With S getting vaguely irritated and Sis and I reeling from the immense psychic assault we just endured (being confronted by mildly cringe-inducing memories), the audience's laughter at whatever was funny about what 'Gregor the Audacious' said eventually died down.

"BEFORE WE BEGIN, ONCE AGAIN, LE SWORDSMANSHIP TOURNAMENT IS PROUDLY BROUGHT TO YOU BY OUR SPONSOR, ELLOT DIAMONDS. PLEASE CONSIDER ELLOT'S TOP-QUALITY PRODUCTS WHEN YOU NEED DIAMONDS. OR ANY OF THE OTHER STUFF THEY SELL. I REALLY WISH THEY HAD A SLOGAN." 

Glad to see that sports and intrusive advertising still go hand in hand in this world. It just wouldn't be the same without it. 

"NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, I DECLARE THAT THE ELLOT DIAMONDS LE SWORDSMANSHIP TOURNAMENT HAS BEGUN!"

This line was met with a generous helping of wooping, some hooting, and even a little, dare I say it, even a little hollering. 

"AND NOW FOR OUR FIRST CONTENDERS-"

Hey, that's further ado. He lied!

"FIRST, ON THE NORTH END, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP FOR TIIIIIIIMBO THE MEEEEEEEK! HE'S GOT ONE HELL OF A TITLE, AND ONE HELL OF A WIN HIS RECORD! JUST ONE! OUT OF 10!" 

Looks like we're on the north end, 'cus Timbo slow walked out from under us, clutching his sword close to his chest, looking true to his name. His entrance was followed by a surprisingly thunderous applause and cheering. I joined in a little. It's good to root for the underdog, isn't it? 

"Loud." Sis stated, clearly irritated. "Should've brought you earplugs."

"AND IN THE SOUTH END, MAKING HIS FIRST EVER APPEARANCE IN THE ARENA, GIVE IT UP FOR ONE OF MY FAVORITE COLLEAGUES, CAL THE LOGISTICS MANAGER! THAT'S BOTH HIS TITLE AND HIS OCCUPATION! WE GAVE HIM AN EASY ONE BECAUSE HE DOES MOST OF THE WORK!"

Aw, poor Timbo.

Cal was greeted with significantly less applause. He didn't seem to mind, as he walked out with incredible swagger and even did a little 'are you not entertained?' pose. He's sure got a lot of spunk for a guy that looks like a middle-aged accountant.

"Hm." S grunted with an odd look on his face as Cal entered the scene. Guess he's a Timbo fan, as well. 

"This sure goes on for a while." Said Sis. 

"It's part of the experience." I said.

"WITH THAT! . . . CONTENDERS! . . . TO ARMS!"

The men took up arms and charged at each other. Two brave men ready and eager to compete in homage to the world's oldest game, the survival of the fittest, the competition for the heavy, heavy crown that is continued survival. Two men, with fire in their eyes and aching passion in their hearts-

Oh, never mind, Timbo's already on the ground. 

Dang. 

There was some applause, but mostly just sounds of expected disappointment. 

"AND! IT! IS! OVER! CAL GETS TO MOVE ON TO THE NEXT ROUND, WHERE HE WILL PROBABLY GET ELIMINATED BECAUSE HIS OPPONENT IS ACTUALLY COMPETENT!" 

Despite getting absolutely destroyed and called incompetent, Timbo was greeted by cheers and applause as he exited the arena, with his eyes glued to the ground and his sword clutched at his chest. 

Better luck next time, Timbo.

"Hmmm..." S grumbled for longer this time as Cal walked off.

"Yeah, poor Timbo." I said. Seems like S is really disappointed that Timbo didn't win. As are the rest of us, obviously.

"Right..."

Sis didn't say anything. I don't think she cared. 

The tournament continued nonetheless.

Most matches progressed in a similar fashion to that first one, though none were quite as instantaneous. There were a couple of actually competitive fights, but most were just a short clashing of blades followed by a quick, clean hit. I found it all relatively exciting regardless. I must concede that combat is pretty fun to watch, so long as it's lacking the bloodshed, and the death and all that. Also when I'm not participating in it. That's a big factor.  

Before I really knew what was going on, the second round of the event was about to begin.

"These sure go by quick." I said.

"Right. I heard once that one time they got through 6 rounds in under a minute. I'd imagine it was pretty nuts." S said.

"Sounds nuts. Probably sucked for the organizers, though. Speaking of, where's the guy that was on the poster? He skip this one or something?"

"Oh, nah, he and the guy he's probably gonna fight get to skip the first round. 'Cus they're obviously gonna win anyway."

"Ah. That makes sense." 

"Speaking of the guy he's gonna fight, I think his bout's the first in the second round."

"Ooh, fun."

"Wait, have you eaten yet today?" Sis asked, rather out of the blue. I don't think she was listening.

"Uh..." Y'know what, come to think of it, that's a good question... I don't-

"AAAAAAAAAAALRIGHTY FOLKS, I BELIEVE WE'VE KEPT YOU WAITING LONG ENOUGH!" Shouted Gregor the Audacious. "HOLD ON TO YOUR SNACKS, BECAUSE ROUND 2 IS ABOUT TO BEGIN! ARE YOU READY!?"

The crowd loudly shouted 'wooo' and such, which really didn't seem like an acceptable answer to his question, if you ask me. 

"AAAAAND COMING OUT OF THE NORTH GATE, YOU EITHER LOVE TO HATE HIM OR HATE TO LOVE HIM, GIVE IT UP FOR THE DAAAAAAARRRRRK HOOOORSE! ONCE AGAIN PRESENTED WITHOUT A FIRST NAME!"

Out from our end of the arena walked a very large man in a sleeveless tank-top, covered in scars all over his MASSIVE arms and BEEFY legs. I would imagine there's some on his face, too, but I can't see them from here. What I can see, however, is his GIANT, SPIKEY JET BLACK HAIR. Overall, he was almost as big as Michaus's dad. Everything about the guy screamed 'huge.' Definitely a worthy contender to the 'big man.'

He was met with equal parts terrible boos and joyous cheers from every end of the arena as he walked out and spat on the ground beside him. Ooh, edgy.

"AAAAAAND FROM THE SOUTH GATE, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP ONCE AGAIN FOR CAL THE LOGISTICS MANAGER!"

Compare all of that to Cal, who looked like a balding middle-ages salaryman with a stick. Yet... So smug, for some reason.

He was met with half-hearted courtesy cheering. One guy near us shouted "Timbo was robbed!" But it didn't really go anywhere.

"WIIIIIITH THAT! . . . CONTENDERS! . . . TO ARMS!" 

Dark Horse put both of his hands on the end of his blade, held it over his head and across his body as he sprinted up to Cal at full force, screaming with bloody fury. Gave me chills, honestly. Like this guy. He's cool.

Cal, too, ran up screaming, though it was clear his technique was far clumsier, just with just one hand on the blade wriggling off to the side, and his speed wasn't even comparable. After just one slash...

Thud, thud thud...

. . ?

Dark Horse's blade was sent skidding across the arena.