Completed Making Ends Meet

[Erik Murphy]

17th Bell - 25th of Spring, AV 516 - The Blood Pits

"Ya sure yer ready to step back in there?"
"Work's scarce, I gotta put food on the table"
"But this? Most of ya boys left 'ome ain't they?"
"Still need the coin, I can 'andle it"
"If you sure, ain't no bookie gonna stop a man throwin' his life away for coin"
"Least a friend tried. Usual amount. Y'know anything about 'im?"
"Davis I think 'is name is. Merc like you I think, 'bout ten winters less than you by the looks of it. Seen 'im fight a couple of times, 'e ain't bad with a cutlass that's for sure"
"He a local?"
"Yeah, gonna be shame to see one of you boys throw yer life away. Can only really enjoy it when it's some Zeltivan prick who's pissed off a local"
"We do what we 'ave to"
"Aye, we do what we 'ave to. Ain't that the truth."

Erik found himself trapped in the middle of a pit stained by an age of bloodshed. Damp, mouldy stone walls towered above him as what few spectators could be found this early in the day filled the edges of the pit. Erik didn't give the spectators much thought as they eyed him up, calculating the odds of him stepping out of this ring in one piece, instead he focused on his opponent. He was a stocky man, he stood a couple of inches shorter than Erik but his shoulders were broader, his arms thicker. Like Erik he was not clad in armour, both of the men even chose to avoid being encumbered by light leather. His head was completely smooth, shaved to the bone and lot more practical than Erik's tangled mess while his face was heavily scarred, what might have been a good looking lad at one point had been corrupted by violence.

Erik swung his blade back and forth, readying his body for combat as he felt his hand tighten around the familiar hilt. There was time when he feared that the sound of clashing blades and the sight of bloodied men was he all he would never know; now he just accept that truth. He readied himself; feet shoulder width apart with his left foot forward as he raised his blade towards his opponent. A moment past, the crowd deathly silent as the two men who had lived and killed in this city for so long stared into each other's eyes. Perhaps it was mutual respect he saw, acknowledging that they had both been either lucky or skilled to have seen so many seasons pass or perhaps it was just realising that in a few chimes it would all had been for nought for one of them. They shared a quick nod, which was the only gesture these needed to convey all that respect.

Erik saw the man twitch, or at least perceived it, and he leapt forward at him as he brought his blade upwards , nearly over shoulder before slamming it back down, hoping to split his opponent in half right down to his spine. Davis leapt backwards, pulling his blade across as he did so to block Erik's oncoming strike. He felt the blades collide; the force resonating through his arm as he flinched with pain but pressed on regardless. His blade pulled back for a moment before Erik struck down once more, hoping to batter through his opponent's defence with shear force. But his opponent was skilled, perhaps more so than Erik, and stepped to the side as his blade whipped across and knocked Erik's blade off course. Erik stumbled for a moment, caught temporarily off guard as he opponent spun his blade around and swung it Erik's way.

He felt the adrenaline rippled through his body as it was dumped in his veins. He raised his own blade in response, heaving it across as he put the weight of body behind it. The blades collided and Erik's won out, knocking his opponent backward for a moment as Erik followed it up by raising his fist and swing it around in a wide arc. He felt his worn, scarred knuckles collide with the man's rough jaw as the familiar sting of bone smacking bone and both men pulled back in pain.

[Erik Murphy]

The moment of recoil lasted no more than a heartbeat, both men pulled themselves back into combat as Erik slashed across his opponent, hoping to decorate his chest with a bloody cut. But Davis was not some gutter rat with a dagger, he raised his blade vertically and pushed forward, stopping Erik's swing in his tracks but his foe was stopping there. Erik barely saw it coming before his opponent had twisted around, raised his knee and sunk it into Erik's balls. This was not some honourable dual between knights or however the fuck they decided who got to smack around the commoner today. This was Sunberth, nothing was off-limits; not even a man's testicles.

Erik recoiled in pain, cheers and boo erupted from the meagre crowd as they backed their chosen winner, expressing disdain and love for such a dirty blow. His opponent offered him no respite, steeping forward and swinging his deadly cutlass towards Erik with lethal intent. Erik recovered his senses just in time, he was too old to care about the possibility of having more children at any rate. His raised his kopis, offering a weak defence as the two blade collided, with only the smallest amount strength behind his weapon to stop Davis's blade knocking his own to one side.

Undeterred his opponent pushed onwards, stabbing his blade forward, hoping for the tip to slide nicely between Erik's ribs. Erik saw the assault coming this time, his leapt back as he twisted his blade and cut across, knocking the incoming cutlass of course. Using the momentum his weapon already possessed, he swung his blade up towards Zulrav's domain before pulling it back down towards his foe. His edge hit nothing but metal as Davis had already raised his defence and stopped the blade in its trace.

Two men, equally component, with simple moves and basic defences, fighting to the death; it was a tiresome sight and the crowd was bored despite that fact that little under ten seconds had passed since these men first crossed swords. As the two blade slid across one and other, producing little but noise, Erik pushed forward, ramming his elbow with force in Davis's sternum as he recoiled from the blow. With little more than three feet between them, they took a breath, waiting for the other to make the next move as the crowd goaded them onwards, eager for blood.

His opponent made the first move this time. He lunged forward, the tip of his deadly blade lunching forwards towards Erik. But it was a short blade and more built for slashing then stabbing and so Erik once against cut across to knock it off but this time his opponent was expecting such a move, it hadn't taken either of them long to predict each other's simple tactics. As Erik's blade struck the other, he saw Davis's blade twist around quickly and slice across towards Erik faster than he could manoeuvre.

The pain rippled out, burning through his body as Erik saw the deep red stain creep across his clothing, a bloody sign of his mistake. He stepped backwards, his free hand clutching around his gut as he tried to get to sense of how much trouble he was in. The fact that his entrails weren't spilling through his fingers was a good sign, but his movement was now hindered, he couldn't afford to worsen the wound yet he could afford to receive another. The meagre crowd cheered, this had just gotten interesting.

[Erik Murphy]

The pain was fierce, unrelenting. The colour of his already practically dark shirt turned a deeper shade with each thumping heartbeat that almost threatened to burst free from his chest. His breathed deeply, inhaling the humid sweaty air before spitting at the ground, clearing his mouth and turning back to face Davis. He stared down at Erik like the same way a predator viewed his quarry, tasting the blood in air with relish but still wary of threat as after all, many wolves had met their end gored by a stag.

They began circling each other, only for mere moment but to the men in that ring those seconds felt like hours as they both waited for the other to attack. Davis acted first, his blade rose up and fell swiftly as he stepped swiftly forward. Erik parried the blow with ease as his own blade cut across, knocking the incoming steel to one side. As his own blade continued to swing across, Erik quickly pushed it back around, guiding in the opposite direction, hoping to spill the man’s gut on the ground but Davis was quick to recoil, his relative youth to Davis had its advantages and his slightly quicker reaction were swiftly making their presence clear.

Davis lunged forward, the tip of blade gleaming as stretched out toward Erik, begging to bury itself in his gut but the old man still had some wits about him and twisted away, his own blade whipping back round to knock it aside before trying once more to slash at him but instead their swords collided remained in crossed contact as they both gripped each other’s sword arm with their free hands, their faces mere inches away from each other, their eyes locked as they pushed against each other. Erik felt himself stumble back, his back slammed against the damp stone wall that encased them in the arena, a short sharp flash of pain erupting from his skull as his head slammed into the rock. He watch his opponent’s blade get closer and closer to his face until Erik played dirty and returned the favour as he raised his knee, sinking it into opponents balls. The man recoiled as Erik pushed his free fist outwards, sending swift jab to his face. Bone collided with bone, as both men stumbled forward, losing their footing. Erik managed to catch himself, falling on his knees with his opponent sprawled out before him but Erik was no boxer and the punch did little to disorient his enemy as he quickly twisted round and attempted to swiftly stab Erik.

He barely managed to avoid the blade as he struggled to lunge to the side, still halfway through getting back to his feet. His face scrapped the hard, caked dirt of the arena as he hit the floor, before twisting his neck around as fast it would allow to keep his eyes on his opponent. Erik would’ve laughed had he been in the crowd at the sight before him had he not been locked in a battle of life and death. The cutlass had half buried itself in the mortar of the wall, and right now Davis was struggling to pull it out, grunting and cursing as the spectators that surround exploded into a symphony of cheers and jeers, making it clear who had bet on whom. Erik, still on his arse, raised a leather boot and kicked out at the hand grasping the hilt of buried sword, hoping to force Davis to relent in pain and let go of his blade before he managed to get it out. Instead he heard a metallic crack and watched as the end of broke off, left stuck in the wall much to the surprise of everyone.

Sunberthian steel was cheap for a reason.

[Erik Murphy]

Erik tried to quickly assess the situation. The broke blade was a mixed blessing; it would barely function as a sword now but on the other hand Davis was no longer occupied removing it from the wall as he clasped the broken blade, his head whipping round in search of Erik with murder in his eyes. Erik tried to pull back while simultaneously getting to his feet, re-engaging in swordplay was clearly in his best interest but before he could his opponent swung forward, landing a hard-hitting punch square on his nose. Blood gushed out his nostrils as he grunted in pain, his eyes watering as he fell back down from his retreat, hitting the ground once more as his adversary loomed over him.

He watched as the broken blade swung down towards him, straight for his throat. Erik reached out defensively, his own blade lost from his grip as his hand grabbed Davis’s forearm and pushed back against all the weight driving the broken blade down towards his throat. It inched agonizingly slowly toward his sweat slicked, dirt streaked, blood stained skin. The crowd was ecstatic and suicidal, the money about to change hands would make a beggar weep, yet they were completely silent as the waited with anticipation to see the moment of death.

It came suddenly and swiftly, as Erik’s free hand finally wrapped itself around a familiar leather clad hilt and swung it around, driving it straight through his opponent’s neck, and out the other side. Erik watched his eyes go through a plethora of thoughts and emotions. Pain, confusion, agony, sadness and relief. He slide now blood soaked blade out and pushed the body to one side, it rolled limply over as the pressure the once held the wound was gone and blood began to gush out from his neck, spreading out from under body.

The crowd cheered and booed, Erik largely ignored it as he clambered to his feet, panting heavily as he wiped the sweat and blood from his brow, the cheers of the arena crowd had long since lost its lustre to Erik and it had yet to win it back. He didn’t look back as he left the ring, he tried not burden himself with guilt over the dead he left in his wake, they all knew the rule of Sunberth. You did what you had to.

----------

“You’ve gotten slow Erik”
“I’m gettin’ old mate”
“Nah, you’ve been too old for yer line work for a while now. Now yer just slow. When ya gonna pack this all in?”
“Cor, don’t start, yer beginnin’ to sound like my missus. Murphys don’t retire, we just die one day”
“Well ya look like you’ve got one foot in the grave already. Don’t go rushin’ to embrace Dira, she doesn’t let go once she’s got ya. She’s clingy that way”
“Do I look that bad?”
“Ya nose looks broken, and ya gonna ‘ave a couple of right shiny bruises when you wake up tomorrow. And in ya normally look like kicked mutt at the best of times”
“Urgh, great. She’s gonna do her bloody nut in when sees me. Dinner is gonna be fun tonight. Anyways, got my hard earnt winnings?”
“All ‘ere, you did alright, most of them fancied the younger man. Me as well, can’t live off bleedin' luck forever”
“Says the bloody bookie, talk like that is bad for yer business...”