The pit is already bloody from the previous fight between two roosters, a warm-up fight to get the shekels flowing for the betting. The winning owner takes his bird away in a small cage as the main attractions face each other off across the pit.

On one side is the challenger, a tough shelled Vykarin aptly named 'spike' for the horns that grow out of his shell. On the string around his neck he wears carved pieces of shell that proclaim his might, as well as the ears and teeth of the people who have lost to him. He growls across the pit as he grabs the rope, and is lowered down.

On the other side, a spotted, golden-furred feline is lowered into the pit, his face marked with two crossing, disfiguring scars that give him his name, "X". He is well-muscled for a Savanite, but lacks the sort of armored protection that a Vykarin sports. He looks grimly across the pit, trying to size up his opponent on the way down, for whatever he can glean from but a few seconds.

The two contestants sway from the ropes as they are lowered, then held one foot above the ground. When the ropes go slack and their feet touch, the fight will be on, and there are no other rules to this deadly game.

Spike's hoofed feet touch the floor of the arena. He lowers his head as he gazes at the Savanite, the sunlight reflects from his bright red shell as the Vykarin's tail slowly sways back and forth.

The ropes release, and the two fighters touch the ground.

The Vykarin roars loudly, probably just an attempt to impress the onlookers, and then lowers his head and charges at the Savanite.

X pauses at the rope long enough to raise his arm in a gladiator's salute … but as the Vykarin rushes him, he moves his hand to grab at the rope, and hoist himself up just as his opponent charges up, only narrowly avoiding those wickedly sharp spikes. Using his momentum, he swings on the rope to the side, dropping to his feet again as his opponent rushes past.

Spike skids to a stop, narrowly missing slamming into the wall. With an angry growl, he spins to face the Savanite again.

One of the crowd grabs the rope above the Savanite, and shakes it, whipping it up around X jeering down at him. "Coward! Take it like a slave, I want to see some blood."

As the cheetah regains his footing after landing, turning to face the Vykarin, he slips in a puddle of rooster blood, and the swinging rope smacks him across the face.

Spike hunches down as he sees the Savanite ready an attack. As X slips, the Vykarin rises back up and charges at the feline a second time. This time he scores a blow, slamming into the cheetah with his spiked shell. Spike bellows loudly as he impacts and the scent of blood fills his nose.

A loud roar rises from the crowd as the Vykarin strike; cheers and loud groans for the respective gladiators. First Blood.

The cheetah coughs blood, as the spikes drive into him. As he flails back, he puts his fists together, slamming them into the Vykarin's armored shell again and again, doing little damage through the hard carapace.

The Vykarin's bellow of triumph becomes a roar of pain as X strikes him. He lashes out with one of his powerful leg and strikes the cat with the wickedly hooked claw on his hoofed foot. His blow scores, wounding the cheetah yet again.

X winces as he's slashed again by the claw, and gasps, straining to keep from passing out from the shock, as he rolls back, hitting the ground.

Spike, in his arrogance, doesn't even bother to notice that his opponent has fallen. Instead he simply spins around and charges in the direction where X was once standing… and sails right over him.

As the Vykarin sails over, X punches upward with his fist, slamming into his opponent's unprotected belly.

"Get him!", "Gore the cat!" "Rooo… rhoo… rhooo!" echo from the crowds surrounding the pit, "He's got him, he's down!", "Give me my shekels, it's all over!" The taunts echo in the fighter's ears.

The Vykarin's breath shoots from out of his lungs as he gets slammed in the gut by the cheetah's fist. He staggers sideways a few steps and attempts to regain some of his air back without losing the contents of his stomach. His eyes narrow as he gazes through the shell like covering over them. What he sees though is a Savanite on the ground, bloody and unmoving… Spike snarls and charges X again, intent on goring him with his spiky shell. Instead he's met with yet another fist in the gut which sends him reeling to the side yet again.

The crowd goes silent, watching the Vykarin rush the cheetah, then roars as the Savanite punches him under the belly again, "Come on, finish him off, he's just a slave!"

The cheetah, his breath rasping, forces himself to his feet again, pressing forward, then ducking as the Vykarin's thick tail swings by … grazing his back. Despite the glancing blow, the cheetah strikes again, upward, aiming underneath the carapace, slamming into his opponent's belly again.

"Get him! Get him spotty! You can win, come on," a different voice yells from the crowd, someone who obviously bet for the risky cheetah, "I got a copper riding on you, don't let me down!"

The cheetah tries to move in to grapple the Vykarin, but that dangerously lashing tail and those sharp chitinous barbs warn him off. His endurance is taxed, and it won't take much more at all to take him down.

"Rush him! Rush him!" the Vykarin's supporters cheer, "Gore him into a bloody spot." The crowd yells, leaning over the pit, trying to jeer the battle on; they usually don't last this long.

The Vykarin recovers, now, steady on his feet. He smells blood, and he knows that he's not hurting nearly so badly as the cheetah. He rushes in, aiming for a quick kill, but, at the last moment, the spotted cat swings to the side. The cheetah tries to grapple for the Vykarin, but he stumbles in his weakened state, getting nothing but empty air. The opponents circle back around, ready again.

"Take him down! Take him down!"

Spike charges at the Savanite again, who nimbly sidesteps the Vykarin and grapples him around the neck.

The cheetah grabs the big Vykarin around the neck, ignoring the nicks caused by the protruding spikes, gritting his teeth, grimacing and grunting as he pushes and crushes with his arms, squeezing and not letting go even as his opponent flails about, threatening to rend him with those wickedly-curved talons or those spikes. The Vykarin chokes, vainly trying to get air into his tortured lungs, then shudders and drops heavily to the floor of the arena. The cheetah holds on for a few moments more, then at last letting go, the spikes tracing red lines on his arms as he flops back, staggers, then falls to the arena floor, panting in labored gasps.

A silence falls across the crowd, as they stare at the fallen Vykarin … broken only when the rope lowers into the pit. "He won! The cheetah won! Allright! Pay up." There are other grumblings and mutterings about a 'fixed fight' as the crowd waits for the contestants to clear, and the next battle to start.

The cheetah coughs, trying to wipe blood from his mouth, but his wounded arm does nothing to improve the situation. Oblivious to this, the cheetah struggles to his feet, half crawling over to the rope, straining to grab it and wrap it around his arm a couple of times for a good grip for the ride back up and out of the arena.

The fallen Spike is impaled by a meat-hook and dragged out of the pit, his body unceremoniously discarded as the crowds gather again, waiting for the next contest. The fights go on…