Shabaka's Pride - Round 1: Match 2

             Shabaka pulled up Tilian and hugged him. She had to honestly think to herself, about why. Why did she care so much about winning this little sparing tournament? Was it just because it was somewhat like the fighting tournaments back home? Probably not, while those were a common source of her entertainment, they did not mean the world to her. No, this was a matter of pride. She knew that, but who’s or what’s pride was at stake here? That she did not know.

            “I am so sorry Tilian,” Shabaka cried, rubbing her face into his chest. “I don’t know why I went so hard in that fight. I can tell how much winning would have meant to you.”

            “Don’t worry about it. We are all trying to win here. I still have time to grow, and so do you. Don’t forget that,” said Tilian looking down at Shabaka with a soft smile. He then guided Shabaka to the sidelines, while Smalls and Vito walked in front of Bard.

            In the seconds before the next bout started, Shabaka took a moment to ponder the words said to her by Tilian. “I still have time to grow, and so do you. Don’t forget that.” Had she really pushed herself too much? Had he sensed something in her, something that made him think she was going to take it too far? But then she realized, it was not some emotional precognitive sense, it was something tangible. Even though he was such a gentle soul, she had forced him to use his fangs.

Due to his biology, raw freshly dead meat was a required part of Tilian’s diet, yet he could never work up the courage to kill an animal himself. Meaning that he had to get by on meat hunted a few hours before. Shabaka had once overheard Bard and Tilian’s mother Maig speculate that the lack of fresh meat in his diet, was the reason he had yet to develop his fire breath. Despite this, Shabaka knew his fangs were still deadly daggers.

Shabaka looked down at her left hand, the claws were totally trashed. She slid off the glove and dropped it on the ground. If Tilian ever got serious, ever embraced the apex predator within him, not even Omakaze could hope to beat him.

Before Shabaka could dwell in that train of thought any further, the next match began with Amare’s shout.

Vito stood there, calm and with a slight smirk on his face. He seemed to be waiting for Smalls to strike first, which was just what happened. Smalls wasn’t doing this out of any foolishness, he wasn’t unintelligent, he just trusted his own raw strength. Vito tapped on his Cube in a specific rhythm that caused it to project an adult human sized shield. The momentum Smalls had already built up caused him to slam straight into it, making a large form molded dent that he was now embedded in.

“AHA! I knew you would do tha-” Before Vito could finish gloating, the metal of the shield started to groan and ache. Then, a massive green fist burst through the shield, and punched Vito in the face. Vito barely touched the ground before Bard called the match.

 

 

Amare

Vitoroy

Tilian

Smallblade

Shabaka

Points

Amare

~

 

 

 

 

0.0

Vitoroy

 

~

 

L

 

0.0

Tilian

 

 

~

 

L

0.0

Smallblade

 

W

 

~

 

1.0

Shabaka

 

 

W

 

~

1.0

Vitoroy vs Smallblade: Winner, Metalleg’s Smallblade. Match time, 0:09.

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