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Kel Deras, warlord of Zybrax, ruler of no less than three outer rim worlds, stared down at the alleged leader of the Crimson Dawn he had captured.
Kel was a large man, an Iridonian Zabrak, with three rows of horns adorning the sides and middle of his skull, his long hair in a neat braid down his back and heavily plated armor.
The Zabrak on his knees in front of him, red skinned, with sweeping, vaguely geometrical tattoos in black – not Iriodonian, but possibly a crossbreed of some sorts - gave him a withering glare, before staring at the dirty floor.
Cyborg, only half a man, really, lower body made of some dull grey metal, though Kel could appreciate the artistry of the artificer.
Drugged and wearing nothing but a force-suppression collar and heavy shackles, glaring was all the little cyborg could do, really.
Kel reveled in it. He loved to see his opponents on their knees and begging for their pathetic lives – not that Kel was inclined to such mercies, but it was always entertaining to see them try.
Kel leaned back into his throne as a slight commotion at the entrance of the hall caught his attention.
Xenda, his second in command, dragged a struggling girl behind him, having captured both of her slender wrists in one large hand and not caring for her struggles to keep up with him. The large Tradoshan’s fast steps forced her to almost run, stumbling when Xenda yanked her forward.
Togruta, with orange skin, and charming lekku in blue and white. Rumor had it that she was the personal little toy of the leader. Though – what would half a man even want with a pretty girl like that?
Someone had outfitted her with a dancer’s costume in crimson silk, with chimes and little bells on her ankles and wrists.
Kel appreciated the irony.
“Let’s see how well your little pet can dance before I decide who can have her once I am done with her.”
Xenda pushed her forward into the circle between the four large fire bowls, the flames dancing on her silks and veils.
The cyborgs head snapped up, before he turned his head slightly, staring up straight into Kel’s eyes.
The rage burning in those yellow eyes was glorious.
He just stared at Kel for a long moment, then turned his attention back to the small Togruta girl standing alone in the middle of the wide circle.
Someone started to beat a drum, a deep, booming sound, and then other instruments joined in.
The girl still stood in the circle, lost, and someone called out to her.
When she did not react, someone lashed out with a whip at her and she jumped, barely avoiding the thick, braided leather.
She started to move slowly, anklets and bracelets glittering gold in the light of the dancing flames.
She suddenly twirled, quick on her bare feet, and then she moved with a graceful sensuality that had Kel leaning forward in interest.
There were more catcalls from the crowd, some with lewd suggestions that made Kel grin broadly, knowing fully well that none of his men would dare to touch his little prize without his approval.
She picked up speed, the crimson silks swirling, dancing closer to the fire, and there was something raw and elemental in her movements that made the crowd go quiet after a minute or two.
She would bring a fine price, sold to a Hutt.
She pivoted gracefully on her toes, and three quick steps brought her close to one of the pillars of flame.
For a moment, it looked like she was touching the flame, and then two large sparks shot up into the air.
The fiery spheres whirled, and then expanded, elongating into something that seemed almost humanoid.
Kel blinked, sure he was seeing things.
The fiery shape slowly took form – tall, with horns adorning the broad skull.
Zabrak.
Kel hollered, his meaty fist hitting the armrest of the elaborate seat.
The flaming shape lifted his head, looking directly at him, and his laughter cut off as he realized it was decidedly not a homage to his greatness.
Tall, easily as large as Xenda, with broad shoulders and chest, heavily muscled arms and legs, and a broad face with sharp angular features, and a full crown elongated horns – the markings were ever-shifting, blurring, and gone just before Kel could actually see the pattern.
The crowd had taken several steps back, silent now as the music died down, the last sound of a flute eerily cutting off.
The slip of a Togruta dancer threw herself into motion, whirling, jumping, and the fiery apparition followed her – dancing with her, so close to her that Kel wondered how she avoided having her silks going up in flames.
The crowd watched, breathless and transfixed. The girl and her fire spirit lifted their hands in unison, the spirit bracketing her, arms and hands almost touching, stretched out in direction of Kel, a supplication.
Kel was dimly aware of a clicking sound to his right. When it registered what that meant, he threw himself to the side.
Too late.
The elaborate locks on the heavy durasteel chest were open, and the staff he had confiscated from the cyborg whistled through the air.
Straight into the hands of the Togruta dancer. Her fire spirit lowered his arms as the metal connected with her palms.
Kel got up, glaring at her with narrowed eyes before his lips curved up into a mocking smile.
“And what are you going to do now, little girl? Your fire spirit will not help you there. That weapon will not react to anyone but it’s master.”
Kel knew, he had tried. He had never had any formal training, but he knew he was force-sensitive.
Sensitive enough to feel the dual kyber crystals in the heavy hilt, even if they refused to react to any of his prodding, and stubbornly remained dormant, no matter what Kel had tried.
The heavy metal staff had no discernable switch to turn it on.
The little cyborg had been quite smug about that one. Kel had rewarded him with a heavy boot to his stomach and ribs that had made him spit blood.
She lifted her head, posture straight as she looked up to him standing in front of his elevated chair.
“Well, then you don’t have to be afraid of little me. Unless you are too scared to face me – or anyone who might actually hit back?”
The challenge in her saccharine tone was unmistakable – as was the mockery.
Kel growled at the sheer audacity.
The crowd stayed silent as he descended the few steps to the main floor.
Kel grabbed his electrostaff and rushed the insolent little chit, attacking fast and hard.
The roar of the staff igniting, one red blade blocking his strike, made his eyes go wide, and it was decades of experience and instinct that enabled him to avoid the return strike, the second blade only activating when it almost hit its mark in a sweeping strike aimed at his legs.
Kriff his luck.
She was fast.
A moment later the crowd dispersed into a cacophony of screams and flames as the fire-spirit tore through the crowd, leaving burning and dying men in his wake and people started to run, almost trampling each other in their panicked attempts to get away, people trying to frantically pry open the locked gate.
The only ones remaining were the kneeling and bound prisoners.
Kel had no time to deal with distractions.
He managed to block her next strike at the last second and bit out a curse. It took actual effort to keep her at bay. Their eyes met over the crossed blades.
Blue and calm – and icy cold in detachment.
Something glittered in the depths of those eyes - she enjoyed fighting him.
She gave him a vicious smile with fangs bared, and Kel pushed against her desperately, using strength and his higher body mass to push her back, their feet kicking up clouds of sandy dust.
He got pushed off balance by an invisible strike hammering into his kidneys, and he stumbled.
He threw himself to the side just a second too late.
The tip of the crimson blade seared across his back, cutting through his armor like it was nothing, and biting a handspan deep into his flesh. The smell of burnt flesh smarted in his nose, sickeningly sweet and cloying.
The pain came a moment later, driving him to his knees.
The diagonal slash across his back burnt in agony and brought tears to his eyes, blinding him.
Then the surroundings blurred as he got thrown into one of the heavy stone pillars with enough force to rattle his armor and make him loose his grip on his weapon.
He aimlessly slipped down on the dusty floor and tried to roll back to his feet.
His body did not respond. Half of his back was blessedly numb, only the upper part of the cut still burning, the fiery pain spreading to his shoulders.
The cacophony of screams around him was a distant memory as Kel forced his eyes open, watching the slender orange feet and legs approaching in a swirl of crimson silk.
He dragged his eyes up along her toned body till he met hers, sparkling blue.
“Guess you should have been afraid of me.”
She sounded amused at his predicament.
She was not even out of breath, just breathing a little harder, skin glowing in the orange light of the flames.
Kel glared at her.
“Finish me then.”
She tilted her head to the left, like she was actually considering it.
Then her pretty, plum lips curved up into a wicked smile, showing fangs.
“And deprive my lord of this pleasure?”
A snort.
“Don’t think so.”
Kel used his arms to drag himself up and against the pillar, biting through his lip as his back screamed in new agony. He was starting to feel cold now. He was aware in an odd, detached way that his back was most likely broken, his lower body nothing but dead weight.
The distant screaming and sobbing of the dying had wound down, leaving an eerie silence, the air saturated with the scent of boiled and burnt meat, clothing and fur and scales – and spilt feces.
Kel stared up at the Togruta, every breath a determined study in not letting her see how much it hurt. Breathing in felt like the air was burning down his throat and into his lungs.
The stench of the bodies of a dozen different species burnt to crisps did not help.
The cyborg slid into place behind her and wrapped red-and-black arms around her waist, chin resting comfortably between her montrals as he studied Kel with glittering, yellow eyes.
Kel’s own glare was punctuated by his labored breaths.
“You are as always an interesting contradiction my lady. For as long as I have known you, you refuse to kill unless you see no other option. Yet here you dealt a strike that is going to be fatal - very deliberately so. You cut through his lungs on both sides – he is drowning in his own blood as every breath he takes breaks open the blood vessels your blade cauterized.”
The cyborg’s voice was a soft low rumble, far better suited to a bedroom than the aftermath of a battle.
He sounded utterly intrigued.
The girl leaned up, one hand against the cyborgs neck, and pulled his head down as she lifted hers. He followed willingly, and their mouths met in a languid, passionate kiss.
Kel would have protested the blatant disrespect if he had not struggled to breathe at all. Every breath was a little harder than the last, and it took every ounce of strength to keep eyes trained on them.
She drew back, lips curving up in a coy smile, her soft, breathy whisper clearly audible.
“You once asked me what or whom I would find worthy enough to kill for.”
Her smile quirked up her mouth as she leaned up, standing tiptoes to rest her forehead against the cyborgs before kissing him again.
“Definitely worthy.”
He responded with a deep, pleased growl that Kel could feel vibrate in his bones as his vision started to dim, their silhouettes fading until all he could see was shifting colors and shadows. The pain was confusing – he could no longer tell if his body was burning or freezing.
His sight was gone now – but he could hear their footsteps fading into the distance as they walked away, the sound of their voices melting together, no clear words discernable.
Their shared laughter was the last thing he heard as they left him dying on the ground, a broken ruin in the sands of his own arena.