PM to join [Anthonius Fighter's Pit] A Flamin' Distraction (Edreina)

[Razkar]

75th Day of Summer
Anthonius Fighter's Pit
12th Bell

Razkar knew that the only way you improved was to step outside your comfort zone and, when all was said and done, let experience beat the shit out of you. Once you shook it off and learned that lesson, you were ready for the next one. It was an endless process, though, and that was the supreme truth those in the Training Yards and his own family had pounded into him.

You are never the best; you are just better than others. Somewhere, there is someone or something better. Skill is not dryly calculated with points or levels... it is earned in trained muscles and hours of sweat, blood and pain. Anyone who thinks otherwise has never seen true battle.

Case in point: the Myrian in question forced on the defensive by Gerard Anthonius... who is very much enjoying the experience.

The human lunged with his bastard sword, hacking at Razkar's left, his weaker side now-

-because he was clutching a kukri in that hand, curved slashing dagger that he was dearly in need of practice in-

-the Myrian threw up his arm, weapons blunted but the force enough to send sparks showering between them, forcing the weapon away-

-Gerard's shield smashing towards his chest-

-Razkar stepped back quickly, swiping down and to the right with his hand ax, trying to knock it away-

"Ha!"

-grunting as the edge of the shield slammed into his breastbone and hammered him back like a punch from an Akalak (or Fubuki, perhaps). He staggered, feeling the fetus of a bruise already twitching in the middle of his chest, stifling his breathing and Goddess, the sun seemed so much brighter.

Chuckling... slithering into his ear like a Dhani's... Gerard soaking in his treatment of what was perhaps the most feared male in the Pit at that time.

Despite everything, Razkar smiled to himself. Ah, thank the gods for egotistical, sadistic men. In a real battle, Gerard would still be gloating, relishing the humiliation, perhaps even launching into some ridiculous, ego-boosting monologue.

Razkar would have killed him and moved on. One less enemy to worry about, and he mused even as he forced air back into his bruised chest that, yes, the scholar from Riverfall he read about was right.

“The evil like power... and they want to see you in fear. They want you to know you're going to die. So they'll talk. They'll gloat. They'll watch you squirm. So hope like hell your enemy is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.”

Razkar would have liked to think himself "good"... but he was perfectly fine with "pragmatic". They tended to live longer.

"Want to keep going, Myrian?" Gerard spoke, no, boomed, making sure the ring of spectators over the Pit could hear. "Looking kinda slow, there..."

A chorus of dutiful chuckles from above them and Razkar rolled his eyes. They were never lacking for sycophants here, either; probably thugs looking to curry favor and snag a free lesson from the bearded owner of the Pit. He straightened and flexed his arms. Well, they were still good, at least.

Then he tossed the weapons lightly in the air, side to side-

-catching hand ax and kukri in left and right respectively-

"No. Just time to change."

Then he charged, gnosis flaring into life as he zigzagged his way across the sandy stone. The Akalaks he'd fought hadn't been fazed by such a trick, knowing he'd have to stop at some point to strike, but Gerard immediately went on the defensive, shield up, bastard sword high, eyes flicking left and right, trying to track-

Then Razkar lunged to his left, hammering his training ax towards the sword held in Gerard's right hand-

-only to slide to his right instead, swing of his ax a shallow feint, and struck with a backhand at the shield instead, on Gerard's left, battering the human back with the ferocious blow, grunting out spittle and sweat as he did, knocking him off balance-

-following up with a slash at Gerard's leg with his kukri, teeth shining with pleasure as he heard the human yelp out as the curved blade bit into his armor, probably smarting, oh, more than a little-

"Bastard!"

-and the human slashed back down with the bastard sword, only for Razkar to parry again with his gladius, tucking his kukri into his side-

-and slamming his right shoulder into the shield, two hundred pounds of well-muscled Myrian knocking Gerard even further back-

-but spinning around as they both flew across the stones, going low as he spun-

-lashing out again with his kukri, much lower-

"FUCK!"

-rewarded with a screamed profanity as the heavy-bladed dagger slashed the human just above the knee. If it had been real, Gerard might have lost the leg. As it was... it was good enough.

Razkar stepped back and then swayed even further as a wild, feral swing from Gerard retaliated, but it was desperate, angry... and the human was limping slightly... but far from finished.

"Not... Not bad... Myrian."

Razkar flexed and felt that sting in his chest again. They were the first blows he'd struck with the kukri so far, yet another weapon he had to practice with. Still... everything was a process.

OOCThe quote is from my favorite author. See if you can guess it...

[Edreina]

OOCWriting style seems like... Terry Pratchett? Everyone likes to watch fighting, likes to watch two skilled people beat the tar out of one another. Edreina was, of course, no exception. After her first visit to the Fighter's Pit with the Knight Markus, the redhead had returned several times to watch fighters. As always, she sat a bit off to the side, absolutely unassuming in her bright azure skirt and nearly white shirt. Odd looks were always thrown her way but ignored for the most part. She was not, after all, here for the crowd. Then again, she had not been expecting to see Razkar here. The Myrian's appearance in the pit had nearly sent the Svefra packing. After all, how could an over-protective lover's reaction to seeing his female surrounded by testosterone fueled men ever be good. But, Edreina had never seen Razkar fight anyone other than her without the intention of killing, so curiosity won out. The woman had to admit that there was a slight satisfaction in seeing Razkar actually struggle in a fight. Everything about battle seemed to come so easily to him. And yet, now he was using a relatively new weapon and actually having to fight his opponent instead of the rough play he probably did when training Edreina. His opponent's gloating was, however, getting on Edreina's last nerves. The man - she had seen him here ever time she visited, but knew not his name - needed to be taught a lesson in humility; winning well was a greater skill than losing with dignity. And, it seemed, Razkar was willing to deliver such a lesson. Edreina cringed in sympathy as Razkar changed hands with his weapons, obviously planning something. When he threw himself into a gnosis-fueled blur of motion, Edreina was not disappointed. From that point on, the tide of the spar had turned in the Myrian's favor. Blood was spilt, curses uttered, sympathetic groans even came from the crowd as Razkar rent the man's flesh. When the opponent lashed out wildly, Edreina's grip became white knuckled on her skirt, her expression annoyed. Such instinctual behavior would only get someone hurt, the man was lucky that Razkar's reflexes were as keen as they were. Without thinking, as the fight continued, Edreina let out a sharp wolf-whistle at Razkar when the crowd erupted at one of Razkar's displays of skill. The moment the sound left her lips, the redhead sunk down, blushing furiously and hoping that the trio of men sitting in front of her would block her from the Myrian's gaze. Hopefully, he had not even recognized the sound...

[Razkar]

What Razkar liked about the Pit, bad as it may sound to your ladies, was that Edreina wasn't there. She'd never shown an interest in going to that crumbling former-warehouse where dozens of Syliras' dregs went to spar, brag, fight, plot and gossip. It wasn't hard for him to understand: she just wasn't the type.

So the Myrian could devote his full attention to the fight, gently force all thoughts of his lover from his mind and focus on the steel and flesh in front of him. Gerard's humiliation would definitely come with retaliation, he knew that; the man's ego was too pronounced for him to let it go.

Good. It will make him stupid.

And then, just as he saw the human's muscles tense in readiness, sword and shield raised, they both heard the whistle splitting the air above them, both snapping their gazes up-

-in time to see a red mass of hair jerking behind a trio of lumbering bruisers, who didn't help her by turning in confusion to the female that-

Female. It was definitely female, and when he peered over the boulder-like shoulder of one of those males-

-a pair of worried blue eyes flashed back at him, and Razkar's face darkened.

"Edri?!" He barked out, suddenly uncaring at to who was listening. "What are-"

"RAAAAH!"

Gerard seized his moment well, Razkar would admit afterwards. Whatever his faults (and they were legion, in Razkar's eyes), the human had a low, animal cunning that was as good as instinct. He knew an advantage and a weakness in his opponent when he saw and it lunged forwards while Razkar was distracted, swinging his sword wide at Razkar's left-

The Myrian snapped his eyes up just in time to jerk his training ax up diagonally, knocking the sword away from him, scrambled mind back into the battle but eyes still filled with blue orbs-

-perfect prey as Gerard burst forward, body hiding behind his shield-

-slamming the wooden barrier hard into Razkar, forcing him back, blinding him-

-until the Myrian managed to slide to his right, out from under the thing that would squash him against the wall, staggering on his feet, bruised chest aching and stinging as he raised his weapons-

-Gerard spinning around to deliver a sweeping backhanded swipe to Razkar's right-

-unfamiliar kukri barely blocking the blow, nearly knocked from his grip by the larger, heavier weapon, Razkar grunting in pain as he felt his wrist twinge with the exertion, swinging his ax in his left hand at Gerard's back-

-but the human had learned, he spun around to his left, shield held out from his body as Razkar swung-

-knocking the ax away and nearly breaking Razkar's arm as the full weight of the shield hammered into him-

The Myrian grunted and groaned again, baring his teeth as he backed up desperately, weapons held up but... shaking... he saw the steel trembling in his hands. Out the corner of his eye that same shock of hair was still just visible, female not bothering to hide now she'd been seen.

Force her away! This is a challenge like any other! You think distractions will not occur in battle?!

"Weren't expecting that, were you?" Gerard said with a smirk that could have soured milk, swinging his sword easily and barely wincing from his limp. "Still... can't be nice, seeing your female up there, watching me beat the shyke out of you-"

Don't! Don't rise to it! He wants-

Razkar roared and ignored what he knew was the truth, plunging onward with his gnosis on fire.

[Edreina]

Edreina cringed and immediately felt bad as her behavior distracted Razkar, allowing the other fellow to catch him off guard. And then, when Razkar was slammed bodily by the man and his shield, Edreina rose to her feet with the rest of the spectators, but here eyes were wide and vaguely frightened, no woman wanted to see harm come to a man they cared for. Especially when it was because of her. "Myrian's no' fightin' like normal... Won'er why..." Edreina heard someone mutter to a comrade, but she ignored it. Let them think what they will... Razkar is still infinitely better... And he is man enough to practice with an unfamiliar weapon in public. With her arms crossed, nose up, Edreina continued to watch the fight, yelling out her distaste whenever the opponent tried some cheap trick while everyone else was cheering him on. What was it about humans that caused them to desire seeing their betters brought low? "S'cause of the redhead..." A head was certainly jerked in her direction, but Edreina continued her attempt to ignore them. His words... they touched at a weak point, however. The Svefra knew that she had created a weakness for others to use against the Myrian simply by being, and it bothered her. And that was why she continued to venture to the Fighter's Pit. For now, she was simply learning by observing, how a fight went, what moves worked best against what... "Wouldn' go sof' with a tart like that'n warmin' my bed..." "'Ey, I've got an idea..." Well that certainly did not sound good. Edreina refused to sate her curiosity and look at who was talking, see what they were planning. But then again, she did not have to. Less than a chime after her curiosity woke, it was lulled back into sleep. Two tall, broad men wearing a mixture of leather armor and matching longswords had approached her. Edreina imagined that they were knight-wannabes, men who had not been able to become a squire for some reason or another. As they approached, she gave them a quick, cursory glance from head to toe and then returned her eyes to the fight. At the Herald, this attitude usually served her well. Men would come up and she would brush them off, sending them to the waiting embrace of a comfort woman, or into the bottom of several mugs. Perhaps it would work well here, prove that these low-blow-seekers could say nothing that would get to her. Her rather pathetic attempts at banter could certainly do no better. "Well hello there, missy, what brings your sort to the Pit?" The first one asked, eyeing Edreina rather obviously. "Ye don' seem ta be the fightin' sort." "Here scoutin' fer yerself a real man, mayhaps?" The second one chimed in, proudly displaying his missing tooth. Ah, so it would be a tag-team... That totally displayed their prowess... And yet, Edreina was silent, blue gaze fixed upon the shifting tide of the fight. Last thing Razkar needed was to be distracted by an outburst from Edreina. The only sign of her annoyance was the slow tapping of her fingers upon her upper arm. "Well, darlin'... Look no further!" He stretched his arms wide, surely drawing Razkar's attention with such an odd gesture. At this, Edreina's composure was lost and she dissolved into a redheaded heap of of giggles. Both men shot her a questioning look before looking at one another, obviously questioning the woman's mental sanity. Hell, becoming involved with the Myrian should have been enough to tip them off. After a moment, she shook her head, straightening up, eyes still shining with mirth. "Something funny?" Oh that was it, Edreina could hold back no longer. And so, the Suvan poured forth from her grinning lips. "Several things, actually, your obvious insecurities, first and foremost. I mean really. Are you so desperate to see Razkar fail that you use his woman to distract him?" Something flashed across the shorter one's eyes. Was it shame? Edreina hoped so. "How about instead of standing around, stroking each others cocks you go out and learn to use those swords you carry. They aren't jewelry, despite the fact that they are shiny." The taller one cringed lightly as Edreina used a description she had heard him use once before when showing that very same sword off to others. "Now if you will excuse me, I came here to watch real men fight." Without another word, she turned and went back to watching the fight, eyes narrowed as she attempted to see what she had missed. Hopefully, her lack of control had not distracted Razkar too terribly...

[Razkar]

He attacked in anger. How many petching times had he been warned against such stupidity?! Rage and fury had their place in battle, but never uncontrolled and unchallenged. But one comment about his female and all those years melted away and Razkar acted the raw fucking recruit-

-and paid for it.

Both of them knew that Gerard was far from his equal in blades, but he knew how to use his shield and, more importantly, he had Razkar's anger working for him. Even with his gnosis spurring him on, the Myrian was sloppy, obvious-

-hacking wildly with his ax, bastard sword smacking it away in a flurry of clanging, shaking sparks-

-lunging forwards with his shield again, the Myrian's kukri far too small to stop it-

-as it hammered him back again, robbing him of the initiative-

-bastard sword slamming down vertically, ax only just stopping it, jerking up horizontally-

-but his grip was weak and it battered the weapon back down towards him, Razkar yelping as the reverse of his own training ax carved into his upper chest with the impact, sending him reeling back, on the damned defensive yet again.

Don't look! She can handle herself! Worry about your own struggle!

He heard it and he knew it was right and what did he do? He looked up.

Idiot.

All he got was a snapshot of her pensive, worried face gazing down at him... and beyond her, two bottom-feeders zeroing in on her like rangy wolves on a wounded lamb. Razkar gritted his teeth and felt his heart seize with protective rage, weapons gripped so tight suddenly his knuckles whitened-

-and then Gerard was on him again.

The human snarled and came at him fast, shield up and protecting his torso, calculating eyes only just visible as he thrust the long bastard sword at Razkar's stomach. The Myrian batted it away, ax in his left flashing outward, knocking it away-

-and then he sidestepped with the motion, knowing Gerard would attempt to slam that shield into him again, but that time Gerard's strike hit nothing but air, putting him off-balance for a tick-

-and the Myrian capitalized, backhanded slash from his kukri flashing diagonally down-

-catching the human straight in the back of the right knee, sending him crashing down to the sand, crowd crowing above him, stoking Gerard's rage-

-as he cried out and backhanded with his long bastard sword, Myrian looking up, again, away from the-

-blow that laid open his hip with its rusty edge.

Razkar grunted and staggered, kukri-laden hand snapping to his side as he felt the blood ooze over it. Pain, stark and numbing, ripped down half his body and he nearly fell over his own feet getting away from Gerard. The human hauled himself upright, limping now, Razkar's final blow taking its toll... but far from done.

"Ah, so..." He said through gasps, swinging his bastard sword easily, managing a swagger even as he limped towards the panting Myrian. "He does have something he cares for. Good to know..."

Razkar growled, low and feral like the tigers he'd hunted back home, every inch of his skin bristling with indignation, teeth bared... until he looked up and saw...

Was she... laughing?

He nearly gaped as he watched what he knew from experience was not flirting from the Svefra: judging by their reactions, the flushing of their cheeks, the awkward looks away from her grin, one was even scratching anxiously.

And then she just looked away, ignoring them like one would a pair of uppity mosquitoes, turning her gaze down to the Pit... and giving him a firm, confident nod.

Goddess... she never ceases to surprise.

"No..." The Myrian said, and Gerard cocked his head, confidence deflating at the otherworldly tone in his opponent's voice. "... not weakness. Strength."

A hard, level look matched Gerard's stare, and Razkar felt the fire released from him, a long, grateful exhalation. The pain was there, stinging like a swarm of bees at his side, but it would numb, and he had suffered and fought through far worse.

He stretched his arms wide... felt the strain of doing so... gritted his teeth... then settled into his combat stance, almost sideways to the human, gladius in his left held in front, kukri cocked back by his shoulder.

Razkar winked, smirking as sweat rolled down the creases of his face.

"When ready, human..."

[Edreina]

No matter how fierce one's man is, seeing him hurt can really start to get to a woman. In Edreina's case, it fanned the little flame in her chest. She wanted to jump in there and fight alongside him. But, she was smart enough to hold herself back. The reasons were simple: she would do more harm than good and she knew how having your woman leap to your rescue - especially when she would likely stumble as she entered the Pit - would do no man's reputation any favors. And so her anger was directed elsewhere. And by elsewhere, she meant the two morons still carrying on behind her. Every time she drew her ears from the fight, she caught slivers about how her Myrian was losing it, how he was not the best any more, how he- Needless to say, it was grating against her last nerves. Who were they to question Razkar's prowess as he attempted to learn an entirely new weapon? "Love to see you try it..." she finally growled through her teeth, biting down hard upon her cheek to keep from continuing. "Wa'shee say?" One asked the other, pretending to notice the forehead was still standing there after the last lashing her tongue delivered. Frankly, Edreina was surprised they had the gall to continue their goading. As if taking two steps away would save them from her wrath. "I said," she turned to face them, voice and eyes sharp as polished steel, "That I would love to see you try." Long, freckled arms crossed, red hair quivering in the breeze and glowing in Syna's rays, Edreina looked like a defiant spirit. Both men stilled for an instant at her words. Luckily, one managed to locate the balls that had ascended to somewhere in their abdomen. He ever so valiantly piped up, "Well 'e's injur'd... wouldn' be a fair fight." Oh yes. So very brave. "What about me?" Edreina asked blandly without missing a beat. She had been measuring these guys up and though both seemed to be half-way competent with the sword, she doubted either of them had devoted much time to fighting with their hands. Or their feet. Or their elbows, for that matter. The shorter one was remaining noticeably quiet, he was obviously smarter. He did not know this blue eyed woman who was the chosen mate of a Myrian warrior. For all he knew, she could be twice as deadly as her man, that's how Myrians worked, right? Or had that just been an ale-riddled tale. "Well I- I wouldn' wanna hurt a lady..." The taller one said quickly, eyes flashing to Razkar, obviously fearing retribution. "Oh please! I was taught by him," she jerked her head back to the pit, back to where a tautly muscled, ferocious warrior was giving it his best. "Do you really think I'm afraid of a couple of bumps and bruises? For petchings sake, I probably get more bruises from him in bed than I would from you in a fight." The mans face sniggered as a couple of the eaves-droppers lost themselves to sniggering. For a brief instant, the redhead wondered what had come over her. She never sought a fight. Ever! But now? She really just wanted to test herself. Razkar always went easy on her, she knew. But this guy would pull no punches. Better she learn the depth - or lack there of - of her skill now. He was bigger than her, yes, but he moved slower, ambling rather than truly walking. If she could get in close and get out before he made any devastating moves... Well this would be interesting either way. If only he will- "Fine, woman. Just don't trip on your skirts." "Don't get tangled up in your mum's skirts," she quipped back, shaking her head. The phrase was commonly used to poke fun at adolescents on the Flotilla -or at least the Fratavan translation of it - so she wondered if it would have the same effect here. Either way. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that the fight was nearly winding down, though it took her a moment to determine who would soon be the victor, both combatants were bruised and bloody. Edreina's heart lurched, as it always did, at the sight of Razkar hurt, no matter the extent. "No armor. No weapons. Just me and you." A tick later, the man nodded, face a bit grim. As he rolled his shoulders, Edreina could tell that he would rely mainly upon his brute strength. In his eyes, directed though they were at the ground, one would see a war waging between his pride and his fear of Razkar. He would beat the girl, but he would not humiliate her. Not with that savage around... When the fight finally ended and both Razkar and the stranger moved for the walls, Edreina would be the first to leap into the Pit, followed by the tall swordsman. The man removed his armor, and just as Edreina was about to commence with stripping off her annoying clothes, she caught a glimpse of a brown-skimmed figure stalking towards her. Shyke... She had not considered her lover's reaction to her decision. Before he could speak, she held up a hand, smiling her most reassuring smile when what she wanted to do was run up and kiss soundly, make sure he was sound. But they were not one of those couples. The redhead wiggled just a bit at the joy that came with being able to mentally refer to them as a true pair. "I'll be fine," she mouthed. And then, with a wink, "Get some bets going." She could only hope that he would not, instead, see it fit to drag her out by the hair.

[Razkar]

Once the red mist cleared from his eyes and the stark, serious matter of combat replace it, Razkar found himself... at peace. In control. He felt every tensing and relaxation of his muscles, every inch of the hilts in his hand... the pain in his side and the raw taste in his mouth from the exertion...

And he looked upon the human with cold, clinical eyes that jarred with the raging anger that had rampaged across them before. That was not the way of a warrior; he was not so "savage" that he didn't know that.

Gerard came on again, and that time, Razkar was watching.

The human's bastard sword swung hacked at him twice, forward and backhand, great sweeping blows that forced the Myrian back and back again-

-no, not again, because the backhand bought his hand far to his side, exposing his torso, save for the shield, which he knew-

Predictable form. Strong, capable, competent... but too relied upon, and thus repetitive.

-Gerard lunged forward with his left foot, shield up and straight, seeking to hammer the Myrian back into the wall, staggering him-

-but the Myrian slid to the side, to Gerard's right, where his bastard sword was finishing it's backhand and high up-

-as his training ax swung up sharply, an uppercut, the curve of the weapon's head acting as a hook-

-that Razkar jammed around the human's elbow and ripped downwards-

-slashing down with his kukri at the same time at the captured arm-

"FUCK!"

Gerard's cry sent a likewise tremor of shock hissing and bubbling from the crowd watching, heads turning left and right to armchair-criticize the fighter below as the kukri bit through the thinner armor on the man's arms-

-slicing into the flesh of his forearm-

-training sword clattering to the stones-

-and Razkar unhooked the ax, twisted-

-and sent a sharp, quick left foot into the human's right side, now unarmed, mashing a kidney and drawing a stunned yelp, Gerard doing the bizarre sideways-doubling one did when that organ was wounded.

Through his pain he heard the hiss of sandals on sandy stone... then the slow, patient tread of a man in no hurry... watching patiently.

She is your strength, not your weakness. She can handle herself and you know it. This pit is your world. You whole world. Control it.

"You... You fight... dirty..."

Razkar shrugged as Gerard retrieved his weapon, blood warming the palm of his hand as a rivulet of it ran from his arm down to splat wetly, quietly onto the sand. He stood, breathing harder now, watched the Myrian flip his weapons again. Gerard's ego was something to be hold, for all his mediocrity, but even he knew that now the Myrian was using his strong hand for that ax... and he was no longer clouded by anger.

"From you? I take as compliment." Razkar made a little hurrying gesture with his kukri, as if bidding him to get up. "Shall we?"

Gerard's mouth opened, but Razkar was already moving. He'd seen enough, and while he would not cripple this human, he would end this. Gerard owned the Pits, and he would tolerate no humiliation. He'd simply ban the Myrian from sparring there and then where would the warrior be? He couldn't let his skills lose their edge, even against the mostly-lackluster competition he'd found here.

But still, he thought, and carefully allowed a small ember of that protective rage to be stoked, spurring him on along with his gnosis, he mentioned her. Soiled her name with his mouth. There must be... balance, for that.

He slid to Gerard's left, his shield side, twisting around as he did, ax chopping down hard from the side, hammering onto that wooden protection, but not just once, relentlessly, brutally, once, twice, thrice-

-until Gerard lunged back with his sword, aiming low at the Myrian's legs-

-knocked away by the swinging kukri in Razkar's left hand, to Gerard's left, leaving his right side open-

-but the human reacted fast, last waning moments of the fight as urgent in his mind as they were in Razkar's, and he lunged forwards-

-with his forehead-

"Shyke!"

Razkar reeled back as something high and probably important in his head shattered and exploded black shrapnel danced in front of his eyes. Goddess, how many times had he pulled the same trick? His back found the wall and the shower of dark sprites parted, roaring, screaming, victorious Gerard charging at him, bastard sword high, shield held in front, aiming to crush the fucking savage against the stones of the pit and be fucking done with it-

Not today.

He used every dram of power his gnosis lent him and he... waited. Until the shield was close enough for his last, desperate stratagem. It would hurt, might even tear his back up nicely, but it would work, and Gerard would never see it coming.

Wait... wait... now!

Razkar jumped straight up on the spot, drawing his knees up to his chest, gritting his teeth as his back slid and scraped up the wall, stone gnawing at his flesh. A spark of confusion flared in Gerard's eyes as he thundered onwards-

-but he never got a chance to act on it.

Both of Razkar's legs exploded outwards, horizontally, feet kicking out hard at the vertical shield rushing towards them. One of them might not have done it, but both, with Razkar's muscled legs behind them, slamming into the flat surface at the same instant with all the force his lower body could muster behind them?

Gerard flew back and didn't even know how it was happening.

Of course, landing wasn't as graceful. Razkar managed to get one foot back on the ground proper, the other wobbling under him and instead his knee thudded into the stone. A fresh flash of pain ripped through him and he blocked it, already leaping forwards, weapons ready as Gerard fell back, arms out to soften his landing, reacting on instinct, chest open-

-but still in the fight enough to see the Myrian charging at him from above, bastard sword sweeping out low to take him off at the ankles-

-Razkar leaped over the blow and landed astride the human-

-hand ax slamming down vertically onto the shield at Gerard's side, pinning it there, crouched low-

-and his kukri leveled at the human's throat.

A long, silent moment passed and for much of it, Gerard debated his chances. Neither of them would die, of course; neither wanted that kind of trouble, with the afterlife or the Knights. He could use his sword, perhaps, or maybe a leg between the Myrian's legs... but would he be fast enough? And what damage could he do that would stop Razkar completely?

Doubt rose like a child's nightmare in his eyes, paralyzing him, sapping his will... and then vanished, egotistical smile returning, a mask to the sycophants above, and the younger Anthonius actually managed to shrug while prone and pinned.

"Yeah. For today. Not bad, savage."

"Funny." Razkar said, straightening up and sheathing his kukri so he could offer a hand to Gerard. "Was thinking same thing."

Gerard took the hand and was yanked back to his feet, crowd above murmuring and giving their oh-so-piercing reviews of the fight. The bearded human panted and the hair on his chin shined in the sun... but he managed to nod at the curved, heavy dagger in Razkar's hand.

"Fine weapon, but keep it to parrying and slashing what isn't open." Gerard spoke quickly but clearing, still an instructor, after all. "Against armor and shields... not even close to big enough."

"Yes. Learn that hard way."

Gerard just grunted, but there was a glimmer of grudging respect under the glower her gave the Myrian.

"Not petching hard enough..."

A few ticks later, Razkar was... well, actually still in the pit. Now the fight was over, his wounds clamored up and down his body like children begging for attention. It took every ounce of will to force the pain away as he hauled himself up the wall, over the railing the crowd leaned again, fresh blood oozing from his side and his nose.

Goddess... the petch is my healing kit?

Then he saw the next two fighters getting ready to go in. He'd seen it dozens of times before: both figures stripping themselves of valuables, purses, clothes that would get in the way, even weapons and armor if that was the arrangement.

But he'd never seen one that looked like her. Nor did he want to.

Razkar walked swiftly over and once again his anger numbed his pain, bleeding him now ignored and dripping sulkily in response. Edreina turned up her cool, calm eyes to him and he towered over her, pitch black eyes and tight face a picture of any friend, lover or blood-relation that was not happy about-

"I'll be fine. Get some bets going."

He breathed in... and out... and did so again a few times, mind warring with what his soul was screaming at him. Her opponent was larger, bulkier older-

Slow. Untrained, used to brawls in the Coin, not matches in the Pit. She must have seen that. After all...

The anger and the much-hated fear behind his eyes began to ebb, a familiar calm taking their place. A smile, tiny and tentative, formed on his lips. He knew it wasn't true calm: it was resignation. She had decided on something, and he would insult her grievously by dragging her away.

Long had he walked from his own people, but Razkar could not to that to a female. Especially his female.

"Good idea." He said, and nodded, a single gesture enough to show his confidence in her, and he raised his voice a little higher. "I teach you well. Not need to worry."

He watched as she stepped around him, wishing more than anything to... to...

... you trained her. You taught her what you know and, just as importantly, in the same ruthless fashion you were trained. It's easy to say she is ready and able when nothing is at risk. But unless it is tested, it has no true worth.

"Fifty on the female!"

His voice echoed around the Pit just after the two new fighters dropped down into it, brief clouds of dust coughed up at their feet. Edri's hair flew and flashed as she whirled to him, seeing a purse held in his bruised arm. A dozen others were doing the same, curious sight of the savage with a bloody rag over his nose and a jangling bag of gold in his pocket often having that effect.

"Oh, c'mon, Myrian!" Gerard managed to growl from the other side, resting his forearms on the railing, one of his younger minions bandaging his forearm as he spoke. "She may be your girl but she isn't you! Look at her?! Dagrun'll rip her a newFUCK! Gods, boy, be petching careful!"

"Sorry, boss..."

Razkar tilted up his chin, all savage pride and power... somewhat subdued by said rag over his face. "She is my student. I teach. You have seen savage Myrian bastard right, yes?" A chorus in the affirmative answered him and he spread his arm. "Then want to see good fight from girl like you he train? Eh?" Another chorus, louder, Razkar mentally shaking his head at the Sylirian passion for getting carried away by a good bit of oratory. "Fine! Then I say fifty on female! Who take?!"

Arms were flung up, some glittering with gold and silver and Gerard relented with a roll of his eyes.

"Alright, alright! We'll say..." he calculated with a natural bookie's speed, appraising the slight but toned Svefra and the lumbering ox she faced "... four-no! Three to one!"

Cries of cheat and fix and bastard rent the air but Gerard shouted them all down like the dog with the biggest balls on the block. He didn't trust the petching Myrian, and if he was putting that much gold onto a fighter, and a woman at that...

Razakr just nodded and tossed the purse over crossing his arms over his chest. His hip and nose could wait. He would not miss this for anything...

Mirroring their positions but chimes ago, he looked down at the female and mouthed two words. She blinked as she recognized them, after a few ticks. She'd seen them screamed and bellowed and snarled by him before in the heat and eve of imminent battle. Now it was said as a blessing for what she was about to embark on and prove.

Then Razkar touched the tattoo on his forehead, just for a moment, and there was no doubt.

For Myri.

[Edreina]

"Fifty on the female!" At his words, Edreina grinned broadly and pulled her shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it up onto the wall. Her skirt was discarded in a similar fashion, leaving her in a pair of tightly fitting linen undershorts and a linen wrapping about her chest. In the dusty pit, her honey-colored, dappled body nearly appeared to be suited for camouflage, were it not for the shock of gleaming copper hair perched atop her crown. In motions made utterly efficient from years of practice, the redhead untied her chest bindings and, with a quick tug, tightened it to a level that would have been painful to most, tying it again an instant later. Looking across the pit, she saw her opponent had removed his armor, revealing a well muscled body that was relatively free of scars. To her, after training for even a short while with Razkar - and bearing the marks to prove it - she knew that he was either very good with a blade, had not practiced much with others, or never practiced without armor. The first meant little to her, the second meant he would likely have a set idea of attacks, defenses, and retaliations lined up in her mind, and the third meant that he would often go off balance when expecting the slight difference in weight or range of motion. Thinking like a Myrian, aren't we? she smiled at the thought, rolling her neck, her shoulders, twisting this way and that. "Ye gonna fight or dance?" The bulldog bellowed brazenly. His smile was something entirely different and Edreina felt his mud-colored eyes on her body. Good... Let him get distracted... As she took a step back, sliding her right foot forward so that she would have more power to throw into punches with her left hand, her oddly dominant hand, her eyes alighted upon Razkar, narrowing for an instant as he mouthed something. For Myri... The words rang in her mind like a chapel bell, filling her with excitement and setting her blood ablaze. She could do this. Without a spoken word, the two combatants moved upon one another, one the powerful clomp of a fierce predator, the other a sweet whisper of bare flesh over dirt as the gazelle-like woman kept him from flanking her, hands up in fists as Razkar had shown her a season ago. For a moment, there was silence, so complete that it became a sound in and of itself. No one moved, few even held their breath as they waited to see what sort of woman had attracted a Myrian's eye. And then the moment erupted. The stranger launched himself at Edreina with a feral cry, obviously attempting to spook her. Did he even have an inkling as to who had taught her. She was motionless, wide blue eyes working in her favor for once as she appeared to be startled, cocking her head to the side curiously. When he was close enough, she stepped to the side, caught hold of his wrist and used the momentum of the charge against him, planting her other hand in his shoulder as she attempted to trip him up and send him to the ground. Instead, he pivoted, twisting his body so that Edreina had to either release him or risk fracturing her wrist. He turned and send a broad hay-maker towards her abdomen. Once again, Edreina's first lesson of deflection came into play. With a flat palm, she pushed the punch down and away and in that instant that he was over extended, brought her elbow down upon his Trapezius. The sharp point of impact surprised the man, causing him to fumble away from the Svefra for a moment. Damn... What had he gotten himself into? On the outside, Edreina was a vision of calm, swimmer's lungs heaving slowly in and out as she forced herself to slow, to think things through instead of acting like the wildcat she had initially been. But her cheeks were flushed, a sign of her excitement, and her hands trembled lightly, showing that she was just a bit more nervous than she had expected to be. The energy that pulsed through her veins was unfamiliar to her. Was this the battle-high Razkar always spoke of? It was Edreina who initiated this time, grinning fiercely. When his hand came up to ward off her first blow, she caught his wrist in her right hand and tucked it under her arm, arm coiled around it, holding it in place and his side open. This had been something that Raz had taught her fairly early on because it required more proper body placement than brute strength. But Edreina was still green and, in the heat of battle, she did not manage to get her arm locked around his entirely right. But, she had managed to get it this far so she might as well take advantage of it. In the time it took him to realize what was going on, three quick punches were aimed at his side, just below the ribcage were things were softer. He began to twist, attempting to free himself, upon the third strike, and Edreina missed her target, bruising her fist upon his ribs. Immediately, she released him and danced away with a yelp, shaking out her fist. Gods, had she really been pulling her punches that much when fighting Razkar? There was a new light of appreciation and calculation in the opponent's eyes when they met Edreina's. It both gave her pause and excited her just a bit more, feeling that he was now going to be a bit more careful around her, plan his strikes instead of relying entirely upon his size. His eyes had seen a dozen more fights than hers, would that give him an advantage? Had he already begun to understand her style of fighting? That would be odd, seeing as not even Edreina knew it yet, at least not truly. She just kind of... went for it. Whatever it happened to be at the time. In that moment, it happened to be a slightly open stance. When she moved forward, he attempted to, quite literally, shove her away. Yeah, both hands out, the whole shebang... So much for planning. Using her forearms, she knocked the blow open and away, bringing a knee up and to the side at the same moment so that it slammed into his side. She was not, however, expecting him to put a foot where hers had originally. This upsetting of her footing along with her having gone off balance while linking the moves caused her to stumble when she stepped on his foot. On a boat, she would have used the motions of the boat to regain her balance in an instant. On this stupid stable earth, not so much. As she fell forwards and to the side, he got behind her, hooking his arms under her shoulders so that her arms were pinned back, helpless. He tugged hard, upwards- -and pain exploded in the Svefra's shoulder, the one that had been impaled earlier in the season, the one that still bore a shiny pink scar. She had thought it entirely healed. But, in this unnatural position, a sharp scream was torn from her throat with such intensity that it throbbed for chimes after. But, her opponent did not stop. Instead, he continued to pull at her body until the Svefra was sure she would soon be without arms. It could not happen. Fear was replaced by anger in an instant as the Svefra put one foot forward and, using every muscle in her body, flipped him over her so that, in shock, he released her and fell onto his back with a surprised oof! To some, the move would look advanced, but it was just another example of using an opponent's mass against them. Turn your body into the right kind of fulcrum and you only have to get them up, gravity does the rest. Goddess, her shoulder hurt... But it was not over. Just as she regained her balance and went to step away, a wrist caught hold of her ankle, yanking sharply and sending her hurtling towards the ground. Shyke! She brought up both arms to brace herself as she hit the dirt, cursing herself for not watching him better. She had been so preoccupied with getting away from him she had not paused to make sure that such a feat was possible. But the stupid petching rat only grabbed one of her ankles, leaving the other foot free to kick him in the face. Which she did, once, before he grabbed her other ankle. With an inhuman grunt, he rose to his knees and drug her thrashing and flailing across the Pit's floor towards him, his busted lip now bleeding profusely. He released her ankles and rose to his feet at the same time, preparing his elbow to be dropped onto the Svefra's trembling form. Everything hurt, at this point. But the elbow he slammed into the Pit's floor as Edreina rolled out from under him probably hurt worse, at least judging by the way he screamed. It could have been over then, but Edreina was pain-mad. In revenge for her exploding - if an explosion could happen again and again - shoulder, she came up to her knees and grabbed the back of his stunned head, aiming to ram it into the floor, to break his nose, to knock him unconscious. But she moved too slow, was too hesitant in where she grabbed. He rolled onto his back, a broad stroke of his arm knocking the Svefra down and away as he did. Immediately, Edreina scrambled to her feet, chest heaving. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught on the floor with this hulking monster; his weight alone could probably do some damage. He did the same, a bit slower, but was on his feet before Edreina could get him, nonetheless. For a moment, the opponents started at one another, all jovial light gone from their eyes as they took stock of one another's wounds and did their best to hide their own. Neither was aware of how the fight would look outside of the pit: Two novices swinging wildly in an attempt to his something, anything. In that moment, they were both in the most fierce fight of their lives, and neither wanted to lose. After a breath, they lunged for one another yet again.

[Razkar]

His lips were a pressed white line and his jaw was so tight that a crowbar couldn't have loosened it, but intense as Razkar's stare was, most of the fear in his eyes had given way to a... fascination. Now just the pride of a student doing so well, but the fact that he was the one getting an education, too.

"Come on, little more fuckin' lively!" Something vaguely human with a beard like a nest of dead rats screeched near him, one eye ruined by a ragged scar and a bottle clutched in one hand. His other snapped an accusing finger down into the pit. "Stop dancin' an'-"

Her scream nearly bought Razkar to his knees. His teeth ground out like stone slabs smashing together and his lips curled back, inane screaming from the drunk only making it worse. The crowd loved it, roared their approval when he hoisted her up from behind, arms stretched high over her head and face a mask of agony, scar on her shoulder ripped utterly the wrong way.

"Don' worry, boy," the lech slurred, making the mistake and patting Razkar's unnaturally still and tight shoulder, "Ev'ry filly nee's breakin' in, c'mon, you kno, heheheh, what I m-"

Razkar's hand snapped to the back of his head and then to the railing in one sharp, ruthless movements. Unfortunately for the drunk, his face was between the two.

The Myrian's eyes never wavered from the pit, not even to watch his body slump backward with a soft, gurgling sigh. The bottle never broke and the coins clasped in his hand never jingled: good, honest Sylirans were there to unburden him of them before they could be damaged.

City folk. Gotta love 'em.

"C'mon, Edri," he rasped, words hissed between his teeth, "You have to be smart here, don't try and match strength for streng-"

When the two-legged oxen flew over the Svefra's back, Razkar's eyebrows ratcheted up his forehead.

Goddess. Did I really teach her that?

She was... far from perfect, at least to the cold, clinical part of his psyche that had waged and survived dozens, hundreds of battles and sparring sessions. Her form was still ragged and her tricks were rudimentary. But compared to her opponent?

Edreina was lithe and quick, and she had a mind behind her movements. Using her body as a fulcrum to throw him, holding his arm at his elbow, sliding and rolling and slipping away from those brutish, artless blows...

Razkar felt a smile crease his face, glowing with pride and then with something else as he saw the wild, crackling look in those wide blue eyes as they circled each other warily. Goddess, how many times had his feet moved to this dance? The first tentative steps and clashes over with, your enemy measured and felt out... and now the serious business of it.

Whatever amusement or disdain the male had was long gone: he'd underestimated the slight sprite before, he would not do it again... so why did Razkar not feel feel? Why not the urge to leap down there and hammer his head to the wall until he stopped twitching?

Because she can do this. It won't be easy, though.

He frowned suddenly. Speed, agility and creativity, yes, Edreina had all of those, but there was one thing she was missing: sheer endurance. Harsh as he'd been with her, Razkar had always pulled his punches, hitting at half-speed so not to crack or break bones. But the broken-nosed pug snarling at her now? He would not be so... courteous.

One good crack around the jaw, and she won't get back up again. What did they teach you about fighting a larger, stronger opponent? You can be lucky ten times and still lose. He only has to be lucky once.

"Gettin' nervous, Raz?" His eyes snapped over and found Gerard with a white slash around each arm, fresh bandages. The master of the Pit leered down into it. "Good form, your girl, but missing a bit of ommpf, isn't she?"

"Fight not over yet!"

"I wonder what I'll spend my winnings on...?"

"Will be question for me, human," Razkar said with a small smirk, tearing his gaze back to Edreina, drinking in the dark desire in her eyes as she lowered her head, nearly snarling at her adversary, "Not make little of female. She is more than she seems..."

The crowd jeered and made dismissive little gestures from three regions (predominantly male, you see), but Razkar ignored them just as he usually did. He didn't think about the fifty mizas he really didn't want to lose; he didn't think about his pride or reputation; he cared for the dance below. And because he had... poured himself into this female, his body and his teachings and what little wisdom he had...

Is this the ghost of a shadow of what you feel, Blessed Myri? Looking through our eyes and rejoicing in your children's victories?

Careful, a sterner, far more pragmatic voice broke in as he gripped the railing tight, knuckles now matching his lips, she has to be the victor first...

[Edreina]

When the fight commenced once again, both opponents were trying in earnest to take the other one down. The man because of his pride and Edreina because of her natural fear of the enormous fellow. Whenever a cheap shot was offered, it was capitalized upon. Edreina spun to avoid a charge and turned to push the man down onto the ground as he rushed past. He had more mass than she, so instead of engaging him head on she attempted to use his own lumbering momentum against himself as frequently as possible. He stumbled but quickly recovered from her deflection and was on her again in an instant. She knocked aside his punch at her temple but realized too late that it was just a means of distracting her. Rookie mistake. Edreina groaned mentally the instant before the fellow's heavy fist collided with her abdomen, spurring on a very real groan. For an instant the redhead froze in panic as she was unable to breathe, doubled over. But the man did not relent. He grabbed her by the shoulder and rammed his fist into her stomach twice more before she gathered her wits enough to throw herself into a left uppercut that met his muscled jaw with a dull thud. Both fighters stumbled back, attempting to shake off their new aches. At that moment, neither knew who was closer to winning, only that they both hurt and were regretting this fight. Both wanted it over. They clashed again more furiously than before, but the anger had left their eyes. Now this was just a fight to end, not to prove. There would be no flashy showmanship, no awe-inspiring combat techniques, just two people attempting to be the one to end it. At one point, Edreina left herself utterly astonished. When knocked backwards and off balance, her first instinct was to kick out with her powerful leg, to keep him at bay long enough for her to recover. What she was not expecting was the dull crack and the pained yelp that came from the man as he bumbled backwards, hand pressed against the left side of his ribcage where her heel had made contact, lips white with shock. Because of the defensive maneuver, she was thrown absolutely off balance and ended up crashing to the earth. Rolling onto her bum and her elbows, she grinned in a most feral way. Finally, she had done some damage. A brief tinge of regret flashed through her eyes until she reminded herself that one did not enter a fight without carrying an expectation of injury. And now her opponent was injured, breath catching as he attempted to keep from hissing his pain. That was something that the Myrian's student could and would use. For several ticks they stood there, eying one another, lips curled in a snarl and a feral grin. They met once more with the solid thud of flesh on flesh as Edreina brought her knee up towards his side, their hands locked as they attempted to grapple their way into an advantage. Knowing that her opponent was stronger and that it would not be long before he overpowered her, Edreina remembered that a fight was conducted using more than her fists. Hence, the two sharp knee raises and then the swift head it she delivered when her opponent showed no signs of wavering. Her own barely crooked nose felt his pain as her forehead collided with his nose, cringing internally at the wet crunch that reverberated through her skull. He stepped back, dazed by the pain, eyes unfocused as his hand came up to touch his nose. Edreina knew this needed to be over. She was far from a decently skilled fighter, but this fellow was even worse off, and his stubborn pride was keeping him from quitting when he should. He had no place clashing without his blade or his armor. But he was so much bigger than Edreina, stronger still. The question turned to how she would attempt to bring him down. Body shots. Neither fighter had the skill to attempt much more than that, so most of both of their injuries were restricted to the torso, and so that was how she chose to end it. Taking advantage of his dazed appearance, the Svefra rushed forward and threw her weight into an elbow she swung at his ribs, not trusting her aim with her smaller fist to hit where she wanted. Her outer forearm slammed into his battered ribs an instant before she swung her leg out and around to hit the side of his knee, upsetting his balance. As he teetered, Edreina had to leap out of the way lest he crush her. He hit his knees, breathing hard through a fountainesque nose so that blood was sprayed across the dirty ground. As she watched, he blinked a few times and clarity had returned. His lust for battle and hungry pride, however, had not. Finally, he nodded the Edreina, and said just loud enough for all to hear, "You have bested me." At this point, most victors would begin to brag and to gloat, but Edreina saw no point in it. She had set out to test herself and that she had, the bruises proved it. This fellow, despite how far his head had been lodged up his own arse-hole, had given The redhead a fair fight. Without hesitating, the Svefra approached the defeated man and offered him her hand. At first, his face was hesitant. Why would this woman help him up after he had spoken poorly? The truth lay in the fact that Edreina was all but physically unable to harbor any ill will towards others - save for the now-deceased Ekvan. Every arse had the opportunity to become a better person once they were well enough humbled. And though this man had certainly not changed, the woman noticed that his eyes were finally open. He had finally noticed the folly of his behavior. After a tick, he took her hand and allowed her to help him up. They both groaned at the exertion as it tormented their battered bodies, and then laughed once, rather awkwardly. "You fought well," Edreina said with a genuine, walking alongside the man as he made his way back to his armor. "And I really hope you learned from this. To be a good fighter you have to be able to at least hold your own with anything thrown at you. You saw Razkar out there, struggling to learn a new weapon. But think of how many weapons he has now mastered. It's why he is the best," a bit of pride colored her voice and the man looked at her through pensive eyes, surprised by her behavior and wondering what her point was. "I'm not the best fighter. Far from it, really, but I'm always challenging myself. It's the only reason I fought you, really. I wanted to see how I would fair against someone other than Raz," the last part of his name was tacked on as an after thought, no need to give these leeches more to feed on. She shrugged and smiled again, not at all the person she had been before they fought. "Sorry about your er..." she motioned vaguely, earning a small, surprised chuckle and a dismissive gesture. "Fightin' ya was fun... Painful, but fun. And ah'll be sure to think on yer words." A quick glance over Edreina's shoulder and suddenly his face was a shade paler. Before he spoke, Edreina knew the cause. "Yer Myrian's eyein' us. Best get back before he thinks you're boutta pity-petch me." To think that only chimes earlier they had been bickering and close to ripping each other apart. Well, Edreina mainly. Petch her shoulder hurt... With one more grin and a salutary nod, Edreina scrambled up out of the pit and trotted along to where Raz was waiting with crossed arms. His expression was oddly unreadable, even to his lover, and the Svefra was immediately on edge. Had she really done that bad. Knotting her fingers behind her back, Edreina grinned sheepishly up at him. "So how'd I do?" and then, more importantly, "How much did you make?" Bruised and a bit bloody, and all the Svefra could think of was getting Raz to critique her and then finding out if he had made enough to take her out for steak - a food item she had become mildly enamored with since first consumption - at the Rearing Stallion after this.