Lontra Boglach vs. Haro Zylrun

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.

Before he could see it, Lontra Boglach could both hear and feel the cantina. Over four ruinous blocks away from the watering hole, the Jedi could easily make out the rhythmic beats of its electronic music. His senses felt drawn in by the hazy glow above the building’s rooftop lighting and the heat, motion, & pheromones that flowed from its entrance.

As the middle-aged man made his final approach to the establishment’s door, a moment of doubt dug deep into his stomach. This wasn’t the dull, overly dark & blacklit atmosphere of his youth. Instead, as the door slid open with a smooth, pressured hiss, the room behind it bloomed out of the opening caused by the retreating panel. Intense petals of light, colourful and dazzling, blinded the man while the music roared now that it wasn’t contained.

This was the sole refuge for life on the planet Nancora.

A barren, forgotten piece of red dirt; Nancora existed as a storm-ravaged planet that buried technology, machinery, and soldiers from past war. Lontra was completely ignorant of the conflict that had happened here, however; when he spoke with Raiju Kang, his haunting guide of the Brotherhood, it seemed to him like no one really understood the reasons for the conflict here.

Typical of the Brotherhood war-machine, this was just another damn meat grinder for the Council’s interests… Had been the Consul’s thought upon learning.

Now that same Council had returned to Nancora, to pick the bones clean. Sure, there may be a new ass in the Iron Throne along with several other role changes…but the names were the same. And when they weren’t, the desires were no different.

Yet, none of those politics mattered here at this moment. Just as it had been a decade ago for Nancora, war was on the horizon. So some destined for the meat grinder were out tonight for one last passionate climax, while others sought a distraction from the dubious duties they would soon have to perform. Lontra, too, was here seeking to increase his body count but it was for the sake of his clan’s roster.

Impressment, a tale as old of time. Strategy and tactics certainly are important to the wartime effort. Yet, manpower was a fundamental calculation to any battle. Like the ancient generals of long dead civilizations, this Consul was forced to seek out what war heroes he could coerce to fight for him.

As vertigo-inducing as this cantina was to the middle-aged man, his responsibilities dictated he champion on. Passing through the crowd, the man found it hard to make out who the painted silhouettes were. The neon lights moved with the music, painting the crowd in electric violets, funky greens, and flickers of warm gold that shimmered wildly with the man’s heartbeat. Elbowing past contorted pairs and trios, a thought occurred; he remembered when folks would discretely move themselves to the bathrooms or at least the walls before they sucked each other's tongues.

A simpler time. He drew on nostalgia to settle his nerves.

Collecting himself, Lontra moved toward the bar with a renewed calm. Each step was deliberate, now cutting through and ignoring the chaos of colour and coupling, Lontra moved with the music as he swayed around swingers and dipped between dance partners. At one moment, a drink threatening to slip from someone’s gasp was quickly replaced with an empty cup from a nearby table. The owner was too heavily invested in a tale being sweetly whispered in his ear to notice the change in weight.

Arriving at the bar, Lontra threw back the drink and slammed it hard enough on the counter to get some attention. As the bartender approached, a simple gesture was made from Lontra while slipping a deposit into their hand. Lontra tried to not be offended as the man checked the count.

“Alright, it’s all here!” The bartender started loud enough to be heard over the music. Lontra attempted to aid by turning his good ear to the man. “Get going to the back corner, push the gray panel beneath the red crown. And make it fast, you’re already late!”

Lontra didn’t need to be told twice, he spun on his heels and marched through the tight tunnel of people lining the bar and a row of tables an arms’ span away. Upon making it to the panel beneath a glowing red, neon shaped crown, Lontra pushed. The door didn’t open with a click or pressured hiss like he was expecting. Instead, it peeled back with a groan.

This wasn’t a door, or even a secret entrance with clever mechanics. It was merely a gray, dented durasteel panel that protested being bent back to allow the Jedi through. Upon the other side, Lontra noted that it was no more flattering.

For a moment, Lontra didn’t move, he let his eyes adjust to the strange environment. The dull, gray panelling continued around a space of maybe fifty by fifty feet with a ceiling pressing so low that Lontra was finally glad to be average height. When he took a first step, Lontra noticed the echo confirmed this place was airtight all except for the entrance.

What had once been a cistern was now a cage.

What faint hum vibrated through the tank instantly was drowned by a crackle of speakers coming to life along with a nauseating splash of colour beamed from lights in each corner. The same shifting neon strips from the club washed the cistern into a new vibrant setting that vibrated with the roar of the crowd next door. The familiar voice of the bartender was pumped into the room across the chorus dwindled.

“Ladies & Gentlemen,” He began, his emphasis on the words suggested a background in entertainment. “Please, don’t bring your attention to me. Instead, feast your eyes upon the calamity that exists upon our shared screens.”

Lontra knew what that meant. Across the bar, screens would have blinked to life showing different angles of the “arena” for the patrons to watch. Right now bookies would be moving through the crowd taking deposits while the announcer finished his speech.

“On the right of your screens, take note of the confident, nimble man known simply to us as the ‘Swamp Otter’. This wiry fella is known for his roguish behaviour and crooked smile, but his gray hairs show age is catching up with him.”

Mother-

“And now on the left of your screens, take note of the ‘Beskar Beast’...”

Lontra tuned the announcer out as he watched a blue armoured Mandalorian emerge from the panelling on the opposite side of the container. Lontra was familiar with the man, but with the low ceiling Haro Zylrun’s height seemed enhanced. A giant of a man with polished, unblemished Beskar armour, Haro looked everything like a mythical hero of old that wives feared their husbands would have to fight.

Yet, Lontra was still going to press-gang him.

“Haro!” Lontra’s call echoed in the cage as the announcements had finished. “When I win this, you are coming back to Zsoldos with me.”

As Haro entered the tank, he sized up his new opponent. Alright, pretty strong, light on his feet, is that a lightsaber? Alright, probably a force user. He paused. Wait... He looked again. I've seen that armor before. But where?

It was hard to get a good look at his opponent's face in the dim light, but as Haro was trying to catch a glimpse, his opponent called out to him. Haro recognized the voice. He let out a groan of disappointment under his breath, muttering to himself, "Druk. Alright, non-lethal it is."

He called out to Lontra in reply, "Fine, but I'll be the one-" Haro was cut off by the tone, indicating the start of the fight. "-Winning," he finished under his breath, then activated his shield and dashed toward his Consul, moving faster than anyone would expect a man in full armor to be able to move.

Not for the first time, Haro wished he hadn't left his jetpack on his ship before coming to the Tempest Crown this morning. What he wouldn't give for a way to close the distance quickly right about now. He skirted around a trapdoor he had found during a previous bout, used a hidden gravity projector to boost a leap over a spike trap, and found himself caught by Lontra through the Force.

In response, Haro lobbed a stun grenade at the jetii to distract him, only to find it redirected back at him with little more than a flick of the wrist. The charged particles were deflected by Haro's shield, and Lontra threw him across the tank, undoing all the progress Haro had made towards his opponent.

Haro landed, using his momentum to get back on his feet quickly. He cursed as the panel beneath his feet glowed red, then orange, forcing him to move again. He drew his kal and beskad as he got his footing on an inactive panel.

"Are you going to keep throwing me around, or are we gonna fight?" Haro called to Lontra. "Tossing me around isn't going to do anything, and neither of us can leave until somebody wins."

Haro’s words fell on deaf ears. While the Mandalorian was trying to bait his elder, Lontra was more worried about the crowd back in the bar. Lontra could sense their unease, no - their hunger.

They wanted a spectacle.

It bled through the speakers and lights. From the moment that battle began, there was a growing tension of how the beast in beskar was going to overcome a force-user. And even if he didn’t, would a Jedi be as brutal as they wanted?

If they didn’t get a show, there was going to be a riot.

A charging Haro snapped Lontra out of his thoughts and back to the present. Mindful that the Mandalorian moved like a battering ram, Lontra shifted sideways as he let the Force pull his body just out of reach.

Yet, when the Force yearned for his hand to clutch his lightsaber; Lontra opted out.

While the lightsaber might be exciting, it was nothing more than a firecracker in this atmosphere. A bright light with a quick end. It wouldn’t satisfy the crowd, unless the cistern was made his coffin.

Calculating his next move, Lontra’s eyes darted over Haro’s frame while he continued to pivot away from another advancing step and swinging arm. Strength, endurance, and relentless pressure was what Haro continue to throw at the Consul but then a new threat emerged.

Haro had pulled something from his belt and with a flick of his wrist, a dagger ignited with an orange light. The flame were mesmerizing as they were reflected in the polished beskar armour as the hulking man charged with it raised high. Lontra recognized the blade at once.

Tra'kad

It was the Mandalorian word for fireblade and it was fitting that the firebrand Haro would brandish a flaming knife. Yet, that wasn’t what made Lontra smile. Instead it was the opportunity to equal the playing field.

“You call that a knife?” Lontra felt himself reach for the Amethyst Kukri sheathed on the rear of his belt. When Haro advanced again, Lontra kicked high at the Mandolarian’s chest driving the other man far enough back so he could brandish the purple blade with flare for the crowds watching. “This is a knife.”

“I’m gonna gut you, pric-” Haro continued as he surged forward again but Lontra met him this time. Before the Mandalorian could finish his threat, steel rang as the kukri clanged against the beskar armour. Yet, Haro didn’t even flinch.

Striking again and even a third time, Lontra slashed at the beast of a man and each time caught plating. First the shoulder, then the chest again, and finally the stomach. A weapon made for slashing wasn’t going to falter this armour, Lontra would need to pierce it or better yet…

His thoughts were interrupted as Haro’s laughter crept up upon him. Every slash the Consul made just added to the chorus that seemed to be joined by the betting crowd next door. Every block cost the Jedi ground, every clash forced him back another half-step and the cistern was suddenly feeling smaller than it ever had before.

Then Haro gripped the man’s collar and Lontra fully felt the difference in strength between them. As he felt pulled to his tip-toes, Lontra knew this was the moment to change tactics.

The kukri clanged to the cistern floor while Lontra drove his gauntleted fist into the hulk’s side. For a moment, Haro continued to laugh as the strike was muted by his armour’s padding. Yet, when Lontra met his eye through the t-shaped visor they shared a moment where Lontra knew the realization hit Haro.

It was at that exact moment, Lontra triggered his miniature flame projector that was mounted on his wrist.

The heat radiated through the Beskar armour. To his credit, for the first ten seconds, Haro continued to clutch the man’s collar. When he finally realize, Lontra imagined that Haro suspected the assault would cease but the Consul kept up the heat.

After a full thirty seconds of discharge, Lontra’s projector finally was exhausted. Even though the flames were over, a roar could be felt coming through the cistern’s walls as credits were reluctantly being exchanged. Music and lights flared in the cistern once again, but all Lontra could hear was the dull thunk as he collapsed to his knees and took in what he had actually done.

Haro approached Lontra again, more slowly this time, watching as the Jedi ignited his lightsaber and started to approach as well. Haro readied his sword, then dashed forward and clashed his blade against the yellow blaze.

He parried Lontra's first strike with his kal, slashing at the Otter's side. Lontra barely managed to get his shield in the way of Haro's beskad before it hit, but the force of the strike jarred his shield arm, numbing it for just a second and causing his guard to fall.

As Haro brought his blade back to take advantage of this lull in his opponent's defenses, he was reminded of the more deadly weapon in his Consul's arsenal as Lontra's lightsaber struck his energy shield, shorting it out in a single blow. Haro swung for the man again, only to find himself Force pushed away.

Haro landed on his back and used his momentum to get back on his feet, but then holes opened in the platform beneath him and fibercords shot out to ensnare him. He tried to leap away, but the wires wrapped around his foot, sending him crashing down hard to the ground instead with an "Oof!"

Lontra came on, trailing arcs of yellow fire, but Haro launched a kneepad rocket at him. The distraction of having to slash the rocket out of the air gave Haro enough time to cut the fibercords and roll away to a clean panel at a safe distance where he could get back to his feet.

Lontra was on him in a moment, saber clashing with kad in a flurry of fire and iron. Suddenly, Haro's blade met no resistance as Lontra deactivated his blade and reactivated it a moment later, pointed straight at Haro's chest. Haro reacted quickly, kal pushing the fiery plasma away as it extended back to its full length, missing Haro's arm by less than half an inch. Haro's strike, with nothing to stop it, sparked off the Consul's personal shield with a sound like a Mando headbutting a durasteel wall. The shield held, though it flickered briefly on impact.

Lontra pulled away, twirling his saber and launching a telekinetic strike towards Haro. The blow staggered Haro, but he quickly recovered and launched himself at his opponent. The Consul sent another strike, but Haro dodged and slashed at his opponent's unprotected side. Lontra twisted out of the way, but Haro's strike sparked off the energy shield again, sending another flicker through it as another strike from the lightsaber glanced off his back plate.

Haro twisted away and activated his disruptor field, then parried Lontra's blade and drove his shoulder into the Consul's chest plate.

With a loud ZAP and the smell of burned cloth, the disruptor field sent tendrils of electricity coursing over Lontra's body, and the shield shorted out as the force of Haro's body knocked Lontra onto his back, stunned. Haro pointed his beskad at Lontra and the tone sounded, declaring Haro the victor.

Haro offered Lontra a hand up. "Jate, alor. I almost thought you would win for a moment there."

Lontra flashed a smile. "Oh, almost?" He rolled his eyes, but accepted Haro's assistance. He wobbled slightly as he got to his feet, unsteady, but already recovering. "Let's go. The crowd's had their fun." With that, they exited the tank.