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Hadil Wasem, Gladiator of Reim

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1Hadil Wasem, Gladiator of Reim Empty Hadil Wasem, Gladiator of Reim 01/08/16, 08:41 pm

Teppo

Teppo
D-Tier
D-Tier

Hadil Wasem, Gladiator of Reim DJ0lOOn

   
     Name: Hadil Wasem
   Country Affiliation: Reim
   Race: Human
   Tier: D-Tier
   Class: Warrior
   Age + Birthdate: 20, Born January 21st
   Gender: Human
   Sexuality: Heterosexual
   Personality:

-A little Space, please? – Circumstances have made Hadil strongly attached to close friends and a tad bit clingy, sometimes to the point of being bothersome.  He constantly wishes to be a part of his friend’s plans, and is reluctant to part.  On the up side, he is quite loyal and trusting to a fault.

-Curiosity killed the Cat – Hadil is quite curious of the world around him.  If something catches his eye, he’ll pursue even if it gets him in trouble.  He tends to get involved in conflicts and situations that don’t concern him because of it.

-Isn’t it better if you do it Yourself? – Not out of a lack of concern, but Hadil naturally assumes that people should take care of themselves.  This habit probably formed out of fighting in the Colosseum, where often times fighters would fight by themselves and had to mindful about their physical condition.  It wouldn’t be unusual for Hadil to notice something either emotionally or physically wrong about someone and say nothing.  This also leads to him being highly attentive to his surroundings and meticulous about his appearance.

-Passivity: Good or Bad? – A natural born follower, while Hadil is capable of taking things onto himself, if another person starts to act like a leader he tends to fall in step behind them and take orders.  He’s also not very social, and rather uncertain how to make small talk.  If invited to a party, he’d be in the back, staring at his toes.  If you asked what he’d like to do, he’d reply, “I don’t know…what do you want to do?” out of fear that you wouldn’t like what he’d like.

-Battle Lust – Despite his passivity, Hadil has an Alpha personality once his adrenaline starts flowing.  Pitting his skills against another in the contest known as “battle” really brings out the “Man” in him.  For Hadil, watching a battle instead of participating is like having an itch you’re not allowed to scratch.  It makes him anxious.

Likes:

-Birds – Hadil admires a bird’s ability to fly.  If he were to have a wish, it would be that he could sprout wings and fly.  Not because of the freedom, but the feel of the wind whipping around him and the perspective.  How small one truly is in the grand scope of the world.

-Flowers – Hadil has taken a fascination to the language of flowers.  Never in his wildest dreams could he image that different flowers can mean different things and convey a message without words.  His interest is such that just like his meticulous appearance, he feels the same about the care of flowers.  If a flower is taken care of poorly or mistreated, Hadil will become quite visibly upset and may even overcome his passivity and take action.

   Dislikes:

-Poor Care of Oneself – As previously stated, Hadil believes one should take care of oneself, which includes bathing, attention to appearance, good health and the lack of these things irritates him.  A person that cannot take care of themselves is unreliable and untrustworthy.

-Cowardice –  While he can understand a noncombatants will to fight, Hadil absolutely cannot understand one who calls themselves a warrior or a fighter and backs down from a fight.  Having been baptized in a world of conflict and battle, he believes that one should face things head on.  Accept the challenge and move forward.  It could be also said that he has little mercy for those who curse and bedevil their fate.

   Aspirations:

-What is Love? – Hadil possesses a burning drive to find and experience love.  He’s heard great and wondrous things about it, mostly romantic and exaggerated stories told by gladiators.  Perhaps his desire stems from wanting to see the world in a “softer” way.  Being hardened by constant combat in the Colosseum has blossomed a sense of wanting to see things in another way.  Or perhaps finding a boundless love and patient heart will give him a taste of what his mother was.  In every woman he passes, Hadil secretly analyzes and searches for qualities that could make her a potential mate.  If the subject comes up, he’ll consume knowledge of it like a parched man gulps water.  In the grand scheme of the world, the more he learns of love, the more Hadil desperately wishes to share it with the people who inhabit this world.

-Father? – Hadil harbors no negative feelings towards the father who left him behind.  He believes that his father must’ve had a good reason for abandoning him after his mother’s death.  All he desires is to know the man whose blood runs through Hadil’s veins and to know more about his mother from the one who knew and loved her best.

   Phobias/fears:

-I knew it.  You hate me. – Despite accepting his father’s departure from his life, despite his choosing to look at the positive side of it, Hadil subconsciously suffers from his father’s abandonment.  He seeks the approval of those he meets, silently terrified that they hate and resent his existence.  Being rejected by someone puts him into a state of depression and self-loathing.  And in some cases, depending on how attached or close he is to a person, that rejection could take away his will to fight.

   Face-Claim: Jude Mathis – Tales of Xillia
   Hair Color: Light Brown
   Eye Color: Green
   Height: 170.18 cm ( 5’7” )
   Weight: 75.7 kg ( 160 lbs )
   Appearance:

-Attire – Reference Image Below
Spoiler:
Hadil’s brown hair is almost always cut and styled, his nails shortened and filed, and clothes washed and immaculate.  Taking care of oneself also mean’s paying special attention to how one appears to others.  In fact, the only dirty place on his body are his feet, due to his lack of footware.  He feels a sense of stability and comfort when his toes are in direct contact with the earth.  Just above, his legs are nestled into a loose-fit pair of martial artist shorts.  Adorning his torso is a breezy hooded vest worn over a sleeveless tunic made of merino wool.  The tunic is tucked into a sash.  To protect his head from the blazing sun, Hadil usually wears the hood of his vest up.

-Body Language and Mannerisms – Hadil usually stands in a relaxed and unassuming manner, trying to blend into the back ground.  His expressions and reactions are usually neutral and passive, the moments when emotion leaps into his visage are rare.  One such moment is the onset of battle.  His face will light like a child’s and an unexpected energy will find it’s way into his limbs.  He also has an odd habit of making strange noises at weird times.

   Rukh Alignment: White

   Special Features: Optic Ataxia – Life in Reim’s Colosseum is simply dangerous.  Constantly fighting to the death, even if it’s for sport, can leave a lasting impression on a person.  Sometimes emotional, most times physical.  In one such contest, Hadil took a nasty blow to the head.  The attack damaged his superior parietal lobule and left him with a nasty reminder.  Direct and powerful blows to his head can cause Hadil to suffer a bout of Optic Ataxia, in which case his hand to eye coordination becomes disrupted.  This makes it very difficult for him to properly aim attacks or support himself in other ways.  After some time it will pass, but there may come a day when it becomes permanent.

   History: Hadil mother was a fierce and powerful woman who fought in the Reim’s Colosseum.  Whilst she lacked raw power, she had technique and finesse.  But those that knew her out of the arena knew that she was a mother at heart.  She had a boundless love and a patient heart.  But tragically, Hadil’s mother died shortly after giving birth and as a result Hadil has suffered from lack of a “Women’s Touch” in his life.  He doesn’t know what it’s like to be taken care of when he’s sick or injured and be nurtured.  His encounters with women are generally awkward and tactless.  He is not entirely devoid of a “softer” side as he has an affection for birds and flowers, which can be considered “cutesy” to some.

He has no idea who his father is as his father disappeared shortly after his birth.  So Hadil was raised by the Gladiators that called his mother “friend.” They taught him the basics of fighting, of using one’s body as a weapon.  For a time, Hadil did fight in the arenas, battling beasts and other foes.  A day would come when he’d yearn for more.  Eventually, Hadil reached a point in his life where he wanted to experience the world and love.  And to an extent, a desire to find out who his father is and know more about his mother.  With a goal in his heart, he set off the lands unknown.

Of other note is the incident that lead to his current physical condition. That is, the cause of his Optic Ataxia. As part of it’s entertainment, Reim uses wild animals and ferocious beasts in it’s arena and the re-caging of one of these dangerous beasts after an event can be perilous. Young Hadil, immensely curious at a young age, snuck in to get a closer look at one of these fierce beasts. Something went wrong. Maybe the beast was stronger than it’s brethren, maybe one of the guards became lax with his duty. Whatever the case was, the beast escaped and injured many people before it was eventually caught and caged. One of the unfortunate victims had been the young Hadil and while he clearly survived it, he did not survive unscathed. Besides a number of scars, the attack had damaged his superior parietal lobule and he’d suffer from Optic Ataxia for the rest of his days.

   Role-Play Sample: Hadil exhaled, purging himself of dreadful thoughts and unnecessary worries.  Hadil inhaled, filling his lungs with fresh breath and settling into the rhythmic breathing that allowed him to maintain his stamina.  Toes flexed and dug into the sand, reminding the gladiator of the terrain.  He quickly sketched a mental map, marking where the ground was uneven and likely to trip him up.  This was his home.  The cheers of the crowd was his song.  And this battle, his dance.  Lowering his center of gravity and relaxing into his familiar stance, Hadil took a moment to analyze his opponent.

The man was a brute.  A rippling mass of muscles and self-assured arrogance.  Without a doubt his foe thought this to be a simple fight.  One swing of his massive forearm would end it, he would think.  My opponent is small and weak, he would tell himself.  Without a doubt, his foe would call him a sneaky cheat when he won.  A cloud of dust blew into being behind Hadil as he exploded into motion.  His feet carried him across the arena at a speed that threatened to trip him, but he knew every stone in that arena and every step was masterfully placed, moving Hadil at the greatest speed with the least deceleration and best stability.  For a moment the brute stood still as stone, surprised that someone could be so quick.  But it lasted only a moment.  As the young gladiator neared, the brute dropped his center of gravity and held his arms out wide as if ready to embrace his foe.  Hadil accelerated and darted from left to right, using the movement to confuse his opponent.  It was successful and Hadil managed to ram his knee into the man’s chin.  But his opponent was no less skilled, he rolled with the blow, minimalizing the damage and wrapped his massive arms around Hadil in a bear hug.  He cried out in pain as the brute began to crush him.  

It was a tough spot.  Hadil didn’t have a raw strength of his opponent, speed and technique were his weapons.  But he smiled.  It was just another challenge.  Hadil lashed out with his gauntlet’d fist, raining armored blow after armored blow against his head.  “Quit it, you damn brat!” yelled the infuriated brute.  But he continued striking until blood spurted from his opponent’s ear.  With a yowl of rage, the muscular man released Hadil and grabbed the side of his head.  He took a few wobbly steps, trying to regain his balance.  “What did you do to me?!” he screamed.  The brute might’ve had muscles the size of tree trunks, but he hadn’t the intelligence, apparently, to know that enough trauma to the head can damage the inner ear and affect a person’s balance.  Recovering from the bear hug, Hadil took advantage of his opponent’s condition and slammed a high-kick into the brute’s face.  But the young gladiator had miscalculated.  The enraged man managed to grip Hadil’s leg with both hands and swing him about like a ragdoll.  His body was slammed into the ground, head smacking into a flat rock.  His vision split, multiple images swam in his sight.  

The enraged man raised a fist and declared, “I’m gonna crack you like an egg, runt.”  Hadil tried to dodge the blow but his vision couldn’t be trusted.  Another blow slammed into the side of his head.  The young gladiator rolled to his side, spitting out blood.  He tried to curl up and protect his vitals, but a boot to his ribs sent flying across the sand.  “Heh, pathetic gladiator wannabe.  You should’ve known better then to challenge me with such pitiful strength.”  The brute stalked towards the prone from of Hadil, his rage turning to satisfaction, his self-assured arrogance returning.  But once more, Hadil just smiled.  “Not my best moment, I’ll admit.” He said, chuckling, “But I still won in the end.”  The young gladiator had lived most of his life in this arena.  He knew every square inch, every uneven stone, every secret hidden amongst the sand.  Though it hadn’t been his intent to win in this way at first, but the overwhelming difference between their physical power had changed his strategy.

The brute recoiled as a form slithered away in the sand.  Panic set in and the man searched frantically for a bite mark.  But it was futile.  The adrenaline pumping in his veins and the vigorous pumping of his heart had already spread the paralytic poison through his body.  He could feel his limbs going numb, movement sluggish at best.  He tried to scream and rage against his fate but the poison had already stopped most of the functions of his body.  

The moment was as good as any.  Not able to rely on his vision, Hadil closed his eyes and pulled up his mental map.  He inhaled deeply, letting his senses fill with vital information:  the feel of the coarse and dry sand on his toes, the sweaty and musty stink of his opponent, the loud and vibrant cry of the crowd.  He moved, thudding across the sand once more.  The body odor of his opponent become suddenly stronger and he knew he was close enough.  His hand shot out, grabbing hair in an iron grip and smashed his knee into his opponent’s face.  Hadil didn’t have a lot of physical power, but the repeated blows to his opponent’s vital area finally took effect.  Dead or unconscious, the massive brute crashed into the sand.  And with an exhale of air, Hadil did as well, exhaustion taking hold.  This was his home.  He’d be sad to leave it behind, but as long as he could continue to feel the thrill of battle and the excitement of challenge he’d never be far from it.



Last edited by Teppo on 01/08/16, 09:44 pm; edited 1 time in total

Ariel

Ariel
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A-Tier

Your history only has 241 words. The minimum word count is 350 words. Once you have fixed this, please bump this thread. Thank you!~


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Teppo

Teppo
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Fist Bump.
No, no. Brofistbump.

Noir Ecryola

Noir Ecryola
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Hadil Wasem, Gladiator of Reim Approval_zpsoloj6ntd

Character approved~

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Code:
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/DJ0lOOn.jpg[/img][/center]

   
     [b]Name:[/b] Hadil Wasem
   [b]Country Affiliation:[/b] Reim
   [b]Race:[/b] Human
   [b]Tier:[/b] D-Tier
   [b]Class:[/b] Warrior
   [b]Age + Birthdate:[/b] 20, Born January 21st
   [b]Gender:[/b] Human
   [b]Sexuality:[/b] Heterosexual
   [b]Personality:[/b]

-[i][b]A little Space, please?[/b][/i] – Circumstances have made Hadil strongly attached to close friends and a tad bit clingy, sometimes to the point of being bothersome.  He constantly wishes to be a part of his friend’s plans, and is reluctant to part.  On the up side, he is quite loyal and trusting to a fault.

-[i][b]Curiosity killed the Cat[/b][/i] – Hadil is quite curious of the world around him.  If something catches his eye, he’ll pursue even if it gets him in trouble.  He tends to get involved in conflicts and situations that don’t concern him because of it.

-[i][b]Isn’t it better if you do it Yourself?[/b][/i] – Not out of a lack of concern, but Hadil naturally assumes that people should take care of themselves.  This habit probably formed out of fighting in the Colosseum, where often times fighters would fight by themselves and had to mindful about their physical condition.  It wouldn’t be unusual for Hadil to notice something either emotionally or physically wrong about someone and say nothing.  This also leads to him being highly attentive to his surroundings and meticulous about his appearance.

-[i][b]Passivity: Good or Bad?[/b][/i] – A natural born follower, while Hadil is capable of taking things onto himself, if another person starts to act like a leader he tends to fall in step behind them and take orders.  He’s also not very social, and rather uncertain how to make small talk.  If invited to a party, he’d be in the back, staring at his toes.  If you asked what he’d like to do, he’d reply, “I don’t know…what do you want to do?” out of fear that you wouldn’t like what he’d like.

-[i][b]Battle Lust[/b][/i] – Despite his passivity, Hadil has an Alpha personality once his adrenaline starts flowing.  Pitting his skills against another in the contest known as “battle” really brings out the “Man” in him.  For Hadil, watching a battle instead of participating is like having an itch you’re not allowed to scratch.  It makes him anxious.

[b]Likes:[/b]

-[i][b]Birds[/b][/i] – Hadil admires a bird’s ability to fly.  If he were to have a wish, it would be that he could sprout wings and fly.  Not because of the freedom, but the feel of the wind whipping around him and the perspective.  How small one truly is in the grand scope of the world.

-[i][b]Flowers[/b][/i] – Hadil has taken a fascination to the language of flowers.  Never in his wildest dreams could he image that different flowers can mean different things and convey a message without words.  His interest is such that just like his meticulous appearance, he feels the same about the care of flowers.  If a flower is taken care of poorly or mistreated, Hadil will become quite visibly upset and may even overcome his passivity and take action.

   [b]Dislikes:[/b]

-[i][b]Poor Care of Oneself[/b][/i] – As previously stated, Hadil believes one should take care of oneself, which includes bathing, attention to appearance, good health and the lack of these things irritates him.  A person that cannot take care of themselves is unreliable and untrustworthy.

-[i][b]Cowardice[/b][/i] –  While he can understand a noncombatants will to fight, Hadil absolutely cannot understand one who calls themselves a warrior or a fighter and backs down from a fight.  Having been baptized in a world of conflict and battle, he believes that one should face things head on.  Accept the challenge and move forward.  It could be also said that he has little mercy for those who curse and bedevil their fate.

   [b]Aspirations:[/b]

-[i][b]What is Love?[/b][/i] – Hadil possesses a burning drive to find and experience love.  He’s heard great and wondrous things about it, mostly romantic and exaggerated stories told by gladiators.  Perhaps his desire stems from wanting to see the world in a “softer” way.  Being hardened by constant combat in the Colosseum has blossomed a sense of wanting to see things in another way.  Or perhaps finding a boundless love and patient heart will give him a taste of what his mother was.  In every woman he passes, Hadil secretly analyzes and searches for qualities that could make her a potential mate.  If the subject comes up, he’ll consume knowledge of it like a parched man gulps water.  In the grand scheme of the world, the more he learns of love, the more Hadil desperately wishes to share it with the people who inhabit this world.

-[i][b]Father?[/b][/i] – Hadil harbors no negative feelings towards the father who left him behind.  He believes that his father must’ve had a good reason for abandoning him after his mother’s death.  All he desires is to know the man whose blood runs through Hadil’s veins and to know more about his mother from the one who knew and loved her best.

   [b]Phobias/fears:[/b]

-[i][b]I knew it.  You hate me.[/b][/i] – Despite accepting his father’s departure from his life, despite his choosing to look at the positive side of it, Hadil subconsciously suffers from his father’s abandonment.  He seeks the approval of those he meets, silently terrified that they hate and resent his existence.  Being rejected by someone puts him into a state of depression and self-loathing.  And in some cases, depending on how attached or close he is to a person, that rejection could take away his will to fight.

   [b]Face-Claim:[/b] Jude Mathis – Tales of Xillia
   [b]Hair Color:[/b] Light Brown
   [b]Eye Color:[/b] Green
   [b]Height:[/b] 170.18 cm ( 5’7” )
   [b]Weight:[/b] 75.7 kg ( 160 lbs )
   [b]Appearance:[/b]

-[i][b]Attire[/b][/i] – Reference Image Below
[spoiler][img]http://i.imgur.com/XFeUmGr.jpg[/img][/spoiler]
Hadil’s brown hair is almost always cut and styled, his nails shortened and filed, and clothes washed and immaculate.  Taking care of oneself also mean’s paying special attention to how one appears to others.  In fact, the only dirty place on his body are his feet, due to his lack of footware.  He feels a sense of stability and comfort when his toes are in direct contact with the earth.  Just above, his legs are nestled into a loose-fit pair of martial artist shorts.  Adorning his torso is a breezy hooded vest worn over a sleeveless tunic made of merino wool.  The tunic is tucked into a sash.  To protect his head from the blazing sun, Hadil usually wears the hood of his vest up.

-[i][b]Body Language and Mannerisms[/b][/i] – Hadil usually stands in a relaxed and unassuming manner, trying to blend into the back ground.  His expressions and reactions are usually neutral and passive, the moments when emotion leaps into his visage are rare.  One such moment is the onset of battle.  His face will light like a child’s and an unexpected energy will find it’s way into his limbs.  He also has an odd habit of making strange noises at weird times.

   [b]Rukh Alignment:[/b] White

   [b]Special Features:[/b] Optic Ataxia – Life in Reim’s Colosseum is simply dangerous.  Constantly fighting to the death, even if it’s for sport, can leave a lasting impression on a person.  Sometimes emotional, most times physical.  In one such contest, Hadil took a nasty blow to the head.  The attack damaged his superior parietal lobule and left him with a nasty reminder.  Direct and powerful blows to his head can cause Hadil to suffer a bout of Optic Ataxia, in which case his hand to eye coordination becomes disrupted.  This makes it very difficult for him to properly aim attacks or support himself in other ways.  After some time it will pass, but there may come a day when it becomes permanent.

   [b]History:[/b] Hadil mother was a fierce and powerful woman who fought in the Reim’s Colosseum.  Whilst she lacked raw power, she had technique and finesse.  But those that knew her out of the arena knew that she was a mother at heart.  She had a boundless love and a patient heart.  But tragically, Hadil’s mother died shortly after giving birth and as a result Hadil has suffered from lack of a “Women’s Touch” in his life.  He doesn’t know what it’s like to be taken care of when he’s sick or injured and be nurtured.  His encounters with women are generally awkward and tactless.  He is not entirely devoid of a “softer” side as he has an affection for birds and flowers, which can be considered “cutesy” to some.

He has no idea who his father is as his father disappeared shortly after his birth.  So Hadil was raised by the Gladiators that called his mother “friend.” They taught him the basics of fighting, of using one’s body as a weapon.  For a time, Hadil did fight in the arenas, battling beasts and other foes.  A day would come when he’d yearn for more.  Eventually, Hadil reached a point in his life where he wanted to experience the world and love.  And to an extent, a desire to find out who his father is and know more about his mother.  With a goal in his heart, he set off the lands unknown.

Of other note is the incident that lead to his current physical condition.  That is, the cause of his Optic Ataxia.  As part of it’s entertainment, Reim uses wild animals and ferocious beasts in it’s arena and the re-caging of one of these dangerous beasts after an event can be perilous.  Young Hadil, immensely curious at a young age, snuck in to get a closer look at one of these fierce beasts.  Something went wrong.  Maybe the beast was stronger than it’s brethren, maybe one of the guards became lax with his duty.  Whatever the case was, the beast escaped and injured many people before it was eventually caught and caged.  One of the unfortunate victims had been the young Hadil and while he clearly survived it, he did not survive unscathed.  Besides a number of scars, the attack had damaged his superior parietal lobule and he’d suffer from Optic Ataxia for the rest of his days.

   [b]Role-Play Sample:[/b] Hadil exhaled, purging himself of dreadful thoughts and unnecessary worries.  Hadil inhaled, filling his lungs with fresh breath and settling into the rhythmic breathing that allowed him to maintain his stamina.  Toes flexed and dug into the sand, reminding the gladiator of the terrain.  He quickly sketched a mental map, marking where the ground was uneven and likely to trip him up.  This was his home.  The cheers of the crowd was his song.  And this battle, his dance.  Lowering his center of gravity and relaxing into his familiar stance, Hadil took a moment to analyze his opponent.

The man was a brute.  A rippling mass of muscles and self-assured arrogance.  Without a doubt his foe thought this to be a simple fight.  One swing of his massive forearm would end it, he would think.  My opponent is small and weak, he would tell himself.  Without a doubt, his foe would call him a sneaky cheat when he won.  A cloud of dust blew into being behind Hadil as he exploded into motion.  His feet carried him across the arena at a speed that threatened to trip him, but he knew every stone in that arena and every step was masterfully placed, moving Hadil at the greatest speed with the least deceleration and best stability.  For a moment the brute stood still as stone, surprised that someone could be so quick.  But it lasted only a moment.  As the young gladiator neared, the brute dropped his center of gravity and held his arms out wide as if ready to embrace his foe.  Hadil accelerated and darted from left to right, using the movement to confuse his opponent.  It was successful and Hadil managed to ram his knee into the man’s chin.  But his opponent was no less skilled, he rolled with the blow, minimalizing the damage and wrapped his massive arms around Hadil in a bear hug.  He cried out in pain as the brute began to crush him.  

It was a tough spot.  Hadil didn’t have a raw strength of his opponent, speed and technique were his weapons.  But he smiled.  It was just another challenge.  Hadil lashed out with his gauntlet’d fist, raining armored blow after armored blow against his head.  “Quit it, you damn brat!” yelled the infuriated brute.  But he continued striking until blood spurted from his opponent’s ear.  With a yowl of rage, the muscular man released Hadil and grabbed the side of his head.  He took a few wobbly steps, trying to regain his balance.  “What did you do to me?!” he screamed.  The brute might’ve had muscles the size of tree trunks, but he hadn’t the intelligence, apparently, to know that enough trauma to the head can damage the inner ear and affect a person’s balance.  Recovering from the bear hug, Hadil took advantage of his opponent’s condition and slammed a high-kick into the brute’s face.  But the young gladiator had miscalculated.  The enraged man managed to grip Hadil’s leg with both hands and swing him about like a ragdoll.  His body was slammed into the ground, head smacking into a flat rock.  His vision split, multiple images swam in his sight.  

The enraged man raised a fist and declared, “I’m gonna crack you like an egg, runt.”  Hadil tried to dodge the blow but his vision couldn’t be trusted.  Another blow slammed into the side of his head.  The young gladiator rolled to his side, spitting out blood.  He tried to curl up and protect his vitals, but a boot to his ribs sent flying across the sand.  “Heh, pathetic gladiator wannabe.  You should’ve known better then to challenge me with such pitiful strength.”  The brute stalked towards the prone from of Hadil, his rage turning to satisfaction, his self-assured arrogance returning.  But once more, Hadil just smiled.  “Not my best moment, I’ll admit.” He said, chuckling, “But I still won in the end.”  The young gladiator had lived most of his life in this arena.  He knew every square inch, every uneven stone, every secret hidden amongst the sand.  Though it hadn’t been his intent to win in this way at first, but the overwhelming difference between their physical power had changed his strategy.

The brute recoiled as a form slithered away in the sand.  Panic set in and the man searched frantically for a bite mark.  But it was futile.  The adrenaline pumping in his veins and the vigorous pumping of his heart had already spread the paralytic poison through his body.  He could feel his limbs going numb, movement sluggish at best.  He tried to scream and rage against his fate but the poison had already stopped most of the functions of his body.  

The moment was as good as any.  Not able to rely on his vision, Hadil closed his eyes and pulled up his mental map.  He inhaled deeply, letting his senses fill with vital information:  the feel of the coarse and dry sand on his toes, the sweaty and musty stink of his opponent, the loud and vibrant cry of the crowd.  He moved, thudding across the sand once more.  The body odor of his opponent become suddenly stronger and he knew he was close enough.  His hand shot out, grabbing hair in an iron grip and smashed his knee into his opponent’s face.  Hadil didn’t have a lot of physical power, but the repeated blows to his opponent’s vital area finally took effect.  Dead or unconscious, the massive brute crashed into the sand.  And with an exhale of air, Hadil did as well, exhaustion taking hold.  This was his home.  He’d be sad to leave it behind, but as long as he could continue to feel the thrill of battle and the excitement of challenge he’d never be far from it.


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Hadil Wasem, Gladiator of Reim G5OZoqx

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