(Flashback) The Final Round [Solo]

[Faylon Kwanda]

63rd of Spring, 505AV [Sweat was dripping off his brow as he circled to his opponents left. Dodging a combination of punches and blocking another straight with his forearms. He was aching from his arms all the way down to his midsection and he already knew that when this was done he would wear the bruises for weeks to come in the future. Digging deep into his reserves he would work his jab against the grizzled fighter that was stalking him. One two. One two. It was all he could do to keep him at a distance while hoping to hear a bell signifying the end of the round.] [When his fists collided with the other man’s face or forehead he’d see him snap backwards briefly before recovering. His mouth had been bloodied and his nose looked swollen, maybe even broken, but it hadn’t been enough to put the man on his back. Pumping out a straight right he’d hit one more time before covering up as his opponent unleashed a flurry of blows that caused him to drop into the half crouch position and defend himself as best he could. The sound of the bell ringing, signifying the end of the round, was one of the sweetest things he had ever heard. Sweet mercy if there ever was such a beautiful thing.] [Walking back to his corner Faylon looked a bit shaky on his feet. He was faster than the man he was facing but getting hit was starting to take its toll on him. As he neared the bench one of his corner men put out for him Faylon would turn around and back up into it before taking a seat with arms resting across his thighs and his head down. He felt the cool embrace of water as a sponge was squeezed over his head and looking up he’d see a cloth as it came closer to him and began to wipe away the blood he had on his body. Dabbing underneath his nose to clean the blood away Faylon would hear a voice telling him...”You’ve got two more rounds in there! Hang on and don’t let him bully you around!”...but it all seemed so irrelevant at the moment.] [By the time the next bell rang the blood leaking from his nose had stopped and Faylon was feeling a little more refreshed even though he was still sore. Cheering from the crowd that had gathered around the circle used as a ring brought him back to his feet. Amateur Boxing competitions like this often brought a bit of a crowd and today was no exception. It had started earlier in the morning but they were already on to round two of three, there had been eight competitors in the beginning and now it was down to only four. Each match was a total of three rounds.] [Proceeding into the center of the ring Faylon would watch his opponent as the both of them began to circle around one another. As usual Faylon would open up with stinging jabs that peppered off the man’s face but didn’t appear to do much damage. This man was obviously an ox. No matter how many times Faylon hit him in the face he kept pushing forward and driving Faylon back just a little bit more, taking jabs as he did but not seeming to care, then he would attack. Without warning the man would start throwing hooks and crosses of his own. Faylon would cover up as best he could but no matter how many of the hard shots he blocked some would always get through.] [He was groaning when one blow landed in his midsection and made him stumble backwards. When he recovered he was at the edge of the circle, almost outside of it, and his opponent smelled blood. He saw just in time and was able to slip the overhand right that was about to crash into his skull before countering with a hard right cross of his own that sent his man wobbling. Finally a bit of success. Short lived success though as the man was turning around, apparently only irritated by the blow, and stalking ahead again soon afterwards.] [Watching his advance Faylon would begin to bob his head from side to side and when the man through a straight Faylon leaned away and drilled an uppercut up underneath his arms, catching him under the jaw and rattling his teeth. Now the tables seemed to have turned as Faylon moved forward to capitalize and started pumping out jabs and straights again. Always a one, two combination. Maybe he would try to string together three blows occasionally but only when he felt confident they would land without overly endangering him.] [Advancing on his opponent Faylon watched him cover up, it was his turn to go on the defensive, while he brought the attack. Now the tables had turned somewhat but before Faylon could press his advantage the man was given the same reprieve Faylon himself had been offered as the bell rang signifying the end of the third round causing both men to turn back to their respective corners.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Back in his corner as the cool water of the sponge trickled down his face again Faylon closed his eyes, his side felt like it was on fire from being hit during the last round, he felt the pain coursing through him there like liquid fire. Inhaling a deep breath he’d grit his teeth while hearing the same voice as the last time calling to him and saying...”Looking good out there! You won that round but you have to put him away this round!”...and with a bit of reservation Faylon, whose teeth were gritting together, would nod and grunt that he understood. As the last bits of blood were being wiped away from his mouth with the cloth he’d hear the bell sound again and he stood from his bench before marching back into the circle one last time.] [As he moved into the circle again Faylon would hold out his fist and touch knuckles with his opponent in a show of sportsmanship. There was no ill will between these two men despite their mutual opposition of one another in this match. After the exchange of respect both of them were all business again though. Circling one another as was a norm during the beginnings of every round the feeling out process was much shorter this time. Faylon knew that he didn’t want to stand toe to toe with the man, who was stockier than him, but he could see by the look on his opponents face that he was starting to gas which meant that he had been wearing him down.] [Engaging quickly this time Faylon would snap out a straight right that passed through his opponents defence and smashed into his forehead driving him backwards. Apparently the man hadn’t been expecting the quick movement or was just to gassed now to be able to react in time. Then Faylon was moving inside again trying to hook his opponents head but he received a counterpunch for his trouble and backed off, his mouth sore and bloody around its corner, realizing he couldn’t come in with such a blatant tactic.] [He would have to lure the man in and cause him to open up if he wanted to get results.] [Backpedalling after the counterpunch Faylon would make it seem as though he was hurt, a lot more than he was anyways, and going on the defensive which caused his opponent to follow. Maybe not the best tactic but he had to try. As the man came in Faylon, feigning his state, raised his arms to block the blows that were thrown out. Jabs came first as the man was hesitant to commit and then one or two shots at the body afterwards but Faylon managed to weave out of the way of those. He didn’t want to take damage though he would if it was necessary.] [Finally after following him around the circle as he weaved out of the way the man would open up another overhand blow meant to pass over Faylon’s guard which is exactly the moment that Faylon had been waiting for. Slipping to the side Faylon would let the overhand blow pass over his shoulder while delivering a heavy fist to his opponents stomach. One, two the combination went as he drilled a blow to the body and then followed with another to the kidney area. Rabbit punching the man with obvious effect as he went. When it came to attack the body Faylon was relentless, especially when he was winding his opponent, and hammer fist after fist towards the man he’d wait until he dropped his arms to defend himself before finishing with a hard cross across his jaw. Knocking the man away from him and onto his back as the blow turned his head to one side and finished him.] [He might not have been unconscious on the ground but he didn’t respond for long enough that Faylon was declared the winner and raising his arms he would accept the applause and cheers from several in the crowd. Moving over to his downed opponent Faylon would help him back to his feet too, both men congratulating the other on a well fought match, before separating as Faylon was surrounded by several men who had been in his corner and offered him slaps on the back as a well done.] [When everything was settled down it was announced that Faylon would move on to the final round which would be held in several hours time. His opponent had yet to be decided but would need to rest after his match as well. While he was waiting Faylon would retire to a warm cot where he could rest for awhile, maybe in even sleep for a bell or two, and prepare for the next round of fighting.] [It was going to be a long day yet.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Earlier in the day....] [Before the amateur contest had begun the day had been very similar to many others. Faylon had awoken in the house he still shared with his father. The man was older now but still worked as a Blacksmith for Denval, he had become more apt in his trade and ascended in expertise though to look at him he seemed to have aged several years more than was the reality. Faylon and his father continued to maintain a quiet relationship with one another but unlike when he was younger Faylon had taken on many more on the duties around the household.] [It was not an odd thing for him to wake up earlier in the morning, like today, and cook a breakfast for the both of them. Faylon was not a good cook though. It never seemed to matter that the food was burnt or a bit runny though, he and his father would laugh it off as though the attempt had been some of joke played on them both of them. Today it was eggs and strips of meat that Faylon had prepared. Cooked in a pan over the hearth fire in one corner of the small residence.] [Preparing the eggs first he’d fry and scramble them in a pan over the fire until they started to cook. Originally Faylon had wanted to cook them whole but when he broke them while trying to flip them over he decided to just scramble the whole lot of them. They were still a bit soggy but edible and no one in this household would complain about it. Next he took a knife and a shank of meat that he’d cut thin strips off of. Not that difficult really, anyone could hold a knife and cut with one but what was a little harder was ensuring all the strips of meat were the same consistency and when it came to that Faylon wasn’t quite as successful. Using the pan again Faylon would cook the meat and turn it with a fork, snapping his hand backwards once or twice when grease sizzled and popped at him, when he was done the bacon was burnt and crispy.] [Breakfast was eaten when together. Scrambled and somewhat soggy eggs with a side of what looked like crunchy, burnt strips of bacon. Not the greatest but it could have been worse, he could have tried to make porridge or something like that.] [After the meal was complete Faylon went outside to finish some work around their home. He’d take the Axe with him and chop some wood. Nothing to serious today being as he didn’t want to strain himself before the competition later on in the day. He’d only cut about twenty blocks in half. It was a simple repetition as always of standing a piece of wood on the chopping block and then taking his axe and raising it above his head before bringing it down to break the block of wood in two. Well built and accustomed to the movements of the axe when it came to woodcutting Faylon could usually chop most blocks of wood in half with a single blow, two at the most if it was a thick or stubborn piece.] [When he finished Faylon would take the axe back inside and set it close to the door so that he knew where it was the next morning and then he’d go back to start taking the wood. Packing it inside he’d set much of it next to the hearth so that they could keep the fire going and place the rest in the wood pile outside, keeping it stocked and ready year round for when rain made the weather cold or winter set in. Around Denval Faylon had always thought that spring was a little dreary and that winter lasted a bit longer than it should have and brought cold weather a bit sooner.] [Bidding his father farewell when he finished his morning routine Faylon left and went for a run through the streets of Denval and down by the docks. He didn’t run often but he liked to feel the blood pumping through himself on occasion and feel the burn in his calves as he moved through the streets. It didn’t take long for his muscles to tense but it helped that he was in good physical condition and that he worked out regularly to build his strength and a bit of cardio.] [All of it the run, the work and the breakfast took him close to the start of the amateur competition and as he finished jogging on the docks he’d stop and stare out across the ocean, looking high at the sun and how it blazed in the air overhead, before turning back around and moving in the direction he had come from. He was ready for this or so he liked to tell himself and with that thought on his mind he made his way towards the venue.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Waking up on the bed of straw he had found Faylon yawned and brought a hand to his face which was still throbbing after his precious match, he must have looked like he had been beaten and badly even though he came out the winner, before telling himself that he had to get up and move back out to the circle where they would announce the final match. Crawling off the bed of straw Faylon would roll and climb onto his feet before moving out of where he slept and into the light, it wasn’t far from the circle where the competition was occurring so he wouldn’t have to move to far before he arrived. Even at a short distance he could hear a few cheers from the crowd signifying the last match was getting ready to be announced.] [Walking closer to the circle once he arrived several people were slapping him on the shoulders as he moved through the crowd and out towards where the match would take place while he was met with the men that were in his corner. Once he was there Faylon realized he hadn’t seen Brock all day and laughing briefly he remembered that the men had been sent to do some labour on the road today and was likely kicking himself for being unable to attend. He wished his friend could be here though whether he won or lost, it was mostly a matter of enjoying the louder mans support, but he didn’t dwell on the thought long as he moved into the circle.] [Across from him another man stepped out of the crowd. He was roughly the same height as Faylon and maybe a few pounds heavier but wearing only trunks he’d likely cut out of trousers it was easy to see the corded muscle that crossed his entire frame. It didn’t look like he had an ounce of fat on him. His name was Keivler and he was known around town as having been a member of the armed forces in Denval, a good fighter too from what Faylon had heard. Waiting across the circle from one another both men would eye each other up and down while the announcer of the event entered the middle of the circle and yelled out...”This is it. We started with eight and now we’re down to two. The winner of the match is the winner of the competition. Get out there and fight!”...then the bell was rung and the man backed up out of the circle as the combatants approached one another.] [Walking toward his opponent Faylon was surprised when the man threw out a hook almost immediately and knocked him onto his back. Blinking back the stars he hadn’t seen that coming but he was able to pick himself up quickly and circling around to the left of Keivler he would avoid another blow meant to send him back down. After the first blow Faylon knew how strong he was and popped out his jab to keep him at distance but Keivler was fast, he bobbed and weaved, and while one jab might hit him out of three the other two would still miss. Not the greatest odd to be sure.] [Both men traded blows for the first round of the match though Faylon knew he was getting the worst of their exchanges. Besides feeling the painful throb of his face Keivler was hitting him harder and more often than Faylon was able to land. When they came at one another Faylon would take full advantage of his jab and work it but Keivler knew how to dodge those blows and usually countered with a straight or cross to the body. Faylon knew his side was starting to redden by the time the first round was half over and his lungs already felt like they were burning just a little bit. This couldn’t keep up or it’d likely be a quick match.] [Opening up with a combination Faylon met a bit of success when he threw a hook to the face that landed while eating a straight at the same time. He wobbled a bit but finished his combination by landing another shot to the body but that seemed to just bounce off his opponent. Against one another Keivler looked like the superior fighter at the moment, he had the endurance and power and quite a bit of speed as well and it was clear he trained hard.] [Exchanging back and forth for the rest of the first round when the bell finally sounded and Faylon moved back to his corner of the circle he had a split lip but had managed to keep from taking too many blows to the nose, his side was also reddened from the blows taken there, and on the other side of the circle Keivler wasn’t looking to bad at all. Inhaling a heavy breath that caused him to wince briefly Faylon called for the cloth of cold water so that it would help wake him up a little more. He needed to focus or else he didn’t stand much of a chance out there.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Rolling his shoulders as the damp cloth was used to clean his mouth Faylon would stare across the circle towards Keivler who sat looking back him with an equal amount of intensity. Both men wanted to win this. In his corner Faylon knew that voices were calling out to him and telling him what he needed to do but he blocked it all out and only stared ahead. Whatever was said to him fell on deaf ears as he looked across at the man he was fighting and then when the bell sounded the beginning of the second round he was on his feet and marching ahead again.] [No touch of knuckles or show of sportsmanship was offered by these two as they neared one another, closing the gap of distance, and almost as though it had been their plan all along when both men were within range of one another they let fly with a blow at one another. Both of them hit and even though it didn’t go as well for Faylon as it did for his opponent he was still able to snap Keivler’s head to the side and make him respect the power behind his fists. It brought the contest back to a more chess match like feeling as the men stalked one another popping out blows when they found an opening and sometimes engaging when the both of them felt confident.] [Throughout the course of the second round Faylon got the worst of the exchanges just like in the first but unlike the first he didn’t lose all of them. During the second round he had made Keivler back off at least twice and that signified a win for him however small though it wouldn’t matter a great deal. When the bell ending the second round was heard the men separated for the second time and went back to their corners. Now Faylon was sporting a bloody nose as well and his left eye was visibly swollen, his side wasn’t doing much better either, but at least he had the satisfaction of looking across at Keivler and knowing that he gave the man a bloody mouth. He saw him lean over on his bench and spit a mouthful of it out of the circle and that gave him a measure of satisfaction.] [Mending him as much as they could Faylon only just heard one of the men with him saying...”You have to dig deep and finish him this round! Nothing else will win it for you!”...and even though he understood Faylon had passed on from wanting to win to just wanting to fight. His mouth was cleaned and his eye had cold applied to it to try and take some swelling down and when the bell sounded Faylon was on his feet almost instantaneously, moving forward again.] [This was the Final Round.] [As he moved ahead Faylon could see that Keivler was coming towards him with an equal amount of fervour and when the two met each other in the center of the circle amidst calls from the spectators watching them they each threw flurries of blows at one another. Jab, straight, hook, cross, uppercut. They threw it all at one another. Sometimes in combinations and other times alone. Bobbing and weaving back and forth it looked like just as many blows missed as hit and when the men separated it was clear that they both felt the effects of one another.] [Gritting his teeth Faylon would move closer to engage again and the men would exchange jabs before backing off and then when they came at each other again it was much of the same thing. It looked like Keivler was starting to swell up now as well even though he wasn’t quite as bad as Faylon, he had a swollen mouth and his eyes were both starting to puff out from the shots that had landed on them but the man didn’t seem to care. He must had felt it but he didn’t show. As for Faylon himself he struggled to breathe once or twice when he took a blow to his injured side but no one could deny his heart as he kept coming forward and trading shots with the man in the circle with him.] [One, two. One, two. He popped out two jab straight combinations that rocked Keivler but they were answered with a shot or two back at him. Faylon couldn’t block the blows and maybe he didn’t even try. Both men were in the upright stance signifying they were on a full attack. Neither of them could take to many more blows but they would try. Eventually with arms turning almost sluggish they would stand across from one another and just knock out one shot or another before clinching. While they tied each other together with their arms the bell sounded and the round was over.] [The men separated and were helped back to their corners. Beaten and not looking their best. Keivler would win the match but Faylon didn’t feel bad about it. He’d fought a stronger more skilled man today and survived. He was on his feet when the bell sounded and ended everything and that was all that mattered to him. In the back of his mind Faylon had proved to himself that he was a fighter and looking down at his knuckles he bore the testament to that. He had survived the Final Round.]

[Tabarnac]

XP Award! Faylon XP Award: Boxing +5; Cooking +1; Axe +1; Bodybuilding +1; Running +1 Additional Notes: I really wish it had ended with him shouting “Adriaaaaaaaan!” but I’ll live. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Keep writing!