Sathios Sunwarden

Alone in the ring with his freshest kill, the brute settled back to sit against its fleshy underbelly. Cuts ran its length, bloody ichor seeping out second by second. Not far off the announcer called the victory to the raucous cheers of the crowd. He didn’t hear them. What he did hear was the prattling of the man running the event complaining over the fight. Not enough show or flare. Another man, clad in a black robe leaned in, and though he could hardly hear their voices as another cheer went up, he could make out enough.

“You want him to think big? Give him something big to think about.”

He didn’t have to wait long to find out just what was in store. The ground shook, the sands fell into a haze. Like a gods hammer striking the earth it moved, trembled. And he felt the rush in his blood. When the Ettin crashed through the gates, wielding a club twice the size of the haggard elf, all he could do was grin. Blood stained the wood, bits of hair an skin and…teeth? Definitely teeth.

He couldn’t out match the thing with strength. Stubborn and proud as he was, he didn’t much feel like ending up flattened on the sand. No profit in it. So his eyes swept the ring. A rope, tightly bound and leading up. Fire danced in a sort of chandelier overhead, torches and a brazier suspended by a thick iron ring.

“Might just be enough…”

He heaved himself up from the wyrm’s carcass just in time to avoid the strike of the giant’s weapon. It smashed into the scales and flesh, obliterating it in a horrid shower of parts and bile. He was moving before the thing had time to react. One cut along an ankle barely scratching the surface. Another sweep and he tried plunging the blade in. It sank an inch, two, then halted. Had to find a soft spot, and he knew just where.

The crowd watched on, hoping against hope that the man would finally meet an end. They didn’t care about the gold that might be lost, they wanted the show. All he wanted was a fight. He ran, feet digging into the sand and reached for that rope. The shield dropped to the ground, the hollow ring of metal before it fell silent and he watched. And waited. 

“Come on you fucker…”

One step, another, and another. The blade cut through the rope, the snap leaving those nearby shocked. He grabbed tight and let it pull, sending the torches and iron careening straight for the ettin’s head. It stopped, dumbly looking up. He heard a soft sound from the thing, as soft as thunder, as it confusedly pondered what was happening. Embers and wood crashed, the brazier struck its head and shattered.

A hateful cry came forth and shook the arena. All while Sathios was arcing through the air. He let the rope go, hoped he judged the angle right. He didn’t, but not by much. The sword swept around, point at the ready just before it plunged straight through the creature’s eye. It gave in an instant, slipping through and slicing the fleshy organ in half. He felt it strike bone, wavered over the thing’s shoulder. He lost the blade in the tangle as his armor skipped off the thick hide and he found himself falling to the sands below. Hard. The wind knocked out of him in an instant, a curse caught on the cusp of a ragged gasp as he dug his hands in. Fighting to move.

The creature wobbled, hands feebly moving up to try and reach the metal in its eye, in its brain. But it was too late. It teetered, took one step, and the fell. Everything shook, a banner fell from the wall and draped itself over a nearby brazier causing attendants to scatter to put out the resulting fire. Sathios shielded his eyes, forced to rub at them as sand blasted across his entire body, and he rolled away. Once the dust settled, and the crowd regained their voices over the shock of the battle, the elf simply laughed. Thrilled, he brought his hands up to clap again, and again, and again.