Night In The Brume (Part I)
2nd Night of Ash, 120th Year, A.o.S.
Cheers and laughter echoed within the surrounding walls of the pit, as men above carried on for their favorite contestants to take a beating. Everyone always wanted to see the lonely wolf knocked off his feet, and there were certainly times he'd had his share of those nights. Tonight however was not going to be one of those nights for him, even if his opponent just so happened to be the same in size and capacity. For Rickter that meant the guy had to be comparably the spawn of a giant, though that hardly said much about the half-bred wolf himself to say the least. Regardless this feisty brawler he faced wasn't just brawny, but well practiced with moving around on his feet also.
Still, after a perfectly good punch had been thrown his way, Rickter found little time to react in terms of avoiding it, so instead, he sank back a little and eased with it. The wolf growled however with his jaw clenched, as the moment he felt that fist smash into his cheekbone, he nearly lost all sense of perception as he staggered back a few steps. Just as he did, however, the dark-haired brawler before him charged forward, his arms jutting out so that he could grapple Rickter by the scruff of his vest; and pit him towards the wall like the cornered animal he truly was. Cheers escalated as the crowd above goaded him onward, and for a moment the wolf thought his match nearly over.
Funny.
He fought like an animal in a cage, the irony being that the Fighter's Pit was that cage. So naturally, when Rickter managed to recuperate, in just the nick of time, he caught sight of the next punch thrown directly towards his face. But not this time. The wolf brought what would've been a right hook over, intercepting the punch with an open hand as he grasped the other forearm of his opponent. "Grah, you bastard!!" The black-haired brawler spat at him as his fist still carried forward, smashing at the wall. Even without his excellent hearing, the wolf knew what happened next, the fierce and forceful impact met with a backlash the man didn't account for, and that sickening sound of a grinding tear radiated within his hand.
The brawler cried out as he withdrew his hand immediately afterward, clearly shocked that he threw such a nasty punch, yet clearly even more so at the fact it actually missed his target. Still, that generated the opening the wolf himself needed, as the moment he felt the grip on his vest loosen, Rickter tightened his grasp on the brawler's uninjured hand and jerked it into a twist seconds later. Cheers were suddenly a mixture of audible praises and boos next, as what unfolded next inspired such a reaction from their audience above. Rickter yanked the brawler's forearm to pull him closer, pulling his own head back so that when he thrust it forward, he sent it crashing into the face of the man before him.
The poor bugger. The moment contact was made another small crack was heard, as the wolf's forehead bashed directly into the nose of his opponent. Dizziness raced throughout the frontal lobe of his cranium when he did, however, and yet Rickter knew he couldn't let up if he wanted to win this. Thus he let loose his grip on the man's forearm, throwing his own punch at a mid-low level, landing a hearty jab into the lower abdomen of his opponent at best, and causing him to stagger as he wasn't sure where to defend now. Not that Rickter could even blame him, first the face, and then the gut, it was no wonder the man quickly flinched and threw a desperate punch. As the fist came around from the side, however, Ricky raised his right arm up to intercept it, cutting off the attack entirely before the fist even inched near Rickter's general area of the head.
Thus came the final blow, with Rickter thrusting his left hand into a hooked uppercut. To say he didn't feel pain would've been a lie, however, as the moment his knuckles clashed underneath the point of the man's chin, the entire recoil of impact hurt throughout his own hand. Still, the blow did its work as that sent his opponent teetering, enough to actually stumble and turnover into collapse on the ground. "Seriously?!" A spectator shouted above the general crowd.
"Come on!! Get back up and fight ya shitbag!!"
Yet between the damage in his own hand, and the combination of Rickter's own blows, the dark-haired brawler could only fidget as he struggled to stand. "Finish him!!" Another above declared over the boisterous roars that rattled the pit, assailing Rickter's ears even now with a painful reverb. He didn't want to of course, as the wolf was only in this for the money... but if the crowd didn't get what they wanted, which most of them wouldn't anyway, then he'd be shorthanded in terms of payment after the match. No. There was only one way to finish this, give them all what they wanted; a bloody submission at best.
Thus the wolf stalked around the struggling brawler, hands clenched into tight fists as his knuckles were both red and white. The dark-haired guy, the poor fool who Rickter didn't even know his name, sheltered his injured nose as he looked up to his enemy. In his eyes there was a look, a burning fire that Rickter could see lit within him. Good. Then this would not break him in the end, this would only spurn him to fight harder in the future. Thus as he knelt low enough to spike his fist to him, Rickter jabbed at the brawler's face with a relentless strike. The punch smacked hard into the side of his face, with no relent to the next punch as Rickter pulled back, assailing him with yet another harsh blow, and then finally with one more to complete the show everyone demanded out of them. More audible revelry filled his ears as he still clenched his jaw, with Ricky watching as his opponent outright fainted from the grand finale.
He didn't want this. He just wanted an easy means of getting paid, this was nothing more than simple business on his part. Here he put on a decent show, riled up the crowd for a bit, and secured his due with the submission of his opponent. Hopefully the poor bastard really understood that, however, for Rickter the show was over now and so his fists loosened moments afterward. He'd already been dealt with a few blows earlier, none of which severely hurt luckily, though the pain itself paled in comparison to how he really felt deep down. As he stood tall he did so with his head still lowered, eyes on his fallen opponent as the crowd displayed a spectrum of a reaction to his victory. Enough was enough, he was ready to leave.
2nd Night of Ash, 120th Year, A.o.S.
Cheers and laughter echoed within the surrounding walls of the pit, as men above carried on for their favorite contestants to take a beating. Everyone always wanted to see the lonely wolf knocked off his feet, and there were certainly times he'd had his share of those nights. Tonight however was not going to be one of those nights for him, even if his opponent just so happened to be the same in size and capacity. For Rickter that meant the guy had to be comparably the spawn of a giant, though that hardly said much about the half-bred wolf himself to say the least. Regardless this feisty brawler he faced wasn't just brawny, but well practiced with moving around on his feet also.
Still, after a perfectly good punch had been thrown his way, Rickter found little time to react in terms of avoiding it, so instead, he sank back a little and eased with it. The wolf growled however with his jaw clenched, as the moment he felt that fist smash into his cheekbone, he nearly lost all sense of perception as he staggered back a few steps. Just as he did, however, the dark-haired brawler before him charged forward, his arms jutting out so that he could grapple Rickter by the scruff of his vest; and pit him towards the wall like the cornered animal he truly was. Cheers escalated as the crowd above goaded him onward, and for a moment the wolf thought his match nearly over.
Funny.
He fought like an animal in a cage, the irony being that the Fighter's Pit was that cage. So naturally, when Rickter managed to recuperate, in just the nick of time, he caught sight of the next punch thrown directly towards his face. But not this time. The wolf brought what would've been a right hook over, intercepting the punch with an open hand as he grasped the other forearm of his opponent. "Grah, you bastard!!" The black-haired brawler spat at him as his fist still carried forward, smashing at the wall. Even without his excellent hearing, the wolf knew what happened next, the fierce and forceful impact met with a backlash the man didn't account for, and that sickening sound of a grinding tear radiated within his hand.
The brawler cried out as he withdrew his hand immediately afterward, clearly shocked that he threw such a nasty punch, yet clearly even more so at the fact it actually missed his target. Still, that generated the opening the wolf himself needed, as the moment he felt the grip on his vest loosen, Rickter tightened his grasp on the brawler's uninjured hand and jerked it into a twist seconds later. Cheers were suddenly a mixture of audible praises and boos next, as what unfolded next inspired such a reaction from their audience above. Rickter yanked the brawler's forearm to pull him closer, pulling his own head back so that when he thrust it forward, he sent it crashing into the face of the man before him.
The poor bugger. The moment contact was made another small crack was heard, as the wolf's forehead bashed directly into the nose of his opponent. Dizziness raced throughout the frontal lobe of his cranium when he did, however, and yet Rickter knew he couldn't let up if he wanted to win this. Thus he let loose his grip on the man's forearm, throwing his own punch at a mid-low level, landing a hearty jab into the lower abdomen of his opponent at best, and causing him to stagger as he wasn't sure where to defend now. Not that Rickter could even blame him, first the face, and then the gut, it was no wonder the man quickly flinched and threw a desperate punch. As the fist came around from the side, however, Ricky raised his right arm up to intercept it, cutting off the attack entirely before the fist even inched near Rickter's general area of the head.
Thus came the final blow, with Rickter thrusting his left hand into a hooked uppercut. To say he didn't feel pain would've been a lie, however, as the moment his knuckles clashed underneath the point of the man's chin, the entire recoil of impact hurt throughout his own hand. Still, the blow did its work as that sent his opponent teetering, enough to actually stumble and turnover into collapse on the ground. "Seriously?!" A spectator shouted above the general crowd.
"Come on!! Get back up and fight ya shitbag!!"
Yet between the damage in his own hand, and the combination of Rickter's own blows, the dark-haired brawler could only fidget as he struggled to stand. "Finish him!!" Another above declared over the boisterous roars that rattled the pit, assailing Rickter's ears even now with a painful reverb. He didn't want to of course, as the wolf was only in this for the money... but if the crowd didn't get what they wanted, which most of them wouldn't anyway, then he'd be shorthanded in terms of payment after the match. No. There was only one way to finish this, give them all what they wanted; a bloody submission at best.
Thus the wolf stalked around the struggling brawler, hands clenched into tight fists as his knuckles were both red and white. The dark-haired guy, the poor fool who Rickter didn't even know his name, sheltered his injured nose as he looked up to his enemy. In his eyes there was a look, a burning fire that Rickter could see lit within him. Good. Then this would not break him in the end, this would only spurn him to fight harder in the future. Thus as he knelt low enough to spike his fist to him, Rickter jabbed at the brawler's face with a relentless strike. The punch smacked hard into the side of his face, with no relent to the next punch as Rickter pulled back, assailing him with yet another harsh blow, and then finally with one more to complete the show everyone demanded out of them. More audible revelry filled his ears as he still clenched his jaw, with Ricky watching as his opponent outright fainted from the grand finale.
He didn't want this. He just wanted an easy means of getting paid, this was nothing more than simple business on his part. Here he put on a decent show, riled up the crowd for a bit, and secured his due with the submission of his opponent. Hopefully the poor bastard really understood that, however, for Rickter the show was over now and so his fists loosened moments afterward. He'd already been dealt with a few blows earlier, none of which severely hurt luckily, though the pain itself paled in comparison to how he really felt deep down. As he stood tall he did so with his head still lowered, eyes on his fallen opponent as the crowd displayed a spectrum of a reaction to his victory. Enough was enough, he was ready to leave.
