Two weeks ago, in the city of Rocanis…
“What do you mean you don’t have my paperwork!” Anusha screamed over the crowd's roar at Khel Rojida, the arena manager. They stood inside the staging area of the gladiatorial stadium.
Khel shuffled quickly through a stack of half-sheets of colored paper and kept shaking his head.
“I’m the Duelmaster. This is my last turn to fight, and I wish to fight in the dark arena. You don’t get a second chance to do that,” Anusha lambasted as she pounded her new quarterstaff repeatedly into the sandy ground in frustration.
“I’m well aware you are the Duelmaster, but no paperwork, no filings, no fighting,” Khel replied.
“My manager Grimwood sent it by normal courier and early as usual.”
“I’m sorry,” Khel said, turning to wave his hand with the colored strategy sheets in apology and left.
“Damn the nine hells!”
“Don’t worry yer pretty head, ya just saved yer-self a trip to the Isle of the Eye in a box,” chuckled a deep voice from behind her.
Anusha turned on her heels, jingling her ankle bracelet, and glared at the dark arena Shewish Giant, known as Rokori Klee. In a separate holding area, used to keep opponents apart and ensure fights occurred on the sand. His thick hands were gripped tightly around heavy iron bars as he smirked under a nose, broken many times over, and a thick brow with beady eyes. She could smell his foul breath, likely due to rotting teeth, from even several feet away. She tilted her head, smiled coquettishly, and sauntered up to him.
The Shewish Giant snorted up a ball of snot, spat it in front of her with a thick splat, and said, “Khel did ya a favor by not letting ya fight in the Dark Arena, little girl.”
WHAM!
The Shewish Giant went down, squealing in pain as Anusha retracted the butt of her quarterstaff from between the bars at groin level.
She bent down at the knees in front of the reeling giant on the straw-covered floor. She smiled brazenly and said, “Khel did you a favor by not letting me fight in the Dark Arena, little boy.”