PM to join [Anthonius Fighter's Pit] Child's Play (Ellenwyn)

[Kaie]

61st of Summer, 516 A.V.
Early Morning


Jeida's back struck the sands of the arena with enough ferocity to knock wind from her lungs and kick up a storm of dirt in her wake. A whistle sounded from a group of fighters standing by a nearby set of benches, one of them visibly cringing at the violent impact. An honorable sparring partner would've backed off after landing such a solid front kick to their opponent's chest, giving them a few ticks to recover and return to their feet before resuming the match. The warrior casting a shadow over the downed young woman was far from the moral standing of a knight. Yet Jeida was a warrior, too. Even as she wheezed for air, she could feel the blessing on her flesh seeking to resist the other Myrian marked by Myri storming toward her grounded figure.

"You'e going to let yourself be humiliated in front of deyhan? Get up, Skurak!" Kaie growled in their brutal native tongue. Hatred and frustration riddled Jeida's features and she scrambled breathlessly to her feet with grit teeth. She lifted her guard just in time to block the incoming punch directly for her face. Her older sister would not permit her to celebrate even that small evasion, for the next came in a sharp hook that rounded her defenses to clip part of her jaw. Jeida staggered back with a defiant hiss. Then she surged forth with the aid of Myri's mark upon her flesh, swinging madly in revenge only to be swiftly punished by a counter that swiveled her face-first to the earth with her hand wrenched painfully behind her back.

"Ruros' cock!" the younger of the two sister's snarled from her defeated position, finally submitting with a fist tapping the sand. Kaie released her and stepped back. Jeida rolled over and stared up toward the great expanse of blue above, one tan-smeared cheek attesting to its previous resting place on the earth. Kaie extended her hand downward, but her stubborn counterpart smacked it away so that she could stand on her own accord. The victorious Myrian rolled her eyes and slowly shook her head. "You have to start using your petching head! Did you learn nothing in the Training Yards?" Kaie scolded her. Jeida murmured a slew of obscenities and spat into the dust, rotating her abused shoulder.

Just before Kaie started for the fresh water trough near the benches, one of the shirtless men that had been spectating launched from his seat. "Oi, savage girl!" The Myrian arched a brow at him as he approached. This should be petching good, she thought as she observed some of his friends snickering from the sidelines. "Must be easy to look like hot shyke pulling each other's hair. How about a real match-up? I bet I can put you on your back instead." More snickering followed, and Jeida appeared at her side in an instant. Kaie stopped her advance with an extended forearm. "My sister could knock your dick in the dirt," She responded to the man in perfect Common flavored with her accent. The humor in the man's face quickly perished. "But I'll give you a shot at impressing your boys."

The challenger turned back toward his friends with a wink despite Kaie's verbal jabs. Jeida knew little Common, but understood enough to let a smirk cross her expression. She placed a reassuring hand on Kaie's shoulder before shoving her way past the protective arm to approach the bench. "Ten Gold your small cocked friend not last chime!" she challenged the lot of them, much to their surprise. Boisterous laughing erupted but they humored the foreigner nonetheless with Mizas thrown upon the ground. "Don't worry, love. I'll be gentle."

Kaie circled about him, gaze turning cold. She could feel the gnosis on the back of her neck beginning its slow, motivating burn upon her flesh as they both settled into their stances. "Myri, guide my fists true so I can knock this arrogant deyhan on his ass where he belongs...." Meanwhile, one of the men spectating shouted a final call for any in the audience willing to throw a bet down before the violence commenced.

[Ellenwyn]

She didn't belong here, and the others could sense it. She felt like the lamb in the lion's den, sitting alone on her bench with a familiar yet very foreign sword clutched tightly in a pale grip. The blade had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember - the trusted weapon of an Endal of the north, stolen on a whim by a daughter fleeing home. Her current tactic was to be as small as possible, and so far it was working. She could feel the occasional pair of eyes on her face from the men crowding the wall a few yards away. Each time the hairs stood on the back of her neck she would freeze, gazing at the dirt like some kind of fainting goat minus falling, or playing dead during a bear attack.

Ellen didn't have the balls to ask for help, nor the money to pay for a lesson. Her pockets were collecting dust though she was due to be paid by some farmers down at the Outpost. The only reason the redhead had come here today - her first visit in the five years she'd lived in the city - was mostly for fear of being eaten on the road in a few days time, or worse, taken by slavers. As a veterinarian her skills, lacking as they were, would be helpful during the annual trade with Endrykas. Horses were to be exchanged - possibly other animals as well - and someone needed to know what to look for in healthy stock. But she couldn't swing a sword to save her life. Or anyone else's life for that matter. On the road, Ellen was a liability, and that simply wouldn't do.

Everyone else at the Pit was of a different breed than the lonesome redhead. The shouts and ring of swords was an unfamiliar thing, so much so that Ellen was on the verge of leaving when a pair of dark-skinned women tumbled by. One of them slid across the ground, knocked over by an expertly placed boot to the chest. A ring of appreciation sounded from the men nearby, and the other woman shouted something in a harsh foreign tongue, stalking after her prey like a hunting cat.

They were dressed like wild, foreign creatures out of a bedtime story, and moved with such speed and ferocity that she wondered how bones kept from breaking under the force of their attacks. The one who'd been grounded - she appeared younger - was back on her feet then down in the dirt again so quickly that to Ellen's untrained eyes, it was hard to see what had actually happened. And then it was over. She didn't realize she'd been watching so intently, leaning forward on her knees with lips parted in excitement, and as one of the men shouted at the woman who'd won, it snapped her back to attention.

The redhead watched from her perch on the fringes like a curious bird, intent on the drama unfolding in front of her. The man, he was a brute. That was obvious. Possibly compensating for a small penis as well, she thought, but couldn't be sure. After all, who challenges a woman like that and makes a joke of it? She doubted his self-esteem matched his attitude. It was the dark-skinned warrior that really held her attention. She spoke Common, but the accent was untraceable to Ellenwyn's ears. Myrians were rare this far south after all, and she hadn't even concluded that they were such. The two of them looked quite fierce though. standing side by side, defiant against their challenger.

She couldn't help but snicker at the foreigners' off-handed jabs at the man's unmentionables - they clearly had the same idea she did - and one of his friends sitting back sent a glare her way. It was enough to get her on her feet. Not only was Ellen motivated by the other womens' attitudes, but she was in awe of them. It overwhelmed her previous desire to be as inconspicuous as possible. Though she had no gold, the redhead had confidence in the dark-skinned spitfire and one thing of value. With a loud clatter, she tossed her mother's talon sword onto the scattered pile of mizas. It rattled in its curved scabbard and the hilt sent a fractal spray of light across the dirt.

"I bet the sword she wins. She loses, you take it." The men smiled from their seats and a few openly guffawed. One even threw more money into the pile and patted his knee.

"Do you come with it? Already got myself a blade, but I could use a nice pair of tits to rub on." Ellen's face twisted with a disgusted scowl and she turned away, marching pointedly back to her bench to sit alone, though her retreat was followed by catcalls and jeers.

"Kick his ass!" she shouted at the foreign woman, cheeks pink with anger. In the back of her mind, she really hoped she didn't just lost that sword.

[Kaie]

Among the small crowd of fighters weighing in on the battle about to ensue, Jeida's brow rose as she eyed the talon sword thrust atop the pile of coins. Her dark eyes turned to find the bold newcomer with a wild grin. "Goddess Queen, remind these barbarian fools why we fuel their nightmares," the younger sister murmured the prayer in her mother tongue, spitting in the direction of the vile creature patting his knee. It was likely only the two women in that small spectating crowd had dared to place their valuables' upon the fate of Kaie. The other men, appearing to be well acquainted with the Myrian's opponent, hollered encouragement his way and cursed the sharp-tongued savage. Their voices echoed about the Anthonius Pit. It was as though the Myrian fighter was somehow too far away to hear them.

Kaie could still feel it like an old wound that wouldn't close. She could distract herself with Jeida's pilgrimage, test her endurance in the pits, and drown herself in ale at the end of the day when all else failed. The feeling refused to give, choosing to remain and torture a woman unwilling to do what it truly took to end her pain. She knew not where he was nor why he had left her side, but she could feel his suffering and how he longed to return to her. His anxiety, sadness, frustration, and anger existed beside her own emotions. Thus was the burden of her bond to Skyard. Their short time spent together had been so singularly transformative, Kaie hadn't grasped the fact that her ties to the Kelvic indeed had drawbacks to balance the euphoria.

With a grunt the large man charged forth. His advance did not stir the savage. Her lip curled back to reveal bared teeth, eyes on fire as a dangerous cocktail of shared emotions despite distance swirled within. Myri's blessing offered a motivating burn upon the back of her neck. The Myrian didn't react until it appeared to be the last tick. In a flash her right hand clasped the man's right shoulder while her left caught his left arm. Then, with a rapid adjustment of her feet and twist of her body, her opponent was thrown over her hip and back thrust upon the firm sand. The execution of the throw led to neither rest or recovery. Instead the man found the Myrian quickly mounting his hips, sitting low with knees to either side of his body to impede an easy escape.

Bronze-skinned fists rained down upon the man in such rapid succession, it was all he could do to raise his hands to protect himself. It was almost cruel. When the Syliran raised his guard to protect his face, she doled out punishment with calloused knuckles to his body. When he adjusted, the Myrian was quick to remind him why he had his hands up in the first place. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth. Bruises swelled upon his features and darkened tender flesh upon his torso. With a shriek Kaie seized his head in both hands, lifting the bewildered fighter up only to smash her forehead into his face. He dropped like a stone back down to the sand. A hush fell upon the male spectators, whose cheers had managed to become deafening with instructions to their friend just ticks prior.

Kaie shoved herself up off the man with a feral growl. She turned toward the benches to find Jeida on her feet with a a broad grin, fist thrust to the air with an exuberant whoop. The younger sister then turned to those that had opposed her in the wager with a laugh that nearly doubled her over. "Your champion last long as virgin boy bedding woman for first time!" With reluctant grumbling and a serving of obscenities, winnings were divided for the few that stood behind the Myrian combatant. Meanwhile, a pair of men rose from the bench to drag their bloody, unconscious friend toward the water troughs. Kaie wandered toward the group while Jeida was busy jeering the unlucky while gathering her winnings.

The elder sister gestured toward Ellenwyn. "You wagered a good sword on a petty pit fight. Why?" Blades among barbarian women were not a common sight in Syliras. The woman before her appeared to be neither a knight or particularly rich, leading her to believe that sword was the only one in her possession. It seemed silly to unnecessarily risk the weapon. Kaie could never bear to part with her own gladius. Then again, it also had great sentimental value regardless.