Fight Night

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 18th December 2016

Characters: Taril, Airon, Sorken
Description: Taril hosts a bare-knuckle boxing match.
Location: Sunstone Seahold
Date: month 9, day 4 of Turn 8

"And in this corner is Airon the Fist! Punched his way down the coast all the way from Opal Cove, I seen him hit his way through a solid wall in three hits. Airon is five for eight in the ring!"

The crowd roared their approval as Airon stripped off his shirt and strutted bare-chested into the clearing in the middle of the warehouse. The floor was bare wood, splintered with use and spattered with stains from previous fights. At least fifty men lined the walls, cheering with their fists full of tankards and slips of leather that marked their bets.

"And in this corner," Taril gestured theatrically to the other end of his warehouse where a brawny man with a bald head and a mustache stood. "We have Sorken, formerly of Amethyst Cliff Hold. Sorken's gone toe to toe with dozens of pugilists and has won three of the last six fight's he's been in. Now our very own man, he lost his morals when the Hold fell. Sorken!"

Sorken walked stiff-legged into the clearing until he was nearly nose to nose with Airon. The sailor was taller but Sorken wider, with a touch of grey in his brown hair. If Taril was a betting man he'd have put his marks on Sorken, only Taril never bet marks unless he was sure. This time the fight wasn't rigged and the best man would, indeed win. It was more exciting for Taril that way even though it meant fewer marks at the end of the night. It was also far easier to avoid suspicion when half the fights were true. The merchant grinned as he brought the end of his crutch down between the two men. "You know the rules, gentlemen." He paused for effect, then grinned. "There are no rules! FIGHT!"

He yanked his crutch back just as Airon swung first. The glowlight cast rippling shadows across the spectators' faces as Airon tried to land another hit. Sorken blocked him. Taril melted back to the edge of the crowd as Sorken put a couple steps between himself and his opponent. Airon brought his fists up and danced left, feigning with a half-hearted right that Sorken met with a dropped shoulder.

Sorken swung and his knuckles connected with Airon's jaw. The sailor stumbled back. He spat blood on the floor as Sorken raised his fists in triumph to the delight of the crowd. "That's all it's going to take, boy?" Sorken taunted.

Airon grinned, revealing bloody teeth. He rushed at Sorken and caught the other man in a hug around his middle, momentum carrying them both back into the crowd. A wall of hands pushed them back into the ring, where they grappled for a moment before Airon landed a good punch to Sorken's kidney. The older man's back spasmed, and Airon pushed him aside and off balance. He lashed out with his foot and kicked Sorken's thigh.

Taril stood at the edge of the crowd and watched as the two men proceeded to beat each other bloody. There was magic in this; the shouts, sweat and iron tang of violence. The voices of the holders and seamen who crowded into his warehouse held the same wildness of the sea. Even better, the marks were flowing as freely as the beer from the keg he'd brought in to sell drinks to thirsty sailors.

Sorken lunged at Airon but missed and stumbled. Airon lashed out with his fists and landed a good hit to Sorken's temple. The older man staggered as Airon spat blood again. Sorken shook his head to clear his vision, but when he swung at his opponent it was wild. Airon danced out of the way as Sorken rushed at him again, then gave Sorken an insulting shove in the back that sent him stumbling into the crowd. Sorken was quickly shoved back into the ring, and he brought his hands up defensively as he turned to face his opponent. His knuckles were already bruised and red.

Airon threw a cautious right-hander that Sorken easily deflected. He tried again with a similar result, only this time Sorken got in a good thwack on Airon's forearm as he avoided the hit. Airon's eyes narrowed and he stepped into Sorken's space, raining a flurry of blows on Sorken that the older man managed to deflect. Sorken lashed out and hit Airon square on the jaw.

The other man reeled. Sorken stepped in close and hit him again and Airon went down. The crowd roared as Taril watched Airon struggle to get up. He gave up after a moment and limped into the ring, grabbing Sorken's hand and raising it high to declare a winner. Sorken was grinning and breathing hard, likely already anticipating the handful of marks he'd be given for his win; Airon would get a much smaller purse as a consolatory prize.

And Taril would go home with a pocket full of marks to his wife and son. Life was good.

Last updated on the December 28th 2016

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Fight Night