What Barbarity

Jiselle panted heavily, gripping her greatsword with two hands. Sweat plastered her shirt to her back, dripped from her bangs and caused sand to stick to her calves. The leather armor she'd been provided with covered only her most vital areas, so she was criss-crossed with various scratches and shallow cuts from extended fighting.

Across from her, her opponent wasn't looking much better. Dorno, a half-elf ranger who was highly skilled with the twin long knives he wielded. He was bruised all over from the many times he'd been elbowed or kicked out of close range -- which he was far too adept at getting into for Jiselle's comfort.

One would have thought that in a matchup between a large, greatsword-wielding fighter and a small, dual knife-wielding fighter that the weapon with longer reach would have the advantage.'

Indeed, that should have been the case. 

Jiselle cursed up a storm under her breath, almost as if she were chanting a spell.

"You swear like a sailor, miss!" Dorno teased. 

"Shut the f*ck up, you yellow-bellied son of a seagull's turd!" She shot back. Well, she was raised by a retired sailor, so perhaps his words had some merit.

Jeers and taunts from the colosseum's stands demanded they get back to fighting.

"Oy, if y'all want a mother-effin' fight so bad, why don't y'all get your slug-lickin' arses down here instead, huh??" She shouted up at them.

Ripples of both amusement and offense, in equal measure, coursed through the audience.

Swinging her greatsword at the blur that appeared suddenly in her peripheral vision, Jiselle sidestepped, then changed the trajectory of her blow as Dorno reacted to her strike by ducking beneath its initial path. 

When his double dagger strike missed and the woman's blade curved towards him, he deftly rolled to dodge. 

Jiselle kicked at his rolling form, connecting with his ribs and causing him to splay out like a cracked-open egg. 

Her arm muscles tensed, forcefully yanking her greatsword out of the ground where it had struck before she sent it towards Dorno's prone form.

Propelling off of the sandy ground with his hands, Dorno expertly evaded the sword's arc. Then, he spun on one foot, kicking a cascade of sand towards Jiselle's face with the other as he threw a pair of throwing knives off his belt towards her.

Jiselle cursed again, the creativity of her vulgar words making Dorno whistle in admiration as one of his throwing knives struck her in the arm…

Her dominant arm.

--

In a private booth of one of the colosseums, a small entourage of dark blue-purple, horned nagi (half humanoid, half snake aliens) watched the Games in solemn silence. Four attendants stood at attention while two higher officers conversed quietly in the back of the room.

Their leader sat at the forefront, curled up on herself in a poised resting position that blended the sinuous grace of a snake with the nobility of feminine royalty. Draped in layered, faded pastel veils rimmed with platinum-gold and chain jewelry of the same metal, Queen Estra glared at the violent event with an air of clear disapproval. 

"What barbarity," she whispered, disgust coloring her voice. As she spoke, it sounded almost like she was singing; not due to the cadence of her speech, for it had no particular beat, but rather to its pitch.

Rising, Queen Estra turned her back on the colosseum and elegantly slithered out the door.

Her entourage followed without a word.

Shortly thereafter, she demanded to speak with the organizer of the event. 

The employee she had demanded this from looked apologetic but not particularly stressed as she replied, "I'm sorry, Madam, but Monsieur Zorhellian isn't available right now. He's extremely busy. Would you like to make an appointment or file an official complaint?" 

One of the Queen's escorts looked like they were about to pick a fight, but before he had a chance, Queen Estra raised a golden-clawed hand to stop him. Even such a simple movement as this was executed with such grace that it was practically an art form. "Peace, Zerfus. Employee, what is your name?"

"Wysteria, Madam," the slightly bewildered employee answered. 

"Wysteria. Do you comprehend the barbarity of the proceedings in this place?"

The employee looked somewhat guilty, but otherwise did not respond.

"I see. Does the cruelty of the Demon you serve not strike you as excessive?"

Wysteria grabbed one of her elbows, looking down and to the side, then started rubbing her elbow absentmindedly. "Not really, no," she said in a quiet voice.

The Queen's sharp gaze narrowed slightly, then relaxed. "I see. It seems there is nothing that can be done to remedy the illnesses plaguing the minds of all in attendance. I shall be taking my leave; kindly inform that sadistic demon you call Master that my people will not remain silent about this matter. The Universe will hear of this. If he seeks to negotiate, inform him that he will need to come personally or I shan't hear a word he has to say."

"That is all."

With that, Queen Estra turned her back on the employee, ignoring any further questions as her entourage blocked the employee from approaching. 

"What a damnable place this is. I shall look forward to dismantling this detestable circus once and for all," she whispered, casually using spatial magic to stop the sound's vibrations from traveling beyond her immediate vicinity.

--

Meanwhile, down in the arena, Jiselle stood, drenched in blood, hollering her victory for all to hear.

Dorno's corpse lay in unrecognizable pieces, scattered across the sand like the discarded chunks of a savage beast's prey.

If someone listened closely, a voice could be heard, echoing unnaturally as it snickered its approval.

"Good, good! Just like that. Toy with your opponents, Jiselle, toy with them and show me you deserve this sponsorship."