Private Tales Rematch from the sands

[T’suris Flameblade]

The tournament was over, but the crowds remained, arguing over bets and winners and who owed who however many gold pieces.

T'suris rolled his neck, feeling a few vertebrae pop as he walked out of the shadows of the fighter's antechamber and into the sun. He looked down at his arm, his chest, inspecting the word of the healers. The scars would fade with time, but he doubted they would ever fade completely, leaving large gouges in his scales. He looked closer to his arm, checking to make sure the scales were mended properly, and that they wouldn't go ingrown as he continued to heal.

The sun was still sweltering, beating down on the sand and stone beneath his feet. His trophy already packed, T'suris tightened the straps of his pack and merged with the crowd - as best as he could, in any regard, as most visibly avoided coming within an arms breadth of him.

What am I going to do with a cloak made of spider webs? he thought with a sigh. Not the prize he had been hoping for. Maybe I could sell it. Yes, sell it and use to the gold to buy his sister the cart and horses he had promised her for travelling with the caravan. T'suris mulled the thought over, glancing at his pack. His instincts told him the cloak was worth more than that. He resolved to think on the matter. For now, it was time to get back to the city centre. Hopefully news of the winners would have travelled by the time he got there - and given him a few easy leads for more work.

 

[Arumi Shacen]

The words of Arumi's final opponent had reverberated in his ears, feeding his shame and fueling his anger as he had laid in the sand and tried to remain still for the mages.

"You have a great many advantages. You should have used them. You would have won."

The mage healers did their work in restoring Arumi's wings after his disastrous final fight had resulted in two blades slicing through muscle and sinew. The fact that the horned elf had sworn to remove the medics' extremities if they did not get him flying again may have been incentive for them to pay special care to the treatment, taking time knitting him back together, but it could never be confirmed. The slash across his chest had the sand washed away and the flesh sealed with a red scar before the healers moved on to the next patient. Bruises remained on his chest and side, purpling his bare upper body. They would heal on their own in due time. Arumi had sat in the sand, flexing and testing his wings before the medics were out of sight, then stood once he was satisfied. The new skin was pink and tender beneath his feathers, but the appendages were otherwise in full function.

Leaving the arena had been easier than entering, with most of the fights now completed. The winged elf had stood and watched for a short time, then gone back to the fighter's waiting area where there was shade and water to drink. He had never experienced such a blistering heat before as this land. Even the ground was scorching to touch. Why would anyone choose to stay here?

The winners were announced not too long after Arumi sat, and a man came over to congratulate him on a third placing, handing him a bag of coins and a strange glowing sword along with a plain leather scabbard and belt. Not quite what Arumi had in mind for winnings, but he could make use of the blade. It had been a long time since he had practiced the sword arts, but he knew it would come back with practice. Strapping the prize to his hip, and making a note to himself to find a leather worker who could craft a scabbard to sit between his wings, he left the building among the throng of people.

Back in the open space, he separated from the crowd and lifted into the air. He had heard of a city near enough to this place, and planned to make for it, but was immediately distracted by the parting of the crowd around the brown scaled lizard man. Flapping to get ahead, a few faces turning up as he cast shadows over them, Arumi alighted from the sky in front of T'suris.

"I demand a rematch," he snarled, stance wide. The strange beast had told Arumi he could win. Arumi intended to prove him right.

 

[T’suris Flameblade]

T'suris wound his way through the crowds, heading for the city proper and the market. He frowned as a shadow fell over him, blocking out the sun. He stopped, looking up, the crowds continuing to funnel around him, just as a winged figure dropped in front of him, some in the crowd crying out and scattering to get out of the way.

"A rematch?" T'suris asked, frowning, not recognizing the person in front of him. His blue eyes scanned the figure before him - then he remembered. Yes, one of his opponents. The one who could have flown around him and thrown fireballs at him from the sky and won without half an effort. He wanted a rematch? T'suris crossed his arms over his chest.

Slitted pupils locked onto grey irises.

"No."

Large clawed feet stepped around the winged elf, giving Arumi's wings a wide berth. T'suris's tail swished lazily behind him. He had more important things to do.

 

[Arumi Shacen]

"No?!" Arumi retorted, nostrils flaring, his expression incredulous. Nobody denied him! Even that wretched drunk girl had bought him a meal as recompense for attempting to pickpocket him.

T'suris thought he could just turn his back on Arumi and walk away, as if the Avariel wasn't worth the time of day. The elf bristled, his feathers ruffled, mismatched eyes glinting. Who did that creature think he was?

The crowds parted around Arumi as efficiently as they did around the brown komodo, whispering among themselves about devil birds and plague lizards. Arumi's fists clenched as he shot dagger looks at the peasants and nobles alike. Evidently nobody in this land had any sense of decorum or pride. Arumi did not consider the fact that he was shirtless and wearing ripped trousers to be of any impact on the respect these people should be showing him.

Arumi marched after T'suris, his face set in a dark scowl. He would prove he was better than this overgrown scaled man. He would prove to himself that Hysterie would not be ashamed of his failure in the arena. He came within arm's reach of T'suris's hideous tail. "Fight me!" Arumi snapped at his back, canines gleaming.

 

[T’suris Flameblade]

T'suris continued on, towering over the majority of the crowd, tail slithering in the sand behind him. His focus was towards the market despite the intense heat of the afternoon sun. The crowds in the streets were thinning, people going inside for their afternoon retreat from the heat if the day. T'suris pursed his lips. He doubted he'd make it to the market before the stalls all closed, and he'd have to wait hours until the stalls opened again.

Navy eyes blinked at the shout from behind him. He paused and turned. The Avariel, still? T'suris evaluated the winged elf, his attire (or lack thereof), the rage in his mismatched eyes.

"Very well," T'suris turned, facing the Avariel.

"Shall we begin here?" He asked, raising a scaled eyebrow, glancing at the thinning crowd around him. Let this winged elf show his true colours - did he care for the safety of others? Or the close quarters around them? The terrain favoured T'suris, and the Komodi had no love for the unscaled ones. He wondered if Arumi Shacen could even think beyond his own rage to see the disadvantages surrounding him.