And in this corner (Open, PM for story)

He could hear their screams, their cries of bloodlust rising to the roof of the converted stadium here in the abandoned building. John didn’t look at the crowd of hundreds who had come and paid to see the gladiatorial sport which was about to begin. In truth, the front rows around the small oval shaped coliseum were occupied with people from a higher class. There were men dressed in tuxedos and their wives, or mistresses, wearing gowns which looked too expensive to be in this atmosphere. Yet they were the ones yelling the loudest, bellowing for the blood of each contestant like animals. Behind them, and going back to the walls, the other spectators were doing the same and the funny thing he noticed was how the farther back he looked the more the class of the spectator changed. At the end of the rows, at the very back, each person looked like a normal man or woman right off the street. It was kind of surreal to see the bloodlust in their eyes.

A group of men dressed in red robes picked up the poor soul who lost the last fight. He was unconscious so the men in the red robes dragged his body back through a tunnel in the east wall.

“How was that one ladies and gentlemen? Did that satiate your need for blood?” A man said into a microphone which amplified his voice emerging out into the arena. The questions boomed out over the crowd and the mob responded with a loud yell of ‘NO’ in unison.

“You say you want more?”

‘YES’ they all screamed.

“Well, now we have a special treat for you all. From parts unknown, with past shrouded in mystery, we have the one and the only, the man in the black hat…JOHN GREYWOLF!”

With that the crowd came unglued as waves of screams ripped through the arena. John had been sitting on a bench in the west tunnel waiting his turn to enter the arena. Well, he really wasn’t waiting to enter this underground brawl. He had been given a choice, which wasn’t a choice really, so now he had no choice but to do the bidding of the blood thirsty crowd. Yet, he knew giving them the show they wanted went against his own path and way. So, as John walked out to the roar of the crowd and as the ring leader introduced his opponent John prepared himself. He channeled his energy into his forearms making them hard like stone and charging his special ability.

((John uses his Slumbering Monk Prestige class - Earth and Enchantment Aiankurabu))

The Shaman stared out from under his black hat at his ‘opponent’ as the referee, which was ironic seeing as there were no rules in this contest, stood between them. He asked John’s opponent, a man dressed in loose fitting green fighting garb, if he was ready and the man only grunted dropping back into an aggressive stance. The referee turned to John, asked if he was ready, and all the Shaman did was nod once while locking eyes with the contestant. The referee screamed suddenly giving the signal to fight as the crowd erupted once again.

The fighter screamed and charged John who never moved from the spot he had stopped on after walking out of the tunnel. The Shaman didn’t even try to move as his opponent threw a snap punch to his face. All John did was block the strike with a raised arm sending the fist off to his right. The fighter screamed and grabbed his wrist which looked to be broken now, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet and attacked again with a haymaker from his other arm. Again John never moved, never attempted to dodge the blow, and only raised an arm to block the blow and the outcome was the same. There was a loud snap as the fighter’s arm broke from hitting an unmovable object. The Shaman watched with his cold stare as his opponent stumbled back injured enough now to have to quit. The crowd which had been screaming for blood quieted now not sure how to take this kind of…fight? John was ready to go back and sit down on the bench, only the other contestant wasn’t. The fighter gave out a loud scream and jumped at the Shaman attacking with a vicious kick…or so he wanted.

John for the third time didn’t move. This time though he didn’t block either. He simply caught the fighter’s foot right before impact stopping it cold. The fighter looked scared now. His eyes went wide at the predicament he was obviously in. The Shaman held the foot like a vise with his hands which made the fighter hop to keep his balance. John knew this fight was over; it was just convincing the other guy it was done. He hated to do what had to be done but knew he had to. So, with a quick twist of his hands, he snapped the fighter’s ankle with a jolt. The crack was loud and echoed in the now quiet arena. It barely made it across the room before the fighter was screaming in pain collapsing to the floor in writhing pain. The crowd screamed as John walked away before the referee could raise his hand in victory.

Up above the crowd in a special booth that overlooked the arena sat two men in special seats, more comfortable and lavish then those below. One was the owner and the other his guest for the evening. As a hostess dressed in a skirt that was way too high with a blouse that’s neckline was too low the guest leaned over and spoke.

“Are you sure you have someone who can beat him?”

The owner took a glass of wine and smiled cruelly. “In my stable I know I have someone who can beat him.”

“What happens if he makes it to the end, are you going to give him the information he wants?”

“He won’t win, trust me, I have plans to make sure he does not win.”

The bench was some old wooden slat of wood with four uneven poles for legs holding it up. Everytime I shifted my weight the damnable thing would tilt in that direction. The first time it happened I was not prepared and almost fell off the stupid piece of what some fool called furniture. I cursed it and then made a mental note to keep my balance as looked out the make shift chain fence that was acting like a gate into the arena. I could see everything from where I sat waiting for my turn in the underground unlawful contest this night. I could see across the oval sandy floor to the other gate across the way and the fighters who were waiting to enter. I saw John sitting on his bench just before he entered and thought back to how we ended up down here in this spectacle.

It had been just a few days since Nafeesa was returned to me by the gracious hands of the shaman. She had been taken from me across the worlds as John explained, kidnapped by a dark entity who been convinced it could take my kitten’s soul. It found that was not going to happen without an interdiction from me and when it was said and done we knew how it had come to occur. The entity tricked my kitten into reading from a book, a tome she had been given in secret by a man who had only been told to deliver it to Nafeesa. By stepping on more than a few necks I was able to determine the man who runs this illicit battle royal was also asked to smuggle the book in to Midgar and when he somehow persuaded John that he would give up the name of the person who paid him for this service if the shaman could beat all the fighters on the list tonight I felt it only right to join in.

I also felt like hitting someone very, very hard.

“you’re up next sweets, get ready” A large foul smelling man called to me.

I swallowed hard before standing getting myself ‘straight’ about what was going to happen next. The rule was no weapons allowed, but then all the fighters were encouraged to break the rules if you could so I had to be ready. I looked across the arena to the other gate and noticed my opponent was a man, taller than me naturally and meaner looking. Yet he had no idea who he was about to step into the ring with and he had no clue as to what I would do to find the people who tried to hurt my kitten. So, when the gate opened and the foul smelling man pointed for me to exit I strode out walking right toward my enemy. The mean looking man never slowed as he approached and neither did I. It was going to be a head on collision.

Now, according to what I was told after agreeing to fight was both opponents would meet in the middle of the arena and acknowledge each other. As I was just a foot or two from the center and the mean looking man was at the same I pulled my hand out of my pocket where I had concealed it before exiting the tunnel. In it was my coin purse and with a deft flip I tossed it at my opponent, just to his left. I knew the ruse might work and that it might not, but I was never so happy to see it did and just how well surprised me to. The man reached out with his right arm leaving himself wide open and as such I felt an obligation to end the fight before it really started. I leapt at him and with an uppercut as hard as I could throw struck him right on his chin. I watched as he fell back into the sand of the arena like a tree falling in the forest after it had just been cut down.

The man making sure we followed the rules, well sort of followed, stood awe struck as he never had the chance to start the contest. I rubbed my hand, turned to the referee, and glared. “I assume I won this round.”

He only nodded as I turned to go back to the tunnel. The crowd finally erupted in applause and screaming my name as I walked back making me think... a girl, especially a Pirate girl, could get use to that kind of admiration

The next few bouts went by in a chaotic yet orderly pace. The men running the underground fight had enough of a control to keep things moving, especially when it came to the entertainment. John looked out past the gate into the arena and noted the last fight ended with one of the fighters knocked into unconsciousness. The man wasn’t moving and as such wasn’t responding to the so-called referee’s request to show signs of life. After a minute, and a chorus of boos, the referee gave the sign the fight was over and motioned for what passed as a medical team to come in. The three men looked more like the clowns you might see down at the local fair. They put the poor soul onto a folding litter, which didn’t look all that stable, and took three steps before the unconscious man fell flat to the floor of the arena. As the three men scrambled to get the injured fighter, who was probably worse off now after being dropped from the stretcher, the crowd went into a loud baying laughter.

“I’d rather die out there on that blood stained floor than have those three idiots try and help me. Hell, I think they killed the last guy they bandaged, cut off the blood to his brain by accident.”

John looked up to see the guard at the gate looking out into the arena at the spectacle that was the medics. The guard had a point the Shaman thought as John kept to himself for a second before the guard spoke again. “You came here to put an end to this…no need to deny it, I can see it in your eyes.”

The Shaman only nodded turning back to the arena where the next match was being announced. “ I came for an answer from the ones who run this senseless form of barbaric fighting. When I have it I intend to leave, nothing more and nothing less.”

The man gave a snort causing John to look up and see the guard was staring at him. “I know who you are Shaman, knew the second you and that Pirate lady walked in here. You can tell me you’re here just to pick daisies and I’ll know different. This is my home Shaman and I didn’t ask for you to come visit so don’t expect a hand or a bit of kindness from me.”

A direct response and one John expected from the old guard. In Midgar you made your Gil whatever way you could, had to in some cases. In the worse cases you forgave the blood on your hands if it brought you a way to pay for something to eat and a roof over your head. You might even fight for it if the need came John thought as the announcer called out the next combatants. His name rang out through the intercom just before the arena roared. The guard smiled and opened the locked gate before looking to the Shaman with a mean smile.

“Watch your step, no need to get hurt before the match starts”

John stood and moved toward the door before stopping by the guard. “Go back home to your daughter, she misses her father greatly, and before you ask she knows what you do at night. She followed you here a while back and asked a friend about this place, its why she’s been acting out lately.” He was gone and out the gate before the guard could catch his breath from the statement.

I sat on that piece of wood this place called a bench watching through the grate with the other fighters entered the arena. The crowd screamed and clamored and just acted like so many animals. The sound was so loud the walls shook around us and I began to wonder if the place might come down on our heads. I saw John emerge from the other side and my thoughts shifted to what I knew was going to happen, why we were separated when we came here. It did not take someone with an abundance of intellect to see the hope of the men who ran this place was to have the shaman and I fight. It would be to their benefit seeing if one of us made it to the end and won the tournament they would have to tell us who had given them the book, the tome which had almost destroyed my precious kitten. She was safe now, thanks to John, but I was still enraged. I was bent on finding out who attacked her, me, and if that meant hurting all these men in here, well so be it. Over by the gate one of the men was clamoring, whining actually, as he suddenly realized who he was about to fight. My guess, from all the crying, he had not expected to face such an experienced opponent.

“I got to face HIM!” The man whined.

“What are talking about? He ain’t nothing special!”

The man scheduled to fight looked tough, built like someone who had made a living in some various kind of fighting circuit most of his life. His face looked like it had been broken maybe a few times and hastily repaired as his nose sat askew on his head and one cheek looked mashed in. Still, it seemed John had made quite the impression.

“Are you crazy? The guy’s a Mage or something, hell he was glowing in the last match!”

The friend looked about the same, height and build, with a matching face of ugly. “What, you afraid the guy’s gonna turn you into a frog or something? Just go out there and smash his head in so we get some Gil and then some drink, okay?”

I am not sure why I did what I was about to do, only for some reason I could not help playing with these two just a little. “Oh, never take the shaman lightly my friends. He is a killer, a destroyer of men right down to his little pinky finger bone.”

My words had the desired effect I was hoping for as the man who was about to walk out as he locked eyes with me, the whites of his like large white eggs. “Destroyer of m-m-m-men?” He stuttered with a quivering lip.

“I once saw him tear a man’s heart right from his chest, like that eagle that accompanies him everywhere he goes.” I hissed with my eyes wide for added effect, to prolong the man’s fear. When he could not respond I reached up with my hand holding it out like claw and hissed again. “His fingers just tore through the meat and bone and popped out the organ like it was in a can. The man was dead before he hit the ground.”

It may not have been necessary to twist my hand like it was an eagle claw tearing a man’s heart out, but at this point I was having too much fun to pas it up. As all the man’s blood drained from his face and he blubbered about dying his friend just pushed him out the gate while screaming curses. “Stop crying you baby and go out there! Stop Crying!”

A little giggle escaped my lips as I turned to watch John’s fight. This one I would not miss for anything.