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Post by Valcrist on Nov 15, 2012 23:09:21 GMT -6
Her lance came quickly, attacking his weapons once more. She was determined to create an opening, or perhaps she was going out of her way to not kill the man. To that he thanked her, if she had gone all out this battle would have ended at the very beginning. The attack was fast, precise, and the only way the (un)masked could avoid it would be to drop his assault and back off. Instead he literally let go of his weapon as the spear collided with it, sending it flying away and smashing into the dirt. The black sword being the unlucky receiver of the attack, and breaking apart from the force of the blow on the already weary blade. Fang was splayed apart the arena in many pieces, and it would of made him sad if he had the time and mind to worry about such things.
That wasn't her only move however, if anything that was only the distraction of her next strike. The first, real strike of the match. The jab of the lance that every swordsman feared, sure swinging the weapon was dangerous as well and the haft makes a trusty bludgeon, but that wasn't the danger of a spear. The danger lied in it's pierce, a thrust that could blast through armor if given enough life. It came like a bolt of lightning, and he couldn't even trace it's movements until it was leased. It was then at that last moment before it was too late that he realized the reality of the situation.
It was hard, but he abandoned it, his attack, his weak advantage, his only hope. The spear was poised to cause irreparable damage if he continued, and instead he evaded it to the best of his ability. That wasn't even enough, the lance slicing into his flesh as he twisted his body away. He was lucky, and managed to pull out of the way in time. Instead of piercing his shoulder, perhaps damaging his arm for life, instead all it left was a deep gash along the side. He leap back, away from her and back into the land of no return. If he would rush now, it would be the end. His second weapon layed broken, and he was pretty banged up.
Taking in a deep breath, he let it out with a sort of... calmness. Sheathing his weapon back into it's hold. "I yield. I understand that this is a battle I cannot win. Congratulations, it was an honor to fight you." It was then, when his mind started to clear and the adrenaline began to fade that he realized... there was a light breeze on his face.
"Wh-what?! Oh, oh crap." He quickly grabbed the mask, trying to fix it and hide his flustered face. "Pr- *ahem* pretend you never saw that please!"
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Wyatt
Hero
The Volcano
How can someone win if winning means that someone loses?
Posts: 463
Etruria Fame: 2
Sacae Fame: -1
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Post by Wyatt on Nov 15, 2012 23:59:50 GMT -6
Wyatt had been excited to see Clair fight with a lance. She was just as skilled as he'd imagined, deflecting the swordsmans attacks with ease, and smacking him around the arena to boot. Wyatt felt a bit bad for the masked man, he had been on the bad side of those strikes once before. Clair was brutal in her strikes, though at least she was aiming to bludgeon and weaken, instead of impale.
Come to think of it, was that a good thing or bad thing?
When the mask came loose, Wyatt felt the fighter's crowd around him to try and steel a glance. He was unlikely to be anyone special, but the fact that his face was hidden made it's reveal all the more exciting. And then, the climax of the fight.
The swordsman jumped in, and one of his weapons was thrown from his hand. Hmm, he fought with two weapons as well. Wyatt had only seen Yaen do that well. Maybe there was a tribe that specialized in it? He didn't look Sacaen though, not the right skin color. Wyatt turned his gaze from the fight as the disarmed weapon shattered on the ground. He went from excited to somber fairly quickly. Watching a weapon fail in the fires of combat was like watching a friend die in a glorious battle. It was an honorable end, but still a bit depressing. The hilt of the blade had made it all the way to the edge of the arena, where he was inside the cage.
Wyatt's eyes ran over the blade, the unique curve, the hue of the metal, the obvious signs of use...and something familiar. This was a one of a kind sword.
And he'd seen it before, he'd bet his life on it. He hadn't recognized it when the swordsman was holding it, but he recognized the hilt. Had he only seen it sheathed before?
Yaen was my teacher over a year ago.
No way.
But as Wyatt studied the man who now admitted defeat, he knew there was no other answer. [red]"Hah!"[/red] He shouted in triumph. [red]"That son of an ox, he actually did it!"[/red]
Which sounded like a very odd comment to be making since the man had just lost.
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Post by Richter Abend on Nov 18, 2012 18:33:23 GMT -6
Richter raised an eyebrow as Wyatt yelled something about a "son of an ox" and the Ilian could only assume he was referring to the masked man. But in that regard, Richter couldn't understand why.
The masked man, now partially unmasked, had lost, and much to Richter's disappointment, had done so awfully unremarkably. The Ilian had hoped that, after the first few exchanges, the swordsman would get a few good moves in, but hell, he couldn't even really say the swordsman had even put up a good fight. Clair had possessed complete control over the match from start to finish, and had shut down her opponent at any attempt to land a solid hit. It was expected, and a great showing on the pegasus rider's part, but still...
"Did what?" inquired Richter, turning his attention to Wyatt. The young smith seemed to know something he didn't.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Nov 20, 2012 21:19:21 GMT -6
The Spearwoman was surprised as her opponent's weapon shattered and shot across the arena in pieces. A weapon failing in battle was never completely predictable, and she'd never considered planning for that, she squinted her eyes, as she tried to keep from taking a fragment to the eye. As it was, she still took several pieces bouncing off of her armor as she continued her stroke. It ended up leaving a long gash in the nimble swordsman as he leapt away, but otherwise there was little effect. She had mixed feelings on that. She'd hoped for a clean win. Instead, he'd escaped yet again.
But just like that, he yielded. He sheathed his blade, and gave the victory to her. He said something about honor and battles, none of which she was able to catch right away because of the adrenaline from the fight still running through her. When she realized what he was saying though she felt... disappointed. They had only just gotten started when his weapon had broken, altering the battlefield. And she didn't believe he'd come at her really intending to win. Even if she was wrong about that, she believed he was capable of more. She thought... he looked familiar. She looked closer at the face as he suddenly realized it was open to view, and started trying to hide it.
"Hey! I've seen you before!" There weren't all that many places she cold have seen someone like the dark skinned young man in the last few years. Here in Bern. Etruria's town, Edessa, and perhaps more. She stood up and relaxed out of her battle stance as she worked her way backwards from potential locations before settling on the fact that it hadn't been in Bern or Etruria.
"Would you come and find me after the tournament? I'd like to talk with you for awhile. And I think I owe you a rematch. One where your weapon doesn't shatter...." She frowned down at the broken shards. Something about the idea of your weapon breaking was unsettling. She mused on as the crowd's drone and cheers continued in the background.
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Post by Jya on Nov 22, 2012 12:53:43 GMT -6
OOC: I totally know what I am doing! I will be able to respond in 1-2 days, there isn't much to do in Salzeburg during the night time.
Jya frowned with a start as the fight continued. She had already put up her hood and mask, her eyes trying to find the best possible place to strike. She was unfortunately disappointed by what she saw here. There was absolutely no way for her to keep up in a face to face battle. That is however to be expected, she wasn't known to be a warrior.
What she lacked in frontal stamina power she made up in exploiting whatever she can. She did not mind catching others off guard and it definitely helped when they are tired. All things considered, she had her best shot when the two stopped fighting.
She got her chance when Valcrist's sword shattered. She did not quite expect the fight to end like this. She was honestly stunned for a second but reacted quickly enough. This was perhaps the stupidest and suicidal thing she ever did and hopefully will do if she survives. Hopefully the man was right about whatever her reputation was.
In one fluid motion, she hopped over the edge of the boundary and began to slide against the wall down. With that done, she took out her trusty killing edge and charged forward. It was a crazy venture but her best bet to continue being a free woman. Shedding all notion of the possibility of going back, she quickly charged from behind towards Clair, her blade aimed at her heart.
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Post by Valcrist on Nov 22, 2012 14:34:32 GMT -6
Valcrist cringed when he heard those words. It was exactly the kind of phrase he had adopted a bogus persona for, well that and the general boost in confidence he got when he thought no one knew who he was. He bit his lip, but didn't out and out try to deny it. That would be a bald faced lie, and he'd probably get nowhere with it. She said she wanted a rematch, but he was hesitant. If she had trashed him so easily this time, what's to stop her from kicking him to the curb once more? Still, battle was about far more then winning or losing, and he should know better
"Maybe." He said, maybe he'd find her after the tournament, if he wasn't run out in sheer embar-
A howling overtake the arena, a violent gust of sheer wind. It drowned out whatever roar of the crowd remain, and the gasps and shouts that erupted as a result. It was in an instant, almost too fast to see. Valcrist released the blade that had been resting on his back this entire time, the emerald weapon singing as it was freed from it's prison. He swung the blade as fiercely as he can, a wall of powerful winds erupting from the magical steel and howling through the air, towards the emerald wraith that had suddenly rushed into the field. Somewhere in the rush of movements Valcrist shouted "Look out Clair!" but where it fell in such a short frame was hard to determine.
His eyes had bolted to the figure as soon as it entered, his knack for details paying off once again. He didn't know who she was, or rather he didn't even take the time to see. He knew it was someone it should not be, rushing the field with a blade in hand. He did not hesitate, he moved with great swiftness and speed but this... person, they were fast, faster then either of them. They were fast, but they couldn't outrun the wind.
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Post by Clair Feldsky on Nov 22, 2012 21:07:26 GMT -6
"Maybe."
That was it! The smith in Ilia. He'd been so timid when dealing with people up there, but later on, she'd glimpses of him in the battle that had been taking place when she rejoined the army. It had been a complete transformation. Now she really was interested in what he'd been up to. He'd left the army sometime after Richter had gone missing. Only to turn up here? There had to be some kind of story buried there.
There wasn't time to ask now though. They needed to wrap this up, and get off the field. Hopefully, he wouldn't disappear so quickly this time....
She saw the focus in the Nabatan's eyes shift. Something was wrong. Senses other than sight and hearing came alive and she could feel the danger coming for her like an arrow to the mark. Not an easy mark though. The Falcoknight twisted, and threw herself to the side, bringing the lance around to clothesline whatever was behind her, but not before feeling angry steel knifing into her side. She felt her feet leave the ground as she leapt away. Felt the lance whipping through the air as she spun. Saw it arcing around as her hands contracted in sudden shock and pain. Every inch of the blade tearing through her flesh was like an icy lance reaching for her heart, ripping apart the black armor she'd worn for the tournament. The very air around her seemed to be exploding with force as she hit the ground, and felt her weapon grip loosen.
"Gaah!" She was still up on her elbows when she'd stopped, failing to catch herself on her feet. Her eyes were showing her spots, and making it difficult to see what was going on, but after a moment, the adrenaline did its work, and she looked up, spotting the emerald wraith who'd made the attack. She zeroed in on the attacker, but had to work on focusing herself before she could try to identify. Right then, she was more concerned with making sure she didn't end up dead.
She reached up with her right arm and pulled the blade sheathed from behind her shoulder out of its sheath. It dragged a hiss of pain from her lips with it though as she felt the tear in her side and realized she'd been lucky not to have been pierced through the heart. She was lucky to be able to move in even the shaky state she had now.
- - - - -
Delia stood at the top of the arena, arms crossed under her breastplate, watching the goings on down in the stands.... She may have gotten distracted by the combatants occasionally..... Alright! So she ended up watching most every fight. She wasn't the only one up here though. A couple of the squires were posted up here watching the stands as well. And there were three watching the streets outside last she checked. They were eager to prove their devotion and talent! She was just giving them a chance to! At least she thought that was what she was doing.
Clair's second match came. It really hadn't been that impressive, according to the fiery orange haired pegasus knight's opinion. Brief clashes, which were boring to watch from up here. The acrobatics and all that fancy crap from the first round had been lacking. This had been a completely different matchup of course, but it still didn't excuse the shoddy show her Commander had put on.
But then there was that figure rushing out onto the field. What was-
[yellow]"A...a..."[/yellow] For a moment, she could only stand and gape at the scene playing out before her, voice lodging itself in her throat. The she pulled herself together, and yelled for the other's attention. [yellow]"Damn bloody backstabbers! Hey! Mount up! Commander's under attack!"[/yellow]
Delia turned around and pulled herself aboard Sarna. The somewhat startled pegasus didn't respond quite as smoothly as the scarred pegasus knight had hoped, but she began to get the idea as they ran to the edge of the stadium wall and dropped, wings snapping open as Delia began directing herself into a course to bring her down to the arena floor.
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Isabel
Shaman
It's been far too long since I last flexed my magical muscles!
Posts: 233
Profession: Witch for Hire
Affiliation: N/A
Affinity: Fire
OoC Alias: Izzy
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Post by Isabel on Nov 22, 2012 23:31:58 GMT -6
"Could have waited for me..." Isabel muttered, sitting amongst the crowd of people. Despite her size and build, she managed to stand out fairly well in the mass of people, if only because there wasn't a single person, at least not near her, who was only wearing blue and had a black cat laying on their lap. Of course Jya and Lyrt had made it here way before them. Of course they hadn't waited for her. Ugh. So now here she was, sitting up in the stands, all on her lonesome, watching some idiots fighting. It was kind of interesting, given that no one down there was using anything magical, but, honestly... It was a shame that most everyone here in these stands would only ever take part in combat like this. After having been in the middle (or towards the sidelines) of real battles, this was almost boring.
And then Jya was down there, trying to stab the woman fighter. The male pulled an emerald blade off his back, and yelled something out (a warning? And that voice was familiar, even from back here...). The woman twisted, got stabbed in the side, and had a blade in her own hand. Well, there was Jya, at any rate, squaring off against two opponents; not good. The emerald-garbed lady depended on stealth to do her job, so being forced into combat against two at least decently skilled combatants with little-to-no backup was a fight Jya would probably be incapable of winning. She could have waited until tonight, killed the woman in her sleep or in the mass of people after this tournament was over, but no. Jya just had to go down there, in front of a huge number of people, and try to finish this in the most theatrical, retarded way possible. Why were all of Izzy's friends morons...?
"Well, let us see if I can't do anything to help, hmm?" Isabel smiled grimly, talking softly to Solomon as she reached back into her satchel, laying her hand onto the cover of the worn Flux tome... And then thought again. No, not even Luna would be able to reach down there... Goddammit, Jya. If Isabel was going to be any help to her assassin buddy, she'd have to be down there in practically the first row of seats... If not down there with her! So now she was stuck up here, with a useless cat, unable to assist her friend, who was most likely going to get mowed down by a wounded woman and the man she had just been dueling... And, oh, great. Pegasus knights were dive-bombing the arena.
Isabel stood, Solomon falling to the ground in front of her feet and staring at her indignantly, but the shaman was already moving. No, no, this was going from bad to worse. She knew she had seen the male swordsman before... She pushed a few people aside, trying to get down closer to the arena. This was bad, bad, sooooooo bad... As she walked, she clenched her hands into fists, a few tendrils of Flux flickering in and out of existence, draining some of the heat out of the air around her and causing her skin to become even more pale than it already was, giving her a tired, determined, and extremely nervous look, all at once, as she descended towards the edge of the arena, one annoyed cat following her.
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Post by Richter Abend on Nov 23, 2012 3:03:33 GMT -6
"CLAIR!"
With a single, great leap, Richter bounded over the barrier that separated the fighters on the sidelines from the fighters in the arena. His feet hit the tournament sands with a crunch, and with not a moment to spare, he began running towards his injured pegasus rider. Keeping a low profile was out of the question now. This green cloaked figure...it was obviously an assassin, but who!?
A million thoughts ran through Richter's head, a cacophony of rapid-fire questions going mostly unanswered. Who was this person? Why were they here? To kill Clair of course, but who had hired them? The rebellion? The Prophet? Had anyone hired them? Was this an act of revenge for some slight all but forgotten? Did this mean his cover was blown? Were they now under greater threat? What about the men? The ones with Captain Saint were probably alright, but what of the ones guarding the caravan?
Oh, and the most important one... was Clair alright!?
"Clair!" Richter shouted once again, wrenching his ebony zweihander from the sheath on his back and swinging it above his head. The sword's foul, black blade gave off only a dull sheen even in the brilliant sunlight of the afternoon, while the golden runes etched into its fuller began to glow a dark purple, flaring up with Richter's every urgent step. His vision narrowed in on Clair and the would-be assassin, blocking out all else. He cared not for the masked swordsman, nor the pegasus riders descending upon them. He would kill this emerald wraith. He would cut their head from their shoulders, sever their every limb, and rip the very essence of their life from their cold, dead frame.
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High atop the wooden parapets of the arena walls, a cadre of Bernese wyvern riders, assigned to watch over the tournament from on high, looked on as the situation below them quickly devolved into chaos. Like sentinels, the winged beasts stared down upon the unfolding events, but unspurred by their masters, they remained still, waiting, like gargoyles atop a wooden cathedral dedicated to the gods of battle.
"Sir," came a voice from one of the riders, turning to a man standing behind him. "The assassin has successful struck the target, but from here, I cannot tell if the wound is fatal. However, the unknown has begun charging towards the scene, shouting the target's name and all but confirming himself as the Winter Lion. As well, pegasus knights, the ones commanded by the target, are now also descending. What are your orders?"
There was a pause as the superior wyvern rider strode out in front to examine the situation himself.
"Wait," he said coolly, his hands held behind his back. "Let them expose themselves to the crowd. We could use a little chaos before we do anything else."
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Synkkis Kyyneltya
Shaman
"Strange... I had no brace for the aberrant nature of this power."
Posts: 170
Profession: Mercenary Tactician
Affinity: Dark
Profile: Synkkis
OoC Alias: Cyril/Lucien/Landrik/Freya
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Post by Synkkis Kyyneltya on Nov 23, 2012 10:43:54 GMT -6
Not having paid much attention to this match, Synkkis stood outside of the arena proper. He had not long ago lit a pipe of his and was appreciating a break from the non-stop roars of the crowd. However, the pace changed from good sport to something different. Had one of the contestants lost their heads? He then saw one of the Ilian regulars above him jump off into the arena.
If soldiers were concerned, it must be rebellion.
The Ilian himself reached into his satchel, holding onto his flux tome he'd rather not use. He'd gone far without using it, but things may change. He was expecting Bernese militiamen to storm the steps of the arena at any moment. "Verdammt Bern, not a moment of rest fer me?" He muttered to himself as his eyes paced back and forth.
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Wyatt
Hero
The Volcano
How can someone win if winning means that someone loses?
Posts: 463
Etruria Fame: 2
Sacae Fame: -1
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Post by Wyatt on Nov 23, 2012 11:04:33 GMT -6
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