The House of Lord Fergal and Lady Elis was of little note to most beyond the Ringo Vale. The title “Lord” only presenting itself through many years of debauchery partaken by Fergal’s forefathers. But to those corrupt and shady, willing to gamble coin on the goings on upon Lord Fergal’s estate would know him all too well. The “Pits”, an unsanctioned fighting syndicate that dwelled below the estate. Where other Lords and Loiterers would commerce for the thrill of the fight.
Months had passed since the branding of Korval, his willing to do his Lord’s bidding formidable. Perhaps it the title of “Champion”, being graced with an honour he had felt elsewhere. His position rose within the house, to that of a cell of his own and occasional warm meal. Yet of those he once shared cell with, only one remained clinging to life. The others… killed at the hands of the Champion.
Korval would be prepared for his next opponent, the noise from those attending the night’s festivities echoing throughout the estate. Korval would watch, as the maids of the house would clean him, to be presented before those craving for blood. One maid that of fair hair and gentle smile would catch that of Korval’s eye. Yet he would say nothing, focusing his mind on the task at hand.
“It is time…”
Lord Fergal’s manic smile would appear, calling for his Champion to step forth. Korval would follow, entering amongst the crowd to the sound of cheers. Across the room, stood yet the last of those he shared former cell with. The man stood frail, but with purpose. Knowing that this could be his last day in this world. Korval looked at him with respect, yet sorrow in his eyes knowing what must be done. The signal to commence would be given and the man would run at Korval. Without hesitation or remorse, Korval would step to one side allowing the man to collide with the wall.
Head first, he would hit the wall. Korval would just hang his head as the man fell back, his head split in two. The man’s body would twitch, yet leaving this world. In a show of mercy, Korval would end his suffering by crushing his head beneath his foot. Those in attendance would give negative reaction to such a short fight. But it was then, a man cloaked in red would step forth. Whispering in the ear of Lord Fergal and presenting another bound in chains. A Dunlending, standing a terrifying height and covered in markings. Lord Fergal would give the nod, motioning for the Dunlending’s chains to be removed.
The crowd would roar as another would fight, but the Dunlending would not be controlled. He would grab the guard removing his chains by the throat, taking his sword and ramming it deep within the guard’s chest. A roar from the Dunlending would lead to screams amongst some in attendance, though his focus would lay upon Korval. Charging, the Dunlending would swing wildly and viciously though Korval would dodge each swing. Korval would then hit the Dunlending low, slowing him a moment before grabbing a sword from a Guard himself.
People begin to stop and take notice, as Korval and the Dunelding would begin to fight. The sound of coin exchanging hands could be heard by Lord Fergal, who would begin to smile. Korval would clash swords with the Dunlending who would press hard, pushing Korval back. The Dunlending would swing low, slashing at Korval’s leg but would only scratch the surface. Korval would roll to the Dunlending’s left, beneath his next swing before thrusting his sword into the Dunlending’s abdomen. The Dunlending would merely laugh, again pushing Korval back. He would pull out the sword, tossing it at Korval’s feet.
“That it… Little Man?”
What little words the Dunlending would know would follow with laughter. This would ignite the fire behind Korval’s eye, grabbing the sword and pressing on. Again, steel would clash but to a stalemate. The crowd erupting as Korval would be pressed hard, back against the wall as the Dunlending would snarl in his face. But as steel would almost touch flesh, Korval would knee the Dunlending where his blade had pierced. A grunt of pain from the Dunlending, before the roles would reverse, Korval ducking under and pressing him against the wall. Following another kick to the previous would, Korval would swing vertically and remove the Dunlending’s sword hand.
Blood would splatter onto the faces of those standing close, before Korval would finish the Dunlending, spinning and ramming his blade through the Dunlending’s open mouth, removing the top of his head. The Dunlending’s tongue would wag, as his body would fall to its knees before hitting the floor. The crowd would be livid, chanting “Beast!” repeatedly. Lord Fergal would look on pleased, stepping forward and raising Korval’s hand himself. As others would remove the Dunlending’s body, Korval would be escorted back to his cell. Though an ever watching eye would glisten in doing so. Lady Elis would purse her lips, her intentions unknown.
