UPFA | Ex Ira | Round 1

A certain fever takes over when one enters the Underground Pit Fighter ring. The horses dance on the end of chain-laced lead lines, handlers white-knuckled and sweaty from both the exertion of reigning back a Ballator and the excited nervousness of the upcoming battle. The Bloodlust, as the Ringleaders were apt to call it, was fiery in the blood of every Ballator in the Ring, and Ex Ira’s blood-filled nostrils flared at the scent of it.

Ex Ira. Born of Wrath. Her name was as fitting as the Horn-Guide headpiece her handler used to jerk her head to and fro as she tosses her mane and struck out with her forelegs and an invisible foe. The stadium was dimly lit, as it was inside a huge warehouse-like building, with several smaller rings and one, larger Tournament ring set up inside. No bleachers graced the area; all the eager fans stood on tip-toe, craning necks and using phones and binoculars to get a better view of the fights. The angered, unearthly sounds of roaring, squealing battle horses echoed with the screaming and cheering of the humans. It created a flurry of excitement mixed with anticipation, and the adrenaline was rising fast.

Ex Ira's chimeric coat was a splash of sandy tawny with a mix of deep bay. A skullish calva adorned her fine-featured face. Her horns, spiraled, thick and grey, were savagely spiked at the tips, resembling a dagger which she used to puncture her opponents. Her hooves were protected with iron shoes, which were decked with studs screwed into them, which not only allowed traction on earth but on an opposing Ballator's skin. She danced at the thought. This was to be her second tournament, and though she was unsuccessful last year, she had high hopes of victory this year.

Ex Ira’s handler jerked her head again, and she fought the urge to bite him. He led her up to the gnarled wooden gate, which had seen so many fights and blows that it was beginning to splinter, threatening anyone who dared come near. In the center of the large circular ring was a board that stretched the length of the ring; a chain link fence rose from the board and ropes hooked to the top. Humans stood ready to raise the battle-board; the board allowed horses to face their competitor but unable to attack, which heightened rage and aggression in many Ballators.

Ex Ira’s human unhooked her horn guide and she tossed her head violently at him, flagging her tail as she trotted with springing step towards the board. She pressed her calva-painted muzzle against the chainlinks, snorting, her breath creating a plume in the dusty, dimly-lit air. Then she saw her competitor; a stallion, deep brown, merled and with a purple crown of horns. A low rumble began in her chest as she paced up and down the facing board, grey eyes locked on him as he made his way forward. A slow wave of her shoulder manes turned into a quick, thrumming rattle and she bore her teeth at him, saliva already beginning to drip from her jaws.

She could tell by the way this stallion carried himself that he was a wise, powerful fighter. Ex Ira would be the first to admit that her rage often got the better of her in the Pit; but today she would have to fight smart. “Your name?” she hissed as the stallion drew up closer to the facing board, his eyes catching a ray of light. He did not answer for a time, seeming to ponder, until he replied. “Caecus; and you?” He inquired, following her as she paced now. “Ex Ira,” she started, her eyes catching a glimpse of the ropes on the board tightening as they prepared to raise. “Fight well.”

In what seemed like a split second, the boards were raised, like wings of some metal bird lifting. The protection between the two ballators was gone, and the launched at each other with wide eyes and open mouths. At once, Ira landed a blow with her studded shoe on the stallion’s right shoulder, and he responded in turn with a savage bite to the nape of her neck. Roaring, she spun to attack again, this time on his left. She caught his eye, but it seemed to be looking elsewhere, though his ear was cocked on her. Was he, perhaps, blind? The chimera mare tested her theory, turning to buffet the stallion’s left side with her grey horns. He was quick to tarry her blow, and Ex Ira forgot the idea that he might be blind, for if he was, he certainly knew how to cope with it.

Her breath tore from her in a ragged, painful heave as the stallion body-slammed her, knocking the wind from her lungs. The mare stumbled, rolling onto one knee, but quickly leapt out of the way as the stallion pounded into the space where she had just been. She felt the heat of her anger rising, driven by the roar of the crowd. It threatened to blind her, and she shook her head to try and clear her mind. This was a talented fighter; she must use strategy.

As Caecus’ teeth snapped at her shoulder, she retaliated with a head-butt to his jaw. His head swung from the force of her blow, and she drove her shoulders into his chest, trying to unbalance him. He tripped, lost balance, but caught himself. She snorted and yowled, nostrils flared, flecks of moisture flying from them as she snorted. Ira reared, launching forward into a gallop. Caecus met her in the center of the ring, and the two resorted to flying-hoof battle, snapping at each other while landing blows with studded iron shoes. The tear of her skin was lost to her mind, which was now nearly hopelessly overtaken with wrath, and the two horses leapt away from each other to resort to catching breath. They paced, walking circles around each other, heads low and snaking, ears pinned and coats bleeding.

"You are talented, but your anger overtakes you." Caecus muttered, a string of blood falling from his lip. Ira let out a coughing laugh, blood also spluttering from her mouth. She did not reply, for she had nothing to retort with; she focused instead on breathing. The crowd around them was shouting angrily, eager for more blood to be shed and teeth to fly. Ira stole a glance around her, suddenly becoming more angry at the humans than her opponent. She ran at the nearest two-legged creature, and her teeth snapped air just in front of his face, before she returned her attention to Caecus.

Head low, as if pondering his next move, the stallion's eyes locked on the chimeric mare. Ira controlled her breaths now, deeply breathing in the air which smelled metallic and thick with the flavors of battle. "Giving up so soon?" she finally asked as the stallion made no move to attack. She advanced, prancing and snorting, although her torn skin and battered sides protested greatly. Caecus sneered, ears pinning to his skull. "I'm just getting started." He snapped, and with a roaring bellow, launched at Ira in what would be the final course of the round.

1210 Words
8 stats for story
2 EXP + 1 AS for entering