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The Arena
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The guard roughly pushed Rylan through the entrance of the arena, chuckling to himself. He landed face first on the floor, which was strewn with sawdust to absorb the blood of the unlucky. It smelled of sweat and blood and u(c)rine, and it made Rylan want to gag.

"On your feet boy," the guard snarled, kicking Rylan in the ribs with the toe of his boot. Rylan staggered to his feet, knees shaking and his heart pounding loudly in his ears. 'I don't want to be here,' he thought desperately, 'I shouldn't be here!' But he was, and there was nothing he could do to get out of it.

He was just a scrawny street kid who had picked the wrong pocket and now he was going to die. This was the second time he had faced death in one morning, and it was almost too much for Rylan to bear. "I'm not a fighter, I don't belong here," he whispered to himself, wishing he'd been given the choice between dying on the gallows this morning as planned, and this cruel fate.

When the second combatant in the afternoon's fight had turned up dead in an alley that morning, Rylan's sentence had been changed from death by hanging to an afternoon entertaining bloodthirsty spectators at The Arena. At the time, with the offer of freedom and the hefty sum of fifty florins if he won, it had seemed like a pretty good idea, but now... Rylan had survived on the streets for so long because he was fast and agile and knew how to not get into a fight in the first place. He was no fighter.

10-Oct-2006 02:34:49 - Last edited on 23-Oct-2006 14:59:02 by Roshinda

Roshinda

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The same could not be said about his opponent. Though he was a good two heads shorter than Rylan, Boralc Ironforge was at least three times his size in girth. Every inch of him was muscle, toned, hard muscle. He had killed many men and left a good number so badly injured they were better off dead. Borlac balled his fists and shifted his weight to his left foot. His legs and feet were heavily armoured, but his chest was bare and several scars snaked angrily across both front and back.

Borlac, like Rylan, was unarmed. Today they would fight without weapons so the fight wouldn't be over too quickly. The dwarf was disappointed with his opponent; what kind of challenge would a boy barely in puberty present? Ah well, he was paid for every victory, no matter how easy, and there was a good turnout today, so the pay would be good. While he waited for the flag that signaled the beginning of the fight Borlac looked scornfully at the runt they had put against him. He was mildly surprised the boy hadn't soiled himself yet.

The flag was dropped and Rylan nervously watched it flutter to the ground, keeping one eye on the cloth and one on the burly dwarf. Borlac took a step towards Rylan. Wiping his sweaty hands on the legs of his ratty trousers, Rylan shuffled to his left. Copying the boy, Borlac also took a step slightly forward and to the left. Slowly the fighters circled each other in the middle of the arena, gazes locked, the distance between them ever decreasing.

When they had circled the arena once and a quarter times, Rylan noticed how small the gap between them had become. Panicking, he offered as many prayers as he could remember from his childhood to Saradomin and Guthix, hoping one of the gods would feel benevolent enough to protect an unimportant street kid. As Borlac lunged forward to punch Rylan in the midriff, the boy was already taking a hasty step backwards. He tripped and fell, and the Dwarf's fist hit nothing but air.

10-Oct-2006 02:35:22 - Last edited on 10-Oct-2006 02:39:00 by Roshinda

Roshinda

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Thrown slightly off balance, the Dwarf grunted in surprise and looked for his quarry. Spotting Rylan on the ground a few feet away, Borlac Ironforge spanned the distance between them and raised his solid fist, intending to smash it down on the boy's face. He rolled out of the range of the powerful fist and came up behind the professional fighter, crouching low.

'You can do this Rylan,' he encouraged himself. "He's strong, but slow. If you keep moving and stay alive long enough, he might get tired and just maybe they'll let me go."

Borlac was back, puffing angrily. The boy was quick, he would give him that, but it was by no means over yet.

"Trying to run from me like a coward?" he growled at Rylan with a deep grating voice. "See those people out there?" For the first time Rylan's attention was drawn to the stands where the crowd sat, roaring with restless anticipation. "They paid to see a fight with bloodshed, not to see some whelp run. Stop running and everyone will be happy." While the urchin from Falador was temporarily distracted by the crowd Borlac took the opportunity to swing at him again.

Rylan tried to dodge, but not soon enough. With a loud crack, fist connected with face and Rylan's head snapped back. The crowd stomped their approval. Staggering backwards, he shook his head to clear the fog and he started to run. There was no way to leave the arena, but he kept running anyway. Blood trickled out the corner of his mouth, sweat darkened his shaggy brown hair and tickled down his back, but he just kept running in circles and praying.

10-Oct-2006 02:35:51 - Last edited on 23-Oct-2006 14:59:58 by Roshinda

Roshinda

Posts: 6,271 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The crowd started to boo, and Rylan thought he heard someone bark an order to make him stop running or be next in the arena. He came to a standstill and the dwarf who was still lumbering after him plowed right into his back. He turned around to face Borlac and took a step backwards. Borlac Ironforge took two wide swings at the boy, first with his right, then with his left. Rylan dodged them both and took off running again, in tighter and tighter circles around the angry, tired dwarf.

Borlac spun slowly in the centre, trying to calculate when to swing to hit his opponent. "Stand still!" he thundered, and Rylan obeyed. Taking no chances this time, Borlac hurled himself at the boy to tackle him to the ground. Again Rylan dodged and rolled out of the way as the dwarf crashed to the ground. He kicked the fallen dwarf, again and again. Rylan wasn't very strong but he was desperate; killing Borlac was the only way he would be free.

Head, torso, Rylan kept kicking him with all his might. At last the dwarf's feeble movements stopped and Rylan sat down exhausted. He sat on his knees with his head bowed and sweat pouring into his eyes. The crowd was silent, not sure what to make of the fight, but Rylan was free and he didn't care about anything else.

10-Oct-2006 02:36:07 - Last edited on 10-Oct-2006 02:41:07 by Roshinda

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