Story: Single Combat

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After three years of hard fighting, the Zyrothans and the Raptor sapiens made a pact. The Alpha Emperor of the Raptors will duel with the Zyrothan champion Okor Zasrod, a battle-hardened warrior who has slain many a Xenopteran on Scarab.

Part 1

The Zyrothan guard watched the rift carefully. The Raptors had not assaulted their perimeter for days; perhaps they had wisened up and left Yeseg. Or maybe they were planning a surprise attack.

Suddenly, about twenty Raptors came through the rift. One of them was dressed in ornate robes, and was flanked by a large number of guards. They were all carrying some form of banner, and they were unarmed.

The Zyrothan quickly grabbed a radio transmitter, and called General Biklon. This called for authorities.


"So, let me get this straight: you're challenging our greatest warrior to a duel, in order to decide the outcome of this war?" General Biklon was surprised.

The Raptor hissed and growled. An Aian translator device sprung into action: "Yes. I, the Alpha Emperor of the Raptor Empire, shall be my people's champion. Will you represent your people?"

Biklon thought for a moment. Although he would love a chance to fight the Raptor Emperor in person, this was too important for him to handle. He was not the greatest warrior of the Zyrothans; that title belonged to Okor.

"Let me talk to my superiors," Biklon said finally. "They'll decide this. Don't worry. I'm pretty sure they'll agree with your proposal."

Part 2

Okor lay back within his hall, being fed spiced pulp from the Black Ezafes. He smiled at the glass roof, and thought back over his many victories, the trophies that hung around the walls.

The door burst open. "Okor, you are needed by the government. Please come to the City Colosseum at 34:10."

Okor got up, and grabbed the messenger by the throat. "Why should I do what the pathetic Coalition wants? I'm a man of the old order."

The smaller Zyrothan gulped, looking down Okor's twisting muscles and the scars that marked his hide. "Combat." He choked.

Okor let go, and the emissary slumped to the floor.

"With who?" He seemed more interested.

Still rubbing his throat, the herald spoke hoarsely. "One of the raptors. From the rift. Their best warrior."

"Aha. Okay, I will come."


The Colisseum had been built over 300 years ago, originally to settle family feuds. It had fallen into disrepair lately, as the modern Zyrothan settled their differences with words.

Okor sneered at how pathetic most of his kind was. He'd met some honourable Zyrothans, but most had become disillusioned with life on Yeseg and joined companies or become mercs.

He entered the preparatory chamber, and around him were the majority of the ministers. His eyes were fixed forwards, refusing to acknowledge them.

General Biklon stepped in front of him. "Look at me, Okor."

Okor looked down contemptuously.

"This isn't about politics. I didn't take up this job for the modern Zyrothan. I did it because the entire Zyrothan race has a reputation."

Okor was slightly surprised, but he didn't show it. "Just show me who to kill."

Biklon ground his teeth. "This way. Just don't let us down."

Okor whipped round. "I am the greatest Zyrothan alive! I took down an entire Xenopteran hive with only my bare hands! I have slain more mercs than I can count! And you think... i could LOSE?"

He turned away again, and marched into the arena


The Colosseum was packed. A special box had been set up for the Raptors, and their Emperor stood, waiting, in the centre of the sand.

He hissed loudly. "You are the best of your kind?"

Okor snorted. "A child could slay you."

The Alpha Emperor wasn't used to insults, but he smiled calmly. Rows of razor-sharp teeth glinted in the Yesegian air.

"Let us fight."

A trumarp was struck in the orchestral box, and a low note of blew through the pipes.

Okor and the Emperor circled each other, slowly.

Okor's back left leg was slightly stubbed. His left arm must be weaker with that scarring. A glint betrayed one of his eyes was false.

The Emperor was in prime condition, but Okor still found weaknesses. His limbs were long, for quick strikes, and he would use hit and run attacks. That claw, if avoided, would slow the Alpha down.

Then, the Emperor charged. He was blindingly fast, but Okor grabbed the sweeping leg and slammed it into the ground.

He stabbed his claws at the Emperor's neck, but it wasn't there.

The Alpha rose up, taller, and snarled.

Okor stepped forwards, and rose up on his hind legs. "Come get me."

The Emperor leapt, and slashed down with his right leg. Okor stepped back, but a line of bright red was now visible on his chest.

He dabbed the blood, but noticed that the Emperor's slammed left leg was bleeding too.

Both warriors had learnt something in their attacks. Okor now began to push to his right, but the Emperor circled slowly.

Okor charged this time. The Emperor easily sidestepped, and a claw came down towards the Zyrothan.

He was ready. He kicked with his left leg, straight into the Alpha's soft belly feathers. Three red marks welled up.

The crowd sighed, and someone called out Okor's name. The raptors were silent.

Now, the Emperor had a plan. He slashed at Okor's flank again, and was parried. He leapt straight over the Zyrothan's back, and scored several marks in his back.

Now, they were almost touching. Okor punched, but the Emperor dodged. Now a sicke-claw slashed, and Okor parried it.

They punched and swiped, bruising and tiring each other.

The Emperor disengaged.

He hung back slightly, forcing Okor to come to him.

Okor charged forwards, claws outstretched. "Rrrrraaarrrgh!"

He missed, and the crowd sighed again. The Emperor looked at him with satisfaction.

A slopping sound could be heard, then Okor's right hand fell off, severed by an invisible slash during his charge.

He gaped at the red stump, which leaked out thick, red liquid onto the dirt. The bone was shattered.

Okor roared in anger and pain, and grabbed at the Emperor. He had him by the belly, and twisted.

Now the Alpha cried out, and lines of blood criss-crossed his feathers. His chest had been bared, and now the scales could be clearly seen, light and vulnerable.

Okor knew that, even if he won, he'd die of blood loss. So he turned again, and marched resolutely forwards.

With a swipe of his left hand, he threw the Emperor down. Flailing like a madman, he struck and struck the Raptor with legs and arm, pulling a leg out from its socket.

The Emperor wriggled from his hold, and crawled along the dirt, trailing gore.

Okor stomped towards him, and grimaced over the pain. He reached out... and a sickle swiped through his headfrill.

Okor's skull was opened, and his white brain spilled out. Braindead, he fell down.

Moans came throughout the audience.

Two armoured Raptors ran out, and lifted their now broken Emperor. They looked at his shattered hip and realised what this meant for his position.

The Emperor signalled for silence with his curved claws. A translator flicked on.

"Well done, Zyrothans. You have shown power. The war ends here."