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 Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 4:51 pm
Story Summaries- As we begin, we find ourselves following a young man by the name of Vence Elserain. He roams about in the capital city of Dealteah, after travelling a long way from his hometown, Sreael. He is here for the annual tournament, held every year in late August. He is new to the competition, and is unsure of his skills. All he can do is hope he can pass the qualifying round; a series of obstacle courses designed specifically to wear you down, to test your physical and mental endurance. He doesn't want to disapoint anyone, especially when he knows some of his friends and family will be in the crowd, watching... - Vence has now won the tournament, with an outstanding victory. Vence is slight puzzled about the strange dreams he's had, and of how he won, and how the man with no name was able to use superhuman abilities, but he won, and Vence is pleased with himself, now having proven his abilities. He has met with King Marc II, and discovored they both were similar to each other. The king, having seen the match, praises Vence in saying he could be as good the famed heroes of old, before the named "Hell's Fury" came about, a war that had torn apart the world to it's very core. Vence, in the back of his mind, wonders about this, for it seems that he does possess some extraordiary talents. What is in store for our young Elserain, as he prepares to head home soon? Each post will be a chapter. Be aware, each will be fairly long. Feel free to leave comments and give out critiques, whether good or bad. Characters      King Marc II - A middle aged man. He may be rich, and sometimes he will look that way. sometimes meaning he generally doesn't show himself off. Often you will see him strolling on the streets, if you look carefully; he disguises himself so as to avoid large crowds. Vence Elserain - A young man of 16 competing in the Tournament of Arms. He is also the main character in this story. He lives in the small town of Sreael, not far from the capital; where he is now. Jaryd Elserain - Vence's father. His occupation is a blacksmith, and he is a well known, well respected one. He taught Vence most of his techniques, passed down through the generations. Alysia Beneth - Vence's girlfriend. She's a quiet type, tending not to speak unless pointing something out, or feeling the need to. Everyone says the two make a cute couple. wink Theil Relfos - Vence's best friend, whom he likes to correct in his speech. Theil tends to be quite humerous at times, no mater what he says. He learned how to use a scythe as his primary weapon, and is very efficient with it. Deandric Beneth - The father of Alysia and a widower. He is always off somewhere, though many times he wishes only to be back home. he is part pf an organization which which keeps Seschyediah in peace, or attempts to..   Princess Ahryana - The daughter of King Marc II, she , unlike her father, is quite refined, elegant, and somewhat snotty. If she's ever seen in public at all, she likes to show herself off. If you're lucky, she may be kind to you. Prince Jhaszper - Rarely ever home, he is often hiding somewhere in some dark land, though why is a mystery. The young man himself is a mystery, for he is a man of few words. His looks often appear to others as...creepy.
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 6:43 pm
CHAPTER ONE BEST OF LUCK A chill wind blows through the capital city of Dealteah, as the turmoil on the crowded streets shifts, like swirling water. It is early in the morning, the time not reaching 8:00, yet bustling activity is unavoidable. Today, starting at noon, the beginning of a tournament will take place. This is no ordinary tournament that you hear of everyday at some local town's sandlot or open field; not at all, for the king of Medeancore himself will be seated in the stands. Hundreds of men and few women, young and old, will be signing up and competing in this competition. The winner of this competition will be granted a trophy, a hefty sum of money, and even the honor of dining with the king and his family. Vence Elserain pushes his way through the crowd, a large broadsword strapped to his back, and a smaller, but no less grand, hand-and-a-half sword, sheathed in a leather covering. He is not very old, in fact quite young, at the age of 16. His dark brown hair, just reaching his shoulders, masked the sides of his face and concealed the back of his neck, but did nothing to hide the scar that stretched from his left brow to his right cheek. He wore a thin, black longsleeve shirt, slightly baggy pants, with boots just reaching his knees. He wore his great grandfather's armor, colored a brownish green, signifying his ancestor had participated in the rebellion, overthrowing a corrupt king; the hand-and-a-half sword by his side was also his great grandfather's. Overall, his appearance was somewhat surprising, so that he only had to push his way through the crowd somewhat; who would deny that right to a competitor in the tournament? Within a period of an hour or so, he finally arrived to the city's center, where a large rectangular platform was being raised, and the stands were already almost finished. He smiled, knowing he was going to be on that platform within a few hours, recieving a blessing of good luck from the king himself. Clearing his mind of daydreaming - for daydream he nearly did - he walked over to a group of men, also bearing weapons and armor. Here was where he would sign up to enter the tournament. He nodded his head in greeting as a few turned to look upon him, and in turn they nodded in return, returning to their previous position, waiting for their turn. He gave a small smile; he knew someone at one point would stalk off, annoyed at the long waiting line. He allowed himself to let his mind wander, letting the time drift by. Sure enough, the man in front shifted uneasily, and finally stalked off, and Vence stepped forward, taking his place, smiling. He had learned his patience long ago, when he was first beginning his apprenticeship of a smith. It took a great deal of time to do anything, if you wanted your work perfect. Another hour passed, the sun beginning to near it's peak, when he finally stepped forward. He glanced behind him, realizing now he was one of the last in line. "Name, please?" the man asked. He looked like he had been drunk the night before, and he knew he was; the smell of alcohol was heavy around him. "Vence Elserain," Vence replied, his voice betraying his age. "Age?" "Sixteen." The man looked up, his ink quill stopping. "I am allowed to enter at my age, correct? Stop staring like I have a bill and hurry it up; there are others waiting," he said calmly, pointing a thumb behind him. The man grunted and continued to write. A few minutes later, and Vence stepped out of the line, a small piece of parchment in his hand, proving he was in the tournament. By now the platform was raised, the competitiors now lined in three rows, waiting for the beginning. He took his place at the end, in the first row. He watched as the crowd filed into the stands, the buzz of talk resonating in the air. His attention was caught by a boy, looking his own age, waving at him. beside him, a girl, also looking his age, and four others that he knew. He smiled and waved back. His family, his best friend and his girlfriend. Her father was nowhere to be found, but that was not uncommon to know; her father was often too busy, and that wasn't an excuse. A silence crept into the crowd, and Vence knew the time was nigh. He stood straight, not letting his posture show his relaxed state of mind. A man stepped forward; somewhat fat, but not overweight. Alongside him strode a man, taller, lean, and proud, but dressed only semi-formally, was the King. He was not too young, but nor was he old. The way he held himself proved experience, but he was relaxed, and he even saw a small smile on his unworn face. He let his gaze glide by every competititor, pausing on only a certain few. Vence was one such, but he did not waver as the others did to a degree. The king gave a barely noticable nod to him, and continued his inspection. "Ladies and gentleman," the fatter man boomed, "I am proud to announce to you the 127th annual Tournament of Arms!" Before he even finished his sentence, the crowd erupted in applause and shouts of exitement. It lasted for several minutes before calming once more, and the man continued. "Each man competing - yes, we have no women this year - will test themselves and push themselves to the limit, as they struggle to compete for the ultimate title...the Tournament of Arms champion! Who will conquer the challanges that lay in wait, and who will fall short of the glory? We can only wait and see. Before we begin, however, we must first honor our competitors with allowing our king, as he has done many times before, to bless them, wishing them only the best of luck! The man stepped back, and the king stepped forward. It occured to him that he might need to know his name, and he suddenly almost panicked. He did not show it, though, as he wricked his brains for his name. Marc. King Marc II. Vence smiled inwardly at his quick thinking. It had been a long time sinse he had used the name. "fellow citizens and competitors, I honor you for your courage in joining this competition." Vence was surprised at the tone of which he spoke. He was not loud, nor was he soft-spoken, and he spoke with reverance; he meant what he said, in honoring them. "As Yuthlin said before me, you will be faced with many challanges, the first being the qualifying round. In this round, you will be pushed to your limits, buth physically and mentally. You will not die, but if you make a mistake, it could prove deadly. I have warned you, and I wish you the best of luck." He gave a small smile to them all, and he turned and walked toward one of the stands, where a seat was reserved for him, as well as the rest of the emmediate royal family. "Now, the moment you have all been waiting for, let the tournament begin!"
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 9:32 am
[looking great so far smile Very enjoyable to read - it's well written. I love the bits of detail that really help set teh scene and characters. keep on going biggrin ]
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 12:27 pm
[Thank you, DT, I appreciate the encouragement. And now, for chapter two!] CHAPTER TWO QUALIFICATION As the applause and cheers from the crowd drained all other sound, he watched as the man motioned for them to leave the platform. The obstacle course was obviously going to be here, so they needed room to set it up. He supposed it made more sense to leave the competitors baffled as to what they were to expect. He followed behind, arriving to a large building, it's soul purpose to accomodate several hundred people. It was perfect for them, for they would no doubt be standing there as, one by one, they would be called forward to run the obstacle course. The building itself outside was plain looking, with no apparent means to attract attention. However, the inside was filled with asthetic design, beautifully built. Several pillars held up the roof, in which intricate carvings, both engraved and embossed, of various objects and people decorated them, all the way to the ceiling. The ceiling was painted with a mural, which depicted with great detail the six gods and goddesses, each weilding his or her element. It amazed him that people could try to depict those who could not be seen; the six were only depicted as seen through the eyes of men. Did it occur to people that maybe they were not human? He glanced around the rest of the room; the stained glass windows depicting events in history, tapastries of famous men and women, and statues of the same. In all, it looked to be a grand hall of a palace, yet it was not so. A name was called out from the large arched doorway, and he saw a man shuffle toward it; a pair of kris in his hands, and he noticed a second pair in his boots. Once gone, the doors shut, and the rest of them were left to wait. Everyone chatted with another, trying to pass by the time and calm themselves, but to no avail. For Vence, no one seemed to want to talk to him, nor did he wish to. In his mind, he went over all the tactics he had learned, and the training he had gone through. His girlfriend's father had barely enough time to teach him a few mthods to use, and he had take full advantage of the tips. Looking back, he was in much better shape, both in body and mind, than he had been 3 weeks ago. As the "grand hall" began to grow empty, he began to grow nervous. Was he ready for this? What was he to expect? What would happen if he failed? It wasn't fatal, but one mistake meant- "Vence Elserain?" His name was called. Vence stood up, for he had sat down what seemed as hours ago, and strode confidently over to the door. Whatever his doubts, he was not going to let himself appear to be a coward. The announcer stood by the door, and let him pass. Closing the door, he walked beside him, escorting him to the platform. Vence's eyes widened when he saw the course; he was not expecting this at all. It was a challange to even get in, a flat wall surrounding the entire arena. A quick solution crept into his mind, but that didnt help him for others. A rock wall, one piece going almost upside down, without a harness; a steep slide on the other end of it. A series of ropes crept across a gap in the ground. A small, but long, hall with wooden pendulums swinging to and fro; apparently he had to run through that, which required very good timing. Those were just the main points. One was a puzzle, that had to be solved in a certain ammount of time. Vence walked toward the steps, only now realizing that without that training, he would have failed on the spot. "Good luck," the man said, and he walked away. Vence was left to stand there, staring at the high wooden wall. He drew both blades, twirled both around in his hands, and waited. He did not hear the announcement made, but he heard the whistle, and he charged forward. Reaching the wall, he charged up it a quarter of the way, before planting both swords into the wall. he was left gripping onto his swords. Vence let go of his hand-and-a-half sword, and pushed himself so that he stood lightly on his broadsword. taking the other sword, he pulled it out and began to climb up. Within a few minutes he had reached the top, and he jumped down. He realized now the first obstacle was the runway, the pendulums swinging at different intervals. There was no apparent pattern, and he decided the best way was to simply charge through. grinning, he ran for it. Despite being weighed down slightly, Vence was still fast, and he dodged 5 of them before raising his broadsword, smashing through one in the way. He could here a gasp from the crown, abviously surprised at his sudden lash. He ignored them, and pressed on. He dodged a few more, then smashed another. It was not wrong; there were no rules saying he couldn't smash anything. Within 4 minutes, he had passed through. Now he stood before a tunnel that swerved around. It was pitch black, how could he be expected to see? All the same, he placed his hand on the far wall, and walked into it. It was as if the sun had been destroyed. The light from outside ended abrubtly, so that no light penetrated. Still, something did not feel right. He felt a small breeze rush by his ear, and out of instict, ducked. In that instant, a wooden axe flew by, horizontally, where his head had been. Vence smiled. This reqired quick thinking and excellent hearing. He charged through this time, knowing exactly where he was going. he dcked several times, avoiding more flying objects barely. Just before leaving, he jumped instead of ducked, avoiding sudden spikes, and roled safely out of the gapping hole. He heard the crowd erupt in cheers and aplause. Apparently not many made it through. He sheathed oe sword, placed the other on his back, before jumping up onto the rock wall. He climbed up with a decent amount of speed, using his legs to push himself, rather than his arms. When he reached halfway, the part he dreaded was above him: horizontal obstacle. Vence grabbed one of the slots, then another, keeping his feet on the wall. he reached for another slot, farther out, and then his other hand. He was almost horizontal with the wall now, and he allowed himself to slip, his feet dangling. The rest was difficult. he was on the end, but the hard part was searching blindly for a slot above. His strength was beginning to deminish, as he finally grabbed on, and forced himself up. A small platform lay in from of him, and he gladly took advantage of it, sitting down to recover for a few minutes. He resumed climbing as soon as he felt strength, and reached the top with no more trouble. It had taken him several minutes to reach the top, and he gladly took a sip of water from the small glass there. A steep decline was before him now, and at the base of it, a pit deep enough so that he would not be able to get out. He would have to leap during mid-slide. He sat down and pushed himself, but instead of sliding, he pushed himself up so that he RAN down. As his speed increased, he began to stumble slightly, but he refused to stop. The ground came up faster and faster, as did his failure. he jumped, still falling, and when he feet hit the slide, his knees bent, ad for a moment, he stopped. He took that chance, and pushe himself with all his strength availabe, and watched as the slide fell away, as did the pit. He crumpled himself into a ball, and rolled several times when he hit the ground, reducing the force. He stood up slightly dizzy, and looked his next task. The ground had somehow been removed, so that a pit deeper than the last lay before him. From one end to the other, ropes hung on a larger rope, extending from one pole to another. He was going to have to swing across. Taking a deep breath, Vence ran toward the first rope; if he was to pass this, he needed enough momentum to swing across all the ropes nonstop. The first rope was out a few feet, and Vence jumped, easily catching it. The rope swung, and Vence grabbed the second rope with his free hand, and let go of the other. He used the same process everytime; one hand holding the rope, the other hand free to grab the next. Thankfully, he reached the other end with no problems, and breathed a sigh of relief. The last challange was before him. Unlike all the rest, it was a puzzle, requiring his mental strength to take part only. A small pillar, with a riddle inscribed in the rock. This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steal;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down. Below it, a small line was embossed; apparently, he was to write his answer above it, but how would that help? Before he could consider it, a small plank from the wall opened, and a man walked in smiling. "You do know you are the first to reach thus far? You needed to only pass the rock wall to pass, but for you to have come this far proves your worth. However, to truly prove your skills, you must answer the riddle. Do you know the answer?" Vence simply stared at the man. A few seconds later he glanced back at the riddle, rereading it. Damn, he thought, I've never been good at riddles. I never really took the time to...wait a minute. A smile crept onto his face, realizing how he had stumbled upon the answer by sheer luck. He looked up at the man, now straight, and said loud enough for the crowd to barely hear, "I do. Is it Time?" The man nodded, his smile widening. "You have indeed proven your true worth. Follow me, so that you may be the first to walk through the final door." He turned and walked toward the opening. Vence smiled breathing another sigh of relief, and followed. The second he stepped out the door, the crowd went wild. He even saw the king stand and applause, actually laughing. He looked through the crowd, and found his friends and family doing the same. He smiled, realizing only now that he had done what few ever managed to do. His arms and legs ached, and his head throbbed slightly from the sun, but he did not care.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 8:58 pm
CHAPTER THREE
TOURNAMENT OF ARMS Vence was guided off the grounds, and entered another room, equally as grand as the waiting room. Here, those who had passed the qualifying rounds sat and chatted about their experience. There were far less than Vence expected to see. "- and so I was trying to think, "how am I going to avoid the pit?" Of course, it was only too obvious I'd have to jump somehow, but when I tried, I just ended up rolling headfirst into the pit! So, how could anyone pass that?" The man laughed, and others who were listening joined in. He was a older man, looking to be in his twenties, and was very muscular. He didn't look to be too smart, though. "I passed it. It was a simple matter of physics." Everyone turned to face him, the man telling his story almost glaring at him. "Instead of sliding down, I ran down. after three quarters of the way, I jumped. I was still falling down, but when I hid the slide again, seeing as it sloped, gravity forced me to crunch into ball, and stopped me for a second. In that second, before I could roll, I pushed myself off as hard as I could. I curled up into a ball again, and rolled as I landed. Simple as that." Before anything more could be said, he walked away, and an argument exploded behind him. Rolling his eyes, Vence walked over to the window, where a fountain spurted water nearby. After taking a few sips, the water refreshing his dry throat, he watched from the window as one of the competitors fell from the rock wall. He cringed, knowing that that had probably hurt a lot. He was lucky if he didn't break his back. His attention was caught by a group of people heading towards him, or rather, the building. Smiling, he strode quickly over to the entrance and opened the door. "How did I look out there?" Vence asked Theil, his best friend. He was taller by about an inch or so, with red, short hair and tanned skin. His eyes were a vivid green, and he wore baggy pants and a shirt one size too small. "Ya kiddin' me? Ya look'd like freakin' Eshpur h'mself, stand'n on top o' that rock wall! Ya got guts t'make it that far, Vence!" "The depicted Eshpur, you mean?" Vence corrected, smirking. he always liked to correct Theil's grammer, in one way or another. It was sort of a game they played. "Yeah, whatever. Are we allowed to come in or not?" he asked, pointing behind him, indicating his family and girlfriend. His father was a smith, and looked like a larger Vence, while his mother was shorter, blonde hair that reached her elbows, and blue eyes that matched his own. She looked almost frail, but he knew better from experience. Beside her, Alysia stood there, smiling. She had long, brown hair, also reaching midpoint down her back, and blue grey eyes. She was about the same height as he was, slightly shorter, with paler skin than anyone else there. He smiled at them all before nodding and beckoned them in. "I think you're exadurating, Theil, What of everyone else?" He asked, staring at the rest. "You did better than I could've done, son," Vence's father, Jaryd, said. "I agree with your father, you were outstanding," Vences mother replied, Ema. "You were amazing the entire way," Alysia said, somewhat softly. "Yeah, but we got nerv's when ya took awhile in that t'nnel. Seriously, what took ya so long?" Vence did not hold back telling him his tale. He could tell others were listening, but he didn't care. He didn't exadurate either; there was no need to. When he finished, Alysia gave a quiet "wow," While Theil went all off on how it looked from the stands. "I'm tell'n ya, y'all look'd great out there, but ya look'd the best." Everyone had to nod in agreement, and Vence did his best to hold in a laugh at Theil's bad grammar. Theil and his grammar, Vence and his broadsword. They were an odd couple for a friendship, but a friendship it remained. For the next hour or so, They talked on, untill everyone had passed through the qualifying rounds. The announcer came over and asked for them to leave, and Vence bade them farewell at the door, before they cllosed and the announcer spoke up. "Now, I know everyone is probably tired still from the course, but it's not over yet! I counted an even amount of people, thirty-two, in fact, so I have a basket here, with thirty-two pieces of parchment. Each has a number, from one to sixteen, so that there are two of each number. I will have each of you draw one number. After you have all drawn a number, you will find the matching number, and that person you will duel with, whether today or tommorow; it depends on how fast these matches are won. So, I want each of you to line up-" Vence got into line as the man instructed, and followed as everyone moved up, step by step. When it was his turn, he piched his number, without even looking, and walked off. He leaned on a pillar as he finally glanced at his number. Sixteen. Great, so I'm dueling last. Well, it gives everyone a grand finale, seeing as I'm the only one to get through the entire obstacle course.He began to meander through the crowd, searching for the other sixteen. His oponent, he found, was the first man he saw leave to go through the course. He was twirling around a kris in one hand, holding his number in another. "So you're my opponent." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He glanced at him, a quick look up and down, before focusing back on his kris. "You look like a decent kid." "Thanks," Vence replied. He was about to go on, but was stopped short as the first group was called out. The next few hours consisted of some chatting, some listening, but most of all, waiting. The first match started at exactly 4:00 pm, so by the time 7:30 arrived, when the matches would be halted for continuation the next day, all but four matches remained, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen. The announcer once more came up to the last eight of them. "Now, you guys will all be released now, but you need to be back here tommorow at ten o' clock sharp, you got that? Alright, now beat it," he said, waving them away. They all split off, and Vence walked along the streets, searching for the inn that had been selected for him to met up with everyone. "The Phoenix's tears" was it's name; a rather famous inn in these parts, and it was good for food and bedding alike. After asking for directions several times, he arrived at the inn. When he walked in, he was greeted with hearty laughs, a buzz of talking, songs and instuments, and the sounds of silverware on plates. He heard his name called, amidst all the noise, and quickly spotted everyone. "I had a little trouble getting here, but, here I am," he said smiling, as he took a seat next to Alysia. "I'll be dishing it out tommorow, there's only eight of us left." "Be careful then, Vence. You don't know what you're dealing with," Vence's father said. "I actually have an idea. he holds two pairs of kris, so he'll be fast, and probably somewhat acrobatic, but not very strong. As long as I can keep my distance, and wear him out, occasionally going in at close combat, I can beat him easily." "So y'know yer stuff then? Pretty nifty, But ya still gotta keep an eye on 'im. Y'don't know how good 'e is." "Exactly. Vigilence plays a key role in this too. It's the main reason I'll be keeping my distance half the time: if he makes a move, I'll have time to react." "It sounds ok to me," Vence's mother said. A hint of concern crept into her voice, but he paid no mind to it. After all, mothers were supposed to be concerned 24/7 about their children. "I agree, it sounds good, but be careful, all the same," Alysia finally added. "Ok, ok, I get it," Vence said. "It's getting late, so we might as well order up now, then we can hit the sack." And that's exactly what they did. Within the hour, Vence lay in one of the inn's beds, thinking about what tommorow would bring... *** Vence was standing at the inn door, ready before anyone else was even out of bed. He was asking the innkeeper for directions to the waiting hall from yesterday; the quickest way to get there, unlike yesterday where he went around in circles tryibg to find the inn. Thanking the man, he tossed him an Ikle(for that is the currency) as a tip and walked away, reciting in his mind the directions. When he reached his destination, he was a half and hour early. He would have been here even earlier, but he had stopped to inspect some items on sale and grab a small breakfast. Vence gave himself a mental note on going back to see those items again, particularly that book in read leather. It had strange runes on it; no doubt it was expensive, but he wouldnt mind glancing through the pages if he was allowed. ten minutes passed before anyone else arrived. If fact, everyone at once came. Though Vence did not know it, they had all agreed to stay at another inn. This didn't concern Vence, however, and he continued to wait for the announcer man....Yuthlin, if he remembered correctly. The morning chill began to ebb away, replaced by humid air that gradually grew warmer. The frost on the ground disappeared, but now the ground was wet. It was only nearing ten, like Yuthlin said to be there, but already he and the others were beginning to sweat. Vence knew it was going to rain at some point today, probably in the afternoon. "Ah, so you are all here! Excellent! I suppose you don't want to stand out here all day, in this sudden odd bit of weather." The announcer skuttled over, unlocking the doors, and pushed them open, cool air greeting them as they entered silently. "Much better, ay? Stop staring with blank faces, for Owrphos' sake, and at least give a grin. You're not marching to your deaths." Vence actually did smile at the comment, knowing that some probably felt like that. Two others smiled as well, while one even went so far as to give a small laugh. The rest did nothing. "Well, at least the air's brightened a little bit. Now, the last of you will be competing today, from thirteen to sixteen. That will begin in less than an hour, the first competition at eleven o' clock. Make yourself comfortable, practice some forms, tell some jokes, whetever. I have to se to the raisinf of the platform and stands again, so I'll see you in a while. Good luck to you all." And with that said, he left, leaving all eight of them staring around. For the next 45 minutes, Vence and the rest did practically nothing. They did not want to waste their energy, whether by talking or walking, so they all simply sat at the door in their designated pairs and waited. Vence sat apart from his opponent, however, and instead of sitting down, he laid flat on his back. He was not wasting energy trying to remain in a seated position. The doors opened once more, and Yuthlin stepped in. "Pair thirteen...everyone's waiting." He stepped aside to allow the two competitors to pass by, then shut the door. "It begins," Vence said quietly. He saw his opponent nod in agreement. "Let's hope we're all ready." fifteen minutes passed before pair fourteen was called. Ten minutes later, pair fifteen was called. He was next and last. Vence glaced at the man only five feet away. He was much like him, he could tell; nervous, but relaxed. He was going to be a tough opponent. A sudden thought came to Vence. "You know, It just occured to me I don't even know your name. Mine's Vence, if you didn't know." The man turned to look at him. The door opened once more, just as he said his name. "My name...is Altan." "Well boys, it looks like you're last. Make it worthwhile, I might add. Come on." Vence and Altan stood up, and followed Yuthlin as he guided them back to the arena. Just like yesterday, it was a raised platform in the center of the city square, and the stands erected around the entire thing. The announcer turned to face the two of them. "Now, there are two entrances here, so, one of you will enter on one side, when I call your name, and the other one of you will come out on the other side. You will stand at the center and cross blades, then go and stand at either quarter-point. A whistle will sound signifying the match has started. At that point you can do whatever the hell you want, just don't kill each other; we've had enough people in critical condition as it is, alright? Good luck then, the both of you." He turned and left. "I'll stay here," Altan said monotonous. He had a serious look on him; he had no intention of losing. Neither did Vence when he nodded and began to walk. As he arrived to his end, he heard Altan's name called out, and then the crowd cheer. A short description proceeded. Altan had gotten so far as the ropes, but had lost his grip halfway, and had fallen. Still, he had gotten far enough to pass, so here he was, waiting to do combat with the only one to pass the entire course. Vence strode onto the platform as his name was called, and the crowd erupted in even greater noise than before. He stopped at the center, five feet from where Altan stood. "Vence Elserain is his full name, and at this point he has shown remarkable talant; the first and only to pass the entire course this year. New to the circut, he is sure to go far, unless he slips here. Can he defeat his opponent? He's only 16, after all, so who knows what skills he possesses?" "Get on with it already, I'm not a god," he muttered. "Honestly, he does like to talk," Altan nodded his head in agreement. "Now, the moment you have all been waiting for, the last match of round one, will begin shortly. Cross blades, competitors, and take your places." Vence drew his broadsword, and held it at a fourt-five degree angle in front of him, with one hand. Altan took a pair of kris and placed both in an "x" on the edge in the center. The position held for a few seconds before both turned and walked to the "quarter-point," Which Vence now realized he ment between the end and center of the raised platform. Now that the competitors have taken their places, the match will begin...NOW!" At that, a whistle was blown, and the match began. No one moved. Both Vence and Altan remained in position. The crowd was dead quiet. Vence ignored everything, and focused only on what was at hand. He took a step forward, and Altan did the same. He stepped to the left, still facing his opponent, and he did the same. Then the circling began, as te two slowly began to close in on each other. Several minutes passed, and still neither of them had made any attempt to strike the other. The tention was building, yet Vence still remained calm. He decided now was the time to strike. It was conveniant for him, luckily, because they had by now become close together. He was easily within his broadsword's range. With a flurry of movement, he thrust his broadsword out with one hand, and drew his hand-and-a-half sword with his other. Altan was forced to jump back, drawing out a knife and throwing it as he did so. Grinning, Vence knocked it away, than ran straight toward Altan, spinning both swords expertly. Altan drew his first pair kris, this time not moving. Vence strck, and Altan blocked, but was not quick enough to escape the second blade, as it flew up and cut a deep wound in his side. Vence jumped back, in case Altan decided to counterstrike, but no action was made; he simply was there, his knees on the ground as he had fallen in pain. In the crowd, a low buzz floated around. Several minutes passed, and Altan still made no move, with the exception of his chest rising and falling, signifying he was still alive. Vence took a step forward...and jumped to the side, dadging a single kris. He was forced to duck, dodging a single kris a second time. Altan was was standing now, and drawing a second pair. He was in no condition to fight, but he pressed on. "Only a fool goes on without hope," Vence said, cautious of the situation. "Only a fool gives up when a chance remains," was the reply. He sounded out of breath, and his voice was feint and tired. He looked up, his face showing no sign of pain. Vence was impressed, but not frightened, as he expected that was what Altan wanted him to be. "A chance that grows slimmer by the second. Forfeit, and get treated. You're dying, if you didn't realize that, and I don't want to kill you. Too many casualties, as the announcer said." "Then I might as well be the last one!" He lept forward, intending to grab Vence, and probably stab him to death. Vence sidestepped him, then hit him in the head with the hilt of the hand-and-a-half sword. The man crumpled and fell to the groud, unconcious. Silence ensued, then the announcer came on. "I think...Vence has won the match! A surprising way to end the match, but it was all for the better, no doubt-" The rest was lost in the cheers of the crowd. Once more, Vence had demonstrated his skill. Vence knelt down beside Altan, feeling his pulse. It was there, but fading. He looked up to see some peramedics coming onto the platform. He beckoned them over, and quickly helped them get him on the stretcher. As they left, the crowd finally died down, and the announcer resumed to speak. "Now, this match concludes round one of the Tournament of Arms. One day will be given to the remaining competitors to rest, before returning here to compete once more! Thank you all, and have an enjoyable rest of the day!" Vence walked off the stage at the same time he finished his speach, giving him time to get out of the way before everyone came spilling out. Even when he saw his friends and family, he stayed hidden. After the crowd dispersed, he hurried back to the inn.
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2008 8:31 pm
CHAPTER FOUR
A SECOND ROUND The Phoenixs' Tears Was packed and cheerful, as usual. But rather than dining, like most were now, he ascended the stairs to his room, where they had all planned to meet. Even when he had arrived here early, that had been the only room availabe, and he had been lucky to get it. Some people had left, which made all his "fans" lucky as well. In total, 3 rooms seperated them all: Vence's room, his parents' room, and his friends' room. They had all planned on meeting his his room, which was the last room on the left. The door opened before he even reached the room, and Alysia came out, apparently to check if he was there yet. Seeing that he was, she smiled and beckoned him in. His room, which had before been quite plain - no decorations or paintings, nor many items like books or clothing even - was now transformed into a room worthy of holding a party. Somehow they had gotten in and fixed it up when he had been avoiding the crowd. Vence couldn't help but to smile. Round one completed, and already a party was being held for him. Was it going to be this way everytime? Well, if there was an anytime. "Congrats, Vence! Ya got ya first vict'ry!" Theil was the first to prase him. The rest followed suit. Surprisingly, it actually touched him. He had recieved more praise for other things, but he knew this was the real deal. These were his first steps in the real world, in a sense. All he could do was thank everyone. "Thanks guys, you really didn't have to do this." "Why wouldn't we? You won your first match of the competition. Here's the catch though, son: you won't get another party until you win the competition, and I know you can do that." Everyone smiled, doing their best to contain their laughter. "What, and not if I lose? Even a pice of candy to make me feel better would be good." That did it. Everyone laughed, even himself seeing them laugh at the small joke. After a minute they all sat down and talked: about the match, the competion, news from home, anything. During that time, Vence had taken the time to go down below and order several meals. He even took the liberty of delivering them himself. It wasn't untill late that everyone departed. The competition would still run tomorrow, after all, and Vence needed the rest. The smell of burning wood filled the air. Screams of terror and pain echoed from all around. Flames and smoke surrounded and engulfed everything, people running in fear. nearby, a building crashes. In another corner, several...things emerge. The dwarfed everyone, stading at 9 feet at least. They were draped from head to toe in a black cloak. As tall as it was, it did not walk, but rather had no legs, hovoring above the ground. The hole where it's face should have been revealed a par of eyes, gleeming red. A cold chill filled the air wherever its gaze swept. In its hands it held a scythe, foreboding only imminent death, or worse.
a chilling note filled the air, a cry of some sort, and a dark sphere appeared in the hands of one. With inhuman speed, it threw it, at the same time flying to the nearest group of people. in seconds, only death reigned, and the creatures moved on. In the distance, bloodcurdling screams could be heard...Vence bolted upright in bed, panting. It had been so real. And those things...what were they? Nitemare. The word came to him unbidden. He shuddered. Did they even exist? He hoped they didn't. "It was only a dream," he breathed. Still, he could not make himself fall back asleep, for fear of another disturbing dream. *** When the first sign of dawn appeard out his window, Vence Dressed himself, armor and all, and left silently. There were still a few people on the street, even at his early hour, but he did not care. He just needed to walk around. The dream was still fresh in his mind; It had been so real. He bought a small loaf of bread and ate on his way to the waiting hall, where they had first met to be split into teams. He would be extremely early, but he didn't care. When he arrived there, the sun had still not even risen, and the sky was a grey-blue hue. the air being at it's coldest now, it was chilly enough so that he could see his breath. A coldfront was coming in, so it was expected. After a while, he went back to pondering his strange dream. The sun was up when a few of the competitiors arrived, the announcer included. The man looked surprised when he Saw Vence sitting in front of the door. "Boy, you looked like you've seen a ghost, and why are you here so early?" "I feel like I have," Was all Vence said, and he moved aside. The man looked somewhat concerned now, but he unlocked the door and everyone filed in. After a short while the door closed, all 16 remaining competitors inside. The announcer, Yuthlin, went to the front of the room. "Now, I'd like to congratulate you all again for your successes. However, the competition has only begun. Four more challanges lay in store for you, and eventually one will be proclaimed the champion. We must focus on now, though. The same process of pairing as last time will be used, so you know what to do. Come on up and get a number, then pair up." Vence was one of the first in line this time, and got his number quickly. He unfolded he paper, and read his number aloud, like eveyone else trying to find their partner. "Who has 3?" He asked. Shortly after asking, a man stepped forward. He recognized him from before. He was taller than he was, by about 4 inches, at least. He looked like he had trained extensively, as well. On his lower back, a large, two-handed broadsword rested. "You asked who has three?" the man asked, a little sarcastic. He held up the paper in his hand, showing the other three. "Here it is. So what are you gunna do about it?" "You trying to intimidate me." It wasn't a question that Vence replyed with, but a statement. He had dealt with people like this before. When he was younger, he had been pushed around a lot because he was "wimpy." After he picked up his first sword though, well, they learned he wasn't afraid. The man blicked, and a second passed when he looked surprise, but masked it instantly. "What if I'm not? You seem to be a little too young though; you should scram kid." Vence, without a second thought, pulled out his sword and let it rest above the mans chin. Silence engulfed the place. Not a man stirred. Now the man looked surprised, and a little afraid. "Don't push it. I am old enough to enter, and I've trained for quite a number of years, before I was even in my teens. You shut your mouth, and you mgiht want to try and toss some of that pride of yours away." Afer a few more seconds of silence, he dropped his sword away, sheathing it and striding away. As he did, he heard someone whisper something about major competition. *** The first match was starting, while the rest, including him, sat waiting. This was lasting much longer than before. While his had lasted probably 10 minutes at the most, this had gone on for at least 15. It was expected, of course; with the less experienced gone, the more experienced were dishing it out now. That meant they would be more carful, which meant longer times. His mind wandered back to the dream he had had. There was something not right about it. The place was familiar, somehow. and those...Things; Nitemares, he recalled naming them. They felt so real, like he was there, or they were. Their pressence alone sensed of pure evil, let alone the looks. Just imagining them sent chills through him. What were they? "Got a lot on your mind, kid?" A voice asked. Vence looked up, seeing a man covored in a black cloak. His face looked slightly distorted, but only slightly. He stood straight, against the wall, and on either side he had a sheath, a sword in each. "Don't let it go to your head too much. You won't get far that way." Vence stared at him, unblinking, for a few moments. He looked back down. The man was right. "It's nothing really," he said, sensing a question rising, "Just a dream I had. It was sort of...odd, for lack of a better word." "Ah. Well, like I said, don't let it get to you. At least, not yet anyway." With that said, the man turned and left him. Vence didn't bother pursueing the issue. And he was right, too; if he let himself think too much on it, it could distract him from the task on hand. The first match was over, as Yuthlin opened the door and called out pair two. He was next. For the remainder of the time left to himself, he concentrated on keeping his mind clear of thought. He noticed his opponent kept on glancing at him, a smug look on his face. Did he honestly think he was going to win that easily? Ignore him, let him have his fun. Vence closed his eyes and continued to remain focused. After a few minutes, he heard "pair three" called, and Vence got up and walked to the door. He followed Yuthlin, only half paying attention to his surroundings. He knew the way there anyway, so it didn't matter. The crowd could be heard long before the arena came in sight. After a walking a short distance longer, Yuthlin went over the rules briefly again, then bade them good luck. This time, Vence stayed on the side closer to the waiting hall, while his opponent-unknown by name, he realized- walked around to the other side. A few seconds longer, and he heard his name called, the crowd growing louder. He climbed the steps and walked out onto the stage. Again, the announcer spoke boldly of his unexpected, short winning streak. He stood patiantly, all the same, and stood straighter when his opponent was called. When he came onto the stage, he slowly walked to the center. That smug look was still on his face. "You might want to think twice about taking this casually, man." "And why might that be? I'm not taking advice from a kid like you. You might have gotten me before, but you wont again, I promise you that." He gave Vence a cold stare. "Trying to intimidate me again? You're pathetic." Vence put his hand behind his head, placing his hand on the grip of his sword. "You can't win that way. The only way will be-" The whistle rang out, starting the match. Vence dove at the man, his sword swinging out from behind. "-Like this!" The man dodged out of the way, taken off gaurd again, his face openly expressing surprise and even a hint of fear. Still, he drew his own sword, bigger than Vence's and charged at him. Vence refused to give ground, and not seconds later, blows right and left were being given and met with anothers. Sparks flew in every direction, as metal hit metal, scraping off each other. With each blow, each lost a little bit of strength. Vence still refused to give ground, though. Slowly, Vence took one step forward, then another. His opponent was forced to walk backwards, and he was given no room to pause to do so. Vence could feel his strength draining. He could sense the man had more strength in reserve, as well. He would have to end this fast. With quick thinking, he brought up an old tactic he had learned at an early age. It had always worked, and everyone always fallen into the trap. Vence flipped back gving himself only enough time to place his sword like a dagger in his hand. That gave his opponent only enough time to take a short break. Vence dashed at him again, and swung his sword. It struck the man's blade, but instead of "sticking," it slid downard, and Vence let the momentum carry the bladearound his leftside, so that it fell down again in the opposite direction. The tactic formed the symbol for infinity, and ironically, the motion allowed little strength and more momentum; to the point where it could be performed for as long as possible for the one performing the action. His opponent caught on quickly, and just as quickly realized the trap. His faced was screwed in concentration, using up his strength to lock the attack. Vence was just too fast for him now. Within seconds, he was backed against the corner. With a quick movement, Vence pulled off the final key. As it came down on his right side, going left, he stepped back, ad released his grip slightly on the blade. as it swung up, he let it fall into place, now holding it as a normal sword. As for the man, he took the pause deserately and swung. He mised by several inches, and Vence smiled. As the blade in his hand swung outward, Vence took a large step forward, and cut across the mans chest. The blade sliced clean through his armor, and he groaned in pain and exhaustion, cringing in pain befaore letting himself slide to the ground. Vence took a few steps back, observing the scene in full. When the man looked up again, he looked stunned. "H-h-how did you-?" He let the sentence die. He wasn't hurt, just exhausted and defeated. Vence personally was glad the prideful man was gone. "It's a simple matter of physics, really. There's only one way to avoid it, but I don't tell people my secrets." "W-wow, you re...really are a...a good fighter." Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to stand. He put out his hand, and Vence took it. *** "Honestly Vence, what was that? I've never seen you do that before." Alysia looked at him, looking for an answer. Vence's father, sitting across from him, just smiled. He knew, and so did his brother. It was a skill passed down by his great grandfather. "I can't tell you that. It's a family secret. The only hint I can give is physics." He gave a smile before taking a bite out of his dinner. The rest of the competition had been simply of waiting, and talking with some other fellow competitiors. He had seen the man who had chatted with him before, but they never talked a second time. More chatting ensued, before they headed back to their rooms. Vence lay in bed, suddenly dreading having another nightmare. Eventually though, sleep took hold.
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Posted: Wed Jul 09, 2008 11:25 am
this one is somewhat short! Amazing! whee CHAPTER FIVE
AN ODD ADDITION He was standing nowhere. There was nothing, and he was nothing. Slowly, the darkness lifted, giving him sight. First, there was greyness. the grey became shaded, and the shaded greys became feint color, and then the colors grew more vivid.
Yet there was little color to see. He stood in an empty field. The field was barren, and lacked life. The ground was cracked underneath his feet. The air was dry, and no wind disturbed the silence. In the distance, mountains coud be seen.
This place. Why was it familiar? He could not move, only pivot on the spot. barren land was all there was. Had he been here before? Yes? No?Vence opened his eyes, and shut them just as quickly. A faint light came from the window, signifying morning had arrived. Naturally, he was unaccustomed to seeing even that much light after sleeping. He didn't know how long he slept, but he figured he slept a decent amount. He got up and washed himself, before dressing himself, equiping both blades. He stayed only long enough to pay for another day in the inn, and headed out the door. "I really wish I found a better tavern," Vence sighed. A half an hour walk everyday was not what he had in mind. Still, it got him going, and he arrived fully awake. He arrived in time, too, as Yuthlin came into view around the same time. The last 3 competitors, not including himself, stood at the door already. Vence shrugged, and joined them. Seconds later, Yuthlin came over and opened the door, greeting them. "Congratulations on you four making it this far. The hardest is yet to come, though. Three matches remain. This time, I'm not going to have you draw from a bag. Instead, I'm going to pair you up." Before he finished the sentence, they all looked at each other. Who was he going to pair with who? "It is going to be based on rating. We have interviewed and asked several people what they think of you four, based upon one through ten. Those closest to ranking with each other will be paired. "So, I'm giving each of you a number, one through four; you're one, you're two, three-" pointing at Vence. "And four. Now....one....you will be placed with four, which means two is paired with three. Pair one is one and four, and pair two is two and three. Alright? Today is going to be big for one man here. After these two matches, an hour will be givin for rest, before the final match begins. We know what happens afterwards. "Now, this may disapoint some of you, but these last semifinal matches will be played differently." All of them before had been ony half paying attention; everything he said they already knew. Now he had all their attention. A different type of match? How did that work out? And how hard could it be? "Rather than fighting close combat, you and your opponent will be on one side of the stage, facing the other side. Two devices will throw several small, wooden spheres in your direction. They will be fast, and they will hit hard. Your job is to deflect as many as you can before falling, and trust me, you will fall eventually. The winner is, therefore, whoever doesn't fall before the other." The four simply stared, both at the man and at each other. How was that supposed to work out; was this all a joke? Well, whether it was or not, they still had to go with it. "So, without further adieu, let us begin!" *** The first match had ended fairly quickly. Vence, before he knew it, was already standing on the platform, standing a few feet away from his opponent. In front of them both was what looked like some sort of cannon. The crowd was buzzing, as always. "- And now that everyone is informed to the twist in the match, let us begin!" Vence drew both his swords, his opponent drawing only one. As soon as both did, a whistle weas blown, and both launched a wooden sphere; one after the other. The hard part was each one went a different direction, but always at the two of them. Vence had little ttime to react. Everytime he blocked one, two more needed to be deflected. He was lucky he had two swords, and was using both equally. His opponent wasn't as lucky. He had already been hit several times, but he was persistent. crackVence felt a surge of pain shoot up from his left arm. It went limp, and the hand-and-a-half sword dropped to the ground. He gritted his teeth, giving a groan in pain, but did not allow himself to stop. Now he forced himself to speed up. After a few minutes, it dawned on him the announcer had not said anything about not being able to move. Grinning, he took a few steps back, then twisted around to the right, avoiding a nasty hit to the knee. The announcer said something, but he didn't hear. He was to busy avoinding head blows. A few minutes later, the flying objects stopped. Vence took a look at his opponent, and saw him lying on the ground, spread out. He looked completely drained of energy, too. Quite frankly, Vence felt the same, and he sat down, giving himself time to breathe. He tried to move his left arm again, but founnd it too painful to do so. Broken. Damn it. He let his arm be, and waited for the next announcement. He already knew what it would say, but he didn't really care. "Well, what an interesting way to play out the semi-finals! And another surprising victory on young Vence's part. The question remains: how will he fare in THE final match? Best not to-" Vence blocked out the rest. As usual, Yuthlin was making it more dramatic. Despite protests of a few appearing paramedics, concerning his arm, he brushed them off and headed off the stage. He made sure to grab his hand-and-a-half sword before doing so.
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Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 7:09 am
CHAPTER SIX
A HELPING HAND Rather than the last two competitors residing in one room, waiting for the last event to take place, the two were guided seperately to their own waiting rooms. Vence wasn't far from the town center, where the event was taking place, conveniently. The room was small, and quite meager in appearance. There was almost no color to the room, with only a few dull shades of grey. The only exceptions to this was a small couch, a faded dark red, and a small table in front, the edges rounded; this was carved finely from wood, with the top having a layer of glass. He guessed the table was probably more expensive than the couch was, as it looked old with useage. It was a waiting room, after all, so there was no real need for comfort. His escort asked him about his arm, and realized he had been blocking out the pain. Well, he had been taught to do that. Still, he refused to show it, but asked if there wass a way to mend it in an hour. He wasn't going to back out with a broken arm. He could fight with his other hand, but it would be awkward, he supposed. To his surprise, the man mentioned there was a local healer nearby, taught by a mage living in the outskirts of town; he had expected a frown and an "I'm sorry," but he was wrong, obviously. He asked for him to fetch the healer, and seconds later he was alone. Deciding it was best to get himself comfortable, he sat down on the couch, slightly slouched backward, with his broken arm across his stomach; his left arm rested neatly on the couch arm. It was several minutes before anyone arrived, but he wasn't in any hurry. The healer was a middle aged man, average built. something about him said he was older than he appeared, though. "So, our young famed master Elserain, requesting my service for a broken arm, eh? Not much trouble, I've healed much worse." Young master Elserain? That definitely said either respect, or older in age. His voice had a weird accent to it, and sounded older, as well. Well, he understood his situation, at least. "As I have recovored from worse, but time is of the essence, unlike those times." "Ah, the competition? It is indeed a surprise you have come this far, but of course you must know that, yes? It starts to get irritating how everyone says so. Anyway, to the point why I am here: Let me see your arm." Vence lifted his arm, disregarding the pain. A slightly surprised look on his face, the man took the part that wasn't broken, allowing Vence to let his arm hang limp; that way, pain would be reduced. "I knew that idea was a bad one. The winner could end up just as badly hurt as the loser. But of course, concerns and complaints were ignored, or weren't reported. Here is the proof we were all right. Looks like it was only broken a bit. I'm suprised at your ability to ignore the pain. Most would cry like a baby, if not cursing themself." As he spoke, he continued to inspect his arm, for any more damage. Seeing none, he told Vence he might experience a little more pain, and should brace himself. The man placed his right hand on the place where the bone broke. Vence heard him mutter a few words, barely understanding them to be a language he had never heard of. Not three seconds later, he felt his arm pain him again, stronger than when he had broken it, or it felt that way. He gritted his teeth, supressing a groan, and felt the pain subside after a few seconds. "You handled that very well. That should do it." "Thank you," Vence replied, inspecting his arm. It was indeed completely healed. "No need to thank me. Just watch yourself now. I hear your last opponent is a tough one, not to mention skilled, as you are." With that, the man left the room, and left Vence to ponder about his opponent. *** Not long after, Vence was escorted back to the arena. Vence was nervous by now; this was the final match, after all. Still, he proceeded with confidence that he could still win. When he came onto the stage, - his name had been called - he saw none other but the man he had talked with the day before. As far as Vence knew, he had no name; he hadn't heard it called, so he didn't know his name. "Have you taken my advice?" the man asked. "Yeah, but it still bugs me. Sometimes dreams do that, untill they get lost in other memories and reality." "True, but they can resurface, over time. Be careful." "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, of all ages and races; today is the final day, and now is the final match. We have Vence, a young fighter of tremendous skill, and our other undefeated warrior, with strangely no name.- No name, huh? That's interesting"-with both champions greatly skilled, there's no telling who will win. That is the question that remains, folks: Who will win? There's only one way to find out. Champions, ready yourselves!" The crowd was cheering louder than ever, as far as Vence could tell, as he drew his broadsword. The man with no name did nothing. Then the crowd went silent. The match was about to begin. "Ready? Let the final match begin...NOW!"
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Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 7:32 am
[cool biggrin I'll rea dit in a minute - but just to say i love the character tekteks, beginnig summary thingy :3]
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2008 11:29 am
[Thanks again, DT. I really appreciate it. I'm surprised no one has actually said anything bad about it. I don't have this just here, but also in my journal and on Myspace.] CHAPTER SEVEN
VICTORY The match had begun, but nobody moved. Not even the people in the stands; watching, waiting for what they had come for. Vence had heard accounts of how this man, this man with no name, had defeated all his opponents in less than 1 minute. If that was true, that was a record. If that was possible, and he was facing this very man, then it was only too understable to fear him. Indeed, he did. Vence was actually worried. How was he to win against such skill? Vence could do nothing but watch as the man with no name stood motionless. What were his weaknesses? His strengths? How could they effect him? It was difficult to read this man, however. One with no name, no identity; it was almost like saying he had no restrictions, no boundaries. It made Vence quite uncomfortable. Something was going to happen, and he knew he might not win this match, however much he tried. A slight movement, and he was gone. Seemingly, he vanisdhed into thin air. The hell? Where did he go? Vence could do nothing but stare where the man had stood only seconds ago, wide-eyed in amazement. The crowed had broken the silence as they asked each other what had ust happened. Vence felt the same way. Where was he? He quickly scanned the area, then heard it. A whistling sound, barely able to be heard amongst the noise. It was probably a miracle had had even heard it in the first place. That sound was a sound of death. Vence made his first move with his feet, attempting to dodge the attack, wherever it was coming from. Too late. He felt the stinging, burning sensation before it hit him. His vision fazed, momentarily everything blurring. When his vision had been regained, he turned his head. There he stood, his sword out, behind him. He was smiling. Why was he smiling like that? Then it hit him. Pain; like non other he had ever felt. Vence could do nothing but fall to his knees, but he restrained himself from crying out, though his body begged him to. He noticed his own blood on the ground. Too much blood. That was why he, the man with no name, was smiling. "You surprise me, Vence. You just got hit five times, in less than a half-second. Three of those struck you in the back." The man walked around to face Vence, silent on the ground. "You must have heard the rumors. Im surprised you heard me, and yes, I noticed. What has happened to you is precisely the reason I have won so easily so many times. But I wonder, how a kid like you got through to the end only to lose to one attack. pitiful." Vence continued to stare down on the ground. How? How was that possible? If he could do that, what could he do? Nothing, there was nothing in the entire world that could save him now. Damn it, I'm not going to lose!Vence forced himself to breathe, and finally began to move. Every inch he moved revealed to him pain he had never known, and everytime he let himself fall; hearing the man with no name only laughing every time he attempted to defy his state. In a sense, part of him agreed with him: why should he try so hard, when he had already failed? The second he asked himself the question, the answer came to him. He had not failed yet; only when he gave up did he fail, and he wasn't giving up yet. Maybe it was his pride, or maybe it was his determination. It could simply be his stubborn-ness, for all he knew, but the matter was the same. He was not going to give up, not until he died trying to overcome just another obstacle. Vence, now giving himself some hope and resolve, finally took action. Taking several deep breaths, he took one last one before attempting to stand his ground. Every time he moved, he would let go of some air; regardless of the pain, he kept on. The man wasn't laughing anymore, the crowd wasn't whispering, and he wasn't stopping. After what seemed like an age, he stood upright, gazing upon the man with no name, almost as if he was telling him, "come at me again, I dare you." He could feel his strength returning to him; He must have only been in shock. Slowly, Vence reached for the hilt of his sword. If he was going to lose, he would lose with his sword drawn. "You haven't won yet, old man. I'm not going down that easily." Vence struggled to stay standing, pulling the sword out of its sheath. Its weight seemed to have almost tripled, and he difficulty holding it up. But he wasn't going to lose, he couldn't. He glanced over to the stands, where his family and friends were. He especially wasn't going to lose in front of them, not like this. He could see the fear in their eyes. Fearing that he would die. "You're not are you?" the man said. I guess you are better than I thought. It's a shame that I have no choice. Vence, your life ends now." The man with no name lept forward, once more disapearing from view. This apparently was the end... Steel hit steel, blade struck blade. A gasp from the crowd as blood fell onto the platform. The man with no name, no identity, fell to the ground, stunned. Vence held his sword with one hand free, facing away from the man. The man with no name faded away. Where was he? As soon as he thought of the question, he saw him again. It was as if time had slowed; everything moved at a slow speed, a speed he could match, even in his condition. He had reapeared, and was slowly stepping towards him, his sword ready to strike true. He would not let that happen, though. He raised his own sword, ready for the counter he would perform. He swung, and slid his sword along the edge of the enemy's. He thrust his blade forward, and pulled back asthe bllood left from the wound near the mans heart. He stepped aside as the man with no name stepped past him, only now realizing ther pain. The crowd was silent. The man with no name was silent. Vence was silent. Only the ragged breathing of the two of them disturbed the silence that blanketed the constructed wooden arena. "H-h-how?" the man choked. He coughed, blood falling from his mouth. "You...are just...just a...a...kid?" Vence turned, half of him facing the man. "I'm sorry it had to be this way. I won't deliver the final blow, so I'd suggest you forfeit and get yourself some treatment." "Then...you tell...that I...forfeit." Vence nodded and walked to the center of the stage. He broke the silence. "The fight is over. The man with no name has forfeit. Given his condition, he asked me to tell this to you." The crowd erupted in cheers, screams, shouts, whistling, clapping; everything. They did not notice the group of people who came on the stage to treat the man. They did not notice Vence walking with the man, being escorted off the platform. They only knew Vence won, and celebrated.
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Posted: Thu Aug 14, 2008 12:07 pm
I think it's pretty awesome. The characters, the setting, etc. Nice job, pal. Keep it going!
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Posted: Sun Sep 07, 2008 1:23 pm
[Thanks Camioth. Check in again sometime. 3nodding ] CHAPTER EIGHT
KING MARC II The rest of the afternoon had been uneventful. The only thing that bothered him was the crowd of people that continually and relentlessly followed him, wherever he went. Like the chick following its mother. "Yeah, I'm going to sign autographs and improve my cursive writing in the process," Vence said sarcastically. Currently he was with his family and friends, hiding away in his room. Outside the door, he was sure there were a few people that had managed to follow him, but he wasn't going to show himself. If he was going anywhere, which he was, he would go out the window and travel by rooftop. The city was an amazing place. He sat on his bed, Theil on one side and Alysia on the other, holding his hand. Two chairs were filled with his parents. "dude, 'sa good way to git some popularity." "And? What if I don't want that? I just came here to put my skills to the test, nothing more." "And you passed the ultimate test," his father commented. "Now you hav eto meet with the king. That's where we have to wish you luck." "Oh, and not before? thanks, you're a great dad." Some more laughing, and the discussion continued. It was true: he had passed the test of battle skills, but meeting and greeting the king and his family? He was just a commoner, as most would say. Well, not exactly anymore, a little more respect than that now, but still was not very high on the social class scale compared to royalty. It was a great honor, though, so he needed to be his best. One of the spare chairs left in the room had his, more or less, formal clothes, neatly folded. His family wasn't exactly rich, so formal clothes consisted of a well washed pair of dark colored pants, black boots, neatly polished, and a T-shirt covored with a hand-me-down uniform jacket. To royalty, he probably passed off as a descent middle class man. He wasn't worried about that, though. In fact, he wasn't really worried about anything yet. Yet. He would be worried later, no doubt about that. In the meantime, he would just have to deal with everything. It was starting to get late, though. Everyone would be dispersing, disappointed by not seeing the youngest champion of the Tournament of Arms. Like he even cared. Sure, it would look good on his next resume, probably, but he didn't honestly care. Well, maybe a little. Back at home, he had always been called the weakling. He was never picked when playing games with the other kids. he was never asked to hang out somewhere. He was never asked out by a girl. Alysia and he had been friends for as long as he could remember, along with Theil. He had asked Alysia, and though she didn't show it, she had been happy. She had been expecting it, probably, but was simply waiting for him. Theil was the one who got everything, and Theil was the only reason he wasn't completely hopeless. Theil gave him hope, Alysia gave him courage, his parents gave him strength, the bullies gave him a strong mind. Yes, he had learned everything from everyone else. He was luckier than he even thought of himself. But, he had always humbled himself and thought himself lesser than others. He had still yet to learn Pride and self esteem. He had gained some from winning the tournament, as well as some respect now, back at home. "Well, I guess I should start getting ready," Vence said, returning to the world from his mind. "I want to be my best when I get there." He did tend to wander off sometimes. "Sure thing, son. We'll be downstairs." His father rose, along with his mother. Theil gave him a clap on the back, repeating his father's words, and Alysia simply gave him a reassuring smile as she left, closing the door behind him. Sighing, he slipped off the sword strap and hilt, and pulled off his shirt. *** Vence took his b*****d and strapped it to his side. He wouldn't be carring along a broad sword a whole meter long and half a foot wide. That was a silly combination with formal wear. No, his smaller, lighter sword at his side would be better, and more appropriate, for a formal meeting with a king. It was getting dark outside. It was a good thing; there would be no one to see him. The rest already knew he wasn't going to travel by street. He was going by rooftop. It was a precaution, in a sense, and was faster. slipping on his traveling cloack, he slipped out the window onto the roof. The moon was visible, even during sunset. The first stars were appearing as well. The image of the sky was beautiful, if anyone took the time to enjoy what the gods had made. Like fire murging with water; a spectacular view of colors mixing. Yes, if one could take the time, he or she would no doubt have their breath taken away. Vence breathed in, taking in the smell of the fresh air. The air was fresher on the rooftops than in the streets below. But of course, ther was no one on the rooftops to taint the pure smell of night coming on. Pausing for only a moment longer, he headed towards the castle, now fully in his sights. Within a few minutes, he was almost there. Before reaching the gate, he jumped down in an alley, rolling to reduce the force. dusting himself off, he turned the corner to meet the gaurds. The five gaurds there were apparently not doing their job. They were all together in a irregular circle, talking loudly and drinking a bottle of wine. Grinning, he walked forwads, and was almost within arms reach before one noticed. he was the one who he hadn't seen take a sip, which was a relief, for he recognised who he was just as quickly. "Ah, so you are the young warrior I hear about. Vence? It's good to meet you, sir." "Thank you," Vence said, shaking the gaurds hand. "I'm here to see the king-" "Of course, of course. You men stay here," he said, a little bit louder. The others saluted, and took positions. Even drunk, they could do their job. It was somewhat funny, thinking that. "Follow me, Vence," The gaurd said, and he pushed the gates open, giving him a clear view of the courtyard. The first thing that was noticible was the large fountain at the center, with a small river flowing on either side. The fountain had the statue of a fully armored warrior and a robed figure, probably supposed to represent a mage of some sort. A small detail caught his eye, of a small carving on the foot of the armored statue. Initials. Someone was stupid enough to do that. Two bridges arched over both sides of the staue, gaining passage over the large streams that flowed from the fountain. There were several trees and bushes around the courtyard, planted in various ways so as to create unique designs. There were no paths of marble or granite, but of simple dirt, the ground having been tread upon only too long. The grass itself, along with all the other life, was as green as could be. Two flights of curved steps went up to the large double doors, imbedded into the wall. The doors were of solid wood, oak by the looks, with little else showing, save the metal door handles and hinges. The rock that the castle was made up of was smooth, and not unpleasant to the eye; no mold nor moss grew anywhere, nor weeds. The only sound that let itself be heard was that of the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking. Vence took all this in as he followed the gaurd, yet there was still more to be seen, Vence knew. As he neared the top of the flight, lead by the escort gaurd, the doors opened, and a pool of light disturbed the surrounding darkness, giving color to what hadn't had any before. A shadow cast itself on the ground, before its owner stepped out to reveal himself. The man, surprisingly, had few clothes that boasted his position, but rather, he wore inexpensive clothes, similar to his. This surprised Vence, but he was glad, in a way. He nedn't worry of looks in this case, fortunately. King Marc smiled upon seeing him, beckoning him over. "I must congratulate you on your victory, Vence. I must say I have not seen such a one like that before." Vence gave a short bow before replying, "I thank you, your majesty, and I'm glad I can witness this moment." "You're very welcome, and I never doubted you from the start," The king replied smiling. "I say that in all honesty, too; from the first time I saw you, you look like you could make a fine hero like the tales of old." Vence had no idea what to say at that. could he really be like that? He doubted it, but what did he know? "Come," the King said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I suppose You should wonder what the halls of this castle look like. Allow me to tour you throughout." At this time Vence caught his first glimpse of the castle on the inside. It was finely decorated, fit for any king, yet in a simple way. It was inspiring, and it honestly amazed him. He had never seen anything royal, after all. The king showed him around, pointing out many things and explaining in detail. They passed several several people, whom Vence assumed were servants, by the looks of them. One they passed, however, he knew was not a servant at all. Despite it being late, she was dressed in an expensive looking dress, and a tiara adorning her head. The king's daughter, no doubt, Vence said to himself, before the king introduced the two of them to each other. She didn't seem to interested, though, and left the two of them quickly. "She isn't one to chat, unless it's important," The king said, slightly disappointed. "I wish once in a while she could be a little more kind to people." "It's alright, sir. I'm used to it." "I'm sure you are, but for those of higher status, it's a common insult. I'm not sure if she does that intentionally or not, but someday she'll get hersilf in something that I won't be able to help her with." The two continued to explor, and after another half-hour had passed, the king lead them back to the dining hall, and a small dinner was served. Small, but still meant for royalty. Hoever, Vence was no longer nervous, nor did he feel uneasy of showing respect properly. The king had a personality and disposition of a respected commoner. Maybe that was why the people loved him so; he was just like them. Like him. Vence and the king now took their time to siply exchange words, and they did of many matters. It was sooon realized that they were similar in their views, and Vence could see they would easily be good friends, despite status, age, and any other difference that normally seperated people. As he finally deperted for home, or rather, the inn where he was staying, Vence was happy he had won now for more than one reason. His journey through the streets proved uneventful, and he arrived without incedent. Climbing the stairs, walking to his room, and finally into bed, he did not even bother undressing.
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Posted: Fri Sep 12, 2008 3:37 am
W00t! Keep on truckin' biggrin
I've fallen a little behind in chapters and I'm reading it all again ( xd ) but so far it's consistently very well written and entertaining. I'm relaly enjoying it smile
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Posted: Sat Nov 22, 2008 9:31 am
CHAPTER NINE PREPARATIONS Vence awoke late in the morning, having come home late that night. Recalling the hours past, he couldn't help but smile at how well it went. He sat up and turned himself so that he was sitting on the bed, taking a little time to wake up fully. He threw on a change of clothes after taking a quick shower, then headed downstairs. Because of the late hour, it was busy, and thus unavoidable to have a small crowd asking him to sign something or do some small favor. Excusing himself politely, he headed out the door(without a breakfast), looking for a shop where he could get some more decent traveling clothes, and maybe a decent weapon. The first shop proved to be no use, as did the second, and the third. More than half the shops, Vence realized, consisted of fancy attire and general wear, which he didn't need nor want. Upon arriving to a fourth shop, however, he found what he was looking for. A new traveling cloack, gray-green in color, and a decent pair of boots were picked up by him in only a few seconds. He didn't need anything fancy, after all. He also got himself a good pair of gloves, so his hands didn't get sore from handling a sword's grip. As long as they didn't wear out too quickly from use, he was content. More traveling ensued on his part, avoiding the crowds by using the side streets and alleys, befor ehe found his next item. A small shop, worn down from neglect and age, was selling a meager arrangement of weapons. Most looked worthless, but others Vence wondered where they cam from. One weapon in particular caught his eye. He knew not the right name for it, seeing its long handle, and a peculiarly large blade attached to it. The handle, as long as his forearm, was long enought to extend into the middle of the blade's length, offering superior support, while at the same time, offered equally superior performance in speed and handling. It was meant as a two-handed weapon for cutting and slashing, but in the right hands, it could be deadly. Fascinated by the weapon, Vence asked the store owner, who looked to be in his fiftees, about it and the price. It was surprisingly low priced for such a weapon, being aroun 300 Ikli. Either the man did not realize the wrth, or he was desperate for the items to sell. Examining it once more, he checked the blade for any cracks, and the handle for overuse. Satisfied, seeing no such problems, he purchased the blade, which made the store owner quite happy. Taking the oddly made sheath handed to him for the weapon, he placed the sword in it, and strapped it across his back. The sheath, he realized, the designed to open from the side, rather than pull outward, for quick blocks when seemingly undefended. Glad he had bought it, he headed out and back to the Inn. *** Vence was sitting in his room once more, this time with his family and friends. His newly aquired equipment were lying behind him, with Theil inspecting the new sword. He seemed to be just as fascinated with it as he was, and maybe more so. "You're ready to leave already?" Vence's father, Jaryd, asked. "You've only been here a few days, and it'll be a while before you come here again." That last part was especially true. It had cost them a bit of money to travel for miles to here, the city of Dealteah. Vraeal was many miles away from here. It would take at least four or five days to return. "I'm sure. I think I like it more quiet, so I'd like to set out as soon as posible." That was also true. He wasn't accustomed to having so much noise and so many people about him. Jaryd leaned back a little in his chair, and nodded. "If that's what you want, then we can't stop you, can we?" "Probably not. So when do we head out?" "As soon as you want, though I hope it's not today." "No, not today, that would rush things too much, and it's already noon," he pointed out, glancing outside. "Tomorrow would be enough time, right?" "Certainly," his father replied. "Before we discuss any further, however, I would like to have something to eat. As you said, it is noon, and that means lunch." Agreeing to this, Vence and everyone else left the room to head to lunch below. Vence left behind anything that might make his appearance known, and as an extra precaution, he had everyone cover him. There were still several hundred people that wished to meet him in person in the city, and he was glad no one knew exactly where he was. After sitting in one of the corners, there was no more need for cover. Lunch went on uneventfully, and they all enjoyed eating together. After lunch, Vence went back to his room, while everyone else prepared to leave the next day.
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Posted: Sun Dec 14, 2008 10:30 am
CHAPTER 10
THE SORROW course of events
[dream 1] v/
[farewells]
[stories on the road]
[dream 2]
[home - sad sight met]
[the discovery]
[the vow]
v/ = complete (sad imitation of a checkmark sweatdrop )
_____________________________________________________________ He did not know if his eyes were opened or closed. The darkness was absolute; there was nothing to see, or hear, taste, touch, smell. The only thing he could do was think. His body was nonexistant, and his mind, free.
A flash of light. It was not bright, nor dim, it existed, and yet not. The only thing that was sure was that it took place, and something changed because of it.
He was in a large, circular, dark room. The floor was of dark marble, the walls made of stone, a dim green light was summoned by the candles that hung from the invisible ceiling. The floor was decorated with strange designs, several runes lining the lines and curves of them. Their shape was a mystery to him at this angle.
He did not know when he had obtained his body, or how. He simply walked forward by instinct, without thought. He walked to the center of the room, and stood there. An eternity passed by in only a few moments.
"The past and future have joined hands with the present. One will repeat history, and one will change the course of it. Hee, a test will shall be given to one chosen by fate."
A figure appeared, cloaked in shadow; it's form larger than that of any man, yet he moved silently, making not even a whisper at it glided away from the shadows of the wall. An evil air surrounded its presence. Indeed, the space around it seemed to quake in fear, as if something inanimate could do so.
It stopped in its path only a few feet from the runes and lines that surrounded the center floor, as if something it sensed prevented it from advancing, or an invisible wall stood in its way. A moment later, the designs decorating the floor dimly illuminated, in various colors in various places. Six colored circles, with several lines, also lighted, connected every each other.
"Light, Fire, Water, Shadow, Earth, Nature; these are the base of all magic. Youu will learn to use these elements in time. Place yourself, and learn."
He looked at each place, and saw he favored the circle colored red. Stepping into it, he turned to face the center where he had stood only moments, or hours, for time did not exist, before. The other being, still visible, trembled slightly, then stepped, almost reluctantly, into the circle colored deep purple, almost black. The link that conected the two lighted red, more brightly than the rest of the dimly illuminated design, for he now realized the symbols on the floor were all part of one design.
"You have chosen, selecting the element of Fire. whether you have made a wise choice shall soon be determined. Now, learn, and use it."
The world shifted, blurring into something new. Instead of a mysterious circular room, a large open room, rectangualr in shape, took its place. The room was brightly lit as well, rather than the haunted dim light before.TO BE EDITED...
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