The Forgotten Empire: Preparing for War

[Tysyacha]

The announcer at the Duelist's Dive was a master. He knew just how to put

the right inflection in his voice to either make a crowd scream for someone's

victory or someone's head. He had once been a used-parts salesman in the

more roughshod parts of the Refugee Sector, and it wasn't long before he

moved from a small con job like that to a big one. "Bread and circuses",

the ancient saying went, and if that was what these howling lowlifes

wanted, that is what he would give them. He turned to Tysy Dvukh.

 

"What's your name?" he asked, his grin a cheesy ear-to-ear leer. "Babe?"

 

"Call me the Exile," Tysy said coolly. "My name is of no importance."

 

"So say those who're going to die!", the announcer cried, giving a hearty

"nyuk-nyuk". "Seriously, though, the Warlord is one bad !@#$%#-er!"

 

"So I've heard," smiled Tysy. "Watch your mouth." She strode into the arena.

 

*********************************

 

"AAANNNNDDD NOOOWWWWW," Cornelius Bokagrand howled, "our most

famous duelist, the Warlord, faces another challenger! Call this one lowly,

call this one weak, but don't you DARE call her ugly! Here she is--the EXILE!"

 

Catcalls from the men in the crowd, cheers of support from the women. Tysy

bowed. Drawing her silver-bladed saberstaff was against the rules at this point,

but no matter. She'd draw it soon enough, and she wanted to save her strength.

 

"In the OTHER corner," hawked Cornelius, "the man who will kill her--the WARLORD!"

 

Stomp. Clap. Stomp. Clap. Stomp. Clap. Growls and cheers. This was

a crowd who wanted to see some blood tonight, to see their champion win.

For the first time, Tysy realized how fatal this duel could be. It was real, and

she had impetuously rushed into it with the eagerness of a Youngling!

 

What was she going to do?

[The Doctor]

Marcus turned to see why the man was yelling - and his blood turned to ice. The Exile was there, in the ring, preparing for battle. He placed his drink back on the table, and moved quickly towards the ring - she might need to be pulled from death's claws at the last moment.

He came up and stood behind her Mandalorian companion. He couldn't tell through the helmet, but he was sure that the Mandalorian was worried - or as worried as a Mandalorian could get.

[Xbx_Inthusiast]

Mandalore turned around, looking at the man. "Kind of close for comfort," he said, looking him up an down. "Another Jedi eh?" He chuckled. "Just don't get your hopes up, this is going to be one hell of a fight."

 

And it will be.

[The Doctor]

Marcus stared at the man. *You're voice... it's familiar... You are Canderous Ordo, aren't you?* he asked.

[Xbx_Inthusiast]

He looked at the Jedi quizzically. He hasn't heard that name since his travels with the Exile long past, 15 years. "What did you call me?" He asked, wanting to hear it again. No one knows Mandalore's true name, expecially some stranger. The man probably knew him, before he was Mandalore. His hand slowly moved to his blaster on his right hip.

[arvik]

Arvik, who Tysy hadn't seen in a while was in the crowd cheering. "Go kick that Warlord's scary butt!!" He shouted and fifty people surrounding him all stared at him angrily. "What?" ARvik said, obviosly drunk. "Are you all gonna cry when the Exile has a whole through his worthless chest?" The surrounding spectators got out of their seats and some pulled out some weopons. Arvik pulled out his blue lightsaber too. "Hey, I can have you all dead in an instant so you DRUNKS might as well get out of my way." Arvik turned down to look at the match. "HEY WARLORD!" He shouted. "DID YOUR MOMMY REMEMBER TO PACK YOUR LUNCH, IF SO IT'LL BE A SHAME TO SEE IT GO TO WASTE WHEN THE EXILE KILLS YOU!" Suddenly piles of angry fans swarmed and started attacking Arvik. "SOME HELP HERE PLEASE?" He shouted. But nobody seemed to even pay attention to him.