"You are... out of your mind."
"Pretty sure I have to be at this point, yes."
"Nobody sees the Grand Champion unless they're fighting him." Ziv told him. "And you don't fight him."
"Why not?" Calen asked, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't sat down since being returned to the cell, although it had already been several hours. Soon enough, it would be lights out. Calen also pointedly tried to ignore the redhead in the cell across from them, who very clearly was now observing him and attempting not to be discovered as she did so.
"Because he doesn't lose." Ziv said. "Anyone who has gone up against him has died."
"Well, I'm not stupid enough to try and fight a Jedi Knight."
"A what?" The Nemoidian's skin almost seemed to start turning gray as he looked at him. Calen supposed it was rather like when humans would go pale.
"He's a Jedi. Somehow, he survived when they turned on the Republic and it became the Empire." Calen said. It was definitely something he'd have to ask the man, when he did meet up with him.
"If he's in Zobek's clutches, then-" Ziv started.
"Then Zobek has something on him, or he wants to be here." Calen finished the thought.
"And you'e sure-"
"Oh, yes. I'm very sure." Calen said. The large, red eyes of the being sitting across from where he stood blinked a few times.
"I don't... I don't know if I can even help." Ziv said.
"I just need to get in to see him. Just for a few minutes." Calen said. "You said that technicians have a muster in the mornings before matches, right?"
"Yes, that's right." Ziv said.
"Then find his technician and talk to them. See if you can... I don't know... get him to come to the pit area or something." Calen said.
"O-Okay... Okay. I'll try." Ziv nodded.
"Thank you." Calen said, finally moving to lie down on the cot he had been provided. The first match ups would be announced tomorrow. He would need what rest he could get. The rest came, but sadly did not last him long before he found himself waking to the sound of the cell bars rising once more and a pair of Gamorreans coming in for him and his Nemoidian cellmate. Without Basic, the message was still clear. They were to come along. Calen looked to Ziv, who shrugged, and stepped out with them. The other cells were getting opened as well and their occupants were being herded away, both those in the suits of Champions and the suits of Technicians.
They were not herded toward the arena, but down a different corridor that led them down into a lower level. A large area with several weapon racks separated from them by force fields lining the walls. At the far end of the room was a viewscreen... and Dach Pirc, accompanied by several Gamorrean guards, of course.
"Welcome, Champions and Technicians!" The well-dressed Nikto said. "Prepare yourselves for our tournament! You will be pitted against one another until only the chosen few remain!" The screen behind him winked with light which soon solidified to show a tournament bracket. Calen's eyes passed over the image and, in spite of there being far too many Champions for it, there were only sixteen brackets. "Sixteen of you will be chosen... and you will fight until only two of you remain for the pleasure of our lord and master, Zobek the Hutt!"
Calen looked around the room. None of the other fighters nor the technicians looked particularly pleased. Looking back at the sound of a ringing, he saw that letters were flashing over the sixteen spots seemingly at random. Eventually, though, names took form on the screen and one of the names was his - Calen Darkhaven - in plain Basic. This, along with fifteen others arranged in the brackets, all leading to a central point on the grid. The final showdown as it were.
"Champions! You have been selected! Step forward!" Pirc chimed in. Some moved ahead willingly, others (like Calen) with the tip of a vibropike pushing them. Among the sixteen chosen, Calen saw a familiar figure - the redheaded champion from the cell parallel to his own. "You have been chosen! The first match up shall be Mona Awaud versus Xostur!" An image of the redhead, Mona, appeared on the screen as did an image of Xostur, a Zabrak with jagged teeth poking out from his mouth in a sort of macabre, permanent grin. "Champions, meet with your technicians. Your match will be in fifteen minutes. Prepare." With that, Pirc moved to leave, his cape swishing behind him and leaving his Gamorreans to crowd the herd. Only sixteen Champions and their respective Technicians remained. The two Champions who had been chosen locked eyes as small camera droids dropped from the ceiling, zooming and zipping around to get shots of them facing off against one another.
Mona stared at Xostur with a completely blank stare, whereas the Zabrak responded with an almost gleeful grin accompanied by a bloodthirsty fire burning in his eyes.
"You should watch the fights." Ziv's voice got Calen's attention. "Take in the fighting styles. See what you can learn."
"For?"
"You're going to be fighting them." The Nemoidian said after a moment of blank staring. "You'll vastly improve your chances if you know what you're up against. That's basic tactics."
"Right." Calen said, grimacing. From the look of the brackets, his fight was going to be the third in this round. "What are they doing?" He asked, gesturing to the other fourteen combatants and their Technicians, who were heading toward a far wall.
"Watch." Ziv said. As if on cue, the wall began to pull apart at a clear divide, revealing a second chamber behind it. In this chamber, along the walls, were lined weapons. Blasters, wrist lasers, rocket launchers, and more to even mundane weapons such as blades and spears. Calen watched as Mona and Xostur entered, each taking a side and going through, reaching out to touch certain weapons... their hands going through them as they disappeared. Holographic images!
"I don't understand?" Calen asked.
"Weapons are chosen by the combatants, but are thrown in at random intervals." Ziv explained. "Each Champion is given one of the weapons they chose at random when they enter the arena. After that, no one knows what they'll get and when."
"Seems haphazard." Calen commented.
"Keeps it interesting." Calen supposed he couldn't disagree with the Neimoidian technician. He watched as Mona chose a blaster rifle, a few pistols, a spear, and a pair of vibroblades. After that, she moved away, taking one of two circular spots at the mouth of the weapons chamber. Xostur, it seemed, favored explosives and Calen caught him choosing a pack of stun grenades and a rocket launcher before moving to another circular spot right next to Mona.
"You'll make such a pretty corpse, human..." Xostur spoke in a coarse voice that reminded Calen of an old hyperdrive motivator trying to work. The sickening grin did little to help the image. He did notice, however, that Mona didn't seem to notice. She stared blankly at the Zabrak as she had before. A moment later, the two were lifted up as the circular spots were revealed to be lifts.
"They are going to the Arena." Ziv explained to Calen.
"Okay, I don't need you to explain everything." Calen retorted. "I assume we'll be watching from here?"
"Assuming correctly." The Nemoidian nodded, gesturing toward another wall that began to open up like the way into the weapons chamber. The roar of a crowd could be heard as the noise poured in that the walls had kept out and, when his eyes adjusted, Calen could see plainly the arena that they had seen the old Jedi Master battling the krayt dragon in hours before. Champions and technicians alike gathered around the viewport for a literal ringside view of the fight that was about to happen.
"People of Rorak 4! The Champions Tournament is about to begin!" Pirc's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, the gathered crowd of thousands going nuts for it.
It seemed that it was showtime...
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