Round one, fight three: Brute Cocktail
Twenty or so angry commoners, a dozen bottles of gin and a ten foot badger... it'sTHHHHHEEEEEEEE RRRRRRRRRRRRAAABBBLLLEEEEEE
They've lived together, fought together, drank together and died together, but they've never tried to control a giant badger before. A tenement block's worth of Whitechapel commoners, rounded up at midnight and shipped here for your amusement, leading a badger grown huge through dread physick. Alcoholics, factory workers, chimney sweeps, typhoid-stricken mothers, bare knuckle boxers and beggars - two dozen or so in number and armed with broken bottles, shovels and scrap metal. Their charge is a medically enlarged badger, enraged and baffled as to why he is so big. He will not deliberately kill his new masters (he is quite keen on maiming them though), but they are yet to discover effective ways of making him do their bidding so he is pretty much a loose cannon.
Top Trumps Scores:
Size: Badger - 11 feet high and a ton in weight. People - 20-30 people of all shapes and sizes.
Attack: 7/10 – The badger has the power of a huge bear, and the rabble themselves have crude but capable street weapons. Most of all, they have human minds.
Defence: 4/10 – no one here is armoured, but the numbers of the rabble ensure some survivability.
Speed: 7/10 - Whilst the badger is surprisingly nimble, the people have a normal speed range.
Resilience: 8/10 – Whereas the badger is not invincible, his wards have again the advantage of numbers.
Evil: 2/10 – These are people. People like you and me. Good and bad people. But they are poor, at least. The badger just doesn't know what the fuck.
Rage: 7/10 – Between the badger's panic fury and the mob's righteous anger, this is a pretty pissed-off crowd.
Likes: Thinking about home, warm burrows, proto-socialism
Dislikes: Prison food, forced arena combat, taxes
Weighing in at 3 tons and standing at a towering 16 feet, The Rhinocerine Reaper of the Raj... EEEEEEDWAAAARD TTTTIIIIIIGERRRRRHAAAAANDDSSSSSS!
The huge Manatee was not the only fruit of imperial megafauna weaponisation research in the 1860s. Although records were later destroyed, the same exoskeletal technology used to power the champion of fight two was deployed several years earlier in prototype riot suppression units in British India, known in hushed tones to locals as tigerhands. These bulked up Indian rhinos had hips reassembled surgically to allow bipedal walking and were supported by power-amplifying legs capable of lifting tons. Worst of all, their hands were replaced by living Tiger's heads capable of sight, smell.... and eating. Edward Tigerhands, the last surviving unit (bought by us just before his incineration by the ministry of defence for his hideous war crimes), has a huge tank on his back to gather and digest any meat guzzled by his vile hands, which he can then digest for sustenance.
Top Trumps Scores:
Size: 16ft high and three tons.
Attack: 5/10 – Those hands are brutal, but they can only chew so fast. Nasty headbutts.
Defence: 6/10 – rhino hide and armoured legs.
Resilience: 8/10 – constant hyperdigestion of meat gives relentless stamina
Speed: 4/10 - Slow to build up speed, but huge momentum.
Evil: 8/10 – Sadistic and bloodthirsty, with a lust for killing that disgusted even the officers of the british empire.
Rage: 7/10 – Loves to roar.
Likes: Roaring, asserting its dominance, meat
Dislikes: love, weakness, brocolli
This is the first time I've been able to write since those big men took me away from the hospital. Lots of things have happened since then. I'm with my friends again and they don't seem so scared of me and my malaria (I think it's called that because it hurts to breathe. I heard that "Mal" means bad in some other language, and "aria" sounds kind of like "air") and my tyfoid (I think that's how it's spelled). Everyone is too scared of the big fuzzy badger to hate me anymore, so I guess that's good.
I didn't like the badger at first, because it ate my mom's old grocer's leg (gosh I miss my mom), but everyone says that Bradley was a drunk anyway and that it was god's own will that he lost that leg, so I guess if the badger is doing god's work, that's okay. I've started to like the badger now, though, because he doesn't growl at me as much as he growls at everyone else. I think if I wait a little longer and don't die from my diseases that he might even let me ride him one day! Then we can go to my old house and I can tell it that I'm sorry that the bad men had to burn it down because I was sick. Then I can go visit my mom and dad's grave in the backyard (there's only one because Reverend Gall said that they loved each other sooo much that they wanted to be buried together so they could hug forever. I hope when I die I get to hug someone forever.)
The badger ate some figs out of my hands, too! Everyone always wants me to feed the badger because I guess it gets along with me the bestest and also because I have two terminal diseases and so if it mauls me to death I was going to die anyway and the badger was just doing god's work on earth like he did with Bradley's leg and Marcy's eye and that poor Doberman that wandered into the cage that one time.
Everyone's talking about a new animal, too. I hope it's as nice to me as the badger has been. I hope they'll be friends but probably not since the badger doesn't seem to like the constant growling and roaring coming from outside the cage, but if they get into a fight, I hope the badger wins, because he's kind of like a big pet, and he has a white stripe down his back and I think that looks like the lines of white stuff my mommy used to smell because she said it made her happy, and I like remembering my mom happy instead of burning alive.
Gotta go, something is happening and we're all being moved somewhere.
Someone sent me a picture in the mail! I've never gotten mail in my whole entire life! I got so excited that I went into a coughing fit and fell down a few times. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see it because Richard Wiggleswaggins said that it was a "special" picture that I can't see until I'm older. After he said that to me he kind of turned away and got really scared looking. I think he's afraid of the idea of me growing up and getting married to someone because I won't be a little girl anymore and even though he never really did anything but yell at me whenever he saw me around town and even though he was one of the bad men who burned down my house because I was sick I think he'll always think of me as Lilly Limbcake the little girl.
Of course he's being silly because when I was in the hospital last time the doctor said that I probably only had about three months to live because I was coughing up blood and it was darker than it's supposed to be and I guess that's bad.
So I guess I'll probably never get to see what was in that picture. Maybe it was a picture of my daddy when he still had his right arm and didn't drink so much (and wasn't dead)! I always wanted to see him like that. It's okay, though, I can still imagine it.
Groucho let me pet him today! We all got together and named the badger Groucho because he's so grouchy. I think it's very clever! The name "Groucho" also sounds a lot like "growl" and boy he sure does like to do that a lot! I think he's cranky about the cage and the chains. I can't wait until we get to take him for a walk!
FIGHT NIGHT, BOYS
The portcullis is about to open, and between the sobbing and swigging there's a feeling of grim determination in the air here with The Rabble camp. A young man raises his club to the air, rallying his fellow Rabble! Insults are slung at the beast they've yet to lay eyes on! And two drunks comfort each other as they feel the end draws near.
The Gate opens to a hellish vision of an arena decorated with ash, blazing rubble, and piles of festering cattle. And in its grim centre...
With a snarl the badger meets tigerhands' gaze unflinchingly, and launches from the darkness onto the ash strewn battlefield. The ground shakes as his adversary lumbers into motion to meet him across 100 yards of arena floor...
The gigantic badger's rage is unquenchable as he hurls himself at the tiger-handed monstrosity. Two rabble are lost in the fray as they're trampled under Edward's enormous feet, and the two drunks dive behind some arena debris in an attempt to avoid a similar fate.
Our two drunken old sods look on in horror from the rubble as their mightiest weapon is decimated by the relentless blows of the nightmare ungulate. Surely there is no hope now, as the badger loses gallons of blood from countless gaping, ragged wounds?...
Edward Tigerhands bellows in triumph over the disembowelled carcass of his foe and prepares to hunt down the last few surviving members of the rabble as they crouch with broken spirits in the blood-soaked rubble...
Edward Tigerhands is blinded not only by rage now, but by fire.
Only his tiger hands have working eyes, and set ablaze as they are, there's no possible way it could save itself.
Ten minutes of roaring, screaming, and flailing later...
WINNER: THE RABBLE!
Groucho is hurt. He and the big monster didn't get along very well and they had a fight and he came off worse. He's still breathing but he's got holes all over him and there's red stuff everywhere and I don't know what to do. I tried to hug him but I fell in one of the holes and even though I screamed and cried for help I guess no one heard me so I just sat there crying for a while until another Groucho-hole opened up underneath me and I fell out. Now no one even looks at me and my dress is dirty. I'm not as bad off as Groucho, though. I hope he pulls through. I don't want to lose my only friend here.
I heard some doctors (they were in white coats, so I think that's what they were anyway) talking about fixing him up. I hope they do it soon! I hope they let me visit him, too. I know I would have been really happy if someone visited me when I was in the hospital.