Born This Way

[[ For Kiwi and Auramis. Blamed for pulling me back. ❤ ]]

The elf was damn quick, that was for sure. Too quick for his own good. Lycannon simply let him jump about, and she couldn’t help but think of an armored tavern dancer who had hit the pipe a bit too hard.

“Wear yourself down, darling. I’ll still be here.” she whispered from under her helm.

The commotion of the arena roared around them as spectators shouted and barked their advice, cheering at the face off in the blood-stained sand below them. Only the prominent, covered box at the center of the north wall was silent. Colors of red and black ran together in some places, splashed on the walls and even on a few of the closest onlookers.

Certainly, the one covered in the most viscera and gristle was Lycannon herself. She had been fighting since early evening, and the great braziers lighting the night sky had been re-coaled three times already. Over and over, other gladiators had thrown themselves at her just to be butchered, and after she had won she would look up into the crowd to watch the losing bettors scowl and rage in anger before the next round began. Some fights lasted longer than others, sometimes unevenly matched, but in the end she would be the last one standing.

Lyc gripped the hilts of her swords and carefully eyed the elf and his daggers through the grillwork on her helmet, breathing slowly from her mouth. Sweat poured from the soaked bandana wrapped around her head, her muscles ached from battle, and the pain from the heat and various gashes she had taken was beginning to take its toll on her body.

She licked her lips and murmured. “Come on.”

The elf leaped at her then, coming down through the air with his daggers aimed at her chest as she looked up. Her swords crossed at her face to deflect, and the clatter from him landing on them and trying to get a stab in stirred the crowd even more. She could see the burning green in his eyes and the determination even deeper as he strained against her, trying to use his entire body to upset her equilibrium and force her backwards to the ground.

Had she not been a draenei, his tactic might have worked. Her long, unguligrade legs were built for withstanding odd inclines and terrain, and the more he pressed her, the farther her hooves slid behind her to keep her balance. Her limbs slowly folded until hock and rear touched, and like a compressed spring, she suddenly roared and catapulted him from her, sending him flying quite a ways away. He braced himself for impact and impact he did, breaking his fingers as he hit the sand at an awkward position. The screams of the spectators drowned the screams of the elf, and he didn’t notice the warrior walking towards him as he rolled and clutched his hand. Her gait was calm and ominous despite the limp in her step. This one and the others before him were just fodder; something to keep the coin purses jingling.

She stopped just before him and pulled her helm off, releasing her long mane and tossing the piece of armor to the ground. The acclamation of the crowd formed into a loud chant. ‘KILL, KILL, KILL.’

“Are you ready to die?” she asked him in Thalassian, standing there with her bloodied swords lowered to the ground at her sides.

The dust and blood mixed in his throat made him cough, and looked up at her, back to the arena floor. All he could see was her form and her cold, glowing eyes. They were soulless, emotionless and unblinking, even as hair and dust tossed about her face. How could a draenei, a woman, be so merciless?

The chanting continued around them as she waited for an answer. Though she stared at him, she could see from her peripherals that his daggers were within grasping reach, and she hoped that he would break eye contact and try for them. It would be then she would strike, like a serpent.

“Please.” the elf said quietly, swallowing. He had already given up.

Lycannon surged and pinned him beneath her, pushing his face into the sand with the flat side of one sword while holding the point of the other at his throat. The chanting had died into pockets of frustrated shouts, allowing the ocean to be heard as it crashed into the cliff face beyond the southern end of the arena.

She leaned in close enough for her lips to brush his quivering cheek. “Many have said that.” came her soft words, before she plunged her weapon through the delicate flesh, making him gurgle, welling blood that spattered across her face.

The spectators went wild, and as she stood and pulled her weapon from the corpse, she looked up into the covered box. An older looking draenei appeared there and nodded at her with a smirk that cracked the wrinkles on his face, then he raised his hand and silenced the commotion.

“Most honored guests,” he began, “You have witnessed today for yourselves the amazing strength and will of my premier combatant! Before her stood thirty of Ryllis of the Ghostlands’ finest warriors, and all thirty have been defeated…”

Lyc bent over and leaned on her knees, and she thought to herself as the man talked to the people. ‘Finest warriors? Thirty kids tricked into easy money. They never saw this coming. Pointless bloodsport. It’s not even honorable.’ She snorted and spit blood, gripping her weapons,  still on edge. His announcements didn’t always guarantee an end.

“… And the Harbinger is champion once again!”

The crowd exploded into cheers, applause and shouts. A sigh of relief escaped Lycannon’s lips and she closed her eyes momentarily, taking in the thick air of humidity and short-lived victory. At least it was over for now. She would finally get to see Daelin.

Behind her, the arena dredges bustled to move the body of the dead elf, and as she opened her eyes, she caught the sight of the man looking down at her from high above once more. It was an appraising look, one that was trying to figure out just how many fights the warrior had left in her before she would finally be felled, and Lyc knew it. Blinking him away, she turned and grabbed her helm, then made her way across the sand to the gate, wanting nothing more than to see her little boy.

She reached the exit, but did not make it far before she collapsed from fatigue.