Seer Aiden Lee Deshra vs. Privateer Grot

Seer Aiden Lee Deshra

Equite 3, Equite tier, Unaffiliated
Male Human, Force Disciple, Seeker
vs.

Privateer Grot

Equite 1, Equite tier, Clan Arcona
Male Trandoshan, Mercenary, Weapons Specialist
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Hall Duelist Hall - Ranked
Messages 2 out of 4
Time Limit 3 Days
Battle Style Alternative Ending
Battle Status Closed by Timeout
Combatants Seer Aiden Lee Deshra, Privateer Grot
Force Setting Standard
Weapon Setting Standard
Seer Aiden Lee Deshra's Character Snapshot Snapshot
Privateer Grot's Character Snapshot Snapshot
Venue Nar Shaddaa: Club Vertica
Last Post 3 January, 2019 3:33 AM UTC
Member timing out Grot
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Nar Shaddaa Club Vertica

A gambler’s den of the Vertical City’s greatest bettors, Club Vertica is a casino reserved for the wealthiest of Nar Shaddaa. Cardshark droids are used exclusively to deal hands to those willing to risk their credits at the sabacc tables. Cheating is rendered near impossible under the surveillance of the droid's six photoreceptors. That, of course, does not stop the downtrodden from accusing others of being a fraud, which can often happen before someone receives a blaster bolt between the eyes. The few that have been able to use skiffers undetected are counted as some of the best swindlers in the Galaxy.

Cerulean lights illuminate the tables, making concealment during a game difficult. Seated around most of the oval tables are a mix of gamblers from different species, succumbing to their addiction for the ultimate prize—the sabacc pot. Credits are tossed onto the tables forming mountains that draw in fierce competitors with deeper pockets and faster wit than the usual patrons.

Behind the games of sabacc, drinks are being served from the alcove of a small bar. Most of these are a shade of blue in color, expertly mixed to dull the senses of all but the hardiest individuals. Onstage, a local band sets the mood of the venue with an upbeat number that deafens out most conversations. The stakes are always high at Club Vertica.

Grot, as a rule, despised cities; they were filthy, stinky, cramped, and rampant with crime and corruption. And never was there a place that personified this more than Nar Shadaa, a place buzzing with activity like a corpse full of maggots. He’d take the wettest, most miserable, thorn-filled jungle on Wasskah any day. Yet, despite this general distaste, even he had to admit that this new contract was pretty cushy.

The Trandoshan let out a deep, satisfied hiss as he sat down at the bar of Club Vertica , relieved to be taking his first break of the night after hours of guard duty. He closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders, feeling a pleasant crack as the tension began to seep out of them. He carefully leaned his electro-bisento on the counter and flicked the safety into place on his pistols as he tried to relax. The music was a pleasant, upbeat, popular tune that suffered from the misfortune of having Huttese lyrics, and sounded like the singer was gargling snails as she crooned into her mic. The beat was good and the rhythm was catchy, however, and Grot found himself bobbing his head along to the beat. A drink was set at his side by the bartender. The bug-eyed, bright-green Rodian flashed him a friendly, if nervous, smile.

“Compliments of the house, sir.”

The mercenary gave a curt nod of thanks as the Rodian shuffled off to serve his other customers. He examined the drink closely; Corellian rum, finely aged. The good stuff. He admired it for a moment, taking in its subtle aroma, and raised it politely in salute to his employer. The fat slug of a Hutt in the corner of the club raised a leg of roasted porg in return before shoving it hungrily into his grubby mouth. Grot snarled in disgust, before downing the drink. It was quickly replaced.

As much as he disliked the Hutts, both for their behaviour and appearance, they tended to make decent employers for people like him, and Timbala was one of the good sort. While not exactly a power player on Nar Shadaa, he made a good living in the reputable business of loaning money to gambling addicts. With so much money at stake, Timbala’s clients tended to get a bit rowdy when their winning streak eventually broke. Normally he kept a trained professional on hand to fix problems like this, but Timbala’s previous “fixer” had gotten ambushed in an alley by a pair of death stick addicts with nothing to lose. Without his services, the Hutt was in a bit of a bind.

This was where Grot came into the picture.

The job was simple. Stand next to Timbala, look intimidating, and rough up a few debtors every now and then until they remembered their obligations. In return Timbala saw to it the mercenary received a small fortune and the best accommodation money could buy until he could hire someone more permanent. All going well the contract would be up before the year’s end and he’d be back on Selen celebrating in style.

Grot sipped his drink and surveyed the room, feeling quite pleased with himself. A pleasant warmth from the rum was beginning so spread through his body, and he felt the beginnings of a gentle buzz take hold. Things were good, he might even have a go at the Sabacc tables tonight…

With a sudden cough, the Trandoshan nearly spilled his drink as he started in surprise. His throat and nostrils burning he stood up from his seat, trying to get a closer look at the crowd and hoping that what he’d seen was an illusion or a particularly troublesome spirit. Snaking through the gamblers, the humanoid was almost impossible to notice unless you knew what you were looking for. The slight stiffness of the cloak betraying it’s armor-weave, the glint of medallion flashing in the dim light, a flash of silver hair peeking out from under his hood, and the unmistakable, cyan eyes of one of Arcona’s best agents.

Aiden Lee Deshra.

Grot felt his stomach sink as he recognized the human, and he felt terribly sure that his contract was about to get more complicated. Arcona shouldn't have any agents in this section of Vertica City right now, he’d checked carefully with the consul before taking this job. If they decided to send one he’d be informed, maybe sent to offer assistance. Growling with frustration and determined to get to the bottom of this, he pulled aside a server and pointed the man out, sending the confused Twi’lek in his direction with a glass of Corellian ale.

Aiden took the glass graciously from the girl, flashing a smile and sending her on her way before turning to look at the mercenary. A brief flash of recognition, followed by utter confusion, registered on his face as he recognized the Trandoshan. Grot flashed a intimidating and toothy smile before waving him over, and the Force adept easily slipped through the crowd to the bar.

“Grot,” he said simply, his face puzzled. He acknowledged the mercenary with a nod as he sat down at the bar, sipping at his drink. The two knew each other only from meetings and mission briefings. This might have been the very first words they ever said to each other outside of their work.

“Aiden,” the Trandoshan replied, “I was not aware that anyone else would be working in Club Vertica tonight.”

“Nor was I. Out for a night on the town?” The Human was friendly and, though puzzled, was cheered to find an ally unexpectedly. He smiled and took a swig of the ale as a plan began to form in his head. With Grot’s help he could make a move on Timbala much faster than he’d anticipated. With long-range support to eliminate the gangster’s bodyguards he could move in and abduct the loan shark without issue. After that, it was just a matter of time until he got the information he wanted. The Trandoshan sighed heavily, an ominous gesture which immediately banished Aiden's plans for some friendly banter and cooperation.

“I am on a private contract,” Grot answered evasively. “I fear I will be of little help.” The mercenary scanned the room silently, his bright orange eyes flickering from place to place. It was unusual for Aiden to be travelling alone, but he didn’t see the tell-tale silhouette of his usual partner. “Where is your droid?”

“Outside. They wouldn’t let him near the tables.” Aiden said dismissively, growing suspicious of the Trandoshan’s questions and guarded demeanour, “What do you mean ‘private contract’?”

“Timbala has been hiring extra hands lately. It is good money, with many points to be earned—” The sudden, unreadable expression on Aiden’s face gave Grot pause. He saw the human’s muscles tense at the mention of Timbala’s name and Grot gritted his teeth as he realized why. “You are hunting Timbala.”

A statement which confirmed both of their worst suspicions.

A tense moment passed as the two stared each other, and Aiden was the first to break the silence. He leaned in close, his voice gentle as he tried to defuse the situation, “It would probably be best if you just step outside. You’re on break. Nobody would blame you—”

“I will not.”

“Arcona has your contract on retainer,” Aiden insinuated meaningfully, his voice growing threatening. “You’re forbidden to take any contracts that might interfere with the clan’s operations.”

“You are not working for Arcona,” the Trandoshan growled, flashing his rows of sharpened teeth as he called the Human’s bluff. He stared the human down, a shrewd look in his eyes. “I cleared this contract with the Consul himself. You must be working for someone else. Is Lucine involved in this? Satsi?”

“I cannot say,” Aiden replied, brusquely standing up from his seat. Frustration was clearly evident on his face. Grot responded in kind, one hand resting on his Electro-bisento and the other reaching for his waist. Aiden let out a low growl, his lungs burning with silent power as spoke, trying desperately to dissuade the stubborn mercenary. “Get out of here Grot! Is this really worth attacking another Arconan? Just take a walk outside and forget about this!” The Trandoshan swayed in place for a moment, his eyes glazing over as if struck momentarily unconscious. With a sudden, violent shake, he snapped out of the sudden stupor, fixing Aiden with a hateful glare.

“My reputation is priceless. I will not fail.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “I would appreciate if you never attempt that again. My mind is my own; I will not have it sullied by your magics.”

“Sorry,” Aiden said, sighing with audible disappointment as his last attempt at non-violence failed. “No hard feelings?” he finished, almost lamely, struggling for anything further to say.

“No hard feelings.”

With a movement almost too fast to see, Grot’s hand flicked down to his waist. His pistol was out in a nanosecond, with only a slight delay as he flicked the safety off and fired. This minuscule delay would prove vital as Aiden’s reflexes were pushed to their very limit. A spiral of black and white arced up from his belt and into his hand, drawn by his iron grip on the Force. He activated it just in time, his hands moving based on instinct and long training, trusting his emotions to guide him to the right place as he summoned its bright silvery blade into existence.

A bright gout of gas erupted from the blade as the slug was vaporized mere inches from his heart, but it was far from alone. Three more shots followed in rapid succession, and at point blank range it was more vicious an assault than even Aiden could deal with. He kept his blade centered along his torso, blocking two more shots aimed at his vital organs, but the final shot was knocked high by the guns recoil. Out of range of his guard. He gritted his teeth as the shot impacted his armor-weave and shattered. Fragments of the bullet bit deep into the top of his torso, the shrapnel digging down straight into his collarbone.

With the flick of a few fingers he sent the barstool in front of him soaring upward, blocking a fifth bullet and sending a sixth wide as it slammed into Grot’s chest and sent him stumbling backward. The crowd of gamblers panicked and scream as the hail of gunfire finally began to register. Casino droids hastily scooped up chips and cards, finely dressed ladies cowered under tables, and Timbala began to beat a hasty retreat with his entourage, a whole roast porg clutched under his arm.

Trying to regain the initiative Aiden dashed forward. He cut through the airborne barstool with a flick of the wrist and lunged at the stumbling Trandoshan. Dropping his pistol in panic, Grot gripped his electro-bisento with both hands and activated the filament along the blade which erupted in blood-red light. Thoughts of steadying himself were quickly replaced with concerns for survival as he saw the approaching blade, and with a desperate sweep he knocked Aiden's thrust aside. A shower of sparks was thrown into the air as the blades clashed, and the sudden might of the mercenary’s parry surprised and unbalanced Aiden, forcing him to stop his assault.

Falling backwards, Grot turned his stumble into a roll, putting distance between himself and the adept. Coming back up to his feet, he crouched low, holding his bisento in front of him like a spear as he regarded Aiden from a safe distance. He hissed angrily, tongue flicking out over his teeth as he felt the sudden sting of his bruises, but was satisfied to see a splotch of crimson blood growing below the humans neck, telling him one of his rounds had found its mark.

“Vizierian,” Aiden called, his voice pained and tense as he activated his comlink. He regarded the Trandoshan cautiously, circling him as he talked to his droid. “Timbala is leaving through the north entrance. Keep on him. I will be… delayed.”

“I already have him spotted. In pursuit.”

‘An easy job,’ she said. ‘Nothing you can’t handle,’ she said, the Gray Jedi thought to himself as he faced the brown and green scaled Trandoshan. This is the last time I accept a job offer from the red-haired wretch.

Aiden Lee Deshra felt the stinging pain emanating from his collarbone. Blood trickled from the small entry wounds where the slug shards pierced his flesh. He’d been lucky that none of the stray pieces of shrapnel had cut a major artery or vein. Nonetheless, it hurt like a son of a bantha.

“I feel like we’ve really gotten off on the wrong foot here, Grot,” the Human said through gritted teeth. “Why don’t we just put this whole mess behind us and go on about our day?” His offer held a false sense of hope for himself. He was fairly sure the scaled numb-skull would never go for it. As it was, Aiden merely needed time to focus on the Force, calling it and channeling it into his left hand.

“Certainly,” Grot’s voice dripped with disdain as he growled out his words. “And you just tell that droid of yours to go back to your ship.”

“My droid?” Aiden said in mock confusion, playing along while he thought out his next move. While a fight with this trained mercenary would be fun, he also had a job to finish himself. Not to mention, the shrapnel hurt and he wanted it out as soon as possible.

“I can hear, unlike you softskins. I heard you speaking to him just a moment ago.”

“Oh right...well...You see… the thing about that is…”

Cutting himself off, Aiden twisted his body around, arcing his silver lightsaber in a downward angle, slashing it at the lizard’s chest. Grot reacted accordingly, blocking the blade with his modified bisento and using his superior strength to push the lightsaber away. Aiden used this momentum to twist his body again and shove his left hand onto the ground near Grot’s feet. He released the pent-up Force energy into a pulse over the cantina floor, sending out a powerful shockwave of kinetic power. The wave knocked the Trandoshan off of his feet, sending him toppling to the hard surface.

Hitting the ground hard on his back, the Trandoshan lost his breath for a moment before tightening his grip on his bisento. He pushed himself up, readying himself for Aiden’s next attack. Quickly following up, Aiden’s blade glided through the air in a fluid motion, accurately meeting its anticipated destination. Grot narrowly rolled to the side, his leg singed by the silvery plasma.

Growling in pain from his burned calf, the Trandoshan narrowed his reptilian eyes at the Human. Aiden’s lightsaber had sunk into the durasteel floor, leaving a melted hole in its place. Grot thrust his bisento towards the Human, who barely missed death as he leaned away. The sharpened blade still managed to cut across the man’s chest, tearing the Gray Jedi’s black robes and leaving a line of crimson blood running down the blade.

The two warriors moved away from each other and surveyed their wounds. The fight was getting messy, and only now did the two realize that the other patrons had hysterically run out of the club. It wouldn’t be long before security forced them to take their fight outside. It wasn't Aiden’s first time getting caught in this type of situation here; he surely would be banned from the premises after this...if he wasn’t killed instead.

“We really should call this whole thing off, Grot,” Aiden announced as he inspected his fresh chest wound. His upper torso had really not been receiving any love in this encounter. “I would much rather not have to explain to Kordath and the rest why I killed their hired gun.”

“Then leave me to my work. I do not fail my clients. No matter the cost, I will succeed.” Grot’s speech grew more animalistic as he tried to not put too much weight on his injured right leg. The Trandoshan’s bisento remained in his grasp, ready to defend himself. Aiden truly hated the weapon at this point, and he needed an out.

“Well, then I’m just gonna leave. The Hutt is all yours. Obviously the higher-ups had their reasoning and I couldn’t care less about the one who sent me here.”

Grot eyed the Human suspiciously. He felt that this seemed out of character. He’d heard many stories about this outsider that Arcona welcomed into their Clan.

“And why would one with your reputation of success allow this failure?” Grot’s voice levelled out as his anger turned to confusion and distrust. His growling grew silent.

“This wasn't a mission for me. It was favor for a friend of a friend. Obviously she was trying to get me killed, so screw her. Don’t get me wrong, this has been an exhilarating fight. I just don’t want to deal with the Clan politics if I kill you.” Aiden activated his comlink and spoke into it, “Hey Viz, job’s off. Get back to the ship.”

"I’m already there. Turns out our Hutt friend's been wanted by the Shroud Syndicate. They took him into their custody. I’m shutting down now, go die in a gutter somewhere."

Aiden didn’t look up at Grot yet. He knew the lizard had heard Vizierion, and this wasn't going to turn out well.

“Well, that was just bad luck.”

The Force screamed in the Gray Jedi’s head, alerting him to danger. As if he was being pulled on instinct, Aiden moved to the right as the blade end of Grot’s bisento thrust forward into the spot his heart had just vacated.

“Because of you! My client was taken because of you!” The Trandoshan was pissed. Aiden took his shoto saber into his left hand and activated it. An amethyst blade burst from the hilt and entered the fray.

“Looks like the fun’s only just begun,” he said under his breath as a smile broke across his face. He’d longed for a good fight for a while now, and it was time to sate his growing need.