End of Night 1
The First Battle
As the crowd slowly settles into their seats, Tolis takes center stage. Surrounding him are rows upon rows of seats, overseeing a polished mirrored surface, a hundred feet side by side.
"Welcome, my brothers and sisters, and anything else. As you may have figured out, the actual battles will not take place here, but through here instead." Tolis gestured and a man-sized glowing purple-blue portal suddenly appeared behind him. "Through this portal lies an environment of whatever we wish. We could go from a tropical rainforest to the blackest night of the void. This is where your battles will occur. And with Nakarma, the True Believer, as the underdog, the choice of arena is his. We shall now test faith in Gods. Which will prevail?"
Tolis gestures again, and Pinman and Nahkarma begin to rise from their seats. Pinman quickly sprung to his feet, and with a single bound, lept over the surrounding wall, to approach the portal. Nahkarma, on the other hand, slowly rose with an almost inpreceptable stagger, eyes red and bloodshot, with dark circles under his eyes. Something seems to be distracting him this day, but no one seemed to know what it was. As he slowly made his way down to the portal, the Sacred Fist has already bound through the poral, the last thing dissappering into the poral was the string of wooden beads hanging arround his neck. When the true beleiver reached the portal, he quickly mouthed a prayer to himself, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, stepped into the portal, but only after a slight hesitation.
Suddenly there was a loud sound, almost as if a hundred thousand people had simultaneously said "whoop," and suddenly the polished surfaced began to shimmer, almost as it had been heated. The waves began to coalesce into shapes. Eventually, the veiwers found themselves looking at the interior of a temple of sorts. Gold leafed pillars cascaded off into the distance, leading the eye to a gigantic statue of marble. The camera switching between combatants, and perspectives changed often, much like watching a live sports event on television. Pinman, in his gold trimmed acolyte robes looked almost at home. He was found sitting cross-legged infront of the statue, head bowed in prayer.
And it began. Unhooking a crude looking mace from his belt, Nahkarma began a warm up of sorts, slamming it into one of the pillars, shattering it into a hundred splinters. Pinman had already begun his preperastion as well, as a silver claw could be seen in his right hand, contrasting to the wooden ring adorning his left. In a fluid motion, the Fist rose to his feet and leaped straight at the Believer, weapon rasised, in a massive overhand blow. As he struck, so quickly were the motions that in the blink of an eye, a cloud of wood shards appeared, obscuring both combatants for a moment. As the debris cleared, the crowd first noticed a massive gash in the stone floor of the temple, and not long after that, a Sacred Fist, kneeling, and nursing a arm that seemed to have an additional elbow. What they didn't notice for a good long time was a True Beleiver, sling at the ready, standing some 50 feet back from where he was standing before.
"Have you seen the light yet, heathen?" came the compellingly deep taunt from Nahkarma.
The only response from Pinman was a grunt, and with a quick twist, he forced his arm back into place. And he was off again, his left arm hanging limp at his side. The True Believer responded in kind, with a flurry of stones that sang as they flew through the air. This time, however, the Sacred Fist was ready, and lept to the side , crouching low behind a pillar. Darting quickly between the pillars and rapidly approaching Nahkarma, the Believer seemed unable to land more then a glancing blow, and more then once had his attack deflected by Pinman's claw.
"What the hell..?" muttered the True Believer, and pointed at the statue at the back of the room.
"You must think I'm stupid," came the reply from Pinman, almost closing the gap.
The statue In the back of the room had taken on a somewhat translucent quality, and began to glow brightly, almost as if a second sun had been placed there. With the sound of a thunderclap, the statue exploding into a blinding burst or radiant energy. The wave hit Pinman mid air, and he was sent flying through two pillars, his momentum only stopped by a third. Yet he was the luckier of the two, as the wave had also picked up the broken pillar on the ground, and sent it flying staight at Nahkarma. Trying to stand his ground against the radiant onslaught, he caught a glancing blow the the head from a flying piece of rubble, knocking him prone and leaving him dazed. It was painfully obvious neither combatant had been expecting that.
Pinman was faster in the recovery, and was upon the downed figure of the True Believer in a moment, aiming a down kick at his unprotected skull. Lifting his mace, Nahkarma caught the Sacred Fist's leg in the down swing, and with a mighty push, knocked him away, sending him flying. Leaping to his feet the Believer rushed after the still airborn Fist. Twisting in mid air, Pinman managed to land on his feet, sliding, left arm still limp at his side. Nahkarma led in, swinging his mace.
As the melee began, the handicapped Sacred Fist kept having to give ground, as both seem equally matched in speed. Blow upon blow were aimed and then avoided, deflected by Nahkarma's mace, or evaded by Pnman's fluid motions. Several landed, but were of minor in nature. Then, after an overly confident attack series that would have been then end of of Pinman, Nahkarma was surprised find his mace arm grasped in the Sacred Fist's left hand. "How was this possible?" murmered the crowd, as they had witnessed it broken only moments before. Nahkarma was also surprised, and as he struggled to free himself, Pinman twisted the limb behind the True Believer, and with the sound of bones cracking, the mace fell from his fingers.
"You haven't heard the last from me, heathen. Mark my words, your soul will be cleansed," cried the True Beleiver as he was launched into the air, with Pinman close behind. At the peak of his flight, he never felt it as the Fist's claws entered his back, tearing flesh and cutting bone, and was sent flying back to the ground at tremendous speed, rasing a could for stone chips and a crater.
The image before the crowd wavered and then, with the sound of a hundred thousand people simultaneously saying "foop," it vanished. Pinman, still floating in the air landed well on his feet. Blood spattered his robes, and his silver claw was now a dull reddish mass of gore, flecked with white bone chips. The remains of the True Believer laid on the ground, neck and back contorted disturblingly, in a growing pool of his own blood. Thus ended the life of one who held his faith in the gods, and one of our stories. But thus began the story of Pinman's rise to glory, or did it?