In Over His Tail! 9 Lives? [Coliseum Battle - Kill-Viable]

In Over His Tail! 9 Lives?

Namir had been wandering the streets of Reim for a few days now. He’d grown accustom to the way of living here, sweets filled his belly and his pockets were nicely lined with huang from the freelance jobs available to the public. Things weren’t so bad at all. But something told the young Fanalis not to get so sidetracked by this massive city. He still had to polish his skills and become as strong as his old man. Perhaps he was destined for even greater power than that. Young he was, foolish as well, but ambition for bettering oneself whether it be physically, mentally or spiritually, they all make for a strong and mighty man.

The coliseum; that was Namir’s next destination as he walked the streets around the massive arena he noticed more and more thugs and then groups of nobles, all separated discretely with looks of distastes on their faces for one another. All the commotion was for the matches that would be held today. Namir heard that he could fight strong and powerful warriors here. This was the perfect place to see his mettle as a warrior and member of the Fanalis bloodline.

Stepping up to a nearby entrance where Namir saw many men standing about with weapons at hand he approached a person who looked as if they knew what was going on. ”Hey, mister, I’d like to fight please” he asked brusquely to the older looking man.

The man gave him a sideways glance and chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to his scrolls at hand. ”Little girls should go home. Scram brat!” came a harsh tone from the older foolish man.

The baffled look on Namir’s face was enough to rouse the laughter of all the men around. The area was full of boisterous cry-teared laughter. Namir’s face turned red in frustration, his fist balled up and moments later a thunderous noise silenced the crowd. Buried in a wall, now littered with cracks was Namir’s small fist. A Fanalis would not be laughed at, no, not like this. The crowd looked on in awe and hesitation.

”I want to fight a strong opponent!” Namir declared, glaring the now sweaty fool down. Things were getting heated.

”Uh… dah… ummm…. Well certainly, right away young venerable warrior!” the man stuttered.

The crowd of men were now whispering amongst themselves, they’d notice the red hair of Namir’s now. They were recanting on the fact of his red hair; some were wondering what a rogue Fanalis was doing here at the coliseum and a twerp like this for that matter. Most Fanalis here in the Kingdom were a part of the Fanalis Corps. Some were muttering about how this would be a fight to see, the betting was going to be all the rage.

The man ushered Namir to walk on through the gates and that he’d be fighting immediately. As the young firebrand kid walked steadily forward he heard the man announce ”Now placing all bets for the little brat versus the battle-hardened coliseum favorite, RUFI!” the men outside burst into an uproar and words could no longer be made out. ’I wonder who this Rufi guy is?’

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Coliseum Opponent:

As Namir entered a dank stone room filled with warriors all sweaty, bruised and some bleeding, he wondered to himself if this was his fate once he stepped foot into this… “Arena”. He rightfully had no idea what a coliseum arena was like, but he could hear crowds of people from beyond the dark rusted iron gates at the other end of the room. His body tingled with fervent warmth and his limbs trembled ever so gently, was this excitement or fear he felt?

A hunchbacked man approached him with an eerie smirk on his face, his voice was low and chilling to the ears as he addressed Namir, ”Ahhh, Yurr, the Fanallllis brat, yes? Come this way! Yurrr opponent… waits! Hurrry aloooong!” the creepy rag covered hunchback said as he shoved Namir along to the Arena gate entrance.

He rapped his mal-nourished knuckles against the gate a few times and with a loud creak the gate began to rise and bright light illuminated the dark recesses of the waiting area. Namir shaded his eyes as he stepped forward into the massive dirt arena. His eyes wandered all over, surveying the crowds of people in the stands. He had never seen a site like this before, so many spectators. It was enough to make a person nervous down to the bone.

It didn’t take long before Namir’s attention was drawn to the ominous figure of more immediate importance. His heart skipped a beat and his body ceased to shake as he met eye to eye with the older man standing across from him on the very same battlefield; Rufi. An older man stood before him, a face and head full of graying white hair, as muscular as any man in his prime and wearing nothing but a loin cloth with his feet wrapped in rags and leather. He carried a flimsy looking wooden buckler and a rather old and shoddy looking short sword. Despite his physique, was this really a strong opponent?

Namir stared him down for a few moments before his attention was drawn away by a soldier clad in gold. He motioned to the young little Fanalis with a short sword in hand. Namir winced… he had never held a weapon before, he was so accustom to using his hands and feet to accomplish everything, from fishing, hunting, foraging; all the essentials of life. So he hesitantly brandished the short sword the soldier had given him and took a readied stance.

A loud voice announced the competitors and the crowd began to cheer. Something else must have been said because Rufi immediately sprung into action and circled Namir with adroit sidesteps, sizing the young Fanalis up like he was the game and he the hunter. Being the type of fighter Namir was himself, he didn’t care to waste time dilly-dallying. So he rushed in full speed, kicking dust into the air as his hardened soles compacted the ground below. The arena around him was now a blur, his sole focus was Rufi, the Gladiator.

He lunged forward closing the distance between the two of them and with a hop he came above the man and plowed the awkward feeling sword in his hand down upon the man. What happened next totally snapped Namir back into reality. The man’s wooden buckler rose as deftly as Namir had swung, taking the brunt of the blow as the blade dug into the firm wood, then with a forceful thrust Rufi flung Namir’s attack to his side throwing him off balance and causing him to lose his grip on the sword as it flung through the air, skidding across the ground to a halt some 5 meters away.

’What was that just now…’ but Namir hardly had time to think as he landed, stumbling to catch his balance. An immediate attack was coming from his right side. This Rufi was tenacious and more skilled than the Fanalis gave him credit. A thrusting blade was now quickly approaching his exposed side, with rippling speed.