Completed [Fighters Pit] Kisetukai, The Power Magnet

[Kisetukai]

Timestamp: 80th of Spring 513
13th Bell

"Whoa that was close!" K said sarcastically, dodging a simple broad punch the flew at him. "You almost-" He propelled his right fist, slamming a straight into the man's gut and winding him. "Got me..." K had been at the pit for a while now, enjoying the fact that he was strong, and a great fighter. Of course intimidation and luck had a bit to do with it, but overall he was cruising through challenges. Having beat three men, his boxing being unrivaled, he ended doing better than he expected. Of course he didn't know much in the art of unarmed combat, but studying under his master Ser Corben proved to be more than enough to beat the commoners here. As they proved to be useless without a sword, he understood why they were commoners and nothing more.

"You guys disgust me..." He said smugly as the men struggled up and found themselves staring at him angrily. "You know, I understand know why you guys are just commoners and not a part of the knighthood." 

"You know... Someone from the knighthood would be expected to behave more honorably." One of the men uttered out. "Your honor is just-"

Instantly before letting the man finish, K's body flew forward, and a right stinging hook sent him to the floor. "You are a common man, who can't talk to me about honor, your family knows nothing of honor. Your job is to tend the fields, sell products and produce, and enjoy your free safe and happy life. Don't you, your friends, or anyone of your status ever tell me of honor." He replied to the man harshly, speaking at him like a child and coldly. "Commoners..." K said smugly, turning his body and walking away. He was shirtless, just in black cargo shorts, for he didn't plan on staying here for long.

The reason he was here was to make fun of the people who trained, he wanted to mock their status and how they would never rise, but he ended up taking it to far and being challenged. Talking trash got him a fight, three to be honest, and he flew through each and scared other challengers with his fist... And mouth. Now that he had proved a point, he ended up doing more than was expected. The only thing left to do was... Leave. Let the commoners keep their training grounds.

His white tee in his back right pocket, he quickly mounted his horse, looking at the men train in disgust. "Before I go..." K said as he moved his horse onto the grounds, the strong hooves flinging up dust and dirt. "Is there anyone here who wishes to challenge me in unarmed combat once more before I go.... Or would you rather the prince just leave?" He said aloud with a chuckle, flexing his breast muscles to make his chest dance. "Anyone? Or do you men wish to cower like simple women?" K was truly being disrespectful and needed to be knocked down a peg. "I see... Then you all will remain commoners... Enjoy your short lives of sorrow." He said as his horse began to walk off, bouncing slowly, he grew bored. He would stop an turn if a challenger challenged of course, but then again...

The men were scared... Who else was there?

[Sigrun Dominic]

OOC noteTimestamp please. It needs to be on or past the 80th of Spring so Razkar can jump in.

It takes the right amount of physical noise to allow Sigrun to whistle freely as she briskly walked through the bustling streets of Syliras, and today was perfect; enough people to drown out her whistling, but not enough to make her unable to hear herself. The young blonde chose today to get lost in the music of her whistling as she immersed herself in the crowd of Sylirans. She shook the collar of her cotton chemise, raising her eyebrows as the heat intensified every once in a while. She suddenly regretted the decision to wear her corset, but it tied up her look quite well, complementing the formfitting dark tights that were tucked into her tall boots. Every once and a while she'd rest her hand on the hilt of her cutlass, eyeing the people who pass her carefully, taking in their facial features and assuming how their days had been going. "I should've stayed and comforted her when she was crying," said the furrowed brows and trembling lips of the young, stubbly-chinned man who let everyone bump him as he went against the current of the crowd. Sigrun tried to catch his attention, but he was too busy staring into space. "I have to come home with old fish and stale bread again," was the angry scream of the much older man who came by next, his hands bunched up and filled with meager bags of food. He looked at Sigrun and softened his features for a moment, but did not smile. Two other men passed by with unreadable expressions, and then three other women. Sigrun tried her best to make stories for more of the passersby, until she found herself in unfamiliar territory. Looking left and right, she inspected the buildings that surrounded her. She had intended to go through the road that bisected the Dyres, Maiden, Bittern, and Jordon districts, but instead found herself nearing the docks and Winthrop Alley. "There you go," she scolded herself, shaking her head. A woman sneered at her as she passed, as if she'd assumed that Sigrun had been directing the disapproving gesture at her. "Not you lady," she muttered, turning around to watch her pass. The woman turned around and looked at her, blankly this time, and then said nothing when she brushed her gaze over the cutlass that hung by the blonde's hips. She stood on the side of the street and caught a glimpse of the Suvan sea, her breath catching in her lungs at the sight of the sparkling waters. Numbers obstacles kept shielding her eyes away from the obstructed view that she had, and she gave up after a few minutes. She wasn't sailing any time soon. Finally, her journey seemed to come to an end at the Fighter's Pit. The young blonde's lips broke into a grin. Although she didn't like mindless fighting, she found it quite exciting to watch people battle and brawl down there. She took a glance down the pit just in time to watch a finishing move push one of the participants to the ground, causing the audience to erupt in shouts and hollers. Sigrun turned away afterwards and began to leave, when she heard a familiar voice. "You know, I understand now why you guys are just commoners and not a part of the knighthood." The young girl's eyes widened, her eyebrows furrowing angrily. What did that man just say? She rushed over to the edge of the pit and watched the dark-skinned man below insult his opponent. It was sickening. It was Kisetukai. His opponent try to defend himself, but the squire pushed him down. Out of instinct, Sigrun grabbed hilt of her sword with one had, squeezing it tightly, her other hand clenched in a fist. Her blood was beginning to curdle. "You are a common man, who can't talk to me about honor, your family knows nothing of honor. Your job is to tend the fields, sell products and produce, and enjoy your free safe and happy life. Don't you, your friends, or anyone of your status ever tell me of honor." Her jaw slackened, her skin breaking into an angry sweat as her blood rushed throughout her body, burning and boiling with frustration. She had never heard Kise say such things, and the whole feat caused him to wilt right in front of her very eyes, to melt into something a lot lesser than what she'd initially regarded him as. Her face and neck turned red, feeling both insulted and offended. She wanted to defend everyone, every single person who fit the bill of being a commoner, and she gathered that she could give it a shot. When Kise invited more challengers to fight him, she placed both palms on the ledge of the pit and leaned forward, her feet dangling from the ground. "I'll fight you," she called out, her voice dark and serious, her eyes glimmering with ill intent. She stared Kise in the eyes and tried to maintain her composure, but her anger revealed itself through her gritted teeth. Some of the men looked at her and laughed, but most of them cheered at the sight of the sword by her waist. "But with this," she said, climbing over the pit's ledge and sitting on it, unsheathing her cutlass with a flourish. She raised her eyebrow at him and looked him over with an unimpressed expression. "Do you have a sword?" she challenged him, bringing out her hands. The crowd cheered, but it was clear that some of the men didn't believe she could do it. Some of them whispered and muttered, and a couple of clusters began to bet on the entire situation. "Because I don't see one on you," she shook her head, "or in your pants." The adrenaline rush was taking control of her words. She eyed the crowd as they erupted in laughter and grinned. "Anyone is free to join me in this," she added, raising her sword. She turned to Kisetukai as she awaited his response. She wasn't going to let him get away with the horrible words he'd said.

[Razkar]

The Myrian heard the sound of the Pits before he caught sight of the sign emblazoned above the battered old manufacturing building. There was a cacophony of sounds all around him now, far more than Riverfall... not to mention the smell.

His nose hadn't stopped crinkling since the Docks. Syliras had to be the most densely-packed city in the world, and the stench of tens of thousands of people all working, rutting and sweating together... it was incredible. He'd known battlefields that smelled better.

And then... he heard the cheers. The calls. The drops and raises in the crowds roar as a fighter took a hit or landed one. Sounds he knew from the Training Yards of Taloba, oh, very well. He homed in on that sound, winding Mrrko carefully through the thronging Alley. Which took time: apparently this was the warehouse district, and more than once Razkar had to flit himself and his steed to one side and avoid a barreling cart, laden high and with a red-faced driver spurring his horses on angrily.

But he found the Pits. The sign above it proudly displayed the name Anthonius, though the corners were frayed and the underside beginning to rot. Btu that didn't deter Razkar for a moment. He saw the figures gathered in a large circle, gesticulating and calling down into a large pit.

The Myrian grinned, showing teeth filed to points. Finally...

A man with a rough, short beard and well-maintained armor turned at the clip-clop of unshod horse feet, and his eyebrows shot up at the rider atop the beast. Gerard snorted softly and gawped... well, if it is possible for a man as proud as him to gawp. Razkar saw the man staring and nodded politely, tight smile on his face.

The owner and master of the Fighter's Pits, unknown to Razkar at the moment, nodded back. Interesting. And then, before Razkar could ponder much more on the strange, taciturn man who was apparently uninterested in the commotion down below, he heard the first stinging words.

"Before I go... Is there anyone here who wishes to challenge me in unarmed combat once more before I go.... Or would you rather the prince just leave? Anyone? Or do you men wish to cower like simple women? I see... Then you all will remain commoners... Enjoy your short lives of sorrow."

Razkar's heart leaped in a perverse sort of way, and he silently thanked Myri for loudmouth bullies. They were always good fun. He hitched up Mrrko with the other mounts, patting him gently, reassuringly, then almost jogged over to the beam surrounding the pit...

And saw what he assumed was a boy.

He cocked his head at the youth, shorter than him, broader-built but still all but an adolescent, as far as he could see. He was a human, though, so it was harder to tell. And... black.

Razkar's frown deepened. Humans could be black? How odd. Perhaps some sub-breed of Myrians?

Either way, those thoughts were derailed by the aura of sheer arrogance emanating from the proud boy atop his horse. Chin jutted out, eyes fierce, jaw set, he was soaked in sweat but still looked fresh, a trio of defeated, winded and bruised opponents nursing their wounds and black eyes against the wooden sides of the pit. There were others in the building, but none nearly as... interesting.

Unarmed, he thought quickly, mulling over his options and then mentally shrugging, well, it's a start. I can work up from there.

He braced himself, ready to throw himself down-

-and then a female stopped him. Isn't that always the way?

"I'll fight you. But with this."

Razkar rubbernecked around as the crowd bobbed and buzzed and turned with him, until he saw... a female. Small (Goddess, are all barbarian females so tiny?!), pale and with flowing white hair, she seemed so... delicate. But only from a distance. He saw a fire in those wide eyes that could have set a building aflame, and with a flourish a curved blade was thrust into the air by her hand.

The crowd cheered. Razkar just allowed his eyebrows to go up and up...

"Do you have a sword? Because I don't see one on you or in your pants."

Now then, this is more like the females I know!

The crowd loved it, too, laughing and backslapping as she challenged the cocky kid down below them all, though some of them were starting to notice there was a damn savage in their midst. Right now, though, the female was much more interesting, and with those same hard eyes that seemed far older than the face they were set in, she swept her gaze around them.

"Anyone is free to join me in this."

Razkar didn't need any further invitation, which was good, because much as they may have laughed and cheered, most of the others in the crowd weren't about to get down there with the blackened bastard who'd already destroyed three of their friend with ease.

But he didn't respond... traditionally, shall we say. He braced on hand on the banister around the Pit, gauged the distance down, judged it acceptable-

-and threw himself over and down, cloak billowing as he fell, hitting it solid and bending his knees as soon as he hit, coming down so low he had to brace on hand on the sand...

And it was sand. Rich and coarse and... cool, oddly enough. He felt it scrape gently against his pale palms and rubbed it between both of them. Yes... he knew this arena. He had been there before. Taloba. Riverfall. Now Syliras.

"I will fight the black human." Razkar said, almost conversationally. With a flourish he took off his cloak and set it down to one side, unbuckling his harness carefully, slowly... just so the boy could see the five different blades attached to it. With a clank and a thunk, that was placed on top of the cloak of scalps, and the Myrian turned his black eyes upwards to meet the female's gaze. "Fight with you, or fight by self, not make difference to me. But after..."

He smiled and pointed up at her, black and red and turquoise tattoos snaking over his flesh.

"... I would like chance to swing steel with you. Would be good train."

That said, Razkar turned his gaze back to the dark-skinned human. Such an oddity, as far as he was aware. He looked the male up and down carefully, even though he was still on his horse, not on his feet. Balance looked good, though, and he had a tension in his torso that spoke of training... army, perhaps? Well-fed, well-groomed... perhaps associated with the Knights?

Certainly has the petching attitude, if what I've heard is true. Still, that Akalak wasn't too bad...

"You..." he said judiciously, gaze still studious and taking in every inch of the human, cracking his knuckles and then his neck, his shoulders, limbering an anxious and expectant body. "Can take weapon, or we can do with bare hands."

He smiled. It was a simple gesture, almost friendly. But it did not meet his eyes. He had finished his appraisal, and edged the movement of his lips with just enough nonchalance to push this boy's ego. His next sentence was just that final inch over the edge.

"It will not matter."

[Kisetukai]

Silence... Nobody spoke up to K's demands, and he felt a bit disappointed, but it was generally understandable. He was young, cocky, bored... And overall a bully at the moment in some's eyes. Looking at the men before him watch in anger, they probably would've loved to say something, but of course they didn't have the strength. K normally wouldn't have acted like this, but as of lately his body had been out of whack, and he was constantly randomly raging for no reason. Now look where it had got him, the citizens hated him, and the men wished ill of him. Of course this was just at the moment and no permanent... But it still was a shocker. K decided that it was all best to leave, after all the men stayed silent and he was pretty sure that they were gonna resume once he left. Just as he began to clench the horse's reigns, he heard a voice accept his challenge, and the owner came into view. Sigrun... Long time no see, and this is how she says hi?

"Dom..." He said softly as she began to speak, he had a small smile on his face as she looked confident. He was ok until she made that comment about the sword, it was a bit... Rash. And seeing the men chuckle and laugh didn't make it any better, but he manage to toss the comment aside and chuckle also with his eyes closed. Looking at her gently, no with lust or his normal ideas, he wanted to hear her out. Then she announced that anyone could join her, but nobody stepped forward or even spoke. 

K snickered a bit, thinking she was a bit foolish, although he respected the heroism. Then out of nowhere his horse began to stir up a bit, rearing up, he began to lean in an pat it's mane. Holding onto the reigns with his left hand, he gave three soft yanks with three burst whistles, finally calming the horse. As it stood straight, he fixed his posture, and noticed another competitor step up, locking eyes with him for only a moment. The man obviously was an outsider just by looking at his body. And once he finished speaking... He pushed K over the edge. Instantly, blood began to boil, as the boy watched the man. Cocky doesn't react well with cocky.

K observed his tattoos and began to question, obviously he would need answers and fast. "Kise... Analysis." He mumbled gently, still holding a gaze upon the two. 

"Myrian, and not like Adsila... He's most likely brute that will do anything to win. I'd suggest faints and energy consuming moves."

"And what about her?..." He mumbled once more.

"Sigrun? She wants a sword fight, I'd suggest handling the main one first. Of course she won't make it easy so pick your shots, avoid the sword, and remember to keep it light."

"Gotcha..." K mumbled as he cleared his throat to address the two, turning his horse sideways and exposing the right side to them. "So... I ask for a challenge, and who answers my calls?" He spoke out loud, as if he was in a play. "My girl... And some warrior who's too far from home?" He chuckled to himself at the thought of what he had just said, of course from what he had heard, the myrian would prove to be a good fight. "Normally I would ask what skills do you bring to the table, but I see..." He ended looking at Sigruns sword. "I don't have. A sword correct but-" He slid off his horse, making a cloud of dust accompanying a thud, as he graced the ground. "I do have these." He ended as he picked up his gaunlets, untying them from his horse's saddle bags. On his right he wore a studded, on his left he wore the scaled teethed. Pure black, his feet laced in his high top boxing shoes with black laces. 

"I will make this quick..." He spoke aloud, even addressing bystanders. "So for you men major bets... Hurry up." He threw a practice jab, slow and basic, rewarming his muscles. "Ok, let's go." He finished with his legs in a crouch, his back slightly hunching, his fist raised up to his neck as his gaunlets clinked together. His bounce and sway beginning to kick in, he was ready. "Kise stay informed and assert, we don't need any slip ups, I just wanna end this quickly." K mumbled, his voice never leaving past his fist. 

"Please K.." Kise said letting out a sigh. "You always do this..."

Don't underestimate your opponent.

[Eridanus]

OOC NoteJust throwing in a short introductory post so that I won't have to post so much on the introductory side if Eri does decide to get off his butt from the benches later on. For now he will be just watching, so please just carry on as if I've never posted (ie, don't include me in the Posting Queue).

Eridanus was done with the primary business that he entered Syliras for. He rarely left his cozy establishment by the Kabrin Road, but when he did it was for a strong purpose. This purpose having been fulfilled, he decided to take a short leisurely stroll around Syliras before leaving the city and back to his home. Quite a few places in the city had been altered or destroyed due to the Djed Storm, and he noticed that there was a sort-of gladiatorial coliseum that was new to him. Having actually participated in the coliseums of both Alvadas and Sunberth, as well as being a combat enthusiast, he decided to take a detour to that place to watch some duels.

What he saw surprised him, for he found that same black-clothed squire at the center of attention. The same person who had approached him in his shop. And unbeknownst to Kise, he had been the one who had greatly facilitated and enabled the success of his trip to Syliras. He supposed fate had gone a full circle and now it was him that chanced upon the squire.

The boy was arrogant, of course, as would headstrong youths his age be especially when empowered with the authority of the knighthood. However, there was some justification in his arrogance, for Eridanus recognized the combat ability of the boy as he one-sidedly demolished his opponents, mere citizens acting upon self-righteous rage and blind anger instead of being grounded in proper techniques and combat experience.

Ser Imass' words replayed themselves in the vantha's mind as the word "honor" was spoken, and he wondered how the righteous zealot would view this squire. Quite disappointed, probably, and it was likely that he demanded him to be properly lectured. However, Eridanus continued watching, content in watching the upcoming spectacle in seeing how it would develop. After all, it was all (at the moment) harmless fun, with nothing more than superficial wounds and egos being bruised.

Then the challenge came, and several people came up to take the challenge. Two, in fact. A tremor ran through Eridanus as he watched the man, the common divine connection between them tying them together as he recognized him to be a Myrian, and more importantly, a fellow bearer of Prowess - the divine blessing of the goddess-queen of war.

Oh, this would be very interesting indeed. The temptation to make intense observations and deductions from these new entrants proved overwhelming, but the desire to actually focus on the upcoming battle and developments would prove to be even more interesting, and therefore he withheld his judgement for the moment, content to just sit back and enjoy the game.

That was what he was here for after all: Entertainment. And battles with a flavor of drama and various themes like the one unfolding before him was the best sort of entertainment.

[Sigrun Dominic]

Sigrun's eyes widened at the sight of the man who was to be her companion in battle. Frozen in place, she gawked as he scooted over the pit's ledge and jumped in with ease and perhaps even grace. He was speaking now, seemingly with a bit of difficulty as he invited her down and even challenged her to a duel afterwards. Although the man was just as confident as Kise, or even more so, he looked to have a lot more to show for it. In fact, Sigrun didn't feel any animosity or disrespect when he spoke to her, which was something she quite liked. All the ferocity that Sigrun had in her eyes was replaced with the twinkle of astonishment and awe. The young blonde blinked. And attempted to mimmick the stranger's entrance. She eyed the ground with displeasure, but after a few seconds, managed to gather the courage to stretch out her legs and jump down, suddenly thankful that she'd chosen to wear tights that day. The impact caused her to kneel onto the sandy floor with a painful thud that echoed through her bones, but she was otherwise unscathed. After absorbing the impact and the succeeding ache, she rose from one knee and then the other in a flourish that she hoped would be somewhere nearly as elegant as her companion's. Twirling her cutlass in one hand, she turned over to the newcomer and eyed him carefully with curious eyes. He was one whole inch taller than her, or so she thought, his dark eyes an almost terrifying sight. He had numerous piercings on his face, decorating his ears and nose in a manner that put off the young blonde. Sigrun eyed the many blue, red, and brown tattoos that riddled his body, covering him up like a piece of clothing would. He was nothing like she'd ever seen before, and while that would've scared off most people, it captured her curiosity and drew her to him. "What are you?" she grinned, her awe leaking through her voice as she approached him slowly, with caution. He had yet to say anything and yet she liked him already. "Amazing," she mouthed, still smiling as she shook her head. "So... I ask for a challenge, and who answers my calls?" she heard Kise call out, "My girl... And some warrior who's too far from home?" "Cut the shyke, Kise," she responded gruffly, her eyes still fixated on the tattooed man as she struggled to figure out why he looked that way. A warrior who's too far from home? "I'm not your girl," she turned to him, her words just as sharp as the gaze she brought upon him, "I'm nobody's girl." She watched with bemusement as Kise addressed her and the apparent warrior, slowly closing in on him as he got off his horse and prepared himself. Her grip on her sword was loose, relaxed, implying that she had yet to find interest in the battle. Once he was bouncing up and down, Sigrun's grip tightened and she quickly lifted her sword and pressed it against his neck. "I'd cut your tongue out for what you said," she growled, her anger fueling both her actions and her words, "frankly, I wouldn't miss it." With a man as skilled as the warrior next to her, Sigrun was sure Kise had no fighting chance. All he had were gauntlets to defend him, how were those meant to keep her from slashing his guts out? From them slashing his guts out? She glanced over at the warrior and flashed him an apologetic smile before turning back to Kise. "You'll have to excuse me if I slip up," she said kindly, "I'm a little bit rusty."

[Razkar]

The Myrian cocked his head to one side like a curious bird as he saw the gleaming gauntlets cover the human's hands. Black and gold, well-polished and clearly made of hard metal, he couldn't help but admire the brutal-looking studs on the knuckles of one and the vicious little blades lining the right. He also noted the practiced way the boy pulled them on, the stance he fell into... and took a deeper breath.

He has some competence, that is for certain. A braggart and a bully, but that does not make him harmless. Well, all the better for the show.

"What are you?"

Razkar just smiled tightly, flicking a glance at the female now gawping at him like he had just sprouted an extra head. Then again, he was probably the first Myrian she'd ever seen, and he wasn't exactly downplaying it, was he? That time, the smile did reach his eyes, if only for a moment.

"You will see."

The two of them knew each other by the way they traded quips and barbs, but Razkar was largely deaf to the words. His eyes were steady, focused on the boy. His breathing... his musculature... the stance he stood in... all such simple things that were all part of a whole. The whole, in this case, being his victory.

Then the Myrian's eyes swept upwards at the gaggle of curious and muttering faces. A good crowd, and there for the show. Yes, the second time he'd thought of that word, because that was the trick of it. Demolishing the boy was possible, but a real fight, a real... spectacle, that would get tongues wagging and the rumor mill churning. His name would circulate, and the rest of his plan would come to fruition.

Remember that saying about best-laid plans of riamm and Myrians? Just concentrate on the fight-

"I will make this quick, so for you men making bets... Hurry up."

... although, that might be helpful, too.

Razkar was a savage, but that did not immediately denote stupidity, and he knew his funds were running dangerously low. Food and shelter were not free in any corner of Mizahar, and his couple dozen of gold coins would not last long. So, as long as there was the chance to make some...

He glanced up and saw that familiar figure he'd first glimpsed shoulder his way through the crowd, one hand up, bellowing odds, stabbing his finger around and taking bets from the babbling figures.

"Six-to-one on the Myrian!" Gerard crowed. "Who wants a piece of that?"

There was a disinterested "harrumph" from one of the spectators, a bearded man whose muscles were not so much sliding to fat as they were free-falling.

"After watch Blayk, Feron and Clive get taken apart? Not a bloody chance, pal."

"Oh, nervous are we?"

"Hey, I'm not a fan of the boy," Mister Beard said, apparently uncaring if the squire heard him, "But I know a winner when I see one, and that's all the kid's done for the last bell. Knock it down and-"

"Three-to-one, then?"

"I will take bet!"

All eyes turned to the new voice. Or dropped, more accurately. A rough leather bag was thrown upwards as Razkar tossed his purse and Gerard caught it with ease. He looked at it with a frown, then beyond it to the still stretching (and still unarmed, he noticed) Myrian.

"You're betting on yourself?"

"Twenty gold miza." Razkar said loud enough for his voice to carry to all the lolly-gaggers. "At odds you said."

"Sound confident."

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

Razkar straightened up and knew better than to milk the moment. It was a fine line, between managing a spectacle and just strutting around like some fool. He'd seen glimmers of that in this black human's crowing, and was determined not to echo it.

"I am Razkar of the Shorn Skulls," he said clearly and a little louder, "And I am ready."

"OK, let's go."

There was a blur of black-and-gold, gauntlet jabbed out and then pulled back in with a quick, efficient jerk of the human's arm. Razkar let a real smile spread over his face, feeling the beat and the pulse of these hallowed sands eat through his feet and permeate his blood. Felt the pulse find a home on the back of his neck, his Gnosis burning there, that favor She had bestowed, that promise he had made...

"I am your blade and your wrath," he muttered in his native tongue, taking a moment's pleasure in the vague flicker of unease in the faces of the male and female in the pit with him, "Cast your eyes on your son this day..."

Razkar nodded, mind suddenly clear. Should have bought his knuckledusters down with him? Well, too late now. Might not be able to trust the human up there with his gold? The purse is thrown and the die cast. About to meet metal-wrapped muscle with his bare skin?

He felt that exultation, that... that rush, anticipation making his flesh tingle. He heard the female speak to him, voice hesitant, apologetic even, but it sounded so far away.

"You'll have to excuse me if I slip up. I'm a little bit rusty."

"Stay out of the way, mistress."

Her head snapped around at Razkar's blunt words, capped though they were by that respectful title, but the stranger was already moving. Darting forward, legs bent, hands closed into half-fists in front of him, sliding to the human's right, right arm cocked back as if to deliver a punch-

-but his body already twisting even more to his right, left leg jerking out to deliver a short, vicious kick to the side of the human's right knee-

-left hand opening to show his palm, ready to knock away the human's armored forearm if it came swinging around.

Let's give them all a show. Above... and even higher above.

OOCSince Kise gave me the opening with that comment about betting, I thought I'd do Raz a favor and make him some money. Oh, and Sig, based on what I read in your CS, Raz is actually more than half-a-foot taller than you. Also, if I've taken too much in the way of liberties here, please let me know and I can edit. Oh, and it is REALLY bloody intimidating writing when you know Mizahar Super-Stah Eri is reading...

[Eridanus]

OOCRaz we're not that different haha don't say that xD And I figured I might as well give yall a little depth of present-day Eri while we're at it... some character development for him while he's watching from the stands instead of just, well, watching xD

The vantha watched the proceedings with interest, noting that the Myrian had already taken a bet on himself. He fidgeted in his seat, already the battle-hunger deep within his subconscious threatening to enthuse his academic soul. Through Razkar's silent invocation of Myri's blessing, the waves in the Ukalas could be felt by any surrounding bearer of Prowess, and Eridanus could feel the tempting joy of battle and combat upon his lips. There was a reason why he had been chosen to be like amongst the children of the jungle, and this was one of the reasons.

Yet, he stayed his hand. Discipline was the name of the game; Wysar would be disappointed in him if he had chosen hedonism over rational processes. While he had sympathies for the boy who had helped him in a quest, he felt like he could live the battle better behind the mask of the jungle warrior standing in the arena. It was not just the divine connection between them that made him think so, but also that because he could feel the battle hunger present in the Myrian's presence. His words, his stride, his posture, all of it spoke of things. He knew things, and he did not have the unwieldy stance like many others in the arena.

A master knew a master, and Eridanus knew one when he saw it, as clearly as master Aurists could identify each other. It was decided then, that he would live this battle through his chosen persona. That he would channel the Myrian's enjoyment of the moment into himself, and to relish every strike, blow and fervor of combat. As he massaged his crippled right side, he grinned despite of the growing sadness from the fact that he knew that he would never be as graceful nor elegant in combat than he could. A forced grin of sadness, but he chose instead to distract himself for the moment.

For now, he was not the old, crippled scholar bearing the many wounds of adventure and heroics. For now, he was the strong warrior of war, hulking and muscled, triumphant and confident with the many victories - and more importantly, defeats - in life and combat.

"Thirty gold on the Myrian," The vantha called on the person that had took the bet from Razkar, therefore effectively sealing his side in the battle. As the man came over, several curious glances were directed upon him and he pulled his hood further down to obscure his face. No one would be able to recognize him easily, but only Razkar would feel the psychic bond between the two of them if he chose to direct a glance at his hooded form.

No, Eridanus was not himself now. For now, he was Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, warrior in his prime.

[Kisetukai]

oocWay too much happening to me as we speak but I'm gonna try and stay super active lol bare with me. And to be honest, Raz is VERY intimidating lol. Both of you guys to make me wanna push to my limits. T^T

No doubt had K been disgusted at the attitude and performance displayed by Sigrun, it was rude and overall... Unwanted and unfavored. He saw her as a girl with potential, a girl who possibly could be turned into one of the high class social elites... He had connections, he could've made it happen. But the way she talked to him, the way she handled her blade, it was clear she was angry with him. And now, she had placed herself in the shoes of the enemy, for now she was liable for attack. He didn't care about pleasing her anymore, nor did he care about what she thought, he only wished to finish his fight quickly. Looking at his opponent, the pride oozing from his aura, it was amazing. It was a totally new type of attitude, an attitude not possessed by the lackeys of Syliras, wherever this man was from must have been a hotbed for warriors. K was no doubt more interested, what was his culture? What did myrians do for fun? What was a myrian exactly?

The man moved forward, after probably speaking one of the most coolest lines ever to the now- traitor, Sigrun. Flying in towards K, he cocked back a bold yet broad novice right punch, instantly moving in. Kise focused on a flashy evade, sliding his body to his right, he instantly made contact with a leg. His mind began to ponder, questions flying around and stabbing his concentration. Wait! What the hell happened to the punch?! The punch! It never came! Instinctively, his right gaunlet hovered up into a back fist, slyly moving forward as if he had planned the whole thing. He then felt it rejected as a slap made contact with his forearm, the man's palm it seemed, as if he was already prepared for K's move. Seemed he fought with brute strength, although for a brute... That was a clever strategy.

K used the momentum of his palm, to spin his body on his center of gravity, twisting quickly counter-clockwise. Before his body even finished spinning, his right studded gaunlet was fisted and sailing in, as he turned back to Razkar, he threw a right straight. Not his fastest, not his strongest, but no doubt possessing a huge amount of both criteria. Without ending his momentum, his right straight curved in sliding as his fist slashed southwest aimed at the man's chin. If made or missed, he would have to resort to his nooby unarmed skill, twisting his body clockwise and retracting back with a sharp right elbow. The whole next set would remain up to this man's skill, how good was he... 

Gotta keep it entertaining right?

oocNormally this would've been way longer, but I don't wanna slow the thread anymore. So without further ado, let's fight

[Razkar]

Razkar knew he had plenty of advantages in this fight - experience, training, even his bloodline was from a place that bred warriors far more than the diluted human strain did - but he also knew that Myrian or not, one solid punch from either of those gauntlets and the bout would be over. They were his primary concern and when his kick hit home, staggering the youth, hand blocking his backhanded blow, he saw where the spinning figure's fist would be heading-

-saw his body spin around, right fist cocked and flashing like a piston at the end of his arm-

-felt the gnosis at the back of his neck burn, a surge of divine power crackling through his system-

Time did not slow down for Razkar. That was one of the fallacies people believed when they saw a Myrian in combat. It was, in fact, quite the opposite, and what happened next occurred in the time it took him to blink.

The difference being, it... flowed.

The Myrian swayed his torso to his left, human's right jerking past his face into the empty space where hid chin had been-

-left arm jabbing out sharply to aim a vicious blow to the boy's exposed right kidney-

-right arm cocked back, knuckles lined up, ready to hammer another blow into the boy's guts-

-but even as his left connected, his right tensed and Razkar was rewarded with a sharp yelp of pain, a shadow swept in from the side-

Idiot! Watch your flanks!

-and an elbow hammered into the side of his face.

Myrian and human broke apart in their own private worlds of pain, the female for the moment taking Razkar's advice, or so it seemed. He went with the momentum of the blow. Glancing though it was, it twisted him around until he was facing the human again, nursing his strained knee and bruised kidney...

Watching steadily as this "Razkar" worked his jaw for a moment and hawked out a crimson glob onto the sand, then smiled with bloody, filed teeth.

Good boy.

Gnosis burning, he dashed forwards again, but came from low, knees bent, sliding to the human's right-

-no, he was going to his left, his far left-

-then his knees exploded upwards again, throwing him to the wall of the pit, upwards and to the side-

-Razkar's feet finding the vertical surface and then pushing off it as best he could. A risky tactic, but one the boy would not be expecting in his boxer's mentality, seeing the Myrian use the wall as an impromptu and unstable springboard, coming in from almost shoulder-level-

-with a spinning kick from his right foot aimed at his head, body twisting, spinning in mid-air-

-left elbow already cocked back and tight, so if the youth dodged it, Razkar's spinning body would hammer it into his neck or head when he hit the ground.

And probably receive a metal punch into the bargain. But who said victory was without sacrifice?

OOCOK, I put a lot in here, if you need me to make any changes, let me know. Also, if my style isn't clear enough for you to see what Raz is doing, let me know, too. And I know, mate, but the only way you get better is by pushing yerself.