Warlord Rajhin Cindertail vs. Master Windos

The darkest rooms of the Tempest Crown Cantina hide many secrets, shady dealings, and unsavory types. The Backroom Ring is one of those secrets. Known to many as top tier entertainment on Nancora, but restricted, open to only those who can pay to fight. And it is lucrative.

Fifty feet in length and width, the Backroom Ring is a square room used long ago as a water cistern, now repurposed into a bloody combat arena. The ceiling is low enough for the taller fighters to feel claustrophobic whilst the walls are layered in dented durasteel plating equipped with shock prods and deadly spikes. Humid air fills the room along with the stench of sweat and bile. Neon lights dot the ceiling in the middle of the room, splashing color and shadows in circles further out. No seating arrangements are available, only cam droids showing live feeds on the cantina screens. Speakers bolted into the walls spread the crowd's cheers in the ring, blasting fighters with their energy.

The ring is segmented into square panels, each capable of independent activation. Pressure plates hidden beneath the surface trigger traps when stepped on. Most panels do nothing, but some discharge electrical bursts strong enough to stagger even armored fighters. Others superheat, glowing dull orange before cooling, forcing constant movement. Some panels are purposefully unstable, collapsing underfoot without warning, to disrupt balance. Many and varied traps exist underneath the floor, constantly innovated on and changed from day to day. Gravity projectors under the arena can alter gravity, making combatants float or pinning them to the floor. The ceiling hides gas vents, misting combatants with stimulants or pacifying and disorientating them.

There is no place for elaborate maneuvers here, no space to breathe or rest. The Backroom Ring is made for pure close combat. No high ground, no distance, only brutality as panic and pain close in.

The lights of the Backroom Ring were dimmed as Rajhin entered the arena. The speakers and illumination would kick in when the feed to the cantina went live. The space was cramped and musky, clearly not made with Togorian bulk in mind. Rajhin had a few moments to mentally map the space before the holocast started.

The arena walls were haphazardly lined with spikes and shock prods, while the floors formed a grid of squares that a helpful cantina patron had warned would trigger a random assortment of traps once the match had begun. If Rajhin tried to execute any sort of leap he’d immediately hit his head on the rusting durasteel ceiling.

Suddenly, the neon lights in the ceiling came on and the roar of a crowd played over the speakers. An enthusiastic, masculine announcer’s voice interrupted the Togorian’s thoughts.

“Ruffians, lowlifes and scoundrels, let me direct your attention to the view screens as we have ANOTHER BRUTAL FIGHT IN THE BACKROOM RING. We have a new challenger ready to face our champion, put your claws together for EL TIGRE!”

Rajhin raised his sword and flashed a fangy grin at one of the cameras. He had paid extra to skip the cannon fodder and go straight for the champion. Hopefully, this would give him a real challenge.

The arena went dim except for a pair of red spotlights pointing at one of the antechamber entrances. “LET'S HEAR IT FOR OUR REIGNING CHAMPION, THE BLIND BANDIT!”

A combatant calmly stepped onto the arena floor as the door slid shut behind them. It was an average height humanoid in ivory and tan colored medium armor that included a mask that covered their entire head. The Blind Bandit had a lightsaber and light shield combination with distinct markings Rajhin had seen before. They ignited the lightsaber to reveal a rare black kyber blade.

Realization struck Rajhin like a lightning bolt, “Master Windos?” It had to be, he had met the Miraluka Master on Kiast and had admired the craftsmanship of the unique lightsaber/light shield combination he now saw before him. The Blind Bandit said nothing in reply and slapped his lightsaber against his shield sending sparks flying to the arena floor and riling up the crowd noise coming through the speakers.

The former Fist sensed no malice from his opponent, no surge of anger, only a balanced and crystal focus on the task at hand. The Togorian brandished his own Sith Sword, pointing it at the Blind Bandit, “It will be an honor to face a legend, DO NOT HOLD BACK!” He crossed his sword over his chest in a salutatory gesture before returning to a ready position.

Rajhin had to intentionally lower his head and torso slightly as he charged forward through the cramped arena. The grid of tiles on the floor lit up in a random pattern as the arena traps had clearly been activated. He approached Windos with a downward diagonal slash that his opponent deftly parried with the light shield. The Miraluka followed up with a probing thrust from his sable lightsaber that Rajhin dodged with a quick step back.

The pair circled the arena in a clockwise pattern, keeping each other to the front like a pair of predators sizing one another up.

“LET'S SPICE THINGS UP A BIT!” The announcer bellowed over the speakers.

The floor tiles all began to glow red in a wave-like pattern that pulsed toward the center. Pain seized up Rajhin’s body as his leg furthest from the center of the arena set off a tile with a strong electric jolt. The Togorian roared in pain. His muscles seized up and it took his full strength of will to pull himself off the trap. He barely had a moment to process what had just happened when he noticed an ebony blade flying toward him. Rajhin deflected the saber throw only to have the Blind Bandit charge at him light shield first, knocking the Togorian off his feet with a painful blow that singed his fur in certain places.

“Now this is a fight,” Rajhin remarked with a grin as he hopped back up to feet, using the pain to fuel his Rage. The sights, smells and sounds of the arena faded as his focus locked on his opponent.

Through the Force, Windos did not see the neon lights or the dim shadows that engulfed him and his opponent. Instead, he perceived the vibrant, chaotic energy of the arena and the towering, sun-bright aura of the feline warrior bounding toward him to continue the fight.

Rajhin’s roar shook the humid air, a primal sound that bled into the synthesized cheers of the cantina speakers. He swung his heavy sword in a brutal arc. The ceiling constrained the strike, forcing the Togorian to adjust his angle.

Windos did not retreat. He stepped into the blow, raising his light shield. The alchemical metal clashed against the glowing energy barrier with a deafening crack. Sparks showered past Windos’ head, illuminating the hood that covered it.

The sheer kinetic force exerted by the massive combatant could well have shattered several of the Miraluka’s bones. Windos, however, anchored his boots to the grimy floor as best he could and let the Force reinforce his defensive stance. He pushed back a moment after the attack had landed, angling his shield to deflect the blade outward. "Your size is a liability in here," Windos stated, his tone devoid of malice or fear. It was a simple, clinical observation.

With a flick of his wrist, Windos brought his black-cored lightsaber around in a tight, precise thrust aimed at the Togorian's midsection. Rajhin moved with surprising agility, twisting aside. The dark plasma merely scorched the air where the giant had been a fraction of a second before.

The floor beneath them shifted. A grid of tiles flared a muted orange. Windos felt the increase in temperature through the soles of his boots. Reacting on instinct, he commanded the Force to anchor his gravitational pull to the ceiling. He suddenly “fell” upward and away from the heating element. Rajhin, forced to step back from the glowing floor, inadvertently triggered a pressure plate near the arena wall.

A hollow metallic clank echoed from the walls, immediately followed by a synchronized hiss from dozens of concealed vents across the ceiling and floor. A thick, mustard-colored vapor rapidly pumped into the cramped arena, completely enveloping the enclosed space in seconds. The chemical payload was indiscriminate. It burned the throat and seared the lungs upon the first involuntary breath.

Despite the hood that covered his face, Windos felt the caustic bite of the vapor against his skin. He slowed his breathing in an attempt to suppress the urge to violently cough. Rajhin, however, did not attempt to filter the noxious fumes. The giant Togorian inhaled the burning gas, allowing the sheer physical pain to stoke the fires of his dark fury. His aura in the Force flared into a violent, chaotic crimson. Ignoring the acrid smoke billowing around his snout, Rajhin fixed his attention on the inverted Miraluka. Being anchored to the low ceiling placed Windos dangerously within the feline behemoth's upward striking range. Lurching to close the distance between himself and his opponent, Rajhin unleashed a devastating vertical sweep with his heavy sword.

Windos brought his light shield down to parry while simultaneously projecting a telekinetic blast aimed at his opponent's chest. The invisible impact slammed through the gas, causing it to curl and twist in an almost hypnotic pattern, and into the furry giant, but Rajhin's rage-hardened posture barely shifted. The pure brute force of the Togorian's counterstrike overwhelmed Windos' guard. The alchemical blade battered the edge of the buckler, sending a jarring shockwave up the defender's arm that severed his gravitational anchor. Windos plummeted back toward the deck, twisting in the air to avoid the still-hot tiles. Before he could fully reorient himself in the hazy, confined space, Rajhin was on him. A massive hand clamped around the Miraluka's saber arm, unceremoniously jerking him into the air.