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Gladiator Prime

Gornath Prime was a swamp-choked planet where survival was a brutal contest against both nature and its inhabitants. Towering jungle canopies concealed carnivorous plants, and the air buzzed with venomous insects.

The planet’s dominant species, the Gornathi, were towering reptilian beings, their scaled bodies evolved to endure the planet’s many dangers.

Among them was Zarek Thorr, born into one of the few Gornathi clans that lived in relative stability. But stability on Gornath Prime was fleeting. At the age of twelve, Zarek’s village was razed by slavers who captured the strongest young Gornathi to sell as gladiators across the galaxy. Zarek’s early life of hunting and brawling in the swamps served him well in captivity. By the time he reached his teens, he had already made a name for himself in the blood-soaked arenas of Sethoran Station, fighting for the amusement of interstellar elites.


The arenas of Sethoran Station were no place for mercy. Zarek, driven by a mix of rage and a primal instinct to survive, fought with unparalleled ferocity. Each battle earned him credits, which he saved meticulously, hoping to one day buy his freedom.

Zarek’s opponents came in all shapes and sizes: hulking cyborgs with bladed limbs, tentacled monstrosities from water worlds, and telekinetic warriors from distant nebulae. He adapted quickly, learning their weaknesses and exploiting them with the brute strength of his massive claws and his sharp mind.

But the victories took a toll. Zarek became known for his grim demeanor, his silent refusal to celebrate after fights. Deep down, he despised the senseless violence of the arena. He killed because he had to, not because he wanted to.


Zarek’s breaking point came during a championship bout on Sethoran Station. His opponent was a younger Gornathi, a survivor from a neighboring clan he had known as a child. The fight, orchestrated to draw maximum profit from the audience, forced Zarek to choose between killing one of his own or dying in the arena.

The younger Gornathi begged for mercy, but the arena masters left Zarek no choice. With a heavy heart, he delivered the killing blow, his roar of anguish echoing across the stadium. That night, Zarek vowed to escape the arenas and never fight for the amusement of others again.


Years later, Zarek’s reputation had spread across the galaxy. Now a free gladiator, he fought only on his own terms, taking contracts to survive but never indulging in the cruelty that had once defined his captors. On Haven Station, a notorious hub for smugglers and mercenaries, Zarek found himself cornered by a trio of assassins sent to collect an old debt. The assassins a four-armed Theridan slicer, a cybernetically enhanced human, and a venomous Volaraxian beastmaster surrounded him in the station’s dingy underground arena.

Despite the odds, Zarek fought with a methodical fury. The Theridan’s extra limbs were no match for Zarek’s sheer strength, as he ripped two arms from its torso with a deafening roar. The cyber-human’s advanced reflexes failed to protect him from Zarek’s tail, which slammed him into the arena wall. The Volaraxian’s venomous pets lunged at Zarek, only to be crushed under his massive claws.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Zarek remained silent, his expression grim.

To him, this was no victory it was survival, nothing more.


Unbeknownst to Zarek, two figures had been watching the fight from the shadows: Drake Vance, a cocky smuggler with a penchant for trouble, and Tyko Rinn, his reckless pilot. They had arrived on Haven Station to negotiate a weapons deal, only to find themselves caught in a double-cross. The commotion from Zarek’s fight had provided the perfect distraction for their escape.


After the fight, Drake approached Zarek in the station’s seedy cantina.

“Nice moves out there,”

Drake said, sliding a drink across the table.

“Ever think about putting those claws to better use?”


Zarek eyed the human suspiciously.

“And what would that be?”


“Not dying alone in some backwater arena, for starters,”

Tyko quipped, grinning.


Drake leaned closer.

“We’re building a crew. Smart, resourceful, and most importantly,

alive. You’re wasted in this pit.”


Zarek’s initial response was silence. But as he looked at the two humans, he saw something different an offer of camaraderie, not exploitation.

Zarek agreed to join Drake and Tyko on one condition: no senseless killing.


“I’ve spent too long fighting for men who don’t value life,”

Zarek growled.

“If I join you, it will be for something greater than credits.”


Drake extended his hand.

“Deal. Besides, we’re not big on pointless bloodshed either. Too messy.”


Over the following months, Zarek became an integral part of their crew. His strength and tactical mind made him a formidable ally, while his stoic demeanor often served as a counterbalance to Tyko’s recklessness and Drake’s bravado.


The trio’s bond deepened as they took on increasingly dangerous jobs, from dismantling pirate fleets to protecting vulnerable colonies. Though they were mercenaries, their unspoken rule of siding with the underdog set them apart from the galaxy’s countless rogues and outlaws.

Zarek, once a lone gladiator driven by survival, found a sense of purpose among his new crew. For the first time, he fought not out of necessity, but out of loyalty to something greater a family of misfits who shared his disdain for injustice.


“You’re not bad for a couple of softskins,”

Zarek once told Drake and Tyko after a particularly grueling mission.


“And you’re not bad for a walking tank,”

Tyko shot back with a grin.


Though Zarek’s past as a gladiator haunted him, he wore his scars with pride.

He had survived the arenas of Gornath Prime and the treachery of the galaxy, emerging stronger and wiser.

With Drake and Tyko by his side, Zarek Thorr found more than survival he found redemption, purpose, and the belief that even in a galaxy filled with chaos, honor could still guide a warrior’s path.

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