Open Chronicles Mad Dog vs. The Wandering Champion [Match Fight at Annuakat]

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Don't stop, don't let up, don't give up, keep going...
​

In the oh-so-many years since he'd signed his name away to that contract, since he'd joined Gerra's conquest for world peace... since he'd killed all those people, the screams never ended. He was never able to escape the nightmares that kept him awake long after the city slept. The days he spent wandering, with eyes following him, seeing him as nothing more than a murder-hungry monster, never considered the burden he carried wherever he went, its weight.

But in this moment, with the crowd screaming, with the sweat pouring and the fists flying, all he could hear was the exhaling of his own breath, and the sound of his tired fists gliding off of Toruuk's chest. All the soldiers that he had met in his life had a commonality, the 'peace in the fight'. And now, as he run out of energy, and as he desperately tries to keep going, he finally understood what they meant.

He poured what strength he had left into a right swing, which was promptly caught in one of Toruuk's large hands. Yet, he found it within himself to pour more of himself into a left, which - much like his right - was caught with Toruuk's hand.

He met Toruuk's eyes with his own, the glow finally leaving them, the heat leaving his fists, the light leaving his body. He felt so very tired. Not just of the fight, but of everything. Everything he'd fought for up to this point. He felt.

His hands crumbled into nothing, falling through Toruuk's fingers, the Minotaur clinching into him, kneeling down low. He didn't even have enough energy in his body to keep his arms formed anymore. He'd truly given it every ounce of strength he had, he had dug down to the deepest part of his soul, and retrieved that little big of power he had left.

He looked at Toruuk, not with the Greyed Eyes of Jerik, but with the Dark Brown of Sparhawk.

And, as he looked on Toruuk with his tired eyes, if even for an instant, he was human again.

"You're... pretty... good..."​

He fell through Toruuk's arms and smacked the floor with his heavy, tired body, unable to give even the slightest movement, everything he had- given. The crowd poured out in thunderous applause, as the whole arena began to shake with excitement and conclusion unlike anything that had been seen in the arena before. They didn't even wait for Fieravene to come out and announce, they were too caught up in the timelessness of the fight.

And, as he lay flat on the floor, his eyes closing, he felt like he'd have his first quiet sleep in years.

 

[Severan]

"You misunderstand."...came the measure response of Severan, his voice a sibilant whisper as he spoke and while it was clear this conversation held his attention his gaze remained set on the arena floor. As the Vizier made his counterattack, transitioning into another flurry of blows it appeared as though he was calculating something, considering some possibility that he may have dismissed previously. After a moment of silence he went on..."Their moves are meant to impress one another."...he seemed to tip in his head in the direction of the arena floor then, noting that the Minotaur seemed thoroughly impressed and loud in his reactions..."And this fight is for both their enjoyment and the entertainment of the crowd. If it was contrary to that they could have done this anywhere else but they chose a public venue. All these eyes watching for what could have been a more intimate affair if they wished it."

The Minotaur had caught the Vizier's fists then, it seemed both were starting to fatigue but the sheer amount of punishment the Vizier had taken seemed to indicate he was approaching his limits, drained of constitution despite how hard he might push. The two men appeared to have a moment then, Severan wasn't sure if he saw the lips of the Vizier moving then as though he were saying something for the Minotaur and no one else but then he collapsed and there was thunderous applause from all around them echoing out through the arena.

Sitting straight Severan hadn't moved, his hands remained folded within the sleeves of his attire in his lap making it uncertain if he appreciated how the contest had ended though he acknowledged that the fighters had put on a show for the people. When the sounds of the raucous crowd finally began to dim, the cheering and applause slowly fading he'd have finally stated..."Winning is its own purpose, its own reward. As is losing."...the statement seemed a tad cryptic. The Fight was over but he remained seated, he would wait until he could depart amidst some of the crowds as bodies began to thin.

Míriel Fëanorna

 

[Gerra]

The furor of the crowd rose to a crescendo as the combatants‘ ferocious clash came to a close, leaving the Vizier defeated in the dirt.

Gerra grimaced. To be expected. Maho had never been at his best in single combat. He could destroy entire columns of enemy infantry, but a single warrior seemed to frustrate his abilities.

He waved a hand dismissively in answer to Fieravene.

“Yes, of course. The finest horse.... Uvogin! Where is he- Uvogin, there you are, please extract yourself from the ladies. Go offer a handsome purse to that minotaur and ask if he wants a commission in our forces.”

 

[Fieravene]

Finest horse.

The dark elf's ears twitched with delight, a small, droll smile plying at her lips.

"Thank you, your Eminence." She would have settled for a packmule - the quality made little difference just so long as it could fulfill its purpose, and so long as it was black. But Fieravene wasn't one to look a fine, gift horse in the mouth. She drained her glass, passed it to a waiting servant, and made her exit of the King's Box back the way she came.

Clipped steps carried her back down the staircase, her hand lifting pointer and middle finger to her throat once more.

Citizens of Annuakat!

You have your winner!​

The crowds once more drove into wild applause and cheers. Fiera took the steps two-by-two to reach the arena floor. Long strides carried her quickly towards the warriors where she held an arm up towards the great bull minotaur.

Toruuk the Wandering Champion, your title remains intact!

Annuakat, praise the reigning Warrior!​

Waves of adulation erupted from the stands as Toruuk turned to accept his praise. Fiera stood back, allowing the Medics to collect the Vizier's prone body onto a stretcher along with the crumbled remnants of his arms.

Fiera lowered her hand, smiling the pleased smile of the cat who ate the canary up at Toruuk, "Well done, Champion. I should like to travel with you for a time, if you see fit to leave Annuakat. For now-" her gaze shifted over towards where Uvogin would soon be arriving, "revel in your praise and rewards."

A casual bow was given to the bull before she followed the group of healers with their listless Vizier off the field.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel inclined her head to what Severan said, but she still wasn't sure she agreed in its entirety. Perhaps, it was different for other races, but when her people wanted to impress one another they pulled out all the stocks with their agility, their speed, their strength. She didn't see any of that in the ring. It was spirit that drove Jerik on, along with enjoyment of doing something with his own hands - well, as much as magic hands were someone's own hands.

"Perhaps," she said after a while, though her tone held doubt. As the last moments of the fight played out she couldn't help but wander if it had been the men's idea at all. They were an odd match, people she wouldn't have thought would randomly enter into a fight with one another. These men were not the brains behind the entire enterprise. Her eyes drifted to the most prestigious box in the area and then back to Jerik just as his arms grumbled into dust. Perhaps not the Emperor he served, either. She couldn't see there being a merit to one of his strongest warriors looking weak and wasting energy.

And then the elf entered the stand to announce the winner, and her mind wondered back to the beginning of the match and the kiss. Miriel's lips twitched.

"Or perhaps, there was a greater architect who they've been performing for."

Severan

 

[Halul]

“Yes, of course. The finest horse.... Uvogin! Where is he- Uvogin, there you are, please extract yourself from the ladies. Go offer a handsome purse to that minotaur and ask if he wants a commission in our forces.”

Uvogin’s head snapped to Gerra as the half-giant called for him. All too pleased to remove himself from an uncomfortable position, the Immortal quickly rose and offered only a curt nod in parting to Medja.

After leaving the box, he quickly found the arena’s proprietor.

“You, there,” he said. “What is the champion’s purse?”

The man held up a sack of coins, opened it, and looked inside. “Ah, the prize came to a total of-”

“Double it.” Uvogin passed the proprietor before anything could be said in response and stepped out into the arena. He approached the champion who was still basking in glory.

“Wandering Champion,” the Immortal said as he approached, “that was well fought. The Emperor was particularly impressed and offers to you employment.”

The proprietor approached now with a second sack of coins.

“Courtesy of the Emperor. What say you?”

 

[Achates]

Watching the end of the fight, Achates smiled; it was entertaining she wasn’t expecting it to be. She did her best to focus on the match and on what was happening around it but damn her keen hearing and her foolishness to concentrate on his voice absentmindedly. Her chest felt as if it was caving inward, hearing how his words curled, but she fought the emotion and stood. With the fight over, there was no purpose for her to be here, there was business happening, and she would not attempt to be some sort of mild distraction.

Achates caught the word horses, and she was curious to see the beasts. A thing smile spread across her face as she removed herself elegantly out of the viewer box. Even surrounded by other people, she happened to feel completely alone.

A bonus to calling this new land her home, the elven woman had learned how to navigate and find what she was seeking. After a little, she found her hand running along the snout of a mocha colored horse. His fur short and coarse, but oddly comforting as she pets him. On her way, she had found an apple and offered it in the hope of becoming friends with the creature.

 

[Toruuk Stoneheart]

"You're... pretty... good..."

With Jerik's arms suddenly dust in his hands, Toruuk was both too tired and too caught off guard to catch the vizier as he fell. The grizzled bull gave another half-hearted laugh. He spoke to the unconscious man between breaths.
"Yeah...you're not too bad yourself..."

He couldn't really figure out exactly what he was feeling right this moment. There was a flurry of emotion welling within the bull. Gratitude for a battle well fought. Respect for a newfound rival. Contentment...? No. That was the problem. Toruuk wasn't satisfied. He was bruised and bloody and exhausted, and yet he craved more. He didn't really care about winning, he cared about communicating as warriors and having a damn good time. Fights like this were so few and far between...how long would it be before he felt this rush again?

Toruuk closed his eyes and breathed. He centered himself as best he could.
Smile because it happened. There will be more.

The bull threw his head back and roared triumphantly. It was the least he could do for the crowd as Fiera announced his victory. It was mostly to let out his own emotion, but a roar was a roar, and the audience loved it anyways.

"Well done, Champion. I should like to travel with you for a time, if you see fit to leave Annuakat.

Toruuk gave the woman a tired nod, but didn't have enough time to respond. That was alright; he figured the she-elf would find him again in the coming days anyways. A bit of travel sounded like a nice idea, especially with such good company. Sure enough, a pair of men approached him, one looking like he was quite the fighter himself.

“Courtesy of the Emperor. What say you?”

An employment offer was only partly unexpected. It certainly wasn't the first time someone had offered the champ a job after a good fight.

"We can talk." He offered, taking the sack and hefting it up. By the gods, how his muscles burned. "Think I'm gonna travel a bit, but you desert folk make for good fights. If the Big E can promise more like that, I think I can get on board. Who knows?" Toruuk smirked at the thought of his next words. "Maybe I can take a crack at the big man himself, one day."

 

[Halul]

Uvogin nodded along with the minotaur’s words. If the sun was above, the beast’s shadow would have completely engulfed the Immortal.

"Think I'm gonna travel a bit, but you desert folk make for good fights. If the Big E can promise more like that, I think I can get on board. Who knows?"

“There are many fights to be had in the future,” the captain mused aloud. “Not all of them will be for sport, however.”

"Maybe I can take a crack at the big man himself, one day."

“Unlikely,” he calmly shook his head, his demeanor remaining stoic. “For you would first have to best me.”

The Immortal glanced at the generous amount of coins that Toruuk held, then turned his head to look at the spectators that still cheered the champion’s name.

“Congratulations on your victory. Be well.”

Uvogin turned and exited the pit.

 

[Severan]

Aside from the outcome of the match what interested him the most was watching the Vizier's hands crumble to dust before the man had collapsed onto the ground. It was something he had made a mental note of. Beyond that Severan also made note of the woman that announced the victor whom he now recognized as an elf before his eyes wavered listening to the comment that was made.

"Perceptive."...he noted with some amount of detachment, his eyes following the movements of the arena as another man entered to congratulate the Minotaur. Seemingly this new man was someone of importance, someone worth seeing and whose face Severan would likewise commit to memory at a distance. It was imperfect but would serve the purpose he required.

As the match had ended and patrons were now filing out of the stands he would have stood straight, rising to his full height in a single motion while his arms shifted to cross over his midsection, the hands still concealed within the sleeves of his attire. Sparing a glance towards her he remarked..."Perhaps we will meet again. Be well." Stepping away then Severan would have moved into an aisle before blending with those around him, literally melting into the crowd as he exited the arena.

Míriel Fëanorna