The Doors of Pharros was a cold, wet environment; the only sources of fleeting warmth and light the Gyrm torches that burned low in their sconces. It was a miserable place, no doubt, but Madik was unafraid. He had faced much worse, the evidence etched in silver on his bare chest for all to see. He glanced around slowly with a calm that he had honed over many years to a razor's edge. Cautiously, he began his descent into what he knew was a rat stronghold. Water sluiced between and around his legs as he entered the not very well hidden rat arena. Madik barely reacted as a fog wall materialized behind him. He gave a 'hmm' of acknowledgement, but that was all. The old pugilist halted his movement and crouched low as he caught sight of a lumbering Mastodon, which began to laboriously approach him.
Madik slowly brought his fists up in a defensive stance, his Vanquisher's Seal gleaming proudly on his finger. The Mastodon took no notice and kept coming, it's halberd raised to strike him into the filthy water that encompassed the two of them. Madik rolled forwards as it swung, under the massive blade, then struck upwards with his fist, directly in between the primal knight's legs. It's armour dented and was driven into the soft flesh. The creature trumpeted in agony and collapsed on to its front. Madik swiftly finished it with a second punch in between its eyes. Suddenly, the sound of a footstep reached the easterner's ears. He glanced at the ledges around him and caught sight of a swish of cloth as its owner moved back into the shadows.
Obviously watching me, he thought. That must be the rat servant.
He hurried deeper into the Doors of Pharros, eager to test his prowess against the coward that inhabited this burrow. Madik spotted an old, rusted ladder leaning precariously against a rounded wall. The pugilist moved towards it when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. He quickly turned just in time to see a sickly, diseased rat leap at him. He ducked under it and it flew over his head to thud pathetically on the ground. Madik shook his head before scaling the ladder he'd seen. As he climbed, he heard the normally quiet sound of a bowstring, amplified in the rocky cavern; he attempted to climb faster in a bid to evade whoever held the bow, but was foiled as an arrow lanced into his thigh. It burned with an intense pain, and the wound bled green. Madik hissed as the pain grew steadily worse, but reached the top of the ladder after what had seemed like an age. He furtively glanced around, but saw no sign of the marksman who had shot him.
Now, more than ever, he was determined to put an end to the miserable rat. Ahead of him he made out the silhouettes of Gyrm warriors. To his left, he spotted a ledge he could jump to to bypass the ambush ahead. Before taking the leap, he slowly removed the arrow in his thigh and rubbed poison moss into the injury. The relief from the pain was immediate, and Madik was thankful that the poison hadn't spread to other parts of his body. Gathering himself, the easterner sprinted forward before jumping high into the air. He easily cleared the gap, then turned to the left, before stopping.
The rat stood there waiting for him in a large, ornate archway with a ferocious grin twisting her features, which were slightly obscured by a large cap with a triangular brim. Her bow lay discarded on the ground and she held an estoc in her hand.
"Come on then, champion," she drawled. Madik raised one bushy grey eyebrow. This woman in her tattered coat and ridiculous hat had the audacity to sound bored.
He raised his fists in reply, and she pointed her blade at him. Madik made the first move, his fist a blur as it sped towards her face. The rat darted aside with the speed of a snake and counter-attacked with a viciousness Madik had never seen in any human or beast before. Her estoc gleamed in the meager light as it whipped towards him once, twice, three times. The last attack pierced his stomach as he attempted to step away. As he staggered back from the blow, her boot connected with his chest and he fell from the ledge they were perched upon. The water slowed the impact, but not by much, as evidenced by the cracking sounds his ribs and back made upon landing. He glanced back up with his fading vision and saw that the rat had retrieved her bow and was taking careful aim. Madik had barely enough time to curse himself before the arrow pierced his skull.