Flashback No Pain, No Gain

[Kol]

12 Summer 513 A.V
The Wrestling Ring/Solo Flashback

"Don't even worry about it. I'll take care of everything. All you have to do is get in that ring and start hitting. Hit hard. Just stay standing." A sprightly, Peia bounced at Kol's side, patting him on the back. She was grinning and had a few things in her hands. One of them looked like something wrapped in cloth, the other was a jug of water and of course, bandages. "We're gonna make a good team. Just listen to me. I've been watching these things all week."

He rolled his eyes, scoffing. And now you're the expert. Kol did little in terms of relaxing. To him, his sister's words weren't exactly comforting. He had very little experience in combat without his whip and to strip him of it would leave him on edge. Just a small price to pay when you were raised from birth with a weapon in your hand. It was an extension of him at this point, and she wanted him to flail around instead.

"Okay, so you're gonna want to stay in the circle. Knock out your opponent. No mercy." His sister continued to nod enthusiastically the closer they reached the ring. "You're huge. You've got a good advantage on the men here. Size wise, you're equal with most the women. They won't be expecting it."

"I don't fight bare handed."

Peia laughed, "Well you do now! Here." The two siblings weren't far from the ring and the cheering was loud, as was the grunts of pain. The sound of landed punches kept Kol's attention. He caught glimpses of deep red splattered on the ground. His sister was too busy grabbing his hands and wrapping them up in strips of fabric. A few times she paused and undid her work to redo it. Kol realized she had no idea what she was doing.

"Where did-"

"Will you relax? I know they do this to protect their knuckles or something. I'm just not completely sure how they do it. But I think I got it." She kept working and Kol watched silently, as usual. Ticks turned into chimes but soon his hands were wrapped tightly, his knuckles protected from the battering they would soon receive. Peia cleared her throat and went to fiddle with the other things she brought. "Open your mouth."

She crouched and then quickly straightened up, coming face to face with her brother. No longer was she a late blooming little girl. She stood eye to eye with Kol and had the confidence to match their size. Kol obliged and nearly gagged on the item being shoved into his mouth. He shoved away his sister, having a difficulty removing it thanks to the thick wrappings on his hands.

"Leave it in. It'll keep your teeth from spraying all over the ground. I saw it happen a few days ago. Some of these fights get brutal." Whatever was in his mouth felt like pieces of soft bark wrapped in cotton. Kol had no doubt his guess was as good as any. He didn't want to know what sort of makeshift invention his sister had created to replicate the actual form of protection. Sometimes it was best not to.

"Now, not that you talk much anyways, but I'll be taking over in that area." Peia whipped around, her long ponytail nearly smacking him in the face, Kol barely jumping back in time.

Just pretend the fists are hair. It was a silly thought, but one that distracted him. Peia had taken his arm and their things and started leading them to the fighting. She pushed past other Myrians that weren't exactly thrilled by her shoving. The female didn't notice, although Kol caught more than one dirty look. Excellent.

When he turned his head away from the onlookers and towards the action, Kol had a pretty good idea how this little adventure was going to end. While Peia cheered, Kol groaned, trying to adjust the homemade mouth guard. This was going to hurt.
---
Myrian
Thoughts

[Kol]

Black. Blue. Purple. Green. Red. Yellow. Brown.

A multitude of bruises and their distinct colors littered the bodies of the two fighters, blood dripping from their lips, eyes, cheeks, ears... It was a gruesome sight, and still these competitors -- both women -- powered on. Kol was un-moving, held in place by the contorting bodies struggling to dominate one another. Peia's attention had moved past the females, to a duo on the opposite side of the ring. Kol had a hard time hearing her over the fans, their loud screams only interrupted by the collision of bone and muscle.

His eyes watched their deadly dance, how they absorbed the blows. Their footwork, which he studied was more complicated than he would have imagined. They moved quickly, leaning into their hits, and Kol paid attention to how they kept their hands up, hoping to block their opponent from lashing into their face. I should do the same thing. Kol made a mental note, stepping backwards in surprise when soon one of the women had her feet kicked out from under her and was being battered into the ground.

Just as quickly as the match had started, it was being brought to an end. The female who had knocked the other down was now straddling the other, throwing hit after hit into flesh. Then, she contorted her body, managing to roll over the other and grabbed her leg, twisting it until the other yielded.

To be completely honest, Kol thought the leg would have broken before the surrender but soon there was a tap out, both competitors limping away, one more so than the other. He was shaking his head, looking at his sister. She had vanished from his side, and soon he saw the girl talking to some men who looked rather... similar. She was waving her arms animatedly as she communicated, but when he saw her fingers point to him and the brothers look his way, Kol's stomach dropped.

While he didn't show the emotion often, Kol was very capable of feeling fear. It was a healthy feeling and it kept you alive. Only the foolish were fearless. But when the two eyed him up and down, taking in his large form and fresh skin, they turned to talk to Peia, and she practically bounced with excitement.

The look in his sister's eye was unmistakable. Almost as soon as the ring had been cleared, Peia stepped forward, barely outside of the makeshift border. Her voice was loud as it began to cry over the sounds of dying applause. "Sons and daughters of Myri, you came for fighting, and you've got it. These mighty warriors have delivered, but you want more!" She moved around the edge, raising a tanned arm to point directly at Kol. "You want an opponent? There! A man built like a mountain, worthy of any female here. He's mean, he's strong, and he's ready." Peia paused for dramatic effect, looking around at the spectators, her eyes bright with excitement, "Are you?"

"Come on! Koooooooool of the Tempered Steel!"

The last bit was a bit dramatic for the older brother and he scowled as best he could, the mouth piece soaked his saliva and thick in his mouth. He could feel the eyes of those around him running over his arms, legs, abdomen. They were sizing him up. He returned the looks, Peia rushing over to push him into the ring. He did a double take over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.

He felt like fresh meat, vulnerable and ready to be eaten. Rotating his shoulders, he hear Peia's voice right behind him in a hushed whisper as the crowd began to rustle, "I talked to the guys running this thing. They think you look like you could show some good matches, so don't mess up, okay?"

A muffled scoff tried to leave his mouth, but came out more of a growl. Kol sucked in some of the spit filling his mouth and swallowed, going to try to remove the guard once more so he could have a word with his sister. Annoyance was evident in his eyes and when he turned to say something, Peia's mouth had dropped and she let out an unsure chuckle, "Oh boy."

Stepping into the ring was a tall, lean woman with light brown eyes and dark hair in a meticulous braid that cascaded down the length of her spine. Her lower half was in a revealing loincloth that seemed to cover up only a few select areas, leaving more than enough to keep things interesting. Her sleeveless shirt tied in the front, revealing full cleavage and she was smiling at Kol, her hips swaying seductively as she walked forward. "I'm ready."

Kol was not.
---
Myrian
Thoughts

[Kol]

"Sha'kalla! Sha'kalla! Sha'kalla!"

As soon as the woman walked forward, her name was chanted. Kol briefly took it in, a dumbfounded expression on his face. This... woman... was gorgeous. Her hair was flawlessly held back and her skin was clear and untouched, minus an ornate flower that seemed to run up her thigh and into areas concealed from unwanted eyes. Long lashes blinked slowly and she cocked her hip, smiling sweetly at him. "Shall we dance, Kol?"

She began untying a wicked looking kris hanging low on her waist and handed it to someone in the crowd. Kol did not gather the details, he was too busy staring at the woman's face: High cheekbones, full lips, challenging eyes. He was utterly distracted and in danger.

"KOL!" Peia harshly grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards. She dug her nails in for good measure, hissing at him for not paying attention. Apparently she had said his name more than once. "Don't. She's bad news."

"Hnn?" What was Peia talking about? Kol tried to turn his head back to Sha'kalla, but his sister slapped his face away angrily.

"She's called the poisoned flower! She's been dominating this thing all week." There was an urgency in Peia's voice that made Kol focus. He listened to his sister's warning, "She watches all the fights and only offers to fight men she's interested in. She pulls you in, Kol!" Peia made a disgusted face, "With her... 'ways', and ya know what? Sha'kalla will completely destroy you if you let her. She's fast and flexible."

Flexible. Kol heard the last part loud and clear, and Peia was growing more irritated, "Don't get distracted. You have to focus! Looks are deceptive." Finally, his sister sighed, grabbing her brother's face with both hands to make sure he heard the last part, finally pleading, "Remember... Beauty means nothing in war."

Kol blinked and a memory so long ago played in his mind. He tried to smile, and Peia knew she had gotten through. She hit him on the arm. "Just listen to me when you're out there." Then she turned her brother around, and Kol sucked in a deep breath.

Beauty means nothing in war.

Beauty means nothing in war.

Beauty means nothing.

War.

War is beauty.

---
Myrian
Thoughts

[Kol]

"Keep your hands up, don't let her throw you off balance." Peia was still giving him instructions when he turned around, eyes no long taking in the woman's form, but instead hardening. This is a trick. A trap. He had to look at the situation as a warrior, not as a man. As someone here to fight. Someone to survive. As a victor.

Sha'kalla stood watching him like a cat ready to pounce, her full lips twisted to a playful smirk, "For Myri?" There was a challenge in the woman's tone, causing Kol to give his sister a reassuring nod. His hazel eyes turned to clash with his opponents, rising to the occasion.

For Myri.

Kol lifted up his hands in preparation, walking to the center of the ring but there was no need. Sha'kalla's face had completely drained of all emotion, her smirk replaced with a thin line. There was a brutal, intense aura radiating off her and she seemed to materialize in front of him, having charged like a bull. She was quick and Kol was ill-prepared. Sha'kalla's skill was indeed much higher than his own in the art of unarmed combat, only proven by her leap into the air, kicking Kol backwards as she pushed off of him with her own feet. A small 'oof' fell from his lips as the wind was knocked from his stomach. The large male fell backwards, grunting as his back slammed into the ground.

"ROLL! ROLL! ROLL!" Peia's voice screamed from the edge of the ring, and Kol opened his eyes to see a foot being shot down directly above his face. Eyes widening, Kol instinctively threw his weight to the side, rolling as Peia had instructed. The thud resounded as Sha'kalla's heel ground into the dirt, missing Kol's skull by a hair.

It had been a kill shot.

Something that would have ended with him unconscious, no doubt being dragged to the medicine house, bleeding with a concussion. It was merciless, and Kol attempted to sit up, only to have a foot slam into the side of his face, snapping his head to the side. Pain shot through his cheek and jaw, the crowd fading into a dull lull as he struggled to think straight.

Shurak!

Peia was screaming from the sidelines, pointing furiously at something, but all he could understand was the rush of his blood in his ears and the ache building on his face. He pushed himself off the ground and stepped forward. Peia had been motioning to the line, which he was dangerously close to crossing.

"Here she comes!"

The warning shocked him into action and Kol ducked his head, avoiding another kick. She uses her legs a lot. Her thighs were strong, and she enjoyed showing off her flexibility. The crowd seemed to be enjoying it as well, watching Kol barely avoid getting the living shyke beat from him. This perhaps was not a good idea, and he inwardly cursed Peia.

Arms covering his face, they circled one another, Kol paying attention to the edge of the ring, making sure to move towards the center even more. He wouldn't play the defensive, if he was going down, he wanted his opponent to have some bruises on them as well. After all, they had agreed this would be a dedication to Myri and Kol planned to give the goddess an enjoyable fight.

The next time Sha'kalla attacked, Kol was ready.
---
Myrian
Thoughts

[Kol]

"Keep your hands up! Kol! Kol! Your hands! Your hands! Myri! COME ON!" Peia had pushed people back, pacing anxiously while yelling at the sidelines. Kol and Sha'kalla were exchanging blows, the difference being that one of them was actually blocking. Kol's face had been smacked to the side a few times already, the flesh of his face tender as it harbored forming bruises. He grunted from the impact of an elbow being slammed into his cheek, shaking his head and attempting to do as his sister had said. Listening to her was becoming increasingly difficult. His head was starting to feel overcome by the throbbing of his skull and ache in his bones. The cloth wrapped around his hands were protecting his knuckles from splitting open, but the protection was still thin and for the most part useless. Kol had good reason to believe Peia had forgotten an important step, or was unaware of one when she had 'watched the other fighters and decided she was just as experienced'.

Everything was starting to hurt, but he had to keep going.

Kol lifted his arms, bracing them over his face as a flurry of attacks rained upon him. Jab. Jab. Punch. When Sha'kalla wasn't getting anywhere with her hits, she jumped back -light on her feet - to search for an opening. Kol, feeling a sense of hope as he absorbed the hits with little consequence and let his hands fall, pulling back to throw a hit of his own. But he was too slow.

Another kick to the ribs, causing him to double over. Slender fingers entangled themselves into his hair, clutching the back of his head. The smooth legs that had distracted the male moments before were coming close, one of them raising a knee far too quickly. Right to the face. Kol tried to turn his head, but she pushed his head down, her nails digging into the back of his skull. Sha'kalla played no games, not when it came to the actual fight. It was no doubt she believed in showmanship, obvious by her dress (or lack there of), and how she chose her opponents. But when fighting, she aimed for the face, a fact that Peia would later bring up, saying that Sha'kalla aimed to ruin those she found attractive - to ruin their appearance.

The sooner she knocked out her victim, the more her hits meant. And so she kept driving her knee into his face, the bone smashing into his eye, splitting open the skin of his brow. White flashed behind his lids, then spots danced in his vision. Sweat immediately rolled into the wound, enhancing the sting. Kol lifted up his hand and grabbed her leg as it bounced off his face, clutching it against him. With only one leg to balance on, Sha'kalla gripped harder at Kol to compensate, but Kol grabbed her other, pressing his fingers into the soft spot behind her knee. Soon the female's leg gave out and Kol grabbed her thighs and yanked upwards. In response, he felt her flail, remove her hands from his hair and to his back, clawing his shoulder for stability.

"Good job, Kol! Take her out! Throw her!"

Kol struggled to keep his own balance; his vision blurred with buzzing black spots and blood. He barely saw the boundaries of the ring, and stumbled forward, muscles flexing to hold up Sha'kalla and head towards the line. Realizing her predicament, Sha'kalla tried to kick her feet, Kol having lifted her legs around his waist but to no luck. Unfortunately, he didn't make it far before losing his balance, and falling forward when the female kept trying to twist from his grip. Refusing to let go, Kol dove forward with some intention, game plan changing. Her back smacked unforgiving into the hard ground, and from their proximity, Kol saw her gasp in pain, back arching. His own weight on top of her had done nothing to help her. A dark look crossed her face, contorted by discomfort. She gave a cruel smile, wrapping her feet around his back and locking her ankles.

Expecting an attack, Kol hastily grabbed her wrists, digging them into the ground. Sha'kalla's voice rolled over him, "Mmm, Kol. Not afraid of a strong woman. I like that." And then a firm pressure against his groin as the female raised her hips to rub against him. Kol's eyes widened and his ears would have reddened had this not been a battle. Both Myrians were breathing heavy, hers a bit more strained from being slammed. In the ring, holds were used often, but Kol had never realized how sexual they could be... not until he had a woman grind against him.

Of course, she had given him a black eye and busted face. That was hardly sexy at all. "You just like attention." Then at once, Kol released her wrists, throwing punch after punch into Sha'kalla's own flawless face. She bucked underneath him, growling and using her own hands to claw at him. Kol was relentless, hoping to return the favor. Soon, Sha'kalla went limp underneath him.

A knockout. Kol had knocked her out. He pulled back, panting. Her lip was busted and her braid was all messed up. She looked innocent asleep, without all the vulgarity she tried to portray when awake. A victorious smile split across his lips and he turned his head to glance at Peia.

See? I did it.

Pride flushed his face, and he was readying himself to climb off the woman. Kol spit out the mouthpiece given to him onto the ground, flexing his jaw. All his teeth remained in tact and he could finally call to his sister. Peia was screaming something - "Kol! No!"

Eyebrows furrowing, Kol looked beneath him to see Sha'kalla's eyes shooting open with wild excitement and a fist being shot upwards. And then... darkness. His body collapsed after that hit. Myri had chosen her victor while Kol laid unconscious in the dirt.

---
Myrian
Thoughts

[Voodoo]

Your Powers Grow

Kol

Experience :

Observation: +5
Socialization: +1
Unarmed: +2
Boxing: +1

Lore :

Peia: Slave Driver
Fear: Important to Stay Alive
Never Trust a Sleeping Woman Warrior

Comments :

This thread was enjoyable to read Kol. I was outright laughing at some points during his predicament. The way you played the ending was superb as well. Goes to show that one should always finish the kill properly. Well done. Please PM me with concerns or questions.