Perhaps Too Much Fun

Several more bodies followed, either knocked out or beaten to submission as the energy among the crowd only grew. After the fourth man was dragged away and Tarmen stood panting, a chant began that he wasn’t sure he agreed with still, but had no power to change.
“TARM’EN! TARM’EN!”
How they could create such a pronunciation so clearly was curious; probably just how the language handled itself after generations to master it. He wasn’t going to look into it that hard, especially with the clang of the gate behind him that announced his newest toy.

Looking at the slab of muscle before him breathed life into his inner fire, finally being given a possible challenge. Scars danced over his skin that proudly displayed his time in the ring, though the cruel grin was different from the others. He had tasted victory many times and Tarmen knew he would have fun with this one.
The brute took a low stance with his arms guarding his head, keeping his weight centered as he began a slow walk around Tarmen.
He took a stance he hadn’t used in ages, putting his weight on his right foot and pivoting his left slightly forward. His arms were raised in a similar fashion to his opponent, though his palms faced his opponent with relaxed fingers instead of clenched into fists. It was a fighting style from Kru’ll, one of the first taught to whelps looking to join a crew and supposedly older than the most ancient ruins.
As the two squared off, the two found themselves at a standstill. The brute couldn’t get any decent punches in with Tarmen being too far back, while he couldn’t get any good kicks with the brute so low and defensive.
Tarmen wasn’t sure of the other’s thoughts, but he quickly tired of all of this flirting. When the next punch came, he leaned into it, able to lock the brute’s arm in a hold and slamming his knee into the rock wall of a gut. His reflexes afforded him another strike before he was swung around, holding the arm tightly to avoid being flung loose. Gritting his teeth and forcing his feet to stay on the ground, he still met the wall with enough force to lose his grip. The impact agitated his arm, bringing a fresh pain from the wound and producing a few beads of blood through fresh wrappings.

He smiled at the fight this was already proving to be, dodging a fist that would have surely broken his jaw. How his opponent hadn’t shattered the limb against the smooth bricks he would wonder for some time.
It did provide another opening to dig into the brutes chest, sending a flurry of hits to his side. The grunts he heard let Tarmen know it was effective, but leapt out of reach before the brute could retaliate. He was also feeling a hitch worming into his shoulder; his left hand all but numb over his pinky and ring finger as well. He snarled at the man bearing down on him, but it was mostly towards his own mortal frailty. Frailty that would only get him killed sooner or later.

The brute only smiled back in response, that same sadistic stretch that told Tarmen everything.
Another massive swing and Tarmen tried to dive in again, moving into the right place to receive a perfectly timed elbow to the head. It sent his vision swimming for a moment, but it was enough time to be sent flying with a back hand that felt like solid wood.

The ground felt nice, the dust being a minor irritation as he sought to steady his head. One good thing about it was that it had cleared his head from much of the plaguing thoughts he had been dealing with. As his vision returned, Tarmen saw the brute gloating to the crowd, rousing them just as he had. It was interesting to think this is what the others had felt when against him, though they hadn’t gotten back up.
This wasn’t lost on the brute, turning to finish the job just as Tarmen lept, having planned on a surprise headlock. Instead his chest collided with the man’s nose, blood quickly pouring as the brute cried out in pain. Tarmen took the opportunity to try getting his knee into his ribs, though it didn’t have the impact he would have wanted.
With the wonky set up, it merely nudged him further into a backwards spin, but it was enough that he couldn’t catch himself or Tarmen. The two tumbled to the ground, the brute taking the brunt of the crash as a grown Kru’ll drove the air further from him.
Before the man could get his bearings, Tarmen was quick to jab his hand under the side of the heaving ribs and pull. He could feel the muscles try to seal him out, but he only tightened his grip as the brute howled.

The arena once again became a roar around them as Tarmen felt several ribs pop from the strain. His own shoulder was burning from the effort, but a deep desire to see the brute know deep pain was worth it. Even as he tried to grapple the relatively weaker man from him, all it took was another pop to weaken any counter. This must have been what that burnt dog from Aquilo felt standing over him, able to play at his leisure. He wasn’t one to tease an opponent like that bastard had though and looked to his suffering foe for submission with an elbow now pressing against his throat.
Pained rage met his eyes for a moment, but another pull weakened the brute’s resolve to finally give in and call loud enough for the crowd to hear.

“Mer’at! An Mer’at!”

With those words Tarmen released, allowing the man to cradle his ruined side. Even with a decent recovery, Tarmen doubted he would ever reach his former glory again.
With this victory however, he saw one of the fat man’s guards at his gate. He had a guess why he was being summoned; for ruining what was probably a decent money maker. With no around it however, Tarmen had no choice but to follow.
Maybe the man just wanted to hire him, a thought that had him smiling as he walked. Tonight he was game to see that cheap wad try and make him stay.