The Phoenix Hawk transport jumped into the system, its engines hot. The ship had taken some damage at the last stop before Barab I. He was here finally, eyes moving slowly across the surface of the planet. The ship landed without fanfare at the spaceport outisde the capital. The hatch opened easily and he emerged from the ship, his face still showing the deep red lines from teh cuts he had taken at Teta.

He stepped down off of the boarding ramp, long coat billowing in the wind. The droids stayed aboard ship, keeping an eye on the place while he went to explore. He walked easily through the city, the barabel staying out of his way for some reason, some of them looking for a second, as if seeing something, then shaking it away, going back to their business.

He explored the city for a few hours, looking in all the places that he thought might have shock boxers. That was the reason he had come to this place originally, to find the shock boxers that he had seen with himself. He was searching the city, pretty much minding his own business, now if only he knew what business was his....

Mitz entered one of the shock boxing arenas, head shrouded in the hood of his coat, the rain outside rough and pounding. He walked quietly to a seat, sitting watching. The Barabel were not amused by this outsider sitting so close, and one moved to threaten him. The Barabel brought its heavy hand down across his shoulder. MItz reacted almost instantly, his own hand gripping the barabel by its wrist, twisiting its arm back behind, pulling it down to a manageable height, the massive creature that was towering over him brought below eye level.

The other Barabel moved in on him, one throwing a punch at his head. MItz dodged with the minimum effort, pulling the barabel he had a grip on in front of him, swinging him into the path of the other Barabel. He slid his coat from his body, taking a defensive stance, the glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose. The Barabel all looked at each other, unsure of quite what to do. one tentatively threw a punch at his head, Mitz blocking with right arm, the scar from the saber wound he had received at Teta still obvious on his armored forearm. He heard the sick sound of bones snapping, THe barabel pulling his hand back, sure of what he was dealing with again.

THe barabel all stepped back, bringing their clawed hands together, bowing respectfully to him. They brought their heads down low, bowing below his height. He knew this somehow, something familiar. He bowed in turn, and they all brought their heads up at the same time. One of the barabel stepped out from the group, his voice heavy and deep in basic.

"Welcome home, Master." The barabel reached around him, wrapping his arms around with a firm grip, hugging him as a boy hugs his father after being at school all day. Mitz wasn't sure how to react, but this barabel had a firm grip on him, and seemed genuine in his emotions.

"Home? Master?" Mitz asked quietly, unsure of everything now. How could Barabel have ever been home, it was rough, hard, and filled with people that were not his own. Deep down though, he really wasn't sure who his people were, maybe these Barabel were right, maybe he had come home.

"Master, you have obviously had a long journey, come to the monastery, your room has been preserved as you left it, it is time to rest." THe barabel moved to flank him, forming a protective ring around him, moving with him, as if they were all a single person.

Mitz had no real alternative, and let the Barabel take him to this monastery.

The Lambda shuttle "Blackk Night" settled down softly on the duracrete floor of the hanger. A handful of other shuttles from the "Eclipse" settled down all around her, the last landing as the boarding ramp of the "Blackk Night" touched he deck. First off was the ships owner, former TNA Admiral Arthorn Blackkon, wearing his customary black naval uniform, slightly modified for convenience as well as the red stripes with gold trim that ran down his legs. Over his shoulder he carried a large satchel, and the only weapons he carried was the heavy blaster pistol on his left hip and a small vibro-dagger in his right boot. Blackkon made his way to the entrance of the hanger, and to the customs checkpoint he knew to be just outside. They had already scanned the shuttles as they came down, the only weapons that registered were the personal sidearms of the crew.

The door opened as he approached, and Arthorn was the first to reach the inspection table, setting his duffel on the ground next to it and retrieving his blaster. Without any prompting from the planetary officials the human neatly pulled out the power pack, handed it to the nearest one, and resettled the pistol in it's holster. A bored guard gave no more than a cursory glance to Blackkon's satchel, seeing only an identical shirt to the one he wore on top. Without a second look he cleared the former Admiral and moved on to the next person in line.

As he walked away Arthorn had a lopsided grin on his face. He couldn't help but shake his head as he continued on. It was security like what he'd just passed through that had allowed Blackkon to take Serndipal for the New Alliance with nothing but the "Eclipse", his Blades, and the ground complement aboard. He was proud of that operation, he'd planned it from the start, and it had gone off flawlessly, with nary a casualty on either side.

Outside the hanger the "Eclipse"s crew broke up into singles or small groups. They were all on leave, as a ship they had chosen to visit Barab. There was supposed to be a shock-boxing tournament over the next few days, and Blackkon and his men always had an intrest in any type of fighting art.

Arthorn himself stayed on his own. He'd always been a bit of a loner, alternating between settings where everyone aboard a ship or fleet depended on him to wandering space or planetside alone. It balanced well he thought, he never had too many troubles.

While thinking to himself the human noticed he was passing the arena on his way to his hotel, and decided to scope out the seating before the first matches tommorow. On his way in a large group of Barabel boxers walked out, with of all things what appeared to be a somewhat battle-scarred human in thier midst. Blackkon thought that was odd, but dismissed it with a shrug. Odd, but not important yet.

MItz was escorted by the Barabel to the building. It was huge, a spiraling tower that reached up nearly four hundred meters. He stepped inside, the various Barabel that were practicing on the lower levels immediately came to attention. These were younge Barabel, not veterans of the Arena. They were still learning the lesson of the shock boxer. The barabel led him to the turbolift, riding up to the top floor. The turbo lift stopped.

"Please remit authorization for entrance to sanctum." The voice was feminine, but familiar. A retinal scanenr opened up from teh door. Mitz presented his eye to it, opening it wide as teh scanner performed its task.

"Authorization confirmed, welcome home master Dante." He stepped abck as teh door opened, eyes moving slowly about the room. Dante. That was his name. It sounded familiar, right even. He was home. He found a chair sitting, the Barabel watching him quietly.

"Thank you, my friends." He siad quietly to them, head still reeling.

"Master, the rest of teh adepts will want to meet with you again before the combat tomorrow evening. When should i arrange such a meeting for?"

"Tomorrow morning, sunrise." He spoke directly, voice strong.

"Very well, master."

They all bowed, turning towards the turbolift riding it down to the ground floor. They talked quietly amongst themselves, the conversation spreading across the building, and into the city itself. Within eight hours, all of the master shock boxers knew taht the master had returned. The greatest living shock boxer that Barab had seen in a hundred years had come home.

Thousands made journeys to the grand monaster, the place of training for the young boxers, the house that the master had built. They were ready to meet wih him before the tournament that evening.

While the information spread, Dante searcehd the quarters that they had left him in. It was a huge room, filled with artifacts and momentos. There was an old lightsaber, sitting on a rack, next to it were other implements of martial combat from thousands of different worlds, from teh Rodian throwing blades to a Gungan Electropole, to a long case containin both a sith sword and a lanavarok, the disk launcher that the ancient Sith lords used.

The most curious item however, was a cylinder of shining silver, 10 centimeters high and 3 centimeters in diameter. He held it in his hand, feeling the button resting against his fingers. He tapped the button gently, feeling the mechanism activate. it telescoped out, hollowing at the ends. it was a meter and a half long, he twirled the staff easily, remembering it as an extension of his own body. He knew this weapon intuitively, like he knew most weapons. He tapped the button again, returning it to its resting mode. He slid it on to his belt, sitting own at a data terminal.

He spent the next few hours going over the journals, trying to learn about himself....

Niox eased his new ship back to realpace and as the starlines turned into dots, the planet Barab was in the middle of his view screen. Niox had his beloved YT-2000 stolen from him just after offloading a shipment of Tibanna gas for a client. Luckiy for his payment he recieved a heavily modified Action IV transport. Still, he was not a happy man. The only good thing was that the fool was spot down by the spaceport authorities for unauthorized departure. However, that still resulted in the loss of his ship. Niox needed to vent, and whenever he needed to vent he came here, to Barab. Niox was an expert in almost all forms of unarmed combat, and while he was still a damn good shot, he still felt that there was no better feeling than ramming his fist into some cocky Barabel's face while shock boxing. Shock boxing... It was Niox's favourite of the many forms of unarmed combat he knew, though he rarely used it outside of matches. He was one of the few humands who could hold his own against a trained Barabel fighter. He could even beat most of them, but there were always exceptions.

As the ship continued toward Barab, one of hits droids squawked at him, "Master Niox, we are recieving a transmission from the planet."

"Very well, play it," Niox said

"Unidentified transport," the voice said, "please identify yourself or you will be fired upon..."

The landing was smooth... very smooth. Niox liked his new ship very much, although the 4 droids could get on his nerves after a while. Niox descended from the ship, strapping his blaster belt around his waist and made his way towards the shock boxing arena. "I want to sign up for some matches," he told the droid at the office, "The name's Niox."

"Very well sir," the droid replied as it typed something on a data pad, "your first match is tomorrow at 4 p.m."

"Thanks, droid," Niox snarled as he walked away. Would he ever have a human companion? Now he needed to find a place to stay.

OOC: Mitz, if I haven't talked to you by the time you read this, I need to talk to you.

IC: Blackkon's comlink chirped as he was leaving the arena, assured he knew the layout and would be able to find excellent seats tommorow. The pattern it chirped in told him it was on a secure frequency, and was text based. He pulled short of the outer doors and slipped into an alcove where he retrieved his datapad from one of his pockets. Arthron activated it and connected the comlink with a small plug. After fifteen seconds or so to achieve the encrypted channel, the message was sent through and began decrypting. That took another twenty seconds, and finally an icon appeared on the datapad screen, one that looked like a minature cargo crate.

Blackkon directed the pad to open the item, and it unfolded into a short text image with a few attached files of information. It seems a smuggler who had assisted some old friends of the former Admiral was on planet, seeking to compete in the tournament. "Interesting," Arthorn thought to himself. He'd have to keep watch on this human tommorow.

Before disconnecting and leaving he opened the two connecting files. The first had the name and vital statistics of the smuggler, the other was the blueprints to the ship Blackkon's friends had built him. Seems the smuggler had designed it himself. The career naval officer nodded his head in respect as he went over the ships statistics. A very competant designer, the completely redesigned Action IV Transport would serve as an excellent smuggling ship, or even a fair warship. Excellent.

With that thought the files were re-encrypted and the datapad and comlink put away. Slinging his bag back over his shoulder Arthorn passed through the outer arena doors and turned left, walking towards his nearby hotel. A part of him in the back of his mind hoped his men weren't getting in too much trouble.

Niox had wandered about the spaceport and surrounding area for a couple hours, seeing the sights and looking for a place to stay. A foolish Rodian tried to mug him in a back alley, but Niox put his unarmed combat to work. The rodian fell down gasping from Niox's first blow, a vicious strike to the throat. The rodian struggled for breath for a minute, and then collapsed dead. Niox searched the rodian's body and took 2 power packs, a blaster and a few credits from him. Niox never killed for money, but if he had to kill he might as well profit from it. He was never very sure as to where his next meal was coming from. He decided to sleep on his ship in his rather luxorious captain's quarters. The Disrespect was his pride and joy, completely designed himself, and quite a feat of engineering to have that many modifications and have it function consistently. He entered the ship and turned to one of the droids, "How are the systems diagnostics going?" he asked.

"Quite well sir, all systems scanned so far are running at peak effeciency."

"Excellent, continue running diagnostics. I will be in my quarters. Wake me if anything odd comes up, or if anyone comes within 15 meters of the ship."

As Niox strode towards his quarters he heard the droid reply, "Very well, master. Enjoy your rest."

The Day cycled, darkness replacing light only to be replaced again. Dante woke early, dressing in the light gray robe that was laid out for him. He meditated for nearly an hour, his body rejevunated from his ordeal at Teta, his face still showing the scars from it. His door opened, two of the barabel coming into his room.

"Master, there is a situation. A human has entered the matches for today."

"Refund his money, and give him appropriate seats in the front rows. Today is a holiday for the Barabel, no others should interfere with that. In that light, i will not box this day either."

"Yes, Master." One of the Barabel bowed, exiting the room and making the arrangements. The other stood their, waiting for Dante to finish his meditation. After he finished, Dante rose to his feet, the Barabel escorting him to the lift tube, riding down to the ground floor. They moved to a large amphitheatre, nearly a thousand barabel inside all ready, all of them master shockboxers. Nearly six thousand were waiting around outside, some coming in the retinues of other masters, some just warriors seeking an oppurtunity.

"Greetings assembled warriors. It has been a great span since last we met in this fashion. I have come back, to test you, to see who is the greatest, and as such, worthy of this." The necklace came to his hand, not the necklace that he wore, but one that had been in his belongings in the top of the Monastery.

All of the shockboxers knew what it was, it was the necklace worn by Khan, the first of the shockboxers, The one who had established the art so very long ago. He who bore the necklace was the best. Dante had worn it for nearly thirty years, and he was relinquishing it, this was truly a good time to be a barabel.

"The tournament has all ready been established, the first matches are set for tomorrow. You have all been slotted. However, as Khan was a commoner before he rose to his position, I am offering sixteen wild slots for those outside. They will battle today."

"Master Dante, why are you doing this?" A voice from the crowd called. "Are you leaving us?"

"No, i am not leaving, but i think it is time that the Barabel be their own champions in the cosmos. Time for you to stand on your own feet. I will teach and advise as i always have."

The masters bowed, turning as they exited the building, moving to the largest shockboxing site on the face of the planet, the combats beginning almost immediately. Time was short, and the sixteen had to be chosen before the rise of the sun.

The day passed into night, the battle fierce. In the end, the sixteen were chosen, representing many different groups of people. Two priests had earned slots, as well as two of the hunters from the defense forces. Six had come from the ranks of the young warriors, houseless men who were banking their careers on this tournament. The remaining six had been chosen from among the noble families of the Barab, the alphas of various groups.

They healed in Bacta tanks for the time they could, awakened early by the masters. They stood assembled, over a thousand strong. Their entourages came as well, boosting the numebr of people in the chambers to over six thousand. They assembled in the courtyard, moving to the arena. The brackets had been randomized and predetermined by a computer.

The observers filtered in, moving to their seats quietly, mostly barabel in the crowd, females and young. They had come to see their fathers or brothers or uncles or nephews try to become a legend. There were a few outalnders, mostly humans, but there were Mon Cals in teh crowd, something that did not sit well with Dante.

The Mon Cals had taken control of this world, something that did not seem right. The barabels were more than capable of taking care of themselves, and it seemed that trickery had been necessary to convince the Barabel to join this alliance. That was not his concern at the second, however, he looked at the assembled warriors, watching the spark, the feel of brothers in arms, brought together for a single purpose. He was happy with the way this went.

"Assembled warriors, i bid you welcome to the battle for Khan."

He bowed to all, they returned it.

"Take your seats, my good friends, the day has been ordered, at your seats you will find the order of the day, you have fifteen minutes to stretch before the first match begins. I bid you to fight well this day, for the Khan himself watches these battles, seeing who is worthy to carry his name." He sat watching the warriors move to their stations, stretching, preparing for their matches.

Niox cursed when he heard the news. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T FIGHT?!" he yelled, "I CAME ALL THIS WAY TO COMPETE AND NOW I CAN'T?!" It took all of Niox's restraint not to punch the man off the ram of his ship. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. Then he recieved his front row tickets and began to smile. "Very well," Niox said, "now go so I can prepare for this event." Niox watched the man leave the hangar, then grabbed his blaster belt and strode down the ramp.

He arrived just as people started to enter, and took his seat. Someone called out that the match would begin in fifteen minutes, but Niox wanted to ensure that no one tried to take his seat.