Closed [The Pit] Live to Fight! (Kelmar)

[Imass]

Winter 80, 512 AV
Morning

Garonn walked into the pen of slave-fighters. The powerful Akalak was hooded and cloaked in dark garb, "I am a free man!" he informed coldly to all the slaves, " If I want to hear you talk, I'll rattle your chains," he was particularly fond of this line, because it got most of them to shutup. A few insulted the Knight back, but he ignored them saying, "For words are wind." He didn't have time to play games with slaves.

Sitting down alone, Garonn waited for his unarmed fight to begin. They refused him in the sword bouts, because no one was willing to test the unknown half-faced Akalak soldier on valuable slaves. The Ravokian noble's cowardice was noted by Garonn, but he did not get worked up about it like Imass did. The racist slavermaster's stupidity was actually humorous to the dark brother. Akalaks were trained in martial arts since birth. Unarmed fighting was his core and deeply ingrained in his soul. Garonn would fight with all his effort and all his prowess. he would fight with heart and soul and wits and controlled chaos. He would do everything in his power to defeat his opponent.

Today wasn't about the money or the power for Garonn. It was about violence and blood for the Knight. He needed to release some steam. He enjoyed fighting.

The pen was too near the latrine for comfort, but the crowd poured in anyways. Too loud to meditate, all the Knight could do was wait in anticipation. The betting men were now gathering to the pen to gamble on their favorite fighters. People could inspect the gladitaors from sunrise until the last bets were made mid-morning. This whole fact dismayed the Knight; he just wanted his match to start so that he could smash some heads. Instead he found himself scanning a horizon of faces talking and making bets.

The Knight covered his unadorned body with his dark cloak. Every detail in his grotesque face and cold pale eyes was illuminated in the sunlight. He sat alone and out in the open for all to see. The human fighters near him looked small and weak in his long shadow.

[Kelmar Hedos]

Standing among the crowd was one whose voice was not raised and whose arms were by his sides. Covered in a dark dull cloak, he seemed coldly confident in which fighter he'd be betting on without even needing to compare them. Whereas the other betters huddled in the pen, checking out the contestants closely in terms of their size and demeanor and confidence, trying to predict which would win. Friends discussed and pondered who to place their bets on, talking in the hopes of coming to an agreement and educated conclusion on who had the better chance. The cloaked man was doing none of this, having already placed his bet. A few days ealier, Kelmar had seen the blue man with the serious facial scarring get into a brutal yet quick brawl with a fighter slave. Such strength and raw energy Kelmar had scarce seen before, and according to the man's own words he'd survived both Sahovan dungeons and the Black Hole. He must be indomitable to not only have survived both places, but return to the world free and with a brand new suit. Judging by the damage done to the bench who he smashed soke slave's head into, he was quite strong, and last tine the blue man was seen he had a sword that looked as if he knew how to use. There was no sword here however, only a dark cloak to hide a presumably naked man. A fistfight then. That was fine, the interesting non-human was plenty strong and wild enough to handle himself. His opposition, all considerable enemies amongst themselves, didn't hold a candle to the blue man's will and imposing aura. Kelmar had a plan, but before he carried it out he needed a little more information. He'd been tossing about ideas of setting up a little network his own, a sort of little brother to the Galatos network he'd played his part in helping grow, but that would require money greater than what he currently had access to. Fortunately, here was a capable man who clearly enjoyed the Pit and the kind of activity it offered. Earlier, Kelmar had placed a bet on the non-human contestant, having confidence in the powerful personality he'd assessed a few days before. If it paid off, then this man would be useful as an asset with which to make money. And if he played his cards right, there might be a way to make more money than just from the bets. In the meantime, Kelmar spent a few chimes watching his investment. The blue man looked deceptively calm, especially in front of the crowd. That might be a shock later for the audience. Yet there was a sense of impatience, how his face was almost twisted into a scowl. Kelmar couldn't be sure whether it was because of the crowd or because of the conditions or the wait or what, but it was clear there was something that he'd rather be doing. Given his last encounter with the agressive non-human, it was likely taking some poor whelp and beating him to a pulp. He was probably waiting for the fight to start. So was Kelmar really, after all there was little he could do here and now. Leaving the dirty pen, the operative made his way to the sitting area pretty early, beating a large part of the audience there. Below him, the Pit opened up its maw to the circle of seats, exposing everything within to the people watching. Kelmar took a seat near the back, where could observe the happenings and a large part of the audience too, just in case he needed to find someone interesting to follow to compensate for his being here and not out working. There was the chance this was a waste of time, but he doubted it.

[Imass]

When the fighting began the crowds finally left Garonn alone. Now he could wait in relative quietness and meditate on the upcoming bout. His mind wandered to the meditation lessons of the Kendoka Sasarin where he learned how to quiet his mind for the honor arena of Riverfall.

'I will never live a lie,' Garonn told himself in his mind's eye, 'No matter what they say or do I will never give in. I will never compromise with this city. I am here to dominate the competition and push my enemies into oblivion,'

Closing his eyes, he began to focus on his breathing, 'One fight - breath in - One bout - breath out loudly - One fist - breath in - One strike - breathe out loudly - one kill - breath in --'
He tried to get into a meditative state. He began to try to get into a trance. He thought about the wood beneath his buttock and how it felt. He thought of the energy around him; the crowd yelling over their heads, the breathing of slaves, the smell -- the sounds of savage theatre combat. He tried to get in tune with the rhythmic vibrations of the area. He tried to take everything in at the same time and try to ignore all of it at once.

The dark brother was unsuccessful though. He couldn't get in tune with anything. He just felt anxious. He could not calm or quiet his mind for he was so out of practice of meditating in a loud area. Giving up he pounded his fists on the bench, 'No matter, nothing with defy me, nothing will deny me!' Although he could not quiet his mind this morning, he still had the mental toughness to bend his mind for the singular purpose of winning.

Finally, after the first two bouts, Garonn was called forward to fight. Shedding his dark cloak the Akalak now stood in bright white short pants given for the unarmed fighters to secure their private parts. Making his way through the pen, he was lead out into the pit where the crowd roared.

All above him was benches where a mob of people sat eating breakfast and staring at him. They were all talking amongst each other when they saw how Garonn looked like under his cloak. The Knight's left shoulder was permanently scared with the mangled cuts. His back and right leg were littered was discolored laceration scars. His entire right arm -- shoulder to hand -- was forever painted in a glory of jagged scars from what could only be teeth and claws.

Not only was his body completely riddled with a story that just wanted to be told, his face was completed burned off too. The disfigured left side of his face made him lazy eyed and bone marrowed ugly. The right side of his face has a nine inch vertical scar that ran down his eyes and across his cheek.

Looking around in a circle all the Knight saw where dark, sullen looks of disapproval. Some where scared, others happy, but most just in awe. The Knight's mood began to rise as they talked and suddenly all the betting erupted like wildfire.

[Kelmar Hedos]

The initial bouts were boring and uneventful to the operative. Of course, to everyone else they were both highly exciting and very close, but they failed to excite Kelmar to any degree. He'd placed his only bet before the matches even started, and anything that didn't affect him was a waste of time. While the crowd cheered and roared at the slaves grappling with each other, small and scrawny things throwing punches with desperation rather than discipline, Kelmar sat, back straight, with his eyes indifferently taking in the scene. Even as the audience exploded loudly with noise at the end of each bout, jumping up in their seats and stamping their feet in some cases, Kelmar remained sitting. It was all the mannerisms of a noble, yet his clothes and facial expression didn't look the part. An oddity to those who cared to notice him. Then things became interesting. After the crowd had settled back into their seats, those of them who brought breakfast returning to their meals, one of the fighters for the third bout emerged into the Pit arena. It was him. The man that Kelmar had bet on. Nothing outwardly changed, no perceptible difference in composure that gave away the young man's interest, but inside it was if he'd just woken up and began soaking in every detail to do with this blue skinned warrior. Scars and cuts decorating his body, a series of grisly trophies from what was obviously a large number of battles tattooed on his skin. A myriad of teeth marks on his right arm, mangled marks on his left shoulder, several other cuts everywhere. The operative had already seen his face, but his body reinforced the idea that this was a man who'd seen many fights, some very close ones, and lived to tell of them all. Actually, he didn't need to - his scars chronicled them well enough. Everyone else reacted to the non-human's emergence as well, though less with fascination and more with grim surprise. They didn't look so deeply into his appearance, just that he seemed dreadfully intimidating and imposing with both his height and scars. Once the fact of his blue skin had sunk in, a murmur began to spread from those closest to the arena and spreading outward like a gentle but constant wave. Mingled looks of disapproval and eagerness and crooked grins were worn by various members of the crowd, and those who had yet to place their bet were scrambling now without even pausing to look at the non-human's opponent. Some in the audience, especially some noble-merchants, looked at the combatant with a certain degree of disgust, taking into account his obvious difference in race and thinking of him as much more inferior to themselves and found it unfitting that he'd fight even another human slave. Kelmar took it all in, watching the expressions on the faces of the crowd transform and shift, wondering why it even bloody mattered. The blue skinned man didn't seem all that affected by the proceedings going on outside the Pit's arena, probably beyond caring what they thought of him. Opposite his foreboding form, the man who was to be the opponent stepped forward, looking no different from the previous contestants. That meant he only stood up to the non-human's shoulder, and while in good shape was a good deal less fit-looking and muscular. Judging from the scars present on the blue skin, this wasn't going to be a close fight.

[Imass]

Garonn's opponent stepped forward, but the crowds reaction was unmoved. Everyone was still pointing and whispering at the Akalak. There was no cheering, no hollering, nothing but a hum of voices. He knew they were talking about him and this fact just pissed him off even more. It angered him that the crowd didn't even have the courage to yell their thoughts to his face. Despite wanting to break all their necks, the Akalak remained disciplined and did not move; he was here to make money not satisfy the inferno of hatred in his heart.

The Knight spat on the dirt floor, 'The Ravokians know nothing... I'll show them,' His human opponent got ready and raised his hands in fists while bouncing in his stance. His body was already sheened with sweat and fear shone through his eyes as clear as that morning.

Leading with his left foot and sitting low, the warrior got into the Mountain stance. He raised his arms directly in front of his face, open-palms facing his opponent like bear claws. His stance brought a roaring chuckle from the crowd, for he was using an unorthodox stance. Angered flashed through his mind in blinding whiteness.

The bell was sounded and Garonn's first Pit match began. The human opponent advanced immediately, trying not to show his fear to the crowd. The Akalak was angry beyond control. He allowed for instinct to take over. Stepping forward to meet the human, the grisly warrior inadvertently decided to go with the fastest most lethal techniques.

The opponent started the fight with a wild right hook. There was no technique, nor any point for the attack, because he left himself wide open. Garonn stepped in with his leading foot and raised his left arm to his ear to absorb the hit. As soon as contact was made the Knight shot his free hand out to grab the opponent's right hand wrist. The human threw a jab which the Akalak just ate.

Pulling the human closer, he slammed his elbow down in the inside of the human's arm. Stepping to the side, Garonn rolled his elbow forward while still holding onto the wrist. This action innately forced the human to turn his shoulders and expose his back to the Knight. Disengaging his left arm, the Knight slide his right arm up to the human's neck and locked him into a rear choke hold.

The whole fight was over in less than two seconds. The crowd got quiet except for a murmur of whispers. The Knight tightened his grip on the human as he fought for air. His anger made him see red and nothing could stop him. Garonn taunted the crowd as he slowly drained the life from his opponent, "SAY IT!!! SAY IT MOTHERPETCHERS!! YOU LAUGHED AT ME, RIGHT? SO PETCHING SAY WHY!!"

[Kelmar Hedos]

The crowd was stunned. Only moments ago they'd been laughing and jeering at the blue man whose stance was far more defensive-seeming than was conventional, and in that time the subject of their amusement had ended a fight without even throwing a punch. A gasp could be heard from some in the crowd, but most just sat in silence as they regarded the muscular non-human with a mix of fear and awe. Unlike when they had first seen him, there were no murmurs, no whispers. Only shock. The front row nearly jumped when the victor in the Pit yelled his challenge to the onlookers. From there, it was as if a shiver had gone through the crowd, rippling back through the circular audience. There were those who weren't affected though, like the petty nobles who were too haughty to be frightened by mere pomp and show, and of course Kelmar who'd been expecting the result all along. People in the front was avoiding looking at the winner's glare, instead looking to each other and wondering what to do and whether someone would come in there and force the non-human back into the pen. However, a small handful leaned forward with interest, obviously coming to a conclusion similar to what Kelmar had arrived at days ago. As for the operative, he was not surprised by the outcome in the slightest. Internally he was raising his eyebrows at the speed and skill with which the blue warrior had won, but there was no way to tell beneath his hood and his indifferent expression that there was indeed any surprise at all. The words spoken by the blue warrior were those of a man who wanted respect, or at least acknowledgement, and took himself seriously enough to hate it when people disregarded his actions. He probably craved the reaction of others, fear and respect, maybe as affirmation that he was indeed doing what he set out to do. Perhaps Kelmar could use that. Things were going in the operative's favor.His initial observations and conclusions were proven right in the time it took for the pathetic slave in the Pit to throw two punches. His mind was running with possibilities, activity hidden behind a mask of calm and uncaring. Now that he had confirmation, all that was left for Kelmar to do was to actually meet with the warrior and try to arrange something. Something that he could hopefully profit from, maybe even gain some new contacts as well. So he stood up in his back seat, making his way towards one of the series of steps that would lead down to the exit. Those nearest to him turned as he passed, unsure as of how to respond to both the victor's challenge and the fact that one of their fellows was walking out. As he walked farther down the steps, more heads turned to face him. They received no acknowledgement as Kelmar promptly left, showing his back to the mob of people as he turned and left, letting them ponder the reason why. The operative returned to the pen, waiting just outside as he had before, not willing to enter the cramped and uncleanly area. If the warrior recognized him, all the better. If not, then Kelmar would be the first thing he walked into as soon as he left.

[Imass]

Garonn's antics only brought shock and terror into the faces of the Ravokian. The Akalak did not understand why their reaction would be as such for he did not mean to scare them, but get them to think. The crowd merely cowered away at his question, "At least they stopped petching laughing," he thought angrily.

Pale gold eyes scanned each person that still remained. Most of the chatel backed off in terror, but the nobles sat in silent confidence staring back at the blue warrior. Locking eyes with a particularly pompous and old noble, Garonn ignored his struggling opponent and stared back. Hatred and rage shone through his pale gold eyes, but the noble projected confidence and power through his bright blue eyes. He was not affraid of Garonn at all and this pissed the Akalak even more.

Releasing his opponent from his death grip, Garonn allowed for the human slave to live. Standing in the ring for a moment longer he continued to stare at the old noble. Smiling he addressed him in a totally different tone than before, "This slave is lucky that there is only ONE person on my list. His name is Murdock and he is the only motherpetcher I want to kill. That goes for you too old man,"

Flipping his hips around he walked out of the Pit, ignoring the reaction of the noble and the crowd. Going back to the staging grounds, he quickly grabbed his possessions and reward (if any) and took off. As he walked, people avoided him and tried to get out of his way well before he moved. Stepping out of the arena compound, Garonn was clad with sword, dagger and nobleman clothing. Still ticked off from the events that just occurred, Garonn walked straight by Kelmar Hedos without even noticing.

oocI hope this post isn't too lame brother! I am looking forward to getting into dialogue finally