Soul Slave

Procrastinated Rivalry

Vindaes met his opponent in the middle of the fighting pit with little to no hesitation, arriving just in time to block three thrusts thrown one after the other without break, then an attempt to trip him was faulted when Vindaes brought his foot up then slammed it down just in time to pin his opponents polearm. Then with both hands available he'd smash his fist into his elf opponent's face, Shalrak would hold firmly to the strike. His head whipped to the side, but he'd in an instance return his gaze upon Vindaes' core just as he'd lift up his weapon from beneath his foot forcing Vindaes to fly up suddenly mid air with the strength he presented.

Slamming onto his back, the crowd would roar with excitement at the show , Shalrak would chop down as Vindaes would roll. This would happen three times before finally Vindaes had kicked up enough sand from his rolls to blind his opponent and the crowd.

Appearing out of the sand, he'd disperse it with his quick stride, leaping up and slashing horizontally just above the elf's left knee. He'd yell out in pain but it was blocked out by the sound of the crowd losing it's mind over the first blood. Vindaes didn't end it prematurely though it was obvious at that moment he could have very well killed Shalrak; instead he'd backhand him. Forcing the elf to drop his weapon and fall back onto the ground.

Vindaes would put his arms out to the side, blade in each hand he'd circle around the fighting pit with an expression of joy and cockiness. Laughing and driving the crowd more into a frenzy as Shalrak recovered from the vicious blow. Just as the elf began to stand, Vindaes laid his eyes upon him and held a firm stance with his blades crossed in an x as Shalrak stood and recovered his weapon.

Looking into Vindaes fierce gaze the entire time.

"If you don't die! You could be of great aid to the surface!" Vindaes screamed loud enough for Shalrak to hear him over the crowd. A clash of steel not a second later as a response and a glare written across Shalrak's face as an answer.

Edward couldn't take the smell of sweat and the heat of all the bodies surrounding him. Sickened by the taste of blood in the air he'd pull himself through the crowd. Crashing shoulder to shoulder with many, wet and slimy as he pressed against many other men and women. Finding a spot between two shacks made of trash, Edward placed his left hand against the wall that bent at the weight.

Pulling his pants down he'd hold onto his member and relieve himself watching the stream drizzle into the darkness. Exhaling with relief, looking up he'd spot between the buildings a dwarf with a black hood and cloak trying to sneak between the buildings Edward was at; obviously not having seen him just yet.

Walking right into his puddle as Edward shook himself and pulled his pants up. The dwarf swore quietly, then looked at Edward. "I swear we need more torches down 'ere, but with all the farting cunts around we'd be up to our eyebrows with flames." The dwarf brought his hand up towards his eyebrows as he stepped out of the puddle.

Revealing themselves from the darkness the dwarf and his large silent companion appeared, reminding Edward sorely of Quintus and his champion.

"You wouldn't happen to be Harmont, would you?" Edward asked seriously, down at the dwarf. The giant of a man wearing plate mail set of armor with his visor down and wielding a shield scoffed from beneath his helmet.

The dwarf chuckled and started nodding, "Aye, aye lad. That's what they call me, though if we're to go back to the festivities; sit down and watch the fights. Perhaps we could discuss more? Without your piss puddle following me already wet feet, aye?"

Edward shook his head, "There's no time." He'd turn around, just as the two walked to his side looking at where he was pointing, which was his sword. "I need to get that blade, and return to the surface."