked to the owners booth, as a large number of men left gates and doorways into the arena. He canted his head to the side, as he gripped each of his sharp swords. Two, one in each hand- and they were of a metal he had no idea. His master had said not to worry about it's material. It was of no concern to a slave.
He got in his battle stance, and he waited for a signal to be given.