Post by Dredka on May 18, 2019 10:51:08 GMT
Dredka’s feet dug into the sand as she strode out into the arena again. She did not even hear the announcer as he went through his introduction, playing up the rivalry between herself and Kag, no doubt. The enormous ogre had gotten the better of her last time, by the narrowest of margins. Now he made it sound as though the pair had a bitter rivalry that could only be settled within this space. There was no real truth to it, but she didn’t care. It was part of the performance. She knew better than most the importance of keeping the crowd on-side.
She was lost in her own thoughts.
So much had happened since she faced Kag the first time. She had met Dhaunmyr, the strange little drow who seemed to just accept the violence and humiliation that the City heaped upon him. A good man, even if he was convinced of his own worthlessness.
She had almost died, taking the heads of her kin who remained loyal to One-Eye. She had failed to kill them all.
Her axe was sharp and her arm was strong, but compared to the blender that Kara had been, or the magics wielded by her fellows, she was… unimpressive. Nothing, really. For the first time in her long life, she wondered if she had what it took. What was she, really? She was an orc.
Kag loomed across the arena floor, thumping his chest and bellowing his glory to the crowd. She should be doing the same thing, but she didn’t feel it, not today. Looking at him, she saw a man easily twice her own size. Bigger. Stronger. More heavily muscled. If those were the qualities that she had to rely on, she would never achieve her goals.
Fury burned in her heart as she ground her teeth together. It finally seemed to be dawning on both the ogre and the crowd that she hadn’t said a single word since the moment she had emerged. Instead, she had just been glowering at him with the kind of hateful intensity that would normally be reserved for imminent murder.
She didn’t hate him, not really. But she hated what he stood for. He was her, but better in every way. And what was he? Just a performer. Just a gladiator. His big, stupid body was a road-map of scars to match her own. Looking at him was like looking in a mocking mirror.
“GRAAUL KRAAH HROOOOOO!”
(Common: WE STILL LIVE!)
The bellowed warcry from her lips seemed to take even her by surprise. She threw her head back to shout it to the heavens, and the raw rage, the fury boiling in her heart spilled out through the words. Before she even knew she was doing it, she was charging the ogre, a javelin flung with all the wild force she could muster as she sprinted across the arena towards her foe.
Desperate to keep up, the bell was rung and the fight officially declared.
Kag looked a little taken aback. This was not the showboater that he had fought previously. The flung javelin was, at least, thrown at him with more enthusiasm than skill, and it was easy for him to swat it to the side as he drew his enormous club and brought it down on her. He liked it when the opponent came to him. It meant there was less running around. Most had learned to try and stay out of his arm’s reach, especially for the rematch.
The club came down on the charging orc with an incredible amount of force. But Dredka ignored it. She had no time for the pain, no consciousness of it. The only thing in her mind in that moment was the fight. She tensed, and pushed INTO the club, throwing it up and off her as she sprung with a second, ferocious roar on her lips.
There was no orcish in the shout, and that made it more comprehensible to the crowd. What tore out of her lips was a scream of such pure, unbridled anger that it sent shivers down the spines of the spectators.
She was furious at the Gods. How dare they bind her fate?
She was furious at the World. How dare it bind her body?
She was furious at the City. How dare it bind her friends?
She was furious at herself. How dare she fall and fail?
And then she was just fury.
Kag’s eyes widened in surprise as the (comparatively) small green woman shrugged off his blow as though it were nothing, and leapt into the air. People weren’t supposed to want to keep fighting after he hit them like that. But she wasn’t just continuing to fight; she was bringing that axe around with consummate skill, born from the furnace of her hate.
The blade struck him square between the eyes, and he staggered back with a howl of pain. This, alone, would have been a taboo in the arena. Blows to the head were not exactly illegal, but competitors were not supposed to be trying to kill one another.
Blood fountained from the wound, and before he had even managed to bring one hand up to stem the flow, the second slashed down into the palm of his hand, wrenching it down as she landed among blood-slick sands.
He struck out again! The wide sweep of his club hammered into her, but where last time she had been flung around by the strikes, this time she just… stood there. She took the impact. He felt it shudder up his arm, and her response was just to growl and stalk forwards, axe burying itself hard in his chest. She wrenched it back out, spit foaming in her mouth as she came at him again, and this time, the ogre dodged.
Kag wheeled back across the sands, bleeding heavily from his face, his arm, his chest. He was far from undefeated, but he was not used to being out-struck in a contest of strength.
But of course, this wasn’t a mere contest of strength. This was a contest of rage. Pure, and simple. Dredka was no longer merely fighting with her muscles. The continuous, endless furnace of anger that was her soul burned so bright in her, it lit up her eyes. Sweat poured from her; a physical expression of the payment her body made for acting as a conduit to such boundless violence.
He was outmatched, and he knew it, but still Kag tried to stay in the fight. Blood-slick hands closed tight around the grip of his weapon, and he brought it down for a third time. Where was the opponent he faced last time? Where was the little green thing he could stomp and crush?
Wherever she was, she wasn’t before him now. The only effect the blow – which would have slain her lesser kin outright – had, was to shake and rattle the chains on her body. The force of the blow was immense, but compared to the toll that her own burning hate was taking on her body, it was nothing. It was as though the anger was its own suit of armour; protecting her with waves of ferocious scorn. All she could feel was that hatred.
Four blows was all it took. The ogre raised his arms in a futile attempt to protect himself, and she crossed the X of the slash on his chest, then kicked his body free of her blade as he tumbled over backwards.
Thankfully, the arena healers were just as good for him as they had been for her. He was breathing. He’d survive. But as the hate in her died back down, there was no doubt left about who had won that exchange; and it had not been near as close for her as the victory had been for him in the first encounter.
She slung the blade back across her shoulders, and glared up at the crowd. She was exhausted, but she was victorious, and she spread her arms open wide.
”WELL?!” She bellowed, ”WHO. AM. I?”
And the crowd cheered in answer.
“Chain-Breaker!”
“Chain-Breaker!”
“Chain-Breaker!”
i0LYISDo1d20+2
1d20-11d20+2·1d20-1
She was lost in her own thoughts.
So much had happened since she faced Kag the first time. She had met Dhaunmyr, the strange little drow who seemed to just accept the violence and humiliation that the City heaped upon him. A good man, even if he was convinced of his own worthlessness.
She had almost died, taking the heads of her kin who remained loyal to One-Eye. She had failed to kill them all.
Her axe was sharp and her arm was strong, but compared to the blender that Kara had been, or the magics wielded by her fellows, she was… unimpressive. Nothing, really. For the first time in her long life, she wondered if she had what it took. What was she, really? She was an orc.
Kag loomed across the arena floor, thumping his chest and bellowing his glory to the crowd. She should be doing the same thing, but she didn’t feel it, not today. Looking at him, she saw a man easily twice her own size. Bigger. Stronger. More heavily muscled. If those were the qualities that she had to rely on, she would never achieve her goals.
Fury burned in her heart as she ground her teeth together. It finally seemed to be dawning on both the ogre and the crowd that she hadn’t said a single word since the moment she had emerged. Instead, she had just been glowering at him with the kind of hateful intensity that would normally be reserved for imminent murder.
She didn’t hate him, not really. But she hated what he stood for. He was her, but better in every way. And what was he? Just a performer. Just a gladiator. His big, stupid body was a road-map of scars to match her own. Looking at him was like looking in a mocking mirror.
“GRAAUL KRAAH HROOOOOO!”
(Common: WE STILL LIVE!)
The bellowed warcry from her lips seemed to take even her by surprise. She threw her head back to shout it to the heavens, and the raw rage, the fury boiling in her heart spilled out through the words. Before she even knew she was doing it, she was charging the ogre, a javelin flung with all the wild force she could muster as she sprinted across the arena towards her foe.
Desperate to keep up, the bell was rung and the fight officially declared.
Kag looked a little taken aback. This was not the showboater that he had fought previously. The flung javelin was, at least, thrown at him with more enthusiasm than skill, and it was easy for him to swat it to the side as he drew his enormous club and brought it down on her. He liked it when the opponent came to him. It meant there was less running around. Most had learned to try and stay out of his arm’s reach, especially for the rematch.
The club came down on the charging orc with an incredible amount of force. But Dredka ignored it. She had no time for the pain, no consciousness of it. The only thing in her mind in that moment was the fight. She tensed, and pushed INTO the club, throwing it up and off her as she sprung with a second, ferocious roar on her lips.
There was no orcish in the shout, and that made it more comprehensible to the crowd. What tore out of her lips was a scream of such pure, unbridled anger that it sent shivers down the spines of the spectators.
She was furious at the Gods. How dare they bind her fate?
She was furious at the World. How dare it bind her body?
She was furious at the City. How dare it bind her friends?
She was furious at herself. How dare she fall and fail?
And then she was just fury.
Kag’s eyes widened in surprise as the (comparatively) small green woman shrugged off his blow as though it were nothing, and leapt into the air. People weren’t supposed to want to keep fighting after he hit them like that. But she wasn’t just continuing to fight; she was bringing that axe around with consummate skill, born from the furnace of her hate.
The blade struck him square between the eyes, and he staggered back with a howl of pain. This, alone, would have been a taboo in the arena. Blows to the head were not exactly illegal, but competitors were not supposed to be trying to kill one another.
Blood fountained from the wound, and before he had even managed to bring one hand up to stem the flow, the second slashed down into the palm of his hand, wrenching it down as she landed among blood-slick sands.
He struck out again! The wide sweep of his club hammered into her, but where last time she had been flung around by the strikes, this time she just… stood there. She took the impact. He felt it shudder up his arm, and her response was just to growl and stalk forwards, axe burying itself hard in his chest. She wrenched it back out, spit foaming in her mouth as she came at him again, and this time, the ogre dodged.
Kag wheeled back across the sands, bleeding heavily from his face, his arm, his chest. He was far from undefeated, but he was not used to being out-struck in a contest of strength.
But of course, this wasn’t a mere contest of strength. This was a contest of rage. Pure, and simple. Dredka was no longer merely fighting with her muscles. The continuous, endless furnace of anger that was her soul burned so bright in her, it lit up her eyes. Sweat poured from her; a physical expression of the payment her body made for acting as a conduit to such boundless violence.
He was outmatched, and he knew it, but still Kag tried to stay in the fight. Blood-slick hands closed tight around the grip of his weapon, and he brought it down for a third time. Where was the opponent he faced last time? Where was the little green thing he could stomp and crush?
Wherever she was, she wasn’t before him now. The only effect the blow – which would have slain her lesser kin outright – had, was to shake and rattle the chains on her body. The force of the blow was immense, but compared to the toll that her own burning hate was taking on her body, it was nothing. It was as though the anger was its own suit of armour; protecting her with waves of ferocious scorn. All she could feel was that hatred.
Four blows was all it took. The ogre raised his arms in a futile attempt to protect himself, and she crossed the X of the slash on his chest, then kicked his body free of her blade as he tumbled over backwards.
Thankfully, the arena healers were just as good for him as they had been for her. He was breathing. He’d survive. But as the hate in her died back down, there was no doubt left about who had won that exchange; and it had not been near as close for her as the victory had been for him in the first encounter.
She slung the blade back across her shoulders, and glared up at the crowd. She was exhausted, but she was victorious, and she spread her arms open wide.
”WELL?!” She bellowed, ”WHO. AM. I?”
And the crowd cheered in answer.
“Chain-Breaker!”
“Chain-Breaker!”
“Chain-Breaker!”
i0LYISDo1d20+2
1d20-11d20+2·1d20-1
