SHORTS: FIGHT ON

Figs looked forward as they taped his hands. Round and round the priest went, reciting the rites of Victory over them as he did. It was an intricate pattern he had to weave, and silence was golden for him to pull off the few spells they allowed in the ring. Sitting there under the main stage, only a small bit of light flickering in form the outside, the priest it was regularly hard enough, but today it was a bit more.
“you are not used to such small hands, cleric?”
He looked up at Figs, the who strolled in and demanded to fight in todays tournament. He finished the last go around, and tightened, the final passage before he started the night hand.
“No” was all he could muster. The man was no taller than three feet or so, but Figs had beaten 4 of the the stage guards today to get into the fight. One had a broken collar bone so bad, he was going to be a cripple for the rest of his life. He knew he had to not cross this man.
“Heh, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you” Figs smiled, looking still up at the man crouched down to prepare him.
“You better not, I am here for now, but I have terrible spells at my disposal that would render you into a puddle of blood and sinew!” the priest said sternly to Figs, a readied speech to inspire fear.
“Oh, come now Cleric, I know you have terrible strengths and could make my soul to fester in the many hells we know” this time, the small fighter laughed, a bit, one could see his muscles tense revealing his strength, “but I just don’t want the last person who I ever talk to see me in fear”
The priest prepared the next roll, soak it in a concoction sitting in a bowl, giving the wraps a blue hue
“What is your name cleric?” Figs asked with a smile.
At this the priest blinked at this, turned recited some lines over the bowl, a soft glow coming form his hands. He turned back to the little fighter.
“Kimber, sir” he said, almost in a regal way. He started to pull the bandage out, starting the spell of victory he did on the other hand. Figs looked at him with a determined look, dire, but with a crease of a smile there.
“Well then let me tell you something, Kimber, I am here to fight for the best prize there is a man can get…” Figs could almost hear the priest eyes roll at this over his spell being said “ No not gold, not glory, mind you…”
He wrapped around the hand, and started binding between the fingers”
“Revenge”
At this, Kimber almost stumbled with the words, looking for a second up to see if Figs was serious, and kept going.
“The man I’m fighting now, is the only man I ever wanted to fight. I’ve trained in so many fighting arts, both magical and practical, just to get to this mans throat.”
The words kept tumbling out of Kimber’s mouth but he was still reciting, now more careful with the wrap.
“This man caused me great pain when I was young. See, sure he’s known as the berserker of Ring, the great prize fighter of Borel and all that…” figs went on, this time his looked turned to a seriousness, a stare that was far away.
“This man was an eastern raider, a mercenary for the slave cities across the ocean. He came with others, to take people away, to enslave them”
Kimber changed the the words now, looking up and listening.
“Those who fought back, they killed. My family…” Figs had heat ins his face, eyes now not staring far away, but far back to the past. He burned inside.
“….fought back?” Kimber said, finishing his last turn, sealing the spell.
“Yes. I lost them. This man did it, so he must…” Kimber cut him off,
“Die?”
That when Figs went back to his smiling
“Oh, no, Kimber, that does nothing…”
Now Kimber was confused.
“I am going to break the man”
Kimber then smiled, his hand on the Halfling’s small, hardened hands.
“Then you will find that Bolovan’s strength will be with you more that you could have helped.”
Fig’s eye brows perched upward.
“I was the son of a slave. I was the first generation in two hundred years to have freedom” Kimber said as he placed his tools into a bag “ and I never knew the pleasure of getting revenge on my captors.”
Figs smiled at the old priest.
“When you are ready, think of the divine figuration of victory, and you will deal a justifiable blow”
It took a lot for Figs not to laugh as Kimber delivered with a wink. He knew then what he must and can do.
“Fight on, Figs”
As they came to get him for the stage you could hear the crowd starting to roar. Figs, stood up, and felt his wraps, and felt strength he could never had had before.
“Fight on, Kimber”