The power of the impact caused Nora Rahmyn to reel. Her opponent was a Parraki, a seven-foot orange beast with the general appearance?and possibly the intelligence?of a legendary Earth troll, so it wasn't the first time in the bout. He carried a sword in one hand and a club in the other; his armor appeared to be a shoddy counterfeit of leather. The Parraki's guttural, raspy voice taunted her over the communications line as she rolled with the attack and leaped numbly to her feet:
"Little shrimp, give up! You are mine.
Nora tightened her jaw and repositioned her high-caliber handgun and sword. Then she had her chance. The Parraki raised his blade. In order to send her opponent tumbling to the ground, Nora dodged, crouched low and rolled into his knees. The Parraki struck the earth forcefully, as only a five-hundred-pound beast could. Placing her handgun below the fallen opponent's knee, Nora fired one round, pressing her advantage. They obliterated the kneecap. The healing process would take years. Nora was aware of her victory. She pressed the tip of her blade up against the orange creature's neck.
Smugly, "Do you surrender?" she questioned.
He let out a faint sigh. "?Yes?"
Three and a half million voices cheered in unison as the throng exploded. In celebration of her sixth victory at the Ash Arena, the main arena on the desert wasteland planet known as Dorran 6, Nora Rahmyn took off her helmet and held her sword aloft.
Nora was not conventionally appealing, not after being in a metal shell for 45 minutes. Sweaty and disheveled, her dirty-blonde hair stuck damply to her head; her deep blue eyes were a mix of elation and exhaustion. To transport the vanquished Parraki to the medical facility, medics made their way inside the arena. In two weeks, Nora would be fully recovered and ready to fight again after being bruised and somewhat concussed by her opponent's huge club. She left the arena floor and made her way to their common area to see Luna Trevyn, another human woman who was her friend.
Luna was a medium-height, well-built fighter. Few people dared to look into her eyes for very long, with Nora being an exception. She had long black hair and was incredibly skilled with daggers. Sometimes her eyes seemed almost pleasant, but more often they were filled with a fierceness that made men of courage shudder. No one dared to mess with Luna Trevyn; she was all business. She looked up from washing her armor to speak to Nora in a neutral tone:
"It went well?" Luna enquired. She never kept an eye on the communication channels to find out the result in advance.
Nora looked down at her own reflection. "Well, I still have all of my organs and limbs. "Well," she said, "I suppose it went fairly well."
Luna didn't flinch. "Excellent." She looked back down at her armor.
Trevyn and Rahmyn were old friends, even though their conversation was brief. When they first met, they were supposed to fight to the death, but the combat was called off because of the terrible weather that was sweeping over the outdoor arena. Before being scheduled to kill one another, the two had conversed while forced to wait. Before the weather cleared, they discreetly sneaked off-planet together after discovering they liked one other. Since then, a number of factions have placed a high value on their capture, but no one with the necessary skills has attempted to kill them.
Rahmyn weighed just 120 pounds, which was modest by human standards. She was a very nimble fighter who liked to steal armor from vanquished foes. She purchased her own weaponry, but she continued to try different combinations because she wasn't sure which she liked most. At the moment, she preferred a nearly extinct design of hand-and-a-half sword. She was considered somewhat insane by many, but she was unquestionably a balanced combatant.
Trevyn had a very distinct fighting style. Her guns, armor, and sensors all appeared to be precisely set to terrify, to make opponents shudder. The armor's matte texture, which seemed to absorb light, was the deepest shade of black that could be imagined. She hadn't been hit once in a number of fights, as if her opponents were too scared to incite her deadly rage.
The relationship between Yan Zantara and Nayla was much more cordial. They were members of the same House, had grown up together since childhood, and made a strong duo. They occasionally engaged in side-by-side combat, but more frequently?as it is now?one would be in the arena while the other offered amusing commentary over the communications system.
"Damn, this guy's almost as clueless as the last seven!"
"Yeah, a real challenge once in a while would be a nice change."
Yan was the first to speak. He was a five-foot-eleven male human with brown hair and eyes that matched. Due more to his assured popularity with at least half of the audience than his fighting prowess, he was one of the most well-known figures in the gladiatorial industry. Specifically, the female half. Almost any female, regardless of species, could be charmed by him. It was said that a female corpse might be made to smile by his charm. He professed to like the excitement of combat and the arena, but his true motivation was the money and fame. He always performed for the audience, shaping their responses as if they were clay in his hands.
Nayla's voice was the second one. At the moment, she was in the arena, taking on her eighth opponent of the competition. This specific arena's jungle setting was ideal for her strongest suit: stealth. Maybe her opponent deserved to be dubbed clueless. Right now, she was hanging just above his head, upside down. Seeking higher ground, he had scaled a tree, probably in the hopes that it would increase his chances. Even though he wasn't totally incorrect, Nayla still had the upper hand in this bout.
Nayla's genes had been spliced with a tiger's during her infancy, making her a human-feline hybrid. Her canines were longer than most animals', she had retractable claws on her hands and feet, and beneath the skin and hair down her spine were faint tiger stripes. Not to mention a tail and ears. Although she kept her tail in a textile sheath attached to her bodysuit during combat, she was rather proud of it. She kept it immaculately combed and clean when she wasn't wearing armor, and she frequently twitched it noticeably at eye level to make sure everyone saw it.
Sound dampeners made her movements soundless, her communications were scrambled to prevent tracking, the neoprene bodysuit itself projected the environment onto its surface, serving as active camouflage, and her combat suit was nitrogen-cooled to conceal her heat signature from infrared sensors. She also wore an anti-radar device on her thigh. If she didn't move, she was essentially invisible. This battle was no different.
Her opponent sat shakily on a branch ten feet below her, while she hung upside down, twenty-five feet off the ground. As she stiffened, ready to fall?or spring, depending on your point of view?the claws on her wrists and ankles drove deep into the tree bark. For dramatic effect, she deactivated her stealth systems at the last second and threw herself downward, landing a direct hit on her opponent's back.
With a terrible thud, he hit the earth after falling fifteen feet. A moment later, Nayla landed nimbly next to him. She waited for him to get up with difficulty. He swung his sword viciously, and she dived beneath it, rolled behind him, jumped up, and landed on his back. She flung an arm around his neck and hooked her legs around his abdomen. She pulled out one of her twin daggers with her free hand and pushed the point to his throat. He fell, taking her down with him, and gave up instantly. The audience erupted. Every moment had been recorded by camera-drones flying through the thick undergrowth, which were monitoring the fighters electronically.
"Hooray! For Nayla, it's number eight!" Once more, Yan's voice crackled over the comm. "Damn, you didn't even really hurt him."
"Oh, I did," said Nayla. "His pride won't recover for a while."
"Well, getting jumped by an invisible woman and taking a tumble isn't exactly good for the ego, is it?" Yan drew closer.
"All right. Come to the cantina with me. I must have a drink.
"I'll see you there. "My treat."
With frustration, she questioned, "You never turn off the charm, do you?"
"Hey, just doing my part to ensure the survival of the human species."
"Yes, of course. Cantina. Just listening to you makes me feel like I'm losing brain cells.
"Glad I could help."
Later, Yan and Nayla talked about the results of their current tournament's previous matches in the cantina. The Verna Arena, renowned for its superb foliage cover, served as the venue for this one.
"They must bring in some fierce rivals! These warriors are mostly a joke. I would be Grand Master by now if everyone in the cosmos battled like way. A little flushed from two pints of strong Taarkadian ale, Nayla exclaimed.
"Explain it to me. When I set him on fire, one of the guys I had previously fought all but gave up. "Poof, just one little blast!" Yan made a theatrical motion. He believed that the wrist-mounted flamethrower in his weapon loadout was more decorative than functional.
With a little unsteady laugh, Nayla laughed. "Well, we could definitely win even if we were completely nude if that were our greatest threat! What comes next? Is that the Sylis Cup?
Yan gave a nod. "Yes. One important location is Celyra Prime. It ought to attract some serious competition.
"I agree with that. Before I get completely inebriated, let's leave this place." Unfortunately, she had a limited tolerance for alcohol due to her feline DNA.
"But you're hilarious when you can't walk straight!"
"You can say that with ease! Don't let me drag you out of here, please.
Yan, complaining politely, trailed behind her.