The fight became more real the longer it dragged on, something Razkar recognized, too. That fire and passion, the thrill of battle he'd heard so much of, was replaced by pure, merciless determination to just end it. Smiles faded, breathing became harder, blows weren't shrugged off anymore; they were borne with grunts and flinches, damage shown in limps and stiffened movements-
-like the three body blows that lifted Edreina off the ground. One, two, Razkar gritted his teeth and mentally commanded here, three, Goddess, female, get out of-
-an uppercut broke the clinch and sent the bruiser staggering back, and then she was on him again.
"That's a girl..."
The Myrian looked up briefly and saw the cocky sureness had drained from Gerard's face. The human expected the girl to be easy meat: flailing uselessly, desperately, without a plan or skill or anything approaching endurance, just like all the other barmaids he'd seen fight. But now Dagrun was the one on the defensive, nose broken (though that was hardly new) and then-
"Fuck me!"
-even Razkar cheered with the crowd as that last ditch flying leg somehow made a connect. He flicked a glance upwards and frowned, wondering if his Goddess-Queen had a sense of humor about all this. The Svefra jumped back to her feet and stalked back towards Dagrun, human now wary, actually cautious around the slip of a girl...
"Stop toying with him," Razkar muttered, a teacher now, not a lover, "Stop fighting so-"
Elbows and knees and a pale, high forehead became weapons, and within a few chimes, Dagrun was on his knees... and the fight was over. The crowed booed or cheered, long shot junkies praising Xyna for finally recognizing them, and the stolid, practical sorts just shook their head at the injustice. A woman? A Svefra? Bringing low Dagrun?
Razkar just straightened up and faced Gerard, human's face pinched and sullen under his beard... and held out a hand.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Gerard said, tossing a much heavier bag of gold back over and trying to make it look like nothing, like he wasn't just handing over a few days profits. "Petching enjoy it."
The Myrian caught it and turned, wincing as he did. Petch... injuries never dulled for long, did they? Just when you though your body had finally grown accustomed, a new dimension of pain was formed, just for you. He half-walked, half-hobbled over to where Mrrko and his healing kit was waiting, returning to the edge of the pit and-
-fixing Dagrun in a hundred-percent-pure Myrian glare as he dared to smile through bloody teeth at his female. Whatever conversation the two of them were having died a quick death and Dagrun hauled himself out, nodding quickly at the Myrian.
Razkar flicked a glance over him. His posture was stooped, his legs wobbly, eye blackened and... yes, even holding a napkin to his crimson-smeared face was giving him spasms. A slow, impressed but feral grin crossed his face.
"Not expect that, did you?"
"So how'd I do? How much did you make?"
Also against expectations, Razkar's smile faded when he turned to his student. Cold calculation replaced it, stoic and stern, as if the still-bleeding gash at his side and his newly-crooked nose were just minor distractions. He looked the female up and jaw, the only hint as to his feelings the tightening of his jaw at the ugly, melon-sized bruise on her stomach and the way the scar on her shoulder was redder, angrier, more alive after being stretched so brutally.
"You could have ended earlier." He spoke finally, voice level and... educational. Much as he cared, much as he... more than cared... the Fighter's Pit was not the place for casual affection. Razkar knew eyes were on them right now, his surprising protege being weighed up by the bottom-feeders that always clustered around here. "Use fist, not elbow and knee. Try to beat... fair, and then when not, then you fight like I show."
A flush colored her face, but only briefly. Ah, another joy about Edreina: she knew how to take criticism. She learned, she adapted, and she became better. But Razkar found that he was bereft of all other judgement, so...
"But only thing I can say." A tiny smile creased his lips, and in a glittering waterfall, half the mizas in the bag fell into his palm. "You avoid enemy power, make it your power. You use his weight to hurt him; use your body as way to put him down, use leverage and speed where enemy is slow. And not just 'you', Edreina... us."
Sparkling sapphires greeted black coals and the goals burned like embers. To see her smile, her happiness, and know he caused it, with his monetary reward and his praise... yes... that was worth anything else.
Ouch.
But...
"Now help silly savage get patched," he said, sitting down on a bench with a grunt and handing her the kit, "Bleed like petching pig, here..."
Winnings50GM each to Razkar and Edreina
-like the three body blows that lifted Edreina off the ground. One, two, Razkar gritted his teeth and mentally commanded here, three, Goddess, female, get out of-
-an uppercut broke the clinch and sent the bruiser staggering back, and then she was on him again.
"That's a girl..."
The Myrian looked up briefly and saw the cocky sureness had drained from Gerard's face. The human expected the girl to be easy meat: flailing uselessly, desperately, without a plan or skill or anything approaching endurance, just like all the other barmaids he'd seen fight. But now Dagrun was the one on the defensive, nose broken (though that was hardly new) and then-
"Fuck me!"
-even Razkar cheered with the crowd as that last ditch flying leg somehow made a connect. He flicked a glance upwards and frowned, wondering if his Goddess-Queen had a sense of humor about all this. The Svefra jumped back to her feet and stalked back towards Dagrun, human now wary, actually cautious around the slip of a girl...
"Stop toying with him," Razkar muttered, a teacher now, not a lover, "Stop fighting so-"
Elbows and knees and a pale, high forehead became weapons, and within a few chimes, Dagrun was on his knees... and the fight was over. The crowed booed or cheered, long shot junkies praising Xyna for finally recognizing them, and the stolid, practical sorts just shook their head at the injustice. A woman? A Svefra? Bringing low Dagrun?
Razkar just straightened up and faced Gerard, human's face pinched and sullen under his beard... and held out a hand.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Gerard said, tossing a much heavier bag of gold back over and trying to make it look like nothing, like he wasn't just handing over a few days profits. "Petching enjoy it."
The Myrian caught it and turned, wincing as he did. Petch... injuries never dulled for long, did they? Just when you though your body had finally grown accustomed, a new dimension of pain was formed, just for you. He half-walked, half-hobbled over to where Mrrko and his healing kit was waiting, returning to the edge of the pit and-
-fixing Dagrun in a hundred-percent-pure Myrian glare as he dared to smile through bloody teeth at his female. Whatever conversation the two of them were having died a quick death and Dagrun hauled himself out, nodding quickly at the Myrian.
Razkar flicked a glance over him. His posture was stooped, his legs wobbly, eye blackened and... yes, even holding a napkin to his crimson-smeared face was giving him spasms. A slow, impressed but feral grin crossed his face.
"Not expect that, did you?"
"So how'd I do? How much did you make?"
Also against expectations, Razkar's smile faded when he turned to his student. Cold calculation replaced it, stoic and stern, as if the still-bleeding gash at his side and his newly-crooked nose were just minor distractions. He looked the female up and jaw, the only hint as to his feelings the tightening of his jaw at the ugly, melon-sized bruise on her stomach and the way the scar on her shoulder was redder, angrier, more alive after being stretched so brutally.
"You could have ended earlier." He spoke finally, voice level and... educational. Much as he cared, much as he... more than cared... the Fighter's Pit was not the place for casual affection. Razkar knew eyes were on them right now, his surprising protege being weighed up by the bottom-feeders that always clustered around here. "Use fist, not elbow and knee. Try to beat... fair, and then when not, then you fight like I show."
A flush colored her face, but only briefly. Ah, another joy about Edreina: she knew how to take criticism. She learned, she adapted, and she became better. But Razkar found that he was bereft of all other judgement, so...
"But only thing I can say." A tiny smile creased his lips, and in a glittering waterfall, half the mizas in the bag fell into his palm. "You avoid enemy power, make it your power. You use his weight to hurt him; use your body as way to put him down, use leverage and speed where enemy is slow. And not just 'you', Edreina... us."
Sparkling sapphires greeted black coals and the goals burned like embers. To see her smile, her happiness, and know he caused it, with his monetary reward and his praise... yes... that was worth anything else.
Ouch.
But...
"Now help silly savage get patched," he said, sitting down on a bench with a grunt and handing her the kit, "Bleed like petching pig, here..."
Winnings50GM each to Razkar and Edreina
