Snippet #2651451

Thoom. Huo managed to push himself from the ground and tumble to the side inches from where the blow struck the dirt. He watched as it struck the same spot where his head would have been pulpified.

The crowd roared, ecstatic at having their expectations for blood circumvented by this performance.

Huo's gaze darted to the Black Hammer who began reeling the flail back into his grip as fast as he could. He staggered about, balancing the weight of his hammer against his own.

The fist fighter pulled himself from the ground only a few yards away from his opponent. He lunged at the Niessen once again, a fist unsheathed to uppercut his foe across the jaw and send him unconscious.

The Niessen fell back several steps while dragging his mace toward him. His grip tightened on the chains as he coiled them once around his fists, expecting to be fighting in close quarters.

Huo threw a jab that the Black Hammer countered just as quick with his hammer coming in from the right. Huo caught the move out of the corner of his eye and lurched back, but he knew he would not avoid the blow entirely.

He tore off focus from striking his opponent into willing the Flow and shunting its energy into a shield that would brace the hit.

The crowd lost it, they were out for blood. The impact shoved Huo several feet away, he rolled to the side with a knee and fist to the ground. He would have to make up for the distance lost once more.

The use of Flow required a breath, he could smell the first sweat droplets form. Though his body remained without bruises, his gauntlet looked nearly battered, such is the power of Flow. He felt the wound just above his rib from a previous fight starting to flare up.

He tasted a bit of blood and realized that he bit his lip during the impact. He gritted his teeth and his eyes flashed in frustration. No longer, could he hold back, good sportsman or not, he needed to end it.

The heat of the sun and the dirt and the many bodies packed in the colosseum bore on him. The screams, the cheering, the roaring, vibrated and dulled his senses all at once.

Time was running out. Huo darted at the Niessen again. The Black hammer struck the ground once, Huo sidestepped that, twice, sidestepped again, thrice, sidestepped that until he was within striking distance.

Huo leapt at his opponent and threw three slugs, one at his chest, one at his lower torso, and one at his chin. The Black Hammer raised the chains of his hammer to intercept, but only managed to block the last of the combination, forcing the fist fighter back unto a knee again.

The Black Hammer winded up his swing, but Huo, once again on his feet, forged toward him. They had to keep the pace of the battle alive, otherwise the crowd might turn sour and make some lanistas angry. Madame Phrina was a generous soul, but it could be the end of any favors he expected from her. Best he kept on her good side, if he survived this fight to do so.

Just as his wound and his fatigue dragged him down, he observed the Black Hammer trying to maintain his fading grip on the mace. He wasn't the only one getting tired.

Huo danced within striking distance, the Black Hammer seemed poised to unleash a final blow, and Huo readied a fist likewise. The Black Hammer only had distance. However, up close without the full capability of his weapon, he stumbled about like a drunk dwarf.

Huo bolted across the dirt toward his enemy. The Black Hammer retreated again, but not fast enough now. He raised his flail and just as he was about to release it in Huo's direction, the fist fighter vaulted in mid air and unleashed a small burst of fire directly at the Niessen's face.

The flames dissipated briefly, only a feint. It was enough to break the Hammer's focus. Huo charged at him, readying his punch, allowing the Flow to coarse its way to his clenched fist.

He could feel the energy drain from other parts of his body, but none of that mattered. Not the pain of his wound, nor the salted sweat, nor the screams and cheers of the crowd that fell deathly silent in his mind.

Time slowed, as it always had. The crowd fell silent, but only for a few seconds. Only one fighter remained standing in the arena, and he had battered gauntlets.

-

Up high in the stands, Madame Phrina and Dhaxi perched in the middle section sitting not too high where slaves and others of the servile class watched, and not too low where the aristocrats sat for fear of having to mingle with acquaintances. They looked like any other ordinary couple, blending considerably well. It helped their cause that the fight engrossed the audience for any to recognize the owner of the colosseum and to a lesser extent, the successful lanista and merchant that accompanied her.

"Your boy, he shows continual improvement," Phrina glanced at the slavemaster amidst the rapturous crowd.

Dhaxi replied, "His attitude could be helped, though. A few lashes may break him yet."

His gaze shifted to the Niessen, who laid on the ground appearing lifeless, but not departed from life. If Dhaxi were his slaverowner, he would have let him die in that pit there. Other gladiator trainers and slavemasters were no different, in the end their "fighters" were just chattel.

Phrina stared at Dhaxi for a brief moment, her eyes fell upon the Niessen as well.

She smiled, "Come, my stomach grows restless and the masses will clog the departure thoroughfare. I heard you hired new cooks."