Sten-Gaard was the most notorious arena in the whole of the Valley, and the site of the World Finals. Tom Av'rignon, wiry and quick to jump, breathed deep in a calming meditation. He hoped his training these past years would let him complete his journey. He rubbed his temples to flake away the memories, but to no avail as...
...he stared at the ceiling of the complex in amazement. Here he could prove himself as the winner that he knew he was. There was nobody around the region that could take him down and this was where he would show it to the awaiting crowds. They were already cheering his arrival, following his progress through the throngs of people. He always had enjoyed the ogling and affection that hangers-on showed. He enjoyed the attention, he enjoyed the gifts, he enjoyed the endless signings, and he enjoyed the money. He was always happy to take their gold coins.
He weaved his way to the arena floor and took his place amongst the contestants, those poor deluded fellows that happened to think they could take home the trophy and the winnings. He smirked in spite of his teachings. He had always been troubled in following the teachings that had been laid down as foundation to his experience. He knew all the fellows from the Trugyn Fields, and even a few from neighboring nations... none had yet been able to best him in a fight. Now was his time to shine against them. A few of the individuals that he didn't recognize seemed ready to try to take him on for the coveted Fighter's Title; but none appeared very confident.
The clatter of the bell to announce the beginning of the tournament echoed into his ears. He smiled as the fighting men circled one another in a garrish dance, legs and elbows scissoring in defensive measures, eyes shifting from one enemy to the next, hands and fists knifing through the air. Sweat, Tom noticed, already beaded up on several foreheads. He loved the feel of mastery over men.
There was not a moment more to concern with the others as a pair of heavy men barreled towards him, growling and howling in a vain attempt at scare tactics. A twist to the body found him lower than their chests as they screamed their approach. He flicked a foot outward and caught the first man under the rib cage, circling around with an elbow hook to the second man's knee before the first man halted his forward motion. He slipped between the pair like a shark in water, rising smoothly to sweep a reverse circle kick to the backs of the heads of the first 2 attackers. Both dropped to their knees, coughing and trying to rise again.
A third attacker smiled and flicked a leg, catching Tom's chin and sending him to the ground. Tom hissed angrily at his lack of attention before backbending to his hands with legs whirling at the man. Tom leaped to his feet easily and body-dropped the third man, laughing the whole time as he heard the crack of the attacker's shoulder coming out of the socket.
He looked around and there were but 3 men left now,not including himself, the other 7 removed from the floor. Smears of blood trailed to the edge of the arena where the losers had been dragged away. He looked at the first man, a large man with a large upper body... he looked pretty strong, but slow. The second man was short, scarred, and seemed to know how to handle himself in a fight. The third man was about his own height, lean, and serpentine of movement. This man would be his biggest threat.
The moment he turned to face the third fighter, he felt a sharp snapping in his leg as his knee buckled to the force of the biggest man's twisting elbow. He must have taken his eyes off of the big man too long. This man could not be that fast. Tom pushed his body up from the floor, deflecting a flurry of punches from the second man as the entire group twisted in upon itself. The third man landed a kick to his ribs and he collapsed again to the floor, easing the coolness into his palms and stomach and legs. A body crushed him to the floor and a set of hands lifted him, flailing and afraid for the first time in a long time, high into the air. He hardly had time to breathe in before all air was rushing out of his body against the hard floor.
He looked up and blue eyes stood staring at him, the large man. "Who are you?" Tom gasped, blood trickling at chin, elbows, and hands. "You cannot be..."
"I," the man replied calmly, "am James Gorning. Thank you for fighting me." A fist came up and jammed into Tom's stomach from the large man.
Darkness slammed against his conscious mind. When he awoke, he was in the hospice wing of the arena, having his wounds tended by one of the many nursing staff within. He groaned, remembering the end of the fight. The nurse smiled and said...
..."You will defeat him next time. I know you will"
Tom shook off the reverie and looked over. It was that same nurse, turned slightly away from him, speaking to that same large man as before. James Gorning, who now had been winner of 3 tournaments more since that first, looked over calmly at him... then he smiled slowly.
"I remember fighting you, Tom. Do you remember? Yes, I thought you might. You look in good shape... may this be as strong a fight as last time. You were one of my biggest challenges." The man was massive and yet seemed so fragile within.
The bell tolled. The fight was inconsequential, fists flying, heads bashing, and arms twisted and broken. It lasted only minutes as the competition was dwindled to the final 3. Tom looked at James, who looked strangely at the other competitor. The third man was of middling height, muscular, and twitchy.
Tom rolled into his forms like water down a steep mountainside. A balled fist caught James right above the stomach. James cringed slightly and, whip-like, captured Tom in a great bear-hug that squeezed the air from his lungs. A crack of sound and James fell to his knees as the third man chopped him down with a rock-solid arm. The pain in James's eyes was awful. Tom glanced up from the ground where he had rolled over to, seeing the busted knee in all it's agonizing glory. Tendons must have separated, bone must have broken, muscles twisted. The third man giggled and hopped to his feet.
Taking a flying leap, the man twisted in the air and... Tom's outstretched leg crunched against the man's chin, snapping the man out of his line of flight. Blood trickled down his chin as he rose and hysterically flew berserker-style at Tom. Tom slid left and punched the man in the ribs. The man collapsed in agony, his fight gone. He limped off of the arena floor.
"Thank you, Tom. I have never beaten him... I don't know who he is. He is crazy. He has killed people. Now let us fight a worthy match."
Tom helped James to his feet and dusted him off. When they were both ready, the real fight began... now, it didn't make any difference though. Tom had already gained his redemption in his soul.
