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Evermore
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ooc: That's for sure. Shadow and I have some thing else going but I'll be running the tournament soon.
Until then, Sam the King's yours
Until then, Sam the King's yours
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((Sorry I didn't post last night, but I went to a friend's house and didn't have time to post.))
Obacai had been right, it had been a breeze. After greeting the King with formal humility and humbleness, Obacai began praising the King for his honor, his power, his great taste in fine plants, and his wonderful ruling. The King, fully impressed and swelling and pride did not even question Obacai's reasons for visiting him and invited him to have an early lunch. Obacai accepted.
And now he was sitting at the right hand of the King, being careful never to excite the King's wrath, but all the while slowly digging deeper into the King's trust. He offered indirect advice, for that was the only way the Sun King would take it. His language was grossly saturated with praise and worship for the King. At the right times, Obacai even cracked a joke to get the King to laugh.
After lunch, the King began to ask Obacai a few questions, "Tell me, Othello, what exactly do you do for a living that you have not come under my notice before? Such a man as you deserves to be rewarded."
Bowing in thanks, Obacai replied, "I am in no way worthy, but as to your investigations, I am a simple diplomat who has a distant heritage of nobility."
"Ah! But you carry yourself as one of the best of my nobles! Perhaps there is some way I could still employ you, for, I should like that very much. I know! I will have you as my personal treasure hunter! The last one died a few weeks ago and my sad heart has been aching for a new possession ever since."
Obacai almost laughed at the coincidence, but knew he had no time in stalling for the acceptance. He needed to accept not only for Atlas and for a good excuse to Maxim, but for his own life. Decline to the King's wishes meant death, "I accept, oh sovereign. I only hope that my small findings might be of service to you. And, if you would be ever so kind to excuse me, I should start the hunt immediately."
The King eagerly waved Obacai away, and Obacai wasted no time in hurrying his way to Atlas' residence.
((Hope that's what you wanted...))
Obacai had been right, it had been a breeze. After greeting the King with formal humility and humbleness, Obacai began praising the King for his honor, his power, his great taste in fine plants, and his wonderful ruling. The King, fully impressed and swelling and pride did not even question Obacai's reasons for visiting him and invited him to have an early lunch. Obacai accepted.
And now he was sitting at the right hand of the King, being careful never to excite the King's wrath, but all the while slowly digging deeper into the King's trust. He offered indirect advice, for that was the only way the Sun King would take it. His language was grossly saturated with praise and worship for the King. At the right times, Obacai even cracked a joke to get the King to laugh.
After lunch, the King began to ask Obacai a few questions, "Tell me, Othello, what exactly do you do for a living that you have not come under my notice before? Such a man as you deserves to be rewarded."
Bowing in thanks, Obacai replied, "I am in no way worthy, but as to your investigations, I am a simple diplomat who has a distant heritage of nobility."
"Ah! But you carry yourself as one of the best of my nobles! Perhaps there is some way I could still employ you, for, I should like that very much. I know! I will have you as my personal treasure hunter! The last one died a few weeks ago and my sad heart has been aching for a new possession ever since."
Obacai almost laughed at the coincidence, but knew he had no time in stalling for the acceptance. He needed to accept not only for Atlas and for a good excuse to Maxim, but for his own life. Decline to the King's wishes meant death, "I accept, oh sovereign. I only hope that my small findings might be of service to you. And, if you would be ever so kind to excuse me, I should start the hunt immediately."
The King eagerly waved Obacai away, and Obacai wasted no time in hurrying his way to Atlas' residence.
((Hope that's what you wanted...))
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((A apologize for the character manipulation that I will most probably be doing in the course of this post. But if I can’t do it as GameMaster then I see no real purpose in mastering in the first place. In addition I might be off with some of my names, which being said, thanks for your patience. Well here goes…everything…))
After fleeing Yitai, Retta had done what all controversial crooked politicians did in that age. He went to Avalon.
Avalon was one of the simplest places to flee. All you really had to do was become friend with the king. And for an extremely experienced artist of bull like Retta, that was completely and utterly simple. Before the King knew what had happened he had a military advisor who had just fled his city for treacherous attacks against his country.
With that being said he was still the same vengeful, greedy, liar he was before he left. The primary difference is now he is paranoid. He saw Obacai with the king.
He was not happy, though his exact words would have to be censored the general idea was that if Obacai said anything it was going to be fatal to him.
He arranged for a meeting with the King, in that meeting he spoke of the untrustworthiness of the King’s young favorite. Unfortunately Obacai, or Othello as the King referred to him was just that, the King’s favorite and being such he was one of the highest people in the land, but as Retta was as skill a flatterer as Obacai the King decided to throw him a bone.
“Viscount, Come here” he said to his Captain of the Guard, the current champion of the Tournament of Kings and as such, the Lord of Avalon. Under only the King.
“Viscount, of my advisors, find all who have disagreed with any of my decree’s and have them….flogged and…well we’ve had enough of beheading recently, the Tournament is showing us action…ah yes, burn them at the stake. That should prove the point nicely. Don’t you think Retta?” he said brightly, sipping his red wine.
“If he is as treacherous as you say this will certainly eliminate him. But if he is the loyal subject I know him to be nothing will come of it.”
“The wisdom only a King could bear my liege.” Retta whispered, and cursing under his breath, left.
The Captain of the Guard left to carry out his duty, and then go to the Tournament.
It was actually a fluke. The champion should have been able to by pass all fights until the final, but rumors had passed that he was weakening and he desired to dispel them publicly and dramatically. His first opponent was strange,
he looked like he was in his mid thirties, perhaps younger, his hair was full and dark and he looked fully fit, but his eyes were different, they were grey-blue, melancholy but still ferocious. Like a lion towards the end of it’s life, it’s teeth still sharp but no longer fearing death. It had been said he had come to this tournament years before, then he had been more fair haired, less richly dressed and much less grave and had come with another man, but this hardly seemed possible, for he would have had to be forty years of age at least for that to be true. It was said his name was Athos Vendeiris and he was said to have great connections though none knew why or what these might be.
Only that he was a master of the blade, and that had only increased during his sabbatical.
The battle began and the duelists made their way to center ring,
The ring was surrounded with hundreds of spectators, this was the greatest Tournament in years and this was the first battle of the current champion.
Everyone was there, the swordsmen, the noblemen and their families, the citizens, the military and even the King was there.
The tournament was often used for recruiting soldiers and knights, those who lost and survived would be snatched up by countless nobles and minor royalty all over the world while the champion would be given the undisputed title of World’s Greatest Swordsman and the position of Lord of Avalon. A position equal to a prince, under only the King.
The speakers announced the duelists, first the undisputed champion,
Followed by his challenger
The battle began.
The Viscount removed his blade, and circled slowly, like a shark.
“You realize that whoever you are, wherever you came from that you cannot survive this encounter. I am the greatest swordsman in the world. I am going to kill you.
It is impossible for you to escape. This is your final chance, surrender or die.”
He said, punctuating his words with attacks with his blade, each were defended simply by his opponent.
Usually his opponent would be shocked by these perfectly placed insults, throwing them off balance enough for them to be slain. However this one was different, it seemed that he was defending without knowing it. He had a look of perfect peace on his face, his eyes closed, he blocked each attack.
Opening his eyes Athos smiled,
“Are you afraid of death?” he asked the Viscount
“Me? It’s you who should ask that question.” He replied in tones that seemed to contradict the words, as if to supplement it he slashed forward with his blade.
“I know the answer. Fear is the ultimate weakness; knowledge is the only way to stop fear. So strike true, death is the ultimate adventure”
The Viscount answered him with a mad lash towards him.
Athos impaled him with his blade.
“You now have the knowledge of death. I almost envy you.”
It was at that time when a strange noise opened, a procession had arrived.
Who it was seemed unimportant, a large group of richly dressed servants came before and kneeled, followed by a tall man with dark hair, He kneeled infront of the King and announced:
“M’lord, Commander of the Sea, Master of the Isle, King of Avalon, I beg the honor to introduce to you, my master, Roche Villefort.”
At this a man emerged, more richly dressed than any before him. It was the man who had come all those years before with Athos, he was none by many names, among rebels he was called Colonel Julian Dominic, among nobles he was none as the Count of Montagrief, in the coasts he was called Roche Villefort but who truly was, was known only by his mortal enemy, he was Exeter.
After meeting the King, Roche walked slowly by Athos.
“Hello, Atlas it’s been a long time. You are looking well, I assume you have met Daethalion.”
“Hello, Exeter, as are you. Is that his name? Yes, I’ve met him. Please, give him my regards.”
The next battle was between Athos and Maxim. In three days.
Then the game was to truly begin.
((Feel free to fast forward if you want.))
After fleeing Yitai, Retta had done what all controversial crooked politicians did in that age. He went to Avalon.
Avalon was one of the simplest places to flee. All you really had to do was become friend with the king. And for an extremely experienced artist of bull like Retta, that was completely and utterly simple. Before the King knew what had happened he had a military advisor who had just fled his city for treacherous attacks against his country.
With that being said he was still the same vengeful, greedy, liar he was before he left. The primary difference is now he is paranoid. He saw Obacai with the king.
He was not happy, though his exact words would have to be censored the general idea was that if Obacai said anything it was going to be fatal to him.
He arranged for a meeting with the King, in that meeting he spoke of the untrustworthiness of the King’s young favorite. Unfortunately Obacai, or Othello as the King referred to him was just that, the King’s favorite and being such he was one of the highest people in the land, but as Retta was as skill a flatterer as Obacai the King decided to throw him a bone.
“Viscount, Come here” he said to his Captain of the Guard, the current champion of the Tournament of Kings and as such, the Lord of Avalon. Under only the King.
“Viscount, of my advisors, find all who have disagreed with any of my decree’s and have them….flogged and…well we’ve had enough of beheading recently, the Tournament is showing us action…ah yes, burn them at the stake. That should prove the point nicely. Don’t you think Retta?” he said brightly, sipping his red wine.
“If he is as treacherous as you say this will certainly eliminate him. But if he is the loyal subject I know him to be nothing will come of it.”
“The wisdom only a King could bear my liege.” Retta whispered, and cursing under his breath, left.
The Captain of the Guard left to carry out his duty, and then go to the Tournament.
It was actually a fluke. The champion should have been able to by pass all fights until the final, but rumors had passed that he was weakening and he desired to dispel them publicly and dramatically. His first opponent was strange,
he looked like he was in his mid thirties, perhaps younger, his hair was full and dark and he looked fully fit, but his eyes were different, they were grey-blue, melancholy but still ferocious. Like a lion towards the end of it’s life, it’s teeth still sharp but no longer fearing death. It had been said he had come to this tournament years before, then he had been more fair haired, less richly dressed and much less grave and had come with another man, but this hardly seemed possible, for he would have had to be forty years of age at least for that to be true. It was said his name was Athos Vendeiris and he was said to have great connections though none knew why or what these might be.
Only that he was a master of the blade, and that had only increased during his sabbatical.
The battle began and the duelists made their way to center ring,
The ring was surrounded with hundreds of spectators, this was the greatest Tournament in years and this was the first battle of the current champion.
Everyone was there, the swordsmen, the noblemen and their families, the citizens, the military and even the King was there.
The tournament was often used for recruiting soldiers and knights, those who lost and survived would be snatched up by countless nobles and minor royalty all over the world while the champion would be given the undisputed title of World’s Greatest Swordsman and the position of Lord of Avalon. A position equal to a prince, under only the King.
The speakers announced the duelists, first the undisputed champion,
Followed by his challenger
The battle began.
The Viscount removed his blade, and circled slowly, like a shark.
“You realize that whoever you are, wherever you came from that you cannot survive this encounter. I am the greatest swordsman in the world. I am going to kill you.
It is impossible for you to escape. This is your final chance, surrender or die.”
He said, punctuating his words with attacks with his blade, each were defended simply by his opponent.
Usually his opponent would be shocked by these perfectly placed insults, throwing them off balance enough for them to be slain. However this one was different, it seemed that he was defending without knowing it. He had a look of perfect peace on his face, his eyes closed, he blocked each attack.
Opening his eyes Athos smiled,
“Are you afraid of death?” he asked the Viscount
“Me? It’s you who should ask that question.” He replied in tones that seemed to contradict the words, as if to supplement it he slashed forward with his blade.
“I know the answer. Fear is the ultimate weakness; knowledge is the only way to stop fear. So strike true, death is the ultimate adventure”
The Viscount answered him with a mad lash towards him.
Athos impaled him with his blade.
“You now have the knowledge of death. I almost envy you.”
It was at that time when a strange noise opened, a procession had arrived.
Who it was seemed unimportant, a large group of richly dressed servants came before and kneeled, followed by a tall man with dark hair, He kneeled infront of the King and announced:
“M’lord, Commander of the Sea, Master of the Isle, King of Avalon, I beg the honor to introduce to you, my master, Roche Villefort.”
At this a man emerged, more richly dressed than any before him. It was the man who had come all those years before with Athos, he was none by many names, among rebels he was called Colonel Julian Dominic, among nobles he was none as the Count of Montagrief, in the coasts he was called Roche Villefort but who truly was, was known only by his mortal enemy, he was Exeter.
After meeting the King, Roche walked slowly by Athos.
“Hello, Atlas it’s been a long time. You are looking well, I assume you have met Daethalion.”
“Hello, Exeter, as are you. Is that his name? Yes, I’ve met him. Please, give him my regards.”
The next battle was between Athos and Maxim. In three days.
Then the game was to truly begin.
((Feel free to fast forward if you want.))
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WhiteLily
Angel of Music
- Apr 14, 2004
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ooc: HECK YESSSS!!!ic: WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO!!?? *A peircing scream came from the dockmaster's office, loud enough to be heard through the heavy oak door and all around the docks. Scott and Sierra were waiting outside with the troops and Falil, they all jumped when Kelli had screamed and came storming out of the office. She was completely in a rage, her normally sea blue eyes now a storm cloud grey. She crossed the dock in a few strides and pulled out one of her arrows and pointed it at the dockmaster who was standing with his meaty fists on his large hips unfrightened.*"Tha's wot I said missy. Ain't no way I'm takin' oll these hur troops 'cross tha way. Either ye leave 'em behind an go yerself or not at oll. I oly 'av' nuff room fer three more travlers. Take it er leave it!"*Kelli fumed for a minute the returned the arrow to the sheath.*Fine, Scott, Sierra and myself will go. *She turned to Falil*I'm sorry my friend, but this is matters of great importants."Of course my dear, besides, who will watch over these ruffians whilst you are gone? Yes, we shall stay and you go deal with everything."*Kelli smiled gratefully at Falil and hugged him before taking her horses reigns and walking with Sierra and Scott with their horses onto a large, but fast, ship.**Once they had gotten settled in Kelli leaned over the bow of the boat and stared at the approaching horizon of Amoria. She smiled as she leaned back and let the sun warm her. Sierra soon joined her, Scott was talking to the captain about... things.*"So, Scott and I thought that it might be safer for us to take on alias's, I'm Shastine, Scott is John, what do ou want to be? *Kelli opened her eyes and said without hesitation*Rosalia, my mother's name.*She closed her eyes after that and remained silent. Shastine took the clue and left to join Scott**Rosalia thought to herself*One more hour and then I find Atlas...
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WhiteLily
Angel of Music
- Apr 14, 2004
- 5,616
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ooc: See ya!Double postic: *Soon they all landed in Port de Amor and when they were allowed off the boat Rosalia, Shastine and John rode down the plank on their horses, each looking like royalty. Fiery-tempered Rosalia, ambassador for the Fire elves in the South. She had silvery almost white hair was loose and flowing in loose curls down her back, storm grey eyes were exentuated lightly with black kohl on the edges and a temper to rival that of a lioness's. Not to mention her bow and arrows on her back. She wore a crimson and gold embroidered white silk gown with a strange rose pendant necklace around her neck. Sweet and docile Shastine was ambassdor for the Western Lands. Her golden crown of hair was bound in a knot on top of her head beneath a gold headpeice that fell into earrings. She wore a deep blue traveling gown with white embroidery. Shastine was hard to anger and very quiet, but observant and smart. John wore his best armour over black clothes. His helmet covered his hair, but his sharp brown eyes darted everywhere, taking in everything, and everyone. Rosalia spoke to her companions* We will find somewhere to stay then tomorrow we will find our quarry. *The other two nodded and the three trotted away from the docks to a nearby inn where they would stay.*
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It was the climax of the Tournament, the battle between the unbeaten nobleman Maxim Esse and the some what eccentric nobleman, Athos Venderis.
The battle was not the highest ranking noblemen, nor was it the richest men. What it was the final match, a death had already occured in the Tournament and that was an extremely rare thing, it wasn't exactly a unwanted thing, the King made it a point to announce how unwanted the offense was and if it was staged well he privately complimented the offendor of a great show.
It was rumored....but only rumored that there was a private feud between them and it would end in one or the others death. Countless bets were placed, it was completely unknown which would win, and that had brought an enormous crowd.
They had had to bring in the complete extra seating and each were filled. The greatest seat of honor was taken by the King and his closest companions. On one side was Obacai and seated next to him was Retta.
On the right side, the side of honor where traditionally the Lord of Avalon and his attendents was the King's newest favorite, possibly the only man he ever admired:
Roche Villifort
As such he had the best seat of the entire prosession, it was also said quite freely that he had enormous bets placed on it. More bets than any other person by far, which person he had said bets placed on is unknown, but he watched as if it was a foregone conclusion.
Now smiling subtly, now chuckling and now checking his nails patiently.
It was obvious, he knew who was going to win.
The announcers began, there shouts announced the tournament. Any one who was in the city would have heard them.
All stragglers who had not yet heeded the call of the muscians before now made there way towards the duelling arena, and all people anxiously awaited the arrival of the duelists.
((Cue's are simple, Rosaline, Shastine and John should arrive and I took the liberty of positioning the rest))
The battle was not the highest ranking noblemen, nor was it the richest men. What it was the final match, a death had already occured in the Tournament and that was an extremely rare thing, it wasn't exactly a unwanted thing, the King made it a point to announce how unwanted the offense was and if it was staged well he privately complimented the offendor of a great show.
It was rumored....but only rumored that there was a private feud between them and it would end in one or the others death. Countless bets were placed, it was completely unknown which would win, and that had brought an enormous crowd.
They had had to bring in the complete extra seating and each were filled. The greatest seat of honor was taken by the King and his closest companions. On one side was Obacai and seated next to him was Retta.
On the right side, the side of honor where traditionally the Lord of Avalon and his attendents was the King's newest favorite, possibly the only man he ever admired:
Roche Villifort
As such he had the best seat of the entire prosession, it was also said quite freely that he had enormous bets placed on it. More bets than any other person by far, which person he had said bets placed on is unknown, but he watched as if it was a foregone conclusion.
Now smiling subtly, now chuckling and now checking his nails patiently.
It was obvious, he knew who was going to win.
The announcers began, there shouts announced the tournament. Any one who was in the city would have heard them.
All stragglers who had not yet heeded the call of the muscians before now made there way towards the duelling arena, and all people anxiously awaited the arrival of the duelists.
((Cue's are simple, Rosaline, Shastine and John should arrive and I took the liberty of positioning the rest))
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Shadowseldil
Redeemed Darkness
(((So I was a bit busy and now I have a lot of ground to cover, but I can't tell if Drama's been reading too much Pan or too much Dumas)))
"Parry, thrust!"
A blade tip hit Daethalion in the right arm. He smiled. "You lift you shoulder when you thrust," he said as he removed his mask, "That is what causes your tip to miss the mark. What I want you to do is to take you arm, bend the elbow down slightly, and imagine you really want to run me through."
His masked opponent looked at him and a feminine voice said, "But--"
"Do not worry about whatever pain I feel, because your opponents will not be slack on you." Replacing his mask, he cried: "Again."
He turned, raised his blade, made a feint to the right and lunged left. Again, a blade tip hit him, but this time it was square in the chest.
His opponent removed her helmet. "I did it," she cried, smiling.
"Very good, Merideth, very good. You have quite a skill in the sword."
"You are a very good teacher," she replied, blushing slightly, "But I couldn't really fight anyone. I--I just couldn't kill people."
"And I hope you never need. Killing people is a necessary evil, but it should be done no more often than is needed, and it is a pity when women must kill. It is not their nature; no, indeed it is none of our nature."
"Why did you choose to be a fighter, Maxim?"
Daethalion sighed. "My people needed someone to fight for them, someone to protect those who find killing to be their nature. The only ways to stop a killer are to kill him or to give him nothing to kill. Both are needed on a larger scale, and in the end my people retreated from the battle so that we could live, but we also fight so that we may live. Strange, is it not?"
"The world is a strange place, Maxim."
There was silence between them as they watched the fading sun. "Why did you decide to join this tournament, Maxim?" she asked.
"To improve my skill, so as to better protect my people."
"Ah."
"Well," he continued after a pause of consideration, "Perhaps for personal achievement, also. I want to see how good I have become."
"Well, if you fight as well as you teach, I think you will win."
"Thank you, Merideth."
---
Daethalion stepped onto the field of battle, wearing no protective gear at all. He stood casually with his blade in his hilt. A worried Merideth sat in the stands behind him. His opponent was a large man from the southern regions in full armor with a large scimitar.
Daethalion stood and sized up the man. Should I be quick or humiliating? he thought.
Soon the warriors took the field, though Daethalion still had not drawn his weapon. As the two warriors stood opposite of each other, Daethalion extended his hand. The other merely spat at Daethalion's feet. Both, he desided as the parted.
The battle began. The armored warrior ran headlong at Daethalion, scimitar raised. Meridath looked really worried; Daethalion still had not drawn his weapon. The space between the combatants lessened rapidly until finally, the saber came down with crushing force.
The dust scattered to the winds as the two fighter stood face to helmet. With one smooth motion, Daethalion had drawn his epee and pushed the blow off-line with not even a tear in his clothing.
He stood there, his epee slightly above shoulder level, pointing toward his feet. "Marvelous weapon, is it not?" he said with a smile that meant blood.
The armored man stepped back a pace, clearly startled by the parry. He would not miss again. Quickly he made a swipe for Daethalion's head, but again the blow was redirected. In a circular sweep, he brought the blade again quickly for a downward slice.
Quick as a hummingbird's flap, the epee flashed against the scimitar, pushing it aside again. With another flap, the slender point found a gap in the man's gauntlet, piercing his abductor pollici (Thumb muscle: essentually, he can no longer grab things). The sword fell from his hand.
Before the sword landed in the dust, the tip moved out of the hand and to the base of the neck. For a few moments, there was no movement, not on the field, nor in the crowd; such was the spectical they were witnessing. Thus, through the clarity of the stillness, the official ruling in Maxim's favor was heard by all. Soldiers rushed the field to ensure that the victory was maintained once Maxim's point was removed. Sometimes mercy only lead to fury on the loser's part. Such was not the case this time as the loser graciously walk from the field with his life. A few medics removed the gauntlet and tended to his hand.
Deafening cheers erupted from the crowd as Daethalion walked off the field in victory.
---
"Are you sure that's the guy you want to fight?" a surly voice whispered in a back alley. "I mean, you're good and all, but this guy took out the Lord of Avalon. That was last year's champ and the favored to win, and this guy Athos took him down like he were slicing butter."
"Yes," came the hushed voice of Daethalion, "He is the one. I must fight him in the final battle."
"All right, your the paying customer, and if that's what you want--"
"It is."
"All right then. I'll set it up."
As Daethalion returned to his room, he found a note from Exeter. It read: "I have reconsidered the death of one Atlas. I am not through bringing him to his lowest yet. He is still too proud, too noble. If he were to die in the tournament, he would see it as a glorious death in battle. I want him to grovel in despair, and perhaps in the end to take his own life, for their is no honor in suicide. Defeat him in the tournament, but do not kill him. I expect success."
"Hmph," grunted Daethalion as he crumpled the note and threw it into the fire. "I am no servant of Exeter's. I will kill Atlas on my own time in my own way. Atlantis cannot be revived by him. It cannot."
---
The day of the battle arrived. Daethalion stood in the chamber, waiting for the call to start. By request, he had allowed Merideth to sit with him.
"Please be careful, Maxim. This one is not like you; he is a ruthless killer. (((Rather ironic, isn't it?))) He did not hesitate a moment to kill the Lord of Avalon."
"Then I will see to it that he is either killed or that he has nothing to kill. I would prefer the latter, as he is a great swordsman, but I would spare my life sooner than I would spare his."
All too well would I spare my life rather than his.
"Please, if things start turning against you, please, surrender; if not for me, than, well, for your people."
Daethalion smiled, for he knew full well no human could defeat him, nor elf or dwarf for that matter. But he said, "Very well; if it comes to death or surrender, I will surrender."
"Maxim Esse," came the voice of a gladitorial soldier in the doorway, "The battle will soon begin. We need you in your place."
"Namárië, Maxim."
"No, Merideth, for you will see me, and I will not be leaving."
"Very well," she said with a tired smile, "Be careful."
"Parry, thrust!"
A blade tip hit Daethalion in the right arm. He smiled. "You lift you shoulder when you thrust," he said as he removed his mask, "That is what causes your tip to miss the mark. What I want you to do is to take you arm, bend the elbow down slightly, and imagine you really want to run me through."
His masked opponent looked at him and a feminine voice said, "But--"
"Do not worry about whatever pain I feel, because your opponents will not be slack on you." Replacing his mask, he cried: "Again."
He turned, raised his blade, made a feint to the right and lunged left. Again, a blade tip hit him, but this time it was square in the chest.
His opponent removed her helmet. "I did it," she cried, smiling.
"Very good, Merideth, very good. You have quite a skill in the sword."
"You are a very good teacher," she replied, blushing slightly, "But I couldn't really fight anyone. I--I just couldn't kill people."
"And I hope you never need. Killing people is a necessary evil, but it should be done no more often than is needed, and it is a pity when women must kill. It is not their nature; no, indeed it is none of our nature."
"Why did you choose to be a fighter, Maxim?"
Daethalion sighed. "My people needed someone to fight for them, someone to protect those who find killing to be their nature. The only ways to stop a killer are to kill him or to give him nothing to kill. Both are needed on a larger scale, and in the end my people retreated from the battle so that we could live, but we also fight so that we may live. Strange, is it not?"
"The world is a strange place, Maxim."
There was silence between them as they watched the fading sun. "Why did you decide to join this tournament, Maxim?" she asked.
"To improve my skill, so as to better protect my people."
"Ah."
"Well," he continued after a pause of consideration, "Perhaps for personal achievement, also. I want to see how good I have become."
"Well, if you fight as well as you teach, I think you will win."
"Thank you, Merideth."
---
Daethalion stepped onto the field of battle, wearing no protective gear at all. He stood casually with his blade in his hilt. A worried Merideth sat in the stands behind him. His opponent was a large man from the southern regions in full armor with a large scimitar.
Daethalion stood and sized up the man. Should I be quick or humiliating? he thought.
Soon the warriors took the field, though Daethalion still had not drawn his weapon. As the two warriors stood opposite of each other, Daethalion extended his hand. The other merely spat at Daethalion's feet. Both, he desided as the parted.
The battle began. The armored warrior ran headlong at Daethalion, scimitar raised. Meridath looked really worried; Daethalion still had not drawn his weapon. The space between the combatants lessened rapidly until finally, the saber came down with crushing force.
The dust scattered to the winds as the two fighter stood face to helmet. With one smooth motion, Daethalion had drawn his epee and pushed the blow off-line with not even a tear in his clothing.
He stood there, his epee slightly above shoulder level, pointing toward his feet. "Marvelous weapon, is it not?" he said with a smile that meant blood.
The armored man stepped back a pace, clearly startled by the parry. He would not miss again. Quickly he made a swipe for Daethalion's head, but again the blow was redirected. In a circular sweep, he brought the blade again quickly for a downward slice.
Quick as a hummingbird's flap, the epee flashed against the scimitar, pushing it aside again. With another flap, the slender point found a gap in the man's gauntlet, piercing his abductor pollici (Thumb muscle: essentually, he can no longer grab things). The sword fell from his hand.
Before the sword landed in the dust, the tip moved out of the hand and to the base of the neck. For a few moments, there was no movement, not on the field, nor in the crowd; such was the spectical they were witnessing. Thus, through the clarity of the stillness, the official ruling in Maxim's favor was heard by all. Soldiers rushed the field to ensure that the victory was maintained once Maxim's point was removed. Sometimes mercy only lead to fury on the loser's part. Such was not the case this time as the loser graciously walk from the field with his life. A few medics removed the gauntlet and tended to his hand.
Deafening cheers erupted from the crowd as Daethalion walked off the field in victory.
---
"Are you sure that's the guy you want to fight?" a surly voice whispered in a back alley. "I mean, you're good and all, but this guy took out the Lord of Avalon. That was last year's champ and the favored to win, and this guy Athos took him down like he were slicing butter."
"Yes," came the hushed voice of Daethalion, "He is the one. I must fight him in the final battle."
"All right, your the paying customer, and if that's what you want--"
"It is."
"All right then. I'll set it up."
As Daethalion returned to his room, he found a note from Exeter. It read: "I have reconsidered the death of one Atlas. I am not through bringing him to his lowest yet. He is still too proud, too noble. If he were to die in the tournament, he would see it as a glorious death in battle. I want him to grovel in despair, and perhaps in the end to take his own life, for their is no honor in suicide. Defeat him in the tournament, but do not kill him. I expect success."
"Hmph," grunted Daethalion as he crumpled the note and threw it into the fire. "I am no servant of Exeter's. I will kill Atlas on my own time in my own way. Atlantis cannot be revived by him. It cannot."
---
The day of the battle arrived. Daethalion stood in the chamber, waiting for the call to start. By request, he had allowed Merideth to sit with him.
"Please be careful, Maxim. This one is not like you; he is a ruthless killer. (((Rather ironic, isn't it?))) He did not hesitate a moment to kill the Lord of Avalon."
"Then I will see to it that he is either killed or that he has nothing to kill. I would prefer the latter, as he is a great swordsman, but I would spare my life sooner than I would spare his."
All too well would I spare my life rather than his.
"Please, if things start turning against you, please, surrender; if not for me, than, well, for your people."
Daethalion smiled, for he knew full well no human could defeat him, nor elf or dwarf for that matter. But he said, "Very well; if it comes to death or surrender, I will surrender."
"Maxim Esse," came the voice of a gladitorial soldier in the doorway, "The battle will soon begin. We need you in your place."
"Namárië, Maxim."
"No, Merideth, for you will see me, and I will not be leaving."
"Very well," she said with a tired smile, "Be careful."
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((Wow, you guys never cease to amaze me.))
Obacai sat uneasily in his chair of honor. Menacing glances brought about an air of animosity between the old leaders of the same city. Obacai forced himself to ignore Retta as much as possible, though. Any confrontation with a firmly established favorite of the king would not bode well. Instead, Obacai wondered at the man who had taken up the highest place of honor to the right of the King.
The man had introduced himself as Roche Villifort, but the name was not familiar to Obacai. It was not long, however, before Obacai got the feeling that Roche was every bit as much of a suck-up as himself, only a much better one. The noble's manners were exquisite; his wit quick; his compliments perfect.
Deciding that at the moment Roche posed no threat to his immediate plans, Obacai now sat back in his seat to watch the preceedings of the duel. Of all the matches, this was going to be the most nerve-racking for Obacai. He had been watching, and while Athos had disposed of his other competitors with ease, this new opponent was different. Every bit as confident as Athos, Maxim seemed just as unbeatable. Obacai had watched as each contender had breezed through their qualifying matches. For the first time, Obacai wondered if Athos would make it out alive.
Obacai sat uneasily in his chair of honor. Menacing glances brought about an air of animosity between the old leaders of the same city. Obacai forced himself to ignore Retta as much as possible, though. Any confrontation with a firmly established favorite of the king would not bode well. Instead, Obacai wondered at the man who had taken up the highest place of honor to the right of the King.
The man had introduced himself as Roche Villifort, but the name was not familiar to Obacai. It was not long, however, before Obacai got the feeling that Roche was every bit as much of a suck-up as himself, only a much better one. The noble's manners were exquisite; his wit quick; his compliments perfect.
Deciding that at the moment Roche posed no threat to his immediate plans, Obacai now sat back in his seat to watch the preceedings of the duel. Of all the matches, this was going to be the most nerve-racking for Obacai. He had been watching, and while Athos had disposed of his other competitors with ease, this new opponent was different. Every bit as confident as Athos, Maxim seemed just as unbeatable. Obacai had watched as each contender had breezed through their qualifying matches. For the first time, Obacai wondered if Athos would make it out alive.
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WhiteLily
Angel of Music
- Apr 14, 2004
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*Rosalia, Shastine and John were the last into the arena, but found seats right in front, apparently no one wanted these seats because they were close to blood spatter. Rosalia kept standing as the other two sat, looking at the king's box. She saw the king, her eyes flicking to his right where she saw someone familiar, she sat as she pondered what he may be doing here.* Dominic? I thought he was still home. *Rosalia flicked dust off her white gown and settled back to watch the tournament whispering to John and Shastine.* This is such a barbaric show of strength, this isn't the way things should be here. It's so different from last time!
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Shadowseldil
Redeemed Darkness
(((Time to set things in motion)))
As Daethalion move casually after the soldier, another individual stood in the hall, waiting, but the soldiers did not see him. Only the kindred eyes noticed the stranger hiding in the shadows.
"Vlasdimir," Daethalion said quietly, "What brings you here? Not merely to watch my match, I assume."
"My master is here," he said dryly, "But it is for another reason I come." Vlasdimir began to whisper into his ear.
"Is it so?" Daethalion asked in astonished disbelief.
"It is." Vlashdimir said coldly.
Daethalion's face changed. Gone was its confident look, replaced by a concerned, pensive look. "So that is how things play."
"You realize that--"
"Yes, of course. But then, this fight..."
Vlasdimir nodded solemnly.
Daethalion cursed Atlas under his breath. "Very well, These things must be done, but you must see to things on your end."
"I can do little, as I am bound by the oaths."
"Then I will need to see to it that the oaths are ended."
Vlasdimir blinked solemnly before slipping back into the shadows. Daethalion frowned as he continued toward the stadium, his entire disposition undermined by this revelation.
As Daethalion move casually after the soldier, another individual stood in the hall, waiting, but the soldiers did not see him. Only the kindred eyes noticed the stranger hiding in the shadows.
"Vlasdimir," Daethalion said quietly, "What brings you here? Not merely to watch my match, I assume."
"My master is here," he said dryly, "But it is for another reason I come." Vlasdimir began to whisper into his ear.
"Is it so?" Daethalion asked in astonished disbelief.
"It is." Vlashdimir said coldly.
Daethalion's face changed. Gone was its confident look, replaced by a concerned, pensive look. "So that is how things play."
"You realize that--"
"Yes, of course. But then, this fight..."
Vlasdimir nodded solemnly.
Daethalion cursed Atlas under his breath. "Very well, These things must be done, but you must see to things on your end."
"I can do little, as I am bound by the oaths."
"Then I will need to see to it that the oaths are ended."
Vlasdimir blinked solemnly before slipping back into the shadows. Daethalion frowned as he continued toward the stadium, his entire disposition undermined by this revelation.
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