Kaisel
Don't need a sign, nothing divine's gonna save me
The opponent staggered back, nearly caught, but her flailing kept her on her feet. Kaisel couldn't take advantage of the opening, forced to recover as well. He shook his head like a confused dog, the ringing persisting as the pair circled each other slowly. Bit by bit, the wash of warmth ebbed away from him, and in its wake, Kaisel was left to wonder what had possessed him to press on like this. He could very well lose his life here. It was a sobering thought—not because Kaisel feared death, but because he didn’t want his mother to be right.
Spite is a powerful motivator.
The woman lunged and Kaisel ducked down and rolled with his hips to his left, but her blade flashed from her right hand, the left jab a feint. Kaisel's eyes widened. The steel snarled up his forearm, wraps splitting and dangling from his arm like broken crepe paper the day after a rager. Blood-red confetti messed the floor.
Kaisel didn't hesitate; the moment he knew she had him, he leaned into it, pushing toward her and the blade. A roar broke from his teeth as he surged, his right fist sneaking up his front and uppercutting into her jaw. He barreled into her, the punch snapping her head back as his weight toppled her.
He stepped over her as she slammed onto her back. He pressed his heel against the hand that still fisted the knife. The crowd was alive again, but Kaisel barely noticed. He held his opponent’s gaze, waiting for the fight to drain from her before turning away. She writhed under him, but her grip slackened. He kicked the knife away just before the gameskeeper stepped in and raised his bloodied hand in victory. "What kind of shitshow are you running?" Kaisel seethed, his words nearly drowned out as the mob's energy rose with his arm. "Get the fuck out," the gameskeeper snarled, his fingers pressing against the red line that separated the meat of Kaisel's arm as he hauled him off the ring. Kaisel’s head swam with pain, his left ear ringing out of sync with the hungry masses. His teeth set together, grinding back the exhaustion and the hurt as he tightly said, "My payment and I'm gone." From the dark a bag sailed towards him and Kaisel grabbed it with his uninjured hand. "A pleasure, as always, gentlemen."
Kaisel pulled his hood up and backed into the crowd. He pressed his wound tightly against his chest, the red spreading with a slow crawl up his shirt.
Spite is a powerful motivator.
The woman lunged and Kaisel ducked down and rolled with his hips to his left, but her blade flashed from her right hand, the left jab a feint. Kaisel's eyes widened. The steel snarled up his forearm, wraps splitting and dangling from his arm like broken crepe paper the day after a rager. Blood-red confetti messed the floor.
Kaisel didn't hesitate; the moment he knew she had him, he leaned into it, pushing toward her and the blade. A roar broke from his teeth as he surged, his right fist sneaking up his front and uppercutting into her jaw. He barreled into her, the punch snapping her head back as his weight toppled her.
He stepped over her as she slammed onto her back. He pressed his heel against the hand that still fisted the knife. The crowd was alive again, but Kaisel barely noticed. He held his opponent’s gaze, waiting for the fight to drain from her before turning away. She writhed under him, but her grip slackened. He kicked the knife away just before the gameskeeper stepped in and raised his bloodied hand in victory. "What kind of shitshow are you running?" Kaisel seethed, his words nearly drowned out as the mob's energy rose with his arm. "Get the fuck out," the gameskeeper snarled, his fingers pressing against the red line that separated the meat of Kaisel's arm as he hauled him off the ring. Kaisel’s head swam with pain, his left ear ringing out of sync with the hungry masses. His teeth set together, grinding back the exhaustion and the hurt as he tightly said, "My payment and I'm gone." From the dark a bag sailed towards him and Kaisel grabbed it with his uninjured hand. "A pleasure, as always, gentlemen."
Kaisel pulled his hood up and backed into the crowd. He pressed his wound tightly against his chest, the red spreading with a slow crawl up his shirt.
Here only the strong survive
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
