So I started this story with a partner a little while back and it got to 3 posts before they stopped replying so I'd like to revive it a bit with a fresh pair of eyes. Below is the starting post, I'd like for the setting to be mild fantasy and set somewhere like Ancient Rome or Greece but not in our world.
Things you should know. I can't do dominant so don't ask. I don't mind if you play male or female. You can be a trainer, an opponent, or a wealthy person looking to buy a fighter etc. If interested please PM me with either a reply to this or throw some ideas if you have them.
Dont reply here.
Smuggled under the cover of darkness, hidden away inside a burlap sack of all things. A young teen watched as her old home was set ablaze, she wanted to cry out, to run back and help, but she was far too small and there was very little one could do when your arms were tied to your chest, mouth sealed with cloth and your legs tied and tucked beneath you. Not being used to such a position made it uncomfortable, and made worse by being jostled about with crates of salted meats and vegetables. Her father of course had to make sure she got away safely the only way he could, knowing his daughter very much had a mind of her own. It seemed cruel at first but that was nothing compared to her new home.
In the city so very far from her birth place and no more a princess here than the stray animals that snuffled around for scraps. No one would give little Savannah the time of day let alone treat her with the respect she'd gotten from her subjects, well her father's subjects. At Fourteen she was lost and with very few means of providing for herself. All her trinkets had been sold or stolen from the girl. What little cash she'd gotten barely got her by, and as most thieves were far larger than herself she lost a good bulk of it in her first week, till she'd learned to hide her treasures in areas no one would think to look.
She looked quite out of place in a city surrounded by green, her hair for one was many shades lighter than most other people and her skin remained a soft caramel, a trait most of her people had. Her eyes a deep shining green, like clean cut emeralds never seemed to dull. She made her way through adolescence with great difficulty, eventually hardening into a child of the streets, after many encounters with thugs and muggers she felt the need to learn how to fight back.
She often trained alone, using the streets she knew so well to her advantage, running and ducking from aggressors, using the ledges of windows to pull herself up, building her strength gradually. She could not have been described as kind hearted before her home was destroyed but she was no malevolent force either, but now she became what she had to, targeting known thieves only to get some of her own gold back, had they not spent most of it in the drink. She hated the smell of it and refused to go near it, it made people stupid and violent.
At first her success rate was very low, but the determined little chit got wiser. She employed her natural stealth to her advantage, separating groups before facing them one by one. It seemed almost days after she found her true skills that she was no longer the small, malnourished child she had been before. A figure, watching from the alleyways had offered his hand to her.
At first she hated the man, where had he been when she needed help the most? No one wanted to help the poor little exotic stray that made her way to their city no, but turn the girl into a fighter and suddenly people show an interest. It took weeks of convincing before she took the man up on his offer. She would have sooner had it not been for her stubborn pride holding her back. Really it was much better to fight and be homed, fed washed and trained than to stay on the streets, cold filthy and hungry.
It took some adjusting to not have to find a doorway to sleep, she'd almost forgotten what a bed was like. The first night had been riddled with anxious tossing and turning and paranoia that it was either a dream or a ruse to get her vulnerable. By week's end she was put in the ring with a whip in one hand and a short sword in the other. She had no idea how to fight like this, and her opponent looked far more experienced than herself and was quite smug about it.
"Get up!" Savannah spat the blood and dirt out of her mouth only to be forced back down by the older woman's boot. Both her weapons lay somewhere behind her, well out of reach. The laughter coming from the crowds and the woman had her blood boiling to a point where she thought she might actually combust on the spot, oh how it would wipe the smug look off her opponent's face.
Instead she pushed herself up while swinging her legs around, the crowd unanimously gasped and paused watching as the slim fighter toppled their favourite to the ground and proceeded to pounce like a deranged beast on her. It was hard to see from the stands as the two women fought in super close combat, hair and fists and legs going everywhere. The dust kicking off made things even more unclear but when it settled the victor was standing, bare foot down on the elder woman's head which seemed red and purple all over where skin showed. The foot shifted to the neck where just one move would end it. She had thought about it, really thought about it and it fuelled her adrenaline riddled form with excitement, it would certainly cease the laughing. She did not however and stepped back, choosing instead to spit at the woman before being escorted off the field by her trainer, the cheers behind her faded as she walked through the tunnel.
Ten years, the young Savannah was now a home favourite of the crowds at the arena. She looked at the wall in the changing rooms and marked another notch on the wall with the dagger that was kept hanging beside it. Her own personal scoreboard, out of all five hundred matches she'd been in only a measly five were losses, however she rarely counted them as she was outnumbered in those particular matches at least five to one. Where they came up with that idea she'd never know, she could take out two or three easily enough and just managed to get four down. She gave a snort at that and left her chart to get ready for today's final match.
Her personal trainers were all waiting, Glen applied her oils then her signature stripes, a tradition they picked up after she walked away from a match with whip welts all over her leaving familiar stripe like patterns on her, she'd received the nickname The Rose Tiger back then, from all the red and the stripes, not to mention her new favourite weapons from that match. The climbing claws, the dual sided straps she'd have tightened around her hands bearing hooked metal blades on either side of her knuckles, one side for climbing over the obstacles, the other for taking out her opponant(s) with a well placed back hand or straight punch. Of course she used both sides of the claws to utter perfection, having used them in every match since, along with the whip from her first match, not that she used it much but it added the effect they were after.
Arya, the woman she beat in her first match had also taken a role as her trainer and helped the girl calm down after her matches, she was a handful at the best of times our Savannah, but when the excitement was still fresh in her she was beyond wild. She was talking to Savannah who at the moment was not listening, she was focused on this match, it had been the talk of the city all week, another claimed to have the best fighter on the continent and challenged the city's best to take her on. Having won every match so far it was now Savannah's turn and she was not going to loose.
Savannah only looked up once the other women had strapped on her armour, really there was no point to it other than decoration and keeping only the most vital areas covered. Her half helm was decorated with very fine strokes of brushed brass, resembling more of her tiger persona, the ears were pulled back in anger only adding to her deadly look. Her hair remained in a pleat down her back to keep it out of the way. Her eyes found the familiar figure, the one who had put her in the ring in the first place, she held no hate for him these days, but was still cautious around him when she got too much attention from him. "You'd be better off wishing the other woman luck they'll need it so much more." She spoke, her voice was steady and deadpan, though her heart rate was on the increase she never showed her energy until it mattered these days.