Fresh Blood Series 1.1: Fortune V Bart

[DragonWithTheS]

"I really outdid myself today" said Shib, his cold reptilian eyes glistening down at the arena from his vaulted box seat- the only one in the grand metal-and-glass coliseum capable of holding his dragonic form. Below him the stands were willed with gods, nymphs, spirits, demons, and angels from every pantheon. They crowded the stands and watched with hungry eyes for the new fighters to appear- the fresh blood. The betting had been called not two minutes before, and much to Shib's satisfaction, the odds heavily favored Bart. He had placed a sizable bet through a series of intermediaries against the lizard and was looking to cash in on Fortune's zeal.

The arena had been laid out in a way that Shib though could benefit both fighters; a large, overgrown urban parking structure with plenty of skylights and windows for easy viewing of the interior. Ripped directly from a dead world, the structure was filled with rusted out cars, broken lights, and cracked, weakened concrete. Within the bounds of the area lay several roads surrounding the parking tower, with small trees and thick vines covering the cracked pavement. The bounds of the arena stopped at the front of other buildings, and the magic of Shib allowed patrons to see through the building walls that made up the edges of the ring.



With the crowd baying for the fighters blood, Shib lifted his head to announce the fight.

"Gods! Patrons! Assembled Guests! Welcome to the first bout of the Fresh Blood Series! Your first chance to get eyes on potential new recruits for you heavenly hosts! Starting this series out we have a fight between two fighters that I have a somewhat... personal interest in!

In a world filled with heroes, one name struck fear in the hearts of capes and cowls alike. The Ursine Menace, Lord of the Beasts and slayer of heroes, BART THE BEAST! And, fresh from the fast moving expanse of the future, master of the world of modern crime and manipulation, thief of everything from hearts to heads, FORTUNE FAVORS!

Fighters, you know the rules and regulations, and, indeed, the dire cost of defeat. Enter the arena when you are ready. Show us what you've got!"

[Shattered Sanction]

Fortune blinked against the sudden light and strange rush of sound, his ear drums nearly exploding as the soft gloom of the bathhouse was violently replaced with the sound of a roaring crowd and streaming sunlight. His pupils contracted and his heart beat a rapid tattoo against his sternum. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he was suddenly sweating cold. What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened.

Eventually, he swallowed, laced his breeches, and slung his sword belt around his hips. Some things, like the mysterious rusted-out carriages and three-headed nymphs in the crowd, were new to him. But some things are mutiuniversal, such as a gladiator arena. It didn’t take long for him to find his feet, wipe the ash off his face, and being looking for his opponent.

It wasn’t easy, there was a lot to look at. Fortune could have happily spent hours observing the crowd and the variety of specimens it contained, and a day or two poking around the deserted city he found himself in. Stooping to make sure his bootstraps were tight and secure, he glanced up to gage the possibility of aerial maneuvering. Whoever had designed the arena had given him a lot of opportunity.

Shib gave his introduction, and Fortune was more than happy to play the crowd. He executed a couple of lazy backflips, and a formal bow when his name was called. It appeared he would be fighting the bear-handed brawler who had so amused him during the signing of his contract. Fortune eyed him steadily as he took his measure. It would be an understatement to say he would have to be wary of his hands. He tried to make eye contact, wondering if they were sentient. Ah, well, he’d just have to find out.

Deciding on a plan of attack, Fortune drew both his boot dirk and his belt knife, saving his larger weapon for later. He flipped one lazily and settled his face into a disconcerting grin. Then, almost casually, he charged headfirst at his opponent, the sound of his feet obscured by the roaring of the crowd. He sure hoped bear-man was ready, or this would be a short fight.

[Primatibas]

"-shit."

The sensory overload takes Bart a moment to process. One second he's scarfing down a mountain of fish talking to the nice goth chick, and now he's in the middle of some urban battleground. The roar of the crowd and the announcer pull him out of his shock as it dawns on him what's going on.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck this is gonna suck runs through his head over and over as he stares down the lithe brawler running straight towards him. Panicking, Bart follows suit and rushes headlong into the sprinting rogue. At this point, the obvious thing to do would be going for a bearmaul...so obviously he throws himself at Fortune in a full force body slam. Brilliant.

[Shattered Sanction]

Fortune didn’t slow as he saw the bear-man reach his decision to charge. It didn’t surprise him much, this fighter seemed to be a fairly straightforward brawler. In fact, it might be that the sheer menace of the bear appendages solved most of his problems for him. Fortune wanted to test his reactions and get a real measure of his opponent before playing his hand in full.

The ground was uneven and strewn with rubble and other matter than slowed their charge. But both forces barreling towards each other had enough speed to get the crowd excited for the inevitable clash. This would be their first taste of fresh blood, and Fortune was happy to oblige.
The fighters closed the distance,  20 paces…ten..five…

At the last possible second, just as it seemed the two fighters would slam into each other at full force, Fortune stepped hard with his right leg, and propelled himself left, slashing with the smaller of his knives at the anterior of Bart’s thighs.

[Primatibas]

Failing to collide full force due to Fortunes sidestep Bart keeps barrelling forward unable to avoid the slash. The small blade makes a cut running along his leg that will definitely give him trouble if the fight goes on too long.

In the moments before rushing too far away due to momentum he throws his arm to the side hoping to get a lucky bodycheck or a bearbite as he receives the attack.

[Shattered Sanction]

Fortune thought his attack had hit, but had no time to look for bloodspray as the man beared down on him. He had been expecting a countermove, and was prepared to block as Bart’s left arm/bear came down on him from above.

Fortune raised his arms to take the blow in good form, bending his knees slightly, ready to extend his arms at the right moment and deflect the attack. However, what should have been an easy counter dropped him on his ass, teeth snapping close to his face. The 1300 pound opponent could not be blocked. Hissing in frustration, Fortune took a hit that jarred him tailbone to skull under the weight of Bart’s arm. Luckily, the extra weight caused Bart not to be able to turn, and moved him out of Fortune’s fighting zone and allowed him time to stand and shake his head to clear it.

His knife was bloody. Not a bad first pass. He would have to be extra careful to avoid taking hits like that. Trying to catch him out, he charged again at the back of his opponent, this time going for his calves.

[Primatibas]

Without turning around to see the attack heading for him, Bart slides to the left just enough to avoid the attack by relying on his bears' eyesight and his opponent's ignorance of said ability.

The bear in control of his right hand takes charge and decides to make a lunge for Fortunes' torso, enraged by the wound already afflicted.

[Shattered Sanction]

It was like fighting three opponents! Fortune backpedaled gracefully out of reach as the closest bear snapped at his torso, relying on his footwork to keep him upright. It was time to get serious.

He tossed his dagger like an arrow from a bow, aiming for the bear closest to him, hoping to sink his blade deep into the creature and find out of their pain receptors were shared alike.

His falchion slipped free of its sheath with no sound, the worn leather molded around the blade from countless draws. Fortune followed his knife so quickly he could feel the air settling back into place. He was shorter by a hand’s width than his opponent, and used it to his advantage, crouching low and aiming his slash at hip-height. His dirk was still clutched in his left hand, and his opponent had no shield.

Finally, Fortune’s pleasant grin and languid body language were left behind, his eyes focused in concentration and his body taunt with energy, ready to savagely and nimbly pick apart his enemy.

[Primatibas]

The knife hits. The bear roars. Bart rushes inside Fortunes personal space to step inside of the swing to rob it of any real power. Taking the hits to make an opening, Bart shoves both bears at his opponent aiming to grab hold of fortune for a serious mauling.

[Shattered Sanction]

Fortune was still unable to tell if their pain receptors were linked, because apparent they felt no pain. Despite his knife sinking satisfyingly into the right bear, and his blade scoring another direct slice, the bear came straight into him without checking themselves. Fortune was a bit put back by the audacity and ferocity of his opponent. He’d taken heavy damage and bled freely, but did not seem to mind in the least. Poised for a follow-up attack to be delivered after his opponent fell back, his weight was all wrong for a charge. He found himself wrong footed with the momentum not in his favor.

He did the only thing he could do to minimize the kamikaze of a move coming at him. He got his falchion up and pointed directly at Bart’s gut, acting like a bear-spear, and took the hit with his dirk arm. He felt the jaws close around his arm within the space of his heartbeat, and his dirk, meant to stab after the attack, dropped from his fingers. The sound of it ringing on the pavement did not cover up the snapping sound his elbow made as the bear made contact. The horror of his deformed limb sticking out of the grizzly’s mouth was enough to weaken Fortune’s legs, but instead he drove further with his blade, seeking to use his opponent’s own strategy against him. He could not pull free of the bear’s jaws, forward and through was his only option.

[Primatibas]

The blade stabs Bart through his stomach, running through and out his side. Bart tightens his grip with the first bear holding fortune steady for the other bear to attempt and rip fortunes stomach up as badly as his is. He stares Fortune straight in his eyes, and says one thing as blood sprays with each word. "You're mine now bitch"

[Shattered Sanction]

The horrible thing about strong fighters is that they sometimes misjudge the weak. In fact, at some points, this can be used against them. The taunting leer in Bart’s eye, and his overwhelming threat of indescribable violence sent Fortune over the edge into panic. Fortune took a large and serious step back from the rampaging bear, leaving what was left of his arm in the grips of his opponent, and splattering them both with a large about of blood. His sword came free of his opponent’s guts, adding to the crimson tide overwhelming their fight. Fortune, under the blood, was in a fury. His battlecry was ragged, but true, and he charged back in. His falchion struck high to low, seeking to get a bit of blood flowing from his upper region as well. He may be down a limb, but he was not afraid. He would see just how much blood this bear had inside him, if it was the last thing he did. “Think again, pet.”

[DragonWithTheS]

"HALT"
Bellowed the great dragon, his voice carrying-just bear-ly, over the roaring, bloodthirsty gods. Not even the pantheons who preferred to remain aloof and distant were still sitting, each god on their feet and attempting to get a better view of the mauling occurring on the roof of the decaying parking structure. In the ring one of the fighters was slumped in a pool of blood while the other panted heavily, blood freely flowing from their wounds. The corner of Shib's reptilian mouth curled up into a smile as the fighter that was left standing raised a victorious arm, then fell to their knees and appeared to black-out.

"The winner of our first Fresh Blood bout, one of the bloodiest bouts we have seen in an age, is Fortune Favors! Attendants, let's get these two to the healers before the gods begin to lay claim to their corpses."

The dragon's own betting slips, bought through his network of attendants, would quickly be converted to gold. His matchup had worked out as he hoped- a bloody bout that made both fighters look ferocious. Plot goblins rushed into the quickly-collapsing arena and carried both fighters off, one of them cradling Fortune's arm and weapons.

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