Flashback [The Blood Pits] To Prove Your Mettle

[Daedalus Dagwood]

11th Day of Summer, 507AV
Nightfall, 21st Bell

There was some part of him that wondered why on earth this seemed to be the fitting place to come to. There was certainly the aspect of excitement that buzzed through the old mining tunnels as he passed several people on his way to the Blood Pits. Daedalus had just finished a short day of work that left him with more time than he had ever had to act on his own plans and inventions. The metalsmith had no metal to mold, and neither the will to carve wood or animate life into any gadget he may have crated.

In truth, Daedalus wanted to test his skills with his blade. It didn't matter to him if it turned into an event that, for better or worse, would be impossible to look away from, but this was his chance to see what he could do. In spite of this ludicrously heinous idea to fight In the Blood Pits to possibly gain a few Miza's, Daedalus was still equipped of logical mind. Daedalus hoped that if nothing else that his mind could be enough to lead him to find the straightest line from point to point for his blade to find victory.

As he worked his way ever closer to the arena he could feel that something about this place reminded him of himself? How could one feel themselves upon something? He couldn't help but reflect on the ridiculousness of it once more as the sly smirk on his face showed no outward hint of nervousness. He let his mind distract himself from the goosebumps that formed on his skin in anticipation. He had no armor to protect himself, or a shirt for that matter, as he walked bare chested with only a black scarf wrapped around his neck in such a way that its slack was stuffed into the scarf leaving nothing to dangle or be grabbed. Daedalus didn't want to ruin his shirt or coat so they were neatly stuffed into the backpack that hung over loosely from his left shoulder. His only forms of true protection was the rapier sword that rested on his left hip.

The backpack slid from his shoulder as he laid it against the wall just a few feet from the entrance of the arena. Daedalus took the moment to relax himself as his right hand found the hilt of his Rapier. Daedalus closed his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath as he focused on the feeling of his heartbeat. He started to roll his head along his shoulders to get any kinks out of his neck then exhaled as he opened his eyes. He felt ready to fight as he made his way into the pit.

As he entered into the arena the crowed swelled to life in a complex uproar of cheers and ragged mock booing. The noise grated on his senses for one single, excruciating moment. He reeled back, at an utter loss at the amount of people about to watch him fight. No. Not just fight, but fight to the death. The mob wanted blood, and now he would either give it to them himself, or provide them with it by slaying his enemy.

[Daedalus Dagwood]

The heavy booted foot falls of Daedalus hit the dirt ground as he moved towards the center. His golden brown hazel eyes narrowed into an angered expression the further he ventured into the arena. Daedalus held his head high as the scabbard of his rapier drummed a rhythm against his thigh that matched the slow pace of his strides. The tall metalsmith, by tall meaning he stood six feet two inches in height rather than a monstrous height of some other men or races. His eyes followed along the edges of the balcony above where spectators all looked down while placing bets on the fighters below.

Daedalus had placed a bet of twenty gold miza's on himself against another man offering to take bets. Despite only wanting to test him self in a life or death situation, if he could come out of it twenty gold richer than it would make up for the future pain he was about to face.

The heavy booted foot falls of Daedalus hit the sanguine stained dirt as he moved towards the center. His golden brown hazel eyes narrowed into an angered expression the further he ventured into the arena. Daedalus held his head high as the scabbard of his rapier drummed a rhythm against his thigh that matched the slow pace of his strides. The tall metalsmith, by tall meaning he stood six feet two inches in height rather than a monstrous height of some other men or races.

His eyes followed along the edges of the balcony above where spectators all looked down while placing bets on the fighters bellow. Daedalus had placed ten gold miza's to his name, betting on himself against another man offering to take bets. Dispite only wanting to test him self in a life or death situation, if he could come out of it ten gold richer than it was more than worth it.

The Pit Bull was in attendance and presided over the arena. The massive man stood among the crowd atop of the balcony as he held his mighty Greataxe into the air with two hand which caused a dead silence to overwhelm the Blood Pits. Daedalus looked up to the man as he ignored the eerie feeling as if it were a calm before a storm.

"We are gather here to witness two combatants fight until their opponents body lays lifeless on the ground to stains the pit floor red with blood. The first fighter, a human. Born here in the city of Sunberth. Made strong by a life of creating metal. Daedalus Dagwood!”

Once his name was spoken the spectators all silently began to make bets of their own as The Pit Bull lowered his Greataxe to let it hand to his side in one hand. His free left hand pointing at the Metalsmith.

“And his opponent, hailing from slopes of Mount Skyinarta. A red headed male who's past is veiled and who's name goes unknown. The Inarta!”

A red headed male entered the arena wearing a chain shirt with an archer's arm guard running along the mans left forearm. The man had shoulder length hair kept out of his eyes by a steel cap resting on his head. The man was armed with a quiver full of twenty shortbow arrows and a short bow held in his left hand. Daedalus could see a simple long sword on the mans hip as well adding to his arsenal.

"Let the battle begin!"

[Daedalus Dagwood]

Neither of the two combatants took an offensive posture as they both stared each other down across the short distance that left a near three meter gap between them. Daedalus's golden light brown eyes locked with the dark green irises of the Inarta. The mass of people assembled to watch the fight split into sections that cheered for their chosen combatant of choice as he listened to various insults being yelled out at him. He was happy that most of them turned into unintelligible shouts before they could ever reach his ear.

The Inarta was the one to make the the first move as he watched the mans green eyes shifted down ward to the bow in the mans hand. Watching as it was lifted into a firing position. Daedalus wasn't stupid enough to simply stand where he was as he entered into a sudden sprint. Turning to his right as he started to run around the perimeter of the arena. The Inarta drew an arrow then set it onto the short bow, turning his body into a slow spin as he tried to get Daedalus in his sights.

He needed to deny the red headed man a target as he ran in circles, slowing every so often to catch his breath only when he noticed the mans bow was far enough off of his line of sight that he could take a moment to collect himself. It was during one of those moments of slow walking that he could hear the sound of air being broken by a fast, incoming, object. Daedalus entered a low crouching sprint as he heard an arrow crash into the walls of the underground mine area that made up the blood pits area.

Daedalus knew that he needed to close the distance to effectively attack the man with his rapier, so as he gripped the stylish complex hilt of his rapier to draw it from its scabbard in his right hand. He paused his run as he found himself looking straight at the side of the Inarta's body as the man was in the process of drawing and setting another arrow onto his bow. Daedalus closed the distance slowly as he reversed his course, running counter-clockwise as the circumference of the circular path that he ran closed in on the man with each pass.

The Inarta's aim adjusted to the circular path that Daedalus ran as an arrow flew inches away from his face causing Daedalus to pause immediately. The Inarta moved away from the center of the arena to move his back close to a wall which served to keep Daedalus from running around him. He could see the smirk grow on the red headed mans lips which caused The metalsmith to narrow his eyes at the smart move.

Daedalus took an offinsive stance as he stood with his feet at a shoulder length apart making his right foot his lead leg with his left slightly behind it. He held his rapier up vertically at the level of his shoulder with the tip of the blade pointing directly at the Inarta. His free left hand was held out with a slight bend in his elbow almost touching the center of the rapiers blade with his palm facing towards his opponent. The sand dirt under his boot caused a cloud to form behind him as he pushed off the ground to enter into a direct charge across the arena at his opponent.

[Daedalus Dagwood]

The pace of the fight shifted drastically as the Inartan male's eyes widened at the sight of a bare chested Daedalus charging him blade first right at him. While in the middle of his charge he watched as the read headed man reached behind his back to draw an arrow from the quiver. Daedalus kept his charge until the end of the man's arrow touched the string of the bow. As he drew the sting back the metalsmith halted his charge as he stood still with his chest heaving from his increased breaths, drawing as much air into his body to catch his breath from his constant sprints.

As soon as the arrow was released from the bow he ran to his left to get out of its target area. Once he was far enough to the side he could almost feel the arrow as it cut through the empty space absent of its mark as the arrow arched to slam and stick into the ground. Back in his charging attack stance again, Daedalus drastically cut the distance between them as the archer readied another arrow.

He was only about four feet from the archer as he made an inward arch of the rapier. The power of the horizontal slash generated from his right shoulder as the tip of the blade moved inward towards his chest allowing added power to come from his pectoral as the energy of the swing moved down his arm into the tip of his rapier. The rapier's blade drilled into the wooden shaft of the Inartans shortbow to knock it off balance in the mans hand. The red heads wrist turning in such an awkward way that it caused the arrow to shift into an improper positions that kept it from being fired.

Daedalus's free left hand balled into a fist as he lashed out with his arm to crash his knuckles into the right side of his opponents chin. The Inarta grunted as his head jerked sharply in the direction the fist made his head turn from the strike. The arrow that was awkwardly positioned on the bow then fell to the ground as the punch forced him let it go.

Daedalus thought that act was simply from the pain of being hit. However, the Inarta gripped the shaft of his bow with two hands to swing it into the right side of Daedalus's body like a club. The force of the blow caused the metal smith to topple over to the ground as his free hand wrapped around his side just bellow his ribs as a welt suddenly formed on his skin from where the bow had crashed into his skin. "GAH!" Daedalus yelled as he moved his free hand to grip at the red blood stained dirt of the arena flow to throw a cloud of sand up at the Inarta's face. The man lifted his right hand to try and block some of the sand however traces of sand began to sting at his eyes, fogging his vision.

[Daedalus Dagwood]

Daedalus rolled along the ground until he was resting on both of his knees. As the Inarta started to rub his eyes with his free right hand to removed the sand that cast a haze over his vision, Daedalus stabbed forward with his rapier. Forcing the tip of the rapier into the mans left thigh. Three inches of the rapier began to bore into the archers flesh, then with a sudden twist of Daedalus's wrist caused a gaping wound to form from the drilling motion. He drew the blade from the archers thigh as he quickly moved to stand up on his feet. "Ahhh…" The red headed archer screamed out in pain.

He threw his shortbow aside to the ground to free his hands to draw the longsword from its resting place on his hip. While his vision was still blurred the Inarta started to lash out at the empty air in front of him with anger filled slashes.

To not become hit by the random slashes of his enemy, Daedalus retreated completely.

Running away from the man as he put two meters of space in between them. He received a few cries of boo and hackles but he didn't care. Of the two, Daedalus now held the advantage of speed as blood began to soak the thigh of the beige linen pants. Daedalus could tell that the man's eye sight had cleared due to the way he was staring angrily at him.

Something seemed to change in the way the Inartan moved that caused Daedalus to pause, shift into a defensive position, and wait. He watched as the man slid his wounded leg to rear, bringing his uninjured leg to the front to use it to support his body weight. The long sword in his hands began to carve through the air from side to side. Slashing in elaborate arcs along arches along each side of the man's body.

As Daedalus watched, he found that the sword had a beautiful linear quality to it. Drawing arcing lines that connected one movement on one side of his body to a bridging movement to slice the space on the opposite side of his body. It looked like a sword dance to the metal smith.

In response, Daedalus held his rapier up in his right hand. It brought the rapier up perpendicularly in front of his body. He lifted the sword so that the quillons; the cross guards that protected his fingers giving the rapier the look of an inverted cross, were held up in line with his mouth. To any Rapier duelist, they would recognize a fencers blade salute. His eyes glancing beyond the blade of his rapier from either side as he sharply sliced through the air in a down ward arc until the blade moved from pointing directly towards the sky, to quickly point downward towards the ground.

He lifted the blade upwards until the hilt was at the level of his waist with the blade pointed directly at the Inarta in an offensive stance. There was an instant seriousness that began to show in Daedalus's body language. All emotion drained from his face to express nothing but stoicism.

[Daedalus Dagwood]

Daedalus's right side throbbed with every breath he took as the welt just below his rib cage where the short bow had hit him. It caused an incredibly dark black bruise to form that seemed to consume his side all the way down to his hip bone. The metalsmith began to quickly consider all of the Inarta's weak points as his eyes scanned the mans body. The first, and more predominate thing he noticed was the mans mail shirt that protected his chest from slashes. However, he was sure the slender blade of his rapier could pass through the mail if he trusted with enough force.

From his body, he let his eyes wander to the mans arms which were practically unprotected besides the mans archery forearm guard. Even though he was a fighter, he planned for attrition in combat. Due to the slender nature of a rapier, he focused on vital points to cut, bleed, and slow down his opponents. The stab wound to the red headed warriors thigh was a clear sign of that as the mans blood dripped down his leg to cover his boot. A slow puddle of blood starting to form on the ground near that foot.

Daedalus pushed his Rapier forward in a high, straight, sudden thrust aiming for his face to stab at his eye. The Inarta parried the strike rather easily as he swung his longsword in a curved arch to smash into the side of the rapier to parry it of course. Daedalus's arm was moved to the side causing him to hold his rapier off to the side of his body. The rapier blade vibrated from the strike as it rang up the steel and into his arm. He gripped his rapier tighter to rid the rapier of the reverberations.

The red headed warrior let his longsword recoil against the Daedalus's blade, using the momentum of the way his sword was forced away to guide the tip of his longsword downward, arching it in a slash that cut down Daedalus's chest opening a cut that formed along his left pectoral.

The metalsmith gritted his teeth as he reeled back from the attack, taking several steps backwards. When he glanced down to look at his chest he started to gauge the pain to see how deep it was. Although it began to bleed, he was sure it would leave a good sized scar once healed.

Daedalus closed the distance to move into range as he swung his rapier in an upward arching slash at his chest. It triggered Inarta to move his blade downward to parry the attack. However, it was simply a feint maneuver to get the warrior into a more advantageous position for Daedalus.

The metalsmith had already pulled his right hand back while his opponent moved to parry. With the Inarta's sword down, he moved to guide the sharp tip of his rapier into a horizontal slash along the mans forehead along his eyebrows.

Daedalus quickly turned tail to run away after the cut landed. Not wanting to stick around to trade strikes with the armor clad warrior.

[Quint Caravel]

ooc: Just making a cameo for local flavor. Just keep posting. I'm doing Overtime at work today and don't want to hold you up.

Sitting in the crowd, a much younger Quint Caravel than the one currently lost at sea sat watching the combatants fight. Quint always enjoyed Sunberth; it was his favorite city simply because you could not find stuff like this to do in places like Syliras. Too many knights and squires and mint guards around to let anyone have any fun.

But Sunberth-- now here was a place you could kick back and enjoy yourself. There was just something about watching physical combat-- be it boxing, wrestling or dueling-- that made a person come alive. It got the blood pumping and made you excited to be alive. Sometimes as a teenager he had gotten so excited when lost in the crowd watching one fighter battle another that he had gone home to 'Kita and made mad passionate love to her for hours on end.

Today he sat in the crowd next to his Uncle Pondar, a full blooded Svefra that nevertheless managed to know his way around most of the city. They had disagreed on who would win this current fight. While his Uncle had bet on the other fellow, Quint had bet 20 Miza on Daedulus. Pondar thought it was money wasted, but Quint stood his ground and insisted he saw potential.

"Pfft. Boy you are totally oblivious." Pondar was a big man, now overweight and bald, wearing a puffy-sleeved yoke shirt with the string tied too tight across his chest.

Quint shook his head. "I am not."

Pondar crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what do you see in that man and not the other?"

Quint pointed down below. "I observed how he was dressed when he came in. No armor. Not even a shirt. Only his cutlass."

That made his uncle snort with derision. "It's not a cutlass, it's a rapier sword."

The younger Caravel shook his head. "Well, fine, I don't know about swords. But I know people. A man who comes here-- here of all places-- dressed like that-- is either looking to win or looking to die. No middle ground. He's totally committed to his decision. He will either win or go home... no in-between."

Pondar stared at him a minute. "Prrrt. Petch. Not a bad observation. You might be right. But now it's the moment of truth. Will the Inarta win or the metal-smith? Let's observe and find out."

[Quint Caravel]

Pondar pointed at the weapon that Daedalus was using. "Not everyone uses a cutlass. Some people uses daggers. Some use scimitars. Some use two-hand pole-weapons that need to be seen to be believed. What did I say that was called?"

Quint had to think for a moment. "Um... a dagger?"

Pondar smacked him upside the head. "No, I said it was a rapier. Do you even know which end is the pointy end?"

Quint shook his head. "Um.. the tip?"

Pondar opened his flask and took a chug of his drink, then burped in Quint's face. "Close enough. Observe how he uses it, how the Dagwood fellow steps forward and thrusts, then quickly moves back out of the reach of the other fellow. It's used mostly as a thrusting weapon, but you can slash and parry and feint."

"Absolutely." Quint had no idea what any of those terms meant but knew better than to ask. His Uncle insisted that he figure out most things for himself or else he would end up a useless nobody like his father.

"Can you get me a weapon like that?"

"By Laviku, no. Absolutely not. You'd stab yourself within minutes." Uncle Pondar shook his head back and forth and laughed loudly. Some of the crowd joined in simply because it was such an infectious laugh. Quint wanted to hide under his seat.

Pondar slapped him on the back of the neck. "Boy, you're too young and not ready. Now, nothing makes up for using the weapon yourself, but I wouldn't trust you with a wooden stick right now. First you need to watch and see how people fight when not just using their hands. Watch and observe!"

Quint nodded his young head. "Sure! This is exciting!"

Pondar shook him on the shoulder. "No, don't just watch as a spectator. Pay attention. Try to tell if either man is left-handed. See if they favor either foot. Watch their hips and thighs-- some weak fighter telegraph their actions. I'm not a fighter myself but you have to know enough to tell when to fight and when to run. You need to at least be able to consider the merits of your opponents."

Quint had absolutely no idea what he was looking for, but he tried to pay as much attention as he was able to do so. He rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly and leaned forward. He tried to remember every step and every swing. If nothing else, maybe he could imitate the moves later, or at least pretend to.

"Oh... Uncle, why did he do that thing with his dagger?"

"Boy, if you call it a dagger one more time I will smack you. It's a rapier! And what thing?"

"You know where he pretended to do one thing and then did another."

"Oh, the feint? Yeah, that wasn't a very good feint. I think I might win the 20 Miza."

That statement worried Quint and he leaned forward in his chair, on the edge, unable to contain the suspense building up within him. Who would win? Who would lose? It was just too close to call right now.

[Daedalus Dagwood]

Daedalus lingered idly after putting several meters between himself and the red haired warrior he was tasked to fight. While it was true that he swiftly moved away from his opponent to avoid further harm, It was also true that he needed to catch a break for himself. The intense physical effort required to run, sprint around, and fight easily drew the breath from his lungs. His muscles felt the faint hints of slight fatigue, however it was the bruise on his side that cause Daedalus to slow down. With each breath of air his lungs filled with to expand his body which put tension on his bruised side. It forced him to slow his breathing to concentrate on calming his heart rate as he made small, delicate breaths.

The Inartan warrior felt like a fool as his free left hand lifted to begin wiping the blood from his eyes. “GHHAH!.” The man shouted more out of frustration rather than any pain as the blood from the slashing cut along the length of his eyebrows bled down into his eyes, fogging his vision with the stings of blood. The man spoke in broken common mixed with Nari “You clipped dek licking petcher!” The man shouted once he managed to clear his vision slightly. Daedalus watched as the man's face was stained with the red of his own blood, allowing his face to match the color of his hair.

The true meaning of the insult had been lost in translation since the Metalsmith couldn't speak Nari to under stand the odd words that meant 'Clipped' and 'Dek licker' meant. Had he known the language, Daedalus was still so alien to Inarta culture he wouldn't understand the terms even if he knew them. Since he had no clue the man had called him a 'Pathetic dirty, Petcher' then he may have been slightly annoyed.

However, he simple quirked an eye brow at the man from where he stood. After hearing the word 'petcher' shouted at him by random people within the mass of spectators watching them fight, the insult had lost all meaning to him as Daedalus stood unfazed by the only part of the insult he understood.

Furry boiled within the fiber of the Inarta's very being. Daedalus had fled the fight, had a chance to take an advantage, and ran away like a coward. He wanted the metalsmith dead as he harnessed his pain and rage to focus him mind on a wrath filled retribution.

The man suddenly began to advance onto Daedalus's position with a hobbling stride. Due to the stab wound on his left thigh, the red head had to drag his leg behind him. He held the handle of his longsword with two hands at the level of his waist, the blade pointed diagonally backward with the tip pointing behind him and towards the ground.

"That was a lucky strike and it won't happen again."

As the apparently crippled warrior slowly approached him, Daedalus felt as if he were going to win. It was a gleaming thought that flashed through his mind as he believed himself to hold the advantage. When the man was nearly two arms reaches away he did something that shocked the bare chested metalsmith to his core. It was such an act that his only reaction was to dodge in any way possible.

Inarta arched both of his arms to lift the longsword into the air then, as if he were going to throw a long handled axe, swung the sword in such a way that it slipped from his hands to propel through the air in an awkward mass of sharp steel at his general direction.

Daedalus made a slight bend in both of his knees to aid him in a sudden lunging jump to his right side. Outstretching his arms forward as he still held the rapier in his right hand. Almost looking as if he were flying through the air when he moved his arms both of his sides. Then, the feeling of flight ended as he crashed into the blood stained ground of the arena. He could hear the longsword bang against the ground then roll slightly as it tumbled away.

The way he landed on the ground caused a surge of pain to swell from his bruised and battered side which caused him to cough and gag violently with every breath.

As he laid on the ground he rolled over onto his back with closed eyes.

... Something was moving him, and was being repetitive about it too.

He painfully opened his eyes, and stared at the bloody image of the Inarta frantically raining down heavy punches into the metalsmith's chest. After the man had thrown his sword, he pounced on Daedalus as soon as he hit the ground. Both of his legs were straddled around his waists as he managed to hit Daedalus right on the forehead. It was an act that whipped his head backwards to bang the back of his head into the ground. A left hooking punch arched around to smash bare knuckles into Daedalus's jaw.

Things were turning south for the Metalsmith.

[Daedalus Dagwood]

Dark green eyes stared out past the veiling streams of blood which poured from the mans brow. Daedalus each of the faint droplets of his enemy's blood as they fell from his face to fall against the bare skin of his chest. With each drop of blood Daedalus felt as if the blood was defiling him. Tainting him. A fist landed against the right temple of his head which caused the Metalsmith to grit his teeth in response to the pain.

Daedalus found himself feeling as if he had had enough of this barrage of fists. He raised his right hand up in an arch before slamming the steel hilt of his rapier into the Inarta warrior's jawline with such a force that caused the man's head to turn left as a blood, thick, visceral mist sprayed out into the air from his mouth. The force of the hilt crashing into his jaw had been enough to dislodge two of his front teeth leaving only toothless canals in their place as Daedalus watched as the teeth flew from the red headed warriors mouth. With a natural reaction to avoid such a catastrophic strike to the face, both of the Inarta's hands reached to grab at Daedalus's right wrist to control his sword arm.

The spectators that filled the upper levels of the blood pits all went wild after seeing the blood mist erupt from the Inarta's face. A mass of people all stood from their seats to cheer for Daedalus's Victory and vice versa shout for the Inarta to do better to defeat the metalsmith.

With his left hand free glanced to the leg straddled his waist that kept him pinned to the ground. His hazel eyes found the wound from when he had stabbed the man in his left thigh. With a sinister grin quickly forming on his lips Daedalus reached out to stab four of his fingers into the Inarta's thigh wound the curled his finger to grip at the bloody flesh.

The Inarta made a bloodcurdling scream as he started to bash Daedalus's wrist into the ground to try to force him to drop the rapier; It was an act that took four slams against the ground before Daedalus's grip loosened enough for him to drop the rapier.

He lifted his upper body off of the ground as he pulled at the mans thigh using his wound as a grip. The sweltering pain the Inarta felt caused him to comply to the movement as Daedalus turned his body to his right side to lift and roll the man off of him.

His eyes looked wildly about his surroundings as he rolled onto his knees to press off the ground to stand up onto his feet. The first thing that his wild eyes looked for was the location of his rapier which laid next to the Inerta as the man groaned in pain from having his thigh wound torn even wider open. Many people did strange things when they realized that they were in extreme danger. It was why the Red haired warrior noticed the way Daedalus was looking at his rapier which caused him to take a hold of the weapon in his free right hand that wasn't nursing his thigh wound.