A Challenge Astray

That’s what he would do: he would challenge her! He would challenge her to Direct Combat and then she would notice his talents. She would finally notice he…

He was the runt of the Taarsen family, born early and weak, Kirby by namesake, Sand out of pity. Early on he learned to fight creatively, never afraid to use his charm, wit, and scrawny physique. She may have been tall and smart….and beautiful, skin like bleached wheat, her hair short  and black as a badgers streaks…but she would not best him today. No, no, he had a plan and he would see it complete.

Direct Combat Challenges were handled very seriously and it would be an act of great dishonor for her to ignore his request to A Meet. This held particular importance due to her status as an orphan and the only remaining member of a family under heavy scrutiny accused of desertion. This was his pull – his guarantee. She would face him or become known as nothing more than a simple refugee.

“What say you, Sasha, Last of House Saiter?” An Elder spoke, his voice raspy and strained. He stood above a preceding surrounding the massive display of the arena in question for the coming event.

“Bring it on, I say!” Dressed in semi-formal fatigues sporting no camouflage or attachments for field utility. She slammed down her mug, rattling the table at which she sat, and glared down at the challenger in question daring him to look at her. And so he had her right were he wanted her…or so he thought, at least.

When the challenge started he moved confidently, trekking through the sub-surface arena they had planned for the two trainees. He gathered what he could amongst that crags and salvage then moved deeper into the dark rolling hills and frozen mines and pits. He gritted his teeth, fighting off the creeping freeze, and turned a tight corner only to be met by a pair of hardened boots sporting cleats.


Daily Prompt: embarassing


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