Post by Darko on Aug 23, 2014 18:44:45 GMT
The Gladiator Pit Tournament
It was a particularly warm mid-afternoon in Gelttown, as the gargantuan life support systems required to sustain the entire dome had been rigged on Kal-Kallid Masdalli's orders. The Pit's stands were heavily crowded with everyone eager to see what the new local gangsters could muster up in the special tournament. After all, this wasn't just about the prize. It was about fame, respect and reputation - far more valuable than any coin.
This made them hot and sweaty, and that made them spend their hard-earned Gelt on cool, refreshing drinks. The hotter it got, the more drinks they bought to quench their thirst, and the greater the Guild's profit for the day. The more drunk they got, the more they made outrageous bets on the fights, further increasing the Guild's profit. The masses didn't care. They just wanted to see some blood spilled.
On the VIP podium at one end of the Pit, reserved only for Guilders, sat Chief Guilder Lady Thebe and her entourage. The vaunted Guild Father had even made an appearance, despite the fact he could not see the fights. He seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere nonetheless. Captain Roth was present, but seemed tense. Everyone had heard about the Guilder convoy that got raided - word had spread like wildfire. But this tournament was quite the spectacle and tonight people would be sharing exaggerated recounts of the tournament instead.
The crowd were in good spirits. A dozen slaves had been thrown into the ring to butcher each other with their bare fists to whet the crowd's appetite. Eventually only one remained and he was taken away to fight another day. The other bodies were left where they fell, blood stains across the circle to set the scene for the no doubt tense tournament.
Lady Thebe stood and glanced at the announcer nearby. He was a former Pit fighter himself, a champion in fact, whose glory days had long since passed. But he had been a favourite of many Guilders and so he had been given bionic replacements and an integrated vox caster on his shoulder. He would serve as fight announcer until the day he died, something he was perfectly happy to do. Very few in his line of work survived, let alone managed to make such a profitable career change.
"Quiet! Settle down, settle down," he shouted, the vox carrying his voice around the arena. Everyone in the crowd eventually fell to silence and turned their heads towards the podium. "The Chief Guilder will address you now."
Lady Thebe took a hand-held vox from the announcer and spoke into it. "Ladies and gentlemen, mine workers and gangers alike! I am proud to stand here today, presiding over the first gang tournament.
We have not been able to hold an event like this for many years. Now the war between the Falcons and Grimm's Reavers is concluded, and from the ashes new blood rises. Blood that will be spilled today by cold steel.
Only the strongest shall prevail, and prove that they are worthy of assuming the title of tournament champion. Let it begin, and may the Emperor grant you his favour."
Her fancy words and silver-tongue had the crowd enthralled. A single cheer went up, then the entire audience erupted in a frenzy, eager to see the main event.
"Our first fight for you today features Serena from the Widowmakers of Grimtown!" The announcer bellowed as one gate opened and Serena stepped out, brandishing a shimmering power sword.
"And her opponent: Ice from the Death Watch of Gammerville." Ice stepped out of the other gateway, wielding a power sword of her own and wearing dull flak armour.
"These are two women you do not want to fuck with ladies and gentlemen! Who will win? The Widowmaker or the Ice Queen? Three.. two.. one... Attack!"
The pair circled and approached each other, stepping over the corpses of dead pit slaves. The crowd whooped in anticipation.
Then Ice raised her sword high and charged. Serena stood her ground and prepared to strike back. The charge was predictable and Serena dashed aside her opponent's blade and sliced her own across Ice's belly and thigh. Ice shrieked and darted back, holding her blade out. They circled each other again, each trying to get a measure of the other. Serena closed in and Ice proceeded to make almost the exact same move, which Serena blocked and countered. In two fell sweeps she had the other woman on her knees with a blade at her throat.
"And the winner is Serena of the Widowmakers! These two warrior women will be back later folks, next up we have two mean gangers. Word on the street has it there is bad blood between these two gangs, so this is one's personal. On the left, we have Lloyd Ransten from the Artic Fox."
Lloyd stepped forward, revving up a chainsword.
"And on the right, we have Flynn from the Doomheads of North Cirset, better known on the streets as 'The Storm!'"
The Doomhead appeared, wearing flak armour and hefting both a shield and chainsword.
"This is a grudge match ladies and gentlemen, we have pride and payback at stake here. We have the under dog and the Storm facing off. Three.. two.. one... fight!"
Lloyd sneered as he recognised his opponent, he was one of the ones who had attacked their base last week. He would make the bastards pay for that.
Meanwhile Storm had a dry smile across his lips. First they had chased the Fox out of his den, now it was time to put it down in front of everyone.
They ran at each other, both with a curse on their lips and their chainblades snarling. Lloyd was faster and struck with force, knocking Storm back a few steps. He brought his blade down over and over again, but is teeth met only air. Then Storm did what few fighters expected - stabbed with his chainsword, a weapon designed for hacking and chopping. He caught Lloyd's shoulder and scathed it before the Artic Fox ganger batted the weapon aside with his own. If the Artic Fox registered the glancing wound, he showed no sign of it.
The pair circled momentarily. Then their blades met again, time and time again. Even with Storm's armour and shield, Lloyd held his ground. It seemed as though they were equally matched for a time.
Their chainswords met in a vicious lock and the screeching of whirring teeth colliding was unbearable. Then Storm broke the stalemate with a hard shield pummel to Lloyd's arms, forcing him back. He recoiled, one of his arms clearly in pain.
The Storm proved his name apt and was unrelenting. Hacking over and over, the weakened Lloyd couldn't fend him off and three strikes brought him low. He was beaten.
"AND IT IS OVER!" The announcer called. "That was a tense one, reminds me of a few scraps I had back in the day. There's a legendary rivalry in the making there people, I can feel it in my bones. That's the first round of fights done people, next up we have a man named Macks representing the Brotherhood of the Black Watch from South Cirset. He'll be facing off against the last round's losers. Will he defeat them as well and advance to the title fight? Or will the losers make a come back? Let's find out!"
Macks grinned maniacally, his scarred face contorting in an ugly way. The gate lifted and he paced out into the arena. He was encased in spiky metal armour with a horned helmet and wielded a pair of brutal axes. The crowd cheered and he revelled in it.
Opposite him, Ice stepped out. A few doc's had patched her up and she was ready to fight again.
"Keep an eye on these two - the Death Watch and Black Watch are about to fight and we're going to watch them cut each other up! Three, two, one... FIGHT."
Macks was in no rush and held his axes out wide, almost welcoming, nay daring his opponent to attack. Ice obliged, eager to regain some favour with the crowd and stay in the fight. She charged towards him, sword poised to strike. Their mettle met just as their metal did and Macks sized her up. They traded blows, each blocking or dodging. Ice brought her blade down in an overhead strike but Macks raised both of his axes to block it. He then delivered a kick to her gut that pushed her back a few steps.
She was unharmed but off-balanced and Macks came for her. Both of his axes were poised to deliver the finishing blow and she barely managed to bat one aside with her sword. Macks cackled madly and brought his axes down seven times while she was vulnerable. They scraped off her flak armour repeatedly but a pair of timed blows sliced unprotected flesh.
He had her on the back foot, desperately trying to fend off his brutal dual-wielding offensive. It was only a matter of time however and he dispatched her with no mercy, in fact it appeared for a moment that he was about to execute her, instead she managed to move out of the way and the axe head scraped off her helmet. Sword knocked aside, she fell to her knees in defeat. The horn sounded.
"What a performance! Macks the Berserker is not here to take prisoners ladies and gentlemen. The Ice Queen is eliminated from the tournament!" The announcer declared. Ice was dragged away and Macks circled like a bird of prey in the centre of the arena.
"Are there none who will face me?!" He shouted. "No more little girls, send me someone who can fight!"
During his posturing, Macks had failed to notice his next opponent approach. "You'll get your wish, freak," Lloyd taunted from a few meters away, noticing the man's hideous scars.
Macks turned to face this new adversary. There were cheers and boos for both of them as the announcer spoke.
"The underdog returns to the arena! Will he claw back some glory, or will the iron berserker destroy him? Ready your blades... three, two, one, FIGHT."
With no hesitation, Lloyd charged. He closed the short distance between them quickly and he focused on the fact that everything rested on this very moment, a clarity descended upon him. An axe, the blood on it still warm, rushed to meet this throat. He parried it, turning the crude hatchet aside with one swipe of his chainsword.
Macks swung with his other axe, but to his dismay Lloyd was far faster. He gripped Macks' wrist and held it in place while he deftly cut through the Black Watchman's armour. His chainsword bit deeply four times before Macks could even react.
"That's what a real warrior looks like, freak," Lloyd said as Macks stood shakily, his weapons slipping out of his grasp as his own blood trickled onto the arena's floor. Lloyd raised his fist and introduced it to Macks' face, knocking him out cold.
"THE UNDERDOG IS BACK! What a display ladies and gentlemen, the berserker was no match for this experienced fighter," the announcer's voice echoed throughout the stands. The crowds were losing their minds and going wild. "Lloyd Ransten of the Artic Fox has earned his place in the final fight and the iron berserker is eliminated!"
"Now feast your eyes on our round one winners, The Storm and The Widowmaker return. Only one of them can continue to the last fight for the title. This is going to be a good one, do I even need to say it? These two are ready to tear each other's throats out - FIGHT!"
Serena once again adopted her strategy of letting her opponent come to her. Storm rushed her, sword and shield at the ready. His tactic of surprising his opponent with feints had served him well in the last fight, and he employed it again here. It worked and he was about to disembowel her when she managed to parry at the very last second. Frustrated that she managed to make a comeback from his perfect move, he slammed the shield into her arm but she refused to budge, evidently tougher than he'd expected.
He made the mistake of over-extending his reach on his next attack in an attempt to get behind her, and she showed no mercy. She backhanded him and he felt like he'd been hit by a bolter's recoil, stumbling. Her blade darted out three times to kiss him. The power field around her blade allowed it to punch right through his desperately raised shield and he felt the sword on his chest. Another few inches and it would've been through his heart.
Wasting no time, Serena pulled her blade free and span with the momentum, swinging the sword low and catching his leg. He tripped up and landed on his back, but knowing that to stay down was to invite death he rolled over and scrambled to his feet. He was just thinking about changing his strategy and not using another feint when he realised it was too little, too late.
Serena's sword cut into him over and over until finally she grew bored of his meagre resistance and kicked him over. His chainsword lay within reach, but he did not move for it. He was beaten, fair and square. Serena spared him a final glance, and then turned her back on him. It was time for the final fight.
Storm was dragged away and the crowd was roaring as Lloyd walked back into the arena, with a few practice swings of his weapon. He'd watched the last fight from the gate, seen the mistakes made by the Dumbhead who had defeated him and how the woman had waited for her prey to attack, then dispatched it with contempt.
Admittedly, Storm had nearly gotten her several times and having fought the man himself, he looked to be the better fighter. And yet, she had still cut him down. He whispered a small benediction to the Emperor as the announcer said their names for the final time.
"The underdog is back!" The announcer said and the crowd cheered. "I wonder if he has a lady friend out there watching right now? Because she might be a widow by the end of this if Serena has anything to say about it!" The crowd roared now. Anything could happen at this point - who would win? The one who had not lost a single fight yet, or the one who had clawed their way back up from certain defeat?
"One shall stand, one shall fall... fight!"
Serena stood her ground, awaiting the clumsy charge that they always made. It came as expected, the so-called Fox apparently no smarter than the rest. Time seemed to slow, the crowd faded. This one would fall like the rest. He was upon her and she swung her blade out, seeking his neck. It wasn't there.
Lloyd dropped to the floor at the last second and kicked her legs from under her. She fell face first into the dirt and he clambered to one knee, then brought his chainsword down as she turned to face him. Her blade was loose in her grip and he knocked it aside. It came down several times as she desperately tried to crawl away. It was useless.
The fight was over before it truly began and the entire crowd stood in shocked awe. Lloyd rose to his feet and looked around. He raised his bloodied chainsword in triumph.
"THE UNDERDOG WINS!! LLOYD RANSTEN IS THE CHAMPION OF THE TOURNAMENT," the announcer shouted. The audience exploded, some whooping and howling with joy, others cursing on lost bets and even a few brawls broke out amongst the crowd.
The Artic Fox had suffered losses. But on this day they were victorious, and the other gangs would mock their name no more. Now they would learn to fear it.
