“You don’t have to do this,” said Wholethorn. “It’s not gonna be a fair fight.”
“You’re right. It’s NOT gonna be a fair fight. That bloody idiot hasn’t fought a real fight in his life,” Bosamir said as he finished trimming his beard. “His trinket isn’t gonna save him.” He ran thick fingers through his hair, checking to see if he could grab hold. He could, in places, so he raised his massive dwarven arms and turned his head to get a better look at his reflection.
“I can do that for you,” said Nima. She stood behind him and bent over to meet his eyes in the mirror. Her pretty elvish face looked particularly small next to Bosamir’s. He found himself staring at her cleavage and remembering how her lips tasted. He handed her the shears.
“You shouldn’t underestimate him,” said Wholethorn. “That trinket, as you called it, is the same kind of thing that Palzo used for some of his most impressive deeds! It’s said he was able to move entire mountains!”
“Horses arse,” said Bosamir. “Whadda care anyway? You get paid if I die, dontcha?”
“Come now, Bosamir! I’m hurt! I think of you as a friend!” Wholethorn said.
“Aye, such a great friend that you replaced my chains with armed guards,” said Bosamir.
“Bo-sa-mir, Bo-sa-mir,” Wholethorn said. “You live with more luxury than most people I know! Besides, if you get yourself killed, Nima will be heartbroken, won’t you, Nima?”
“Oh yeees, veeeery much so,” said Nima. Bosamir laughed, but he thought that maybe her sarcastic tone wasn’t entirely sincere. The arrangement she had with Wholethorn was a lot better than her previous situation, assuming she had told him the truth about it, and if he did die there’s no guarantee that Wholethorn would renew her contract or that the next client would be good to her.
“See?” said Wholethorn. “Let’s not make this poor girl sad! If he wants to show off to the owners of the mines he can kill some bears or tigers!” His voice cracked and squeaked in a way that only gnomish voices do. He was clearly excited at the idea of canceling the fight.
“You’ve not got any bears or tigers, except for this one,” said Bosamir, and he tapped his own massive chest with his thumb. “Let me kill this idiot, would ya? I’ll teach him to run his pampered little mouth!” Nima stopped clipping Bosamir’s hair and set the shears down on the table. She hugged him from behind and squeezed a little more than seemed normal. “If you call it off now everyone’s gonna think I’m scared when it’s YOU two idiots that are scared! Scared you’ll have ta start spending less, cuz you won’t be able to find a good replacement!” Bosamir pulled off Nima’s hug and turned around to face them both.
“Alright, fine then,” said Wholethorn. “I hope you win, I really do, but if you lose, don’t die, and you end up needing treatment again… well I could have bought a dozen fighters with how much it cost before.”
“I WON’T LOSE!” Bosamir yelled, furious. Nima stepped back, startled. “I’m gonna take that fancy Diamond Gauntlet of his and shove it up his arse!” Bosamir stormed out of the room and made his way to the Arena’s entrance. Bosamir knew that Wholethorn wasn’t his friend, but the thought that he might decide to let him die instead of paying to treat his wounds made him absolutely furious. Bosamir held on to that rage. He let it boil over inside him. He could hear himself panting and feel himself sweating as he white-knuckle gripped his custom war hammer. He imagined himself slamming the spiked flat of it into Wholethorn’s skull.
He could barely hear the crowd’s roaring as he stepped into the daylight. The familiar scent of dust and blood flooded his nostrils. He wasted no time. He stormed across the arena, his vision square on that stupid, skinny elf who was wearing ridiculous fancy armor. Bosamir was wearing almost nothing, just boots, and a gladiator’s waistband. That idiot’s armor was just giving Bosamir things to grab on to and it wasn’t gonna stop his bones from breaking if Bosamir got a clean hit in with his hammer.
The elf used his Diamond Gauntlet to draw a long, curved blade. The blade’s metal began to glow blue as he pointed it at Bosamir. He was standing about 10 feet away but Bosamir could feel something, perhaps heat, emanating from the blade. He thought he could hear it… was it humming?
Bosamir froze. He couldn’t take his eyes off the glowing blue sword. He felt, for a moment, like a lion facing down a hunter’s arrow. He shook his head in an attempt to shake off whatever he was feeling. (A blade like that’ll do nothing if I take it from him!) Bosamir thought, and he started walking steadily forward with his hammer in a defensive guard.
“Observe, as I slay this beast!” shouted the elf, and he looked towards the stands. The cocky bastard wasn’t afraid at all!
Bosamir rushed him and the elf slashed at his approach. The elf’s form was terrible, but the swing came much faster than Bosamir had expected. He had just barely managed to get his hammer up in time to deflect the blow and it sent shockwaves into his hand. This scrawny elf hit like a bloody minotaur! Bosamir backpedaled and almost dropped his hammer. The elf smiled down at him and quickly stepped within striking distance. He swung again. Bosamir wasn’t caught off guard this time and he brought up his hammer to deflect it. Such a careless attack was going to leave the elf open to a counterstrike of his own… except the swing blew right through! Bosamir felt his own weapon hit his chest and the top of the sword’s blue blade cut him open as the two weapons slid across his body. Bosamir couldn’t believe it… He stumbled back and instinctively put his hand to his wound. He saw a big splash of what had to be his own blood on the ground in front of him and his chest felt both wet and warm.
Bosamir knew how his body responded to being hurt really bad like this. He was familiar with how his heart would pump him with rage, numbing the pain, just for a short while. He knew that big injuries can cause a “second wind”, and he felt it coming, but he also knew this wind was short-lived. He had to act now!
Bosamir threw his hammer at the elf’s face. He’d have hit him, but the elf deflected it with his gauntlet. The hammer shot away like an arrow loosed from a bow, unnaturally fast, yet Bosamir wasn’t counting on the hammer hitting its mark. He used it as a distraction so he could rush in! Bosamir wrapped his arms around the elf’s waist, used one leg to trip him up, and pulled him to the ground. The elf came down hard and the back of his head bounced off the ground with a loud thud. Bosamir sat on the elf’s stomach and squeezed his torso with his legs. He began raining blows down on the elf’s face.
The elf flailed his arms in an attempt to stop the incoming blows. Bosamir easily directed several shots around his skinny arms. One of his swings was blocked by the gauntlet, and Bosamir cried out in pain as his hand shot backward into the air above his head.
“This stupid thing!” shouted Bosamir, enraged. He grabbed hold of the gauntlet and yanked it off the elf’s hand. The elf wailed something inaudible through bloodied teeth as Bosamir began using both hands to bash the elf’s face with the gauntlet. After several “clanging” blows Bosamir felt a sharp pain on the right side of his ribs. He looked down and realized that he had been a bloody idiot… He forgot to keep track of the sword, and now it was stuck in his ribs! He was probably gonna die… but he wasn’t gonna let this stupid elf win!
Bosamir pulled the gauntlet over his left hand and he felt something like water rush through him as well as over him. He felt more alive and aware than he ever had before! He saw the white skin of his arms begin to change color into a dark grey, almost like stone. The elf started to scream something and Bosamir responded by swinging at him with his new gauntlet. The elf’s head exploded like a dropped watermelon, with nothing left attached to his body except the lowest part of his jaw. The crowd roared. Bosamir pulled the sword out of his side, ready to die, and he realized he wasn’t bleeding, that he didn’t hurt. It’s like his wounds had closed as his skin turned to stone… The elf’s body stopped twitching and was still.
“I knew you could do it!” shouted Wholethorn from the stadium. “You, my friend, are absolutely unmatched! A true champion! I didn’t doubt you for a second!”
Bosamir glared at Wholethorn… that freaking prick… The gauntlet now legally belonged to him. Bosamir had just won it for him. Judging by how happy Wholethorn was, this gauntlet must be worth a lot.
(To hell with that!) thought Bosamir, and he looked toward’s where his hammer had been flung to. The back spike was lodged into the stone wall of the arena. Bosamir walked over and pulled it loose, then began fast walking towards the Arena’s exit. He thought he might need to use his hammer and this gauntlet again in a moment. There were horses tied up just outside… and he wasn’t going to give the gauntlet to anybody!