The sound of the shouting crowd buzzed in his ear like static. The cacophony of heckling, hollering, howling echoed off the ancient stones that formed the domed ceiling of the underground chamber, and the scent of sweat and smoke thickened the air. His own beads of perspiration trailed down his temple and dripped onto his bare chest.
Elam Grave flexed his fingers, his knuckles wrapped tightly with bandages. The cloth was heavily stained with dark crimson, made of both fresh and dry blood. None of it was his. He bounced lightly on his feet with his fists in front of him, keeping his gravity centered, even as he kept his eyes on his opponent.
It was a grey skinned Roegadyn, almost twice his girth. He already bore a bruised nose and a bloodied lip, and his left eye was swollen shut. But he still remained standing, and for that Elam was impressed. Â
How else would those watching fully appreciate the demonstration?
The Roegadyn came at him again with two quick strikes, a jab and a cross. He had already lost some of his speed from the beating he had taken, and Elam easily evaded the first and redirected the second with a strike to the man’s wrist . It was like batting away a child trying to paw at him. He felt the tingling traveling down along the length of his arm and quickening his movements. There was a distant pulsing in the back of his head, and his sight felt more keen, his senses more alert. The jeering was louder than ever. The refined form of Pluto worked better than even he anticipated.
Elam stepped in, delivering a roundhouse kick to his opponent’s midsection. The Roegadyn raised his leg to block, but pure brute strength of the Highlander sent the larger fighter stumbling to the side, reeling from the unnaturally forceful blow. It was as if he had been struck with a thick steel beam in full swing. Elam strode forward, not allowing a breath of recovery. He thrusted his foot straight out at the Sea Wolf’s abdomen, then grabbed his head to shatter his jaw with his knee. The Roegadyn crumpled to the ground, unconscious and bleeding from his misshapen face.
The crowd suddenly fell silent at the sudden and savage ending. Serious wounds were not an unusual thing in this underground Doman fighting pit, but the Sea Wolf had been their long running champion for the past moon. For him to be so soundly defeated by an ijin, who felled four other combatants before him, too much coin was being lost all at once.
Suddenly the audience erupted into another screaming match as winners and losers shouted at each other for their money. In the chaos, one lean midlander leaped over the railing that enclosed the fighting circle, rushing Elam with a blade drawn. He spat out some semblance of a curse in Doman; Elam could only make out something about cheating.
Grave raised his forearm as the knife was brought down upon him. The Highlander grinned when he felt just a graze, the sharpened edge skidding over his skin as if it was skating along a metal plate. The potion worked just as she said. His dark deep set eyes narrowed wickedly at the now stunned attacker, just before he crushed the man’s temple with a vicious hook of the elbow. The midlander too collapsed to the ground, limp.
“Halt! The victor is clear!†The ringmaster trotted out onto the ring with his hands raised, as the rest of the crowd shifted uneasily. The glances and glares that were shot in Elam’s way were not kind, but they also held a large measure of fear and respect.
Elam flexed his fingers again, still feeling his strength teeming just beneath the surface of his skin, ready to spill over again, if called for. He wondered if it was just the potion, or the fury that had been building since Torrad delivered the news of the disaster that happened in Yanxia when the herbalist was supposed to be delivered to Aritake Yumishi. One of his biggest investors in new Doma, his new partner for the chains of pleasure houses and drug trade, was now dead, along with most of Elam's own men that had accompanied the shipment and some of the Confederates under his payroll. What boiled his blood was that Torrad was unable to identify those responsible for the attack, and the fact that his alchemist had also been taken by the same party.
The Cove had competitors, the East Aldenard Trading Company being their greatest rival. But they would not go to such lengths as this. Likely this was the work of other Doman nobles, those who wish to stake their own claim upon the fresh fertile soil that was the new Doma. Such opposition was not wholly unexpected, but the fact that he had not had even a whiff of something like this in the waiting was more than alarming. How had they even known of the abduction? He had been careful to orchestrate the fire to make it seem accidental, even leaving a corpse behind to deter anyone looking. He rarely went through such trouble in conducting slave trade. Nabi had been the exception -- the alchemist that refined and potentiated the effects of Pluto, the incredible substance that was burning in his veins.
The sound of fabric ripping around his knuckles was lost on him as his grip tightened and his hand shook with anger. Â
He needed to find these new enemies and put an end to them quickly. If he was going to have a firm hold in this new underground enterprise, he had to make it known that he showed no mercy to those who crossed him. But first, he needed to find new investors now that Yumishi’s fortunes were lost to him. Like those that ran these illegal fighting pits. Only these new patrons could not know that the maker of the drug he was demonstrating was no longer in his possession.
He had other drugs to trade after all, thanks to Ghoa, as well as a wealth of arms trade and plenty of slaves. He would dangle plenty of other offerings in front them while this little mess sorted itself out.
Elam bared his teeth in his best, most feral grin as he entered through the aged red wooden doors in the back room of the underground chamber beyond.
Elam Grave flexed his fingers, his knuckles wrapped tightly with bandages. The cloth was heavily stained with dark crimson, made of both fresh and dry blood. None of it was his. He bounced lightly on his feet with his fists in front of him, keeping his gravity centered, even as he kept his eyes on his opponent.
It was a grey skinned Roegadyn, almost twice his girth. He already bore a bruised nose and a bloodied lip, and his left eye was swollen shut. But he still remained standing, and for that Elam was impressed. Â
How else would those watching fully appreciate the demonstration?
The Roegadyn came at him again with two quick strikes, a jab and a cross. He had already lost some of his speed from the beating he had taken, and Elam easily evaded the first and redirected the second with a strike to the man’s wrist . It was like batting away a child trying to paw at him. He felt the tingling traveling down along the length of his arm and quickening his movements. There was a distant pulsing in the back of his head, and his sight felt more keen, his senses more alert. The jeering was louder than ever. The refined form of Pluto worked better than even he anticipated.
Elam stepped in, delivering a roundhouse kick to his opponent’s midsection. The Roegadyn raised his leg to block, but pure brute strength of the Highlander sent the larger fighter stumbling to the side, reeling from the unnaturally forceful blow. It was as if he had been struck with a thick steel beam in full swing. Elam strode forward, not allowing a breath of recovery. He thrusted his foot straight out at the Sea Wolf’s abdomen, then grabbed his head to shatter his jaw with his knee. The Roegadyn crumpled to the ground, unconscious and bleeding from his misshapen face.
The crowd suddenly fell silent at the sudden and savage ending. Serious wounds were not an unusual thing in this underground Doman fighting pit, but the Sea Wolf had been their long running champion for the past moon. For him to be so soundly defeated by an ijin, who felled four other combatants before him, too much coin was being lost all at once.
Suddenly the audience erupted into another screaming match as winners and losers shouted at each other for their money. In the chaos, one lean midlander leaped over the railing that enclosed the fighting circle, rushing Elam with a blade drawn. He spat out some semblance of a curse in Doman; Elam could only make out something about cheating.
Grave raised his forearm as the knife was brought down upon him. The Highlander grinned when he felt just a graze, the sharpened edge skidding over his skin as if it was skating along a metal plate. The potion worked just as she said. His dark deep set eyes narrowed wickedly at the now stunned attacker, just before he crushed the man’s temple with a vicious hook of the elbow. The midlander too collapsed to the ground, limp.
“Halt! The victor is clear!†The ringmaster trotted out onto the ring with his hands raised, as the rest of the crowd shifted uneasily. The glances and glares that were shot in Elam’s way were not kind, but they also held a large measure of fear and respect.
Elam flexed his fingers again, still feeling his strength teeming just beneath the surface of his skin, ready to spill over again, if called for. He wondered if it was just the potion, or the fury that had been building since Torrad delivered the news of the disaster that happened in Yanxia when the herbalist was supposed to be delivered to Aritake Yumishi. One of his biggest investors in new Doma, his new partner for the chains of pleasure houses and drug trade, was now dead, along with most of Elam's own men that had accompanied the shipment and some of the Confederates under his payroll. What boiled his blood was that Torrad was unable to identify those responsible for the attack, and the fact that his alchemist had also been taken by the same party.
The Cove had competitors, the East Aldenard Trading Company being their greatest rival. But they would not go to such lengths as this. Likely this was the work of other Doman nobles, those who wish to stake their own claim upon the fresh fertile soil that was the new Doma. Such opposition was not wholly unexpected, but the fact that he had not had even a whiff of something like this in the waiting was more than alarming. How had they even known of the abduction? He had been careful to orchestrate the fire to make it seem accidental, even leaving a corpse behind to deter anyone looking. He rarely went through such trouble in conducting slave trade. Nabi had been the exception -- the alchemist that refined and potentiated the effects of Pluto, the incredible substance that was burning in his veins.
The sound of fabric ripping around his knuckles was lost on him as his grip tightened and his hand shook with anger. Â
He needed to find these new enemies and put an end to them quickly. If he was going to have a firm hold in this new underground enterprise, he had to make it known that he showed no mercy to those who crossed him. But first, he needed to find new investors now that Yumishi’s fortunes were lost to him. Like those that ran these illegal fighting pits. Only these new patrons could not know that the maker of the drug he was demonstrating was no longer in his possession.
He had other drugs to trade after all, thanks to Ghoa, as well as a wealth of arms trade and plenty of slaves. He would dangle plenty of other offerings in front them while this little mess sorted itself out.
Elam bared his teeth in his best, most feral grin as he entered through the aged red wooden doors in the back room of the underground chamber beyond.
-=Sentry's Wiki=-
(please note that this is still a major work in progress!)