[Blood Pits] Rib Abuse is Okay (Solo)

by **Kreig Messer** on October 25th, 2012, 9:35 am

Fall 2nd, 512 A.V. 14th Bell.

The Blood Pits, there is no honor in such a place, an arena where the last one standing, kicking and breathing, by any means is the victor. It is a place where the most grueling of battles to the finest displays of treachery can be seen for all. Fairness? throw that to the side along with honor and kindness, staying alive is what matters! It is here that Kreig was prepared to throw his life, to bury the guilt he felt within him....or die trying. Its ground is drenched in the blood of the fallen, their presence perhaps still lingering in the cruel arena for which they had risked their very lives..... And obviously lost as their bodies had been dumped and their belongings looted from their corpse.

Kreig, standing before another, was in the center of the arena, the shouting of those around and above them drowning the arena of any other sound. Kreig was standing there, looking at the human male before him, blood thirsty..... Looked like a wild beast waiting for its chains to be unleashed...... He stood at six-gold two-silver, taller than Kreig by some margin, wearing a half-plate on his chest and wielding a war-hammer, dry blood staining its head, giving it a malevolent feel. The man himself looked rather ugly looking; too many a brawl or battle must have disfigured his face because that was a face that only a mother who was blinded and lost the sense of touch could love. His arm muscles were bulging and looked quite relaxed holding that bludgeoning weapon of doom.

Kreig on the other hand, wasn't quite as equipped, his only weapons were his gauntleted fists. He looked dirty tired and quite frankly desperate, as if this could help forget the guilt burdening his mind and soul.... or die trying. Predictably, many had bet against the brawler, thinking it an easy match for them to earn a quick bit of money to line their greedy pouches....perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't...... We need only see which side yields victorious, and then decide if it was a wise investment.

You could hear some bastard yelling for the audience to place their bets, most of them placing their bets on the Neanderthal with the war hammer, yelling out his name "ROITH ROITH ROITH” Like a pack of baboons, slobbering idiots the lot of ‘em……. Then a loud banging sound rang throughout, a spoon against a pot. The match had begun.

“Time to smash you into a nice paste, petcher” Said Roith

“Oh, not one second in and we’re already starting the clichéd insults are we?” Kreig said without any hint of amusement, this only earned the ire of the hammer wielding brute, getting a better look at the weapon itself it had quite the reach with its long shaft.

“Well come on you pretty bastard, I’m sure you’ll see it differently once I smash on side of your face in”

“I’m sure that’s what all you’re romantic encounters entailed dear gent” Was Kreig’s response “Just come on and fight already”

Roith obliged of course, making a quick dash forward as he swung his hammer overhead and brought it down towards the blood drenched earth. Kreig had barley dodged it by stepping to the side, his foot almost met a grisly end by the hammer as it landed a few inches beside it. In retaliation he had thrown a left punch at Roith’s left side……rather unsound as his armored fist met the metal of Roith’s half-plate, earning him a bit of pain in his fingers and providing the brute with an opening as he slammed the edn of shaft into Kreig’s abdomen, pushing him to ground.

“Hah, I’ll make good on my promise now, pretty boy”

“Good…to…see you’re a man of your word” Kreig muttered, grasping his stomach as he lied on his back, rampant cheering filled the arena, with some yelling out at Roith to finish the job…..He was all too happy to oblige as he lifted the heavy weapon overhead….. but he took too long as it gave Kreig a bit of an opening, said opening being that he rolled to the side as the petcher finally brought it down.

As Kreig quickly stood back up, he threw a right punch, and learning from his previous mistake; he directed it at the brute’s face…. His favored target and it brought his blood boiling, his adrenaline pumping…. It would have had not the memory popped into his mind ‘I’M SORRY’ He thought as the memory of the child popped into his mind, his unconscious form lingering in his mind briefly. This gave Roith time to repay the damage to his face as he quickly slammed the side of the hammer into Kreig’s own side.

Kreig was knocked aside to the ground once more with a few of his ribs broken. Kreig’s painful yelps were music to Roith’s ears as he approached Kreig and kicked him in the side, causing him scream in pain.

“Now I’ll TRULY keep my word” He said, again he raised his warhammer like a repetitive dolt and swung it down, and like the repetitive dolt he is; he narrowly missed as the hammer landed besides Kreig. This time the adrenaline within Kreig’s body truly began to spread, numbing the pain as he darted up with blood dripping from his mouth. A maddened gaze in his eyes as he threw another punch at Roith’s face and sending him falling to the ground, then proceeded to lie on top of him as he threw punch after punch at the man’s face with his armored fists, not letting up long after the man’s face was reduced to a bloody pulp, bits of Kreig’s blood dripping from his mouth mixing with the bloodied form of Roith’s face.

With another loud clinging sound, the match was over…..somewhat, people were angry as they thought they had won, they thought they had earned a quick miza from this fight…… As Kreig slowly lost the adrenaline in his body, slowly standing and looking around as he grasped his side, blood still lingering on his mouth. Angry shouts coming from all over, they wanted another fight, another chance to regain lost coin. Turning around he could see the ram shackled excuse for a gate, simply pieces of wood the height of a small fence. One could simply step over it rather than open it with all of its oil-demanding noise, and in fact; someone did…. Again another human or rather to be more accurate, a Benshira, one of the dessert folk.

He stood at five-gold nine-silver, only an inch shorter than Kreig himself. He was had long hair tied into a braid and had a large scar running down his face. Whatever was said about Roith was now applicable to this gent; although something told Kreig he had better luck with women. He wore little to no clothing save for a leather breastplate, a loincloth and a pair of boots.

“…..I think whoever his parents were left him to be babysat with Myrians…..” Indeed, despite the tan of his skin he looked more akin to the savage Myrians and his choice of arms seemed fitting for his appearance; a hand axe.

".... Something tells me I should have expected this...." Indeed, Kreig knew this place to be where death was certain and fair play to be something dumped in a latrine somewhere, quite obviously, he should have seen this coming.

Again he could hear the annoying voice that told the rest to place their bets, this time they seemed to be a bit more weary of where they place their money, some placed it on the Benshira thinking he could finish off the weakened Kreig, others placed a small amount on Kreig despite the odds being against and the remaining simply abstained, less willing to lose any more for the remainder of the evening.

"And I'm sure you have something insightful to say as well?" Kreig wondered aloud as he stared at the Benshira and his wicked axe. But the Benshira remained silent, not quite as interested in some childish banter like his predecessor who lied on the ground and with the loud clanging the match had begun as the Benshira dashed forward with a burst of raw speed, closing the difference between him and Kreig

"Oh poopy" Said Kreig as the Benshira was inches from his face, then suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach as the Benshira lodged his knee into Kreig stomach who and proceed to grab his head and slammed his knew again into Kreig's forehead. This has caused Kreig to fall to the ground for the umpteenth time and it didn't end there for the Brawler as the Benshira proceeded to kick him right where his ribs hurt.

'OH COME ON!?' He though along with 'THAT PETCHING HURTS, SON OF A WHORE THAT PETCHING HURTS' Along with other colorful things, then came another blow which sent the brawler rolling aaaaaaannnnd of course “STOP….HITTING…..SIDES….STUPID” He raised his head slightly out of the dirt, watching the Benshira slowly approach, the hand axe looking more wicked by the moment. As the distance between closed once more, Kreig subtly grasped a handful of the blood-caked dirt.

The Benshira had a smug look on his face, he was enjoying this, seeing his opponent writing in pain, at a point where their Kreig’s life is at his mercy and he was simply taking his time as he approached. But of course, one he got close enough and bent down to get a good look at his prey, he was blinded by the dirt thrown at him, caught off guard and punched squarely in the face as he fell on his back, grasing his face and feeling the blood trickle down his nose, cursing all the while.

Kreig himself slowly stood up, the pain in his side becoming more unbearable by the minute…… He trudged inch by inch to the Benshira, hoping to reach him before he……. Too late, once again Kreig found himself looking up and on his back as the Benshira did a leg sweep. It didn’t end there, as the Benshira towered over Kreig, raised his leg and struck him in the stomach as he brought it down, causing the brawler to cough up more blood as he turned his head to the side.

The Benshira did not seem to learn his lesson though as he looked around the arena turning his gaze to the audience with arms wide, soaking up praises before he would attempt to scalp the Brawler with his axe. Kreig again slowly stood up as the fool distracted himself, only realizing the fact that Kreig stood up as his Adoring fans yelled at him to watch his back. The pain was becoming numb, it was being replaced by a rush of adrenaline once more and the bloodthirsty look in Kreig eyes along with angry facial expressions.

“I’m going to Petching BREAK YOU” Kreig announced, but failed to intimidate the Benshira, who simply smiled as he calmly approached Kreig and well…. Lodged his handaxe into Kreig’s right shoulder, but there was no yelp of pain as the Benshira hoped, instead, Kreig Grabbed the Benshira’s arm with his left and slammed his head into his face. The Benshira was in a daze from the blow and quickly received another headbutt from the Brawler, this time falling on his back. Kreig, with each small step, stood beside the man’s head, raise his foot…. And promptly stomped on his neck and heard the satisfying crack of his neck as he crushed his windpipes. A loud clanging erupted with boo’s from somme who had lost their money one more while others cheered as they were satisfied with regaining their winnings and a bit more. Kreig did not care, he simply approached that ram shackled excuse for a gate and simply walked through it, with a thought crossing through his head saying ‘You’ll be back’ of course.... he should have thought ' I gotta get that axe out of my shoulder' but oh well, what are you gonna do?