[IC] Kings & Killers: A Classic Fantasy Adventure (Chapter: 0) (COMPLETED)

[Dolerman]

-

[Spiffy]

Cicero Bladewalker

Cicero stared at the letter for a few moments. Then he opened the expensive bottle. After smelling the pleasant aroma, and no foul poison, Cicero took a long swig straight from the bottle. "Ahh..fine drink indeed," He muttered to himself.

What kind of knight would ignore a direct challenge to his honor? Cicero nodded as he made his choice. He would enter the arena tomorrow and face his unknown challenger. He'd battled many a day there and only hoped that it wasn't some lowlife bandit or other riff raff. It was beneath him to do battle with just anyone after all.

Over the next hour he finished his bottle. Then he tipped the bartender and said in farewell, "The bounties can wait friend. I have an appointment in the arena tomorrow." Afterward, he headed to his steed Merlin and back home.

[Dolerman]

@Spiffy@Roughdragon1

Outside The Arena, Alvion

It was a gloomy morning, this early on most Alvonians weren't crowding the arena to watch fights, mainly because most of them were hungover from the leaving party the previous night. Cicero was there though, showing up 20 mins early as any disciplined knight of the kingdom would. Very curious about what would be happening next.

It only took about 10 mins for another man to show up, he was shorter and smaller than Cicero himself but his beserker furs revealed a very strong physique scarred skin covering solid muscle. His eyes were a soft glow of red and he walked with a violent confidence. This person was Rakkath A Demonfolk Beserker from Naveroth. He had gotten a letter telling him that he would be paid 10,000 gold pieces if he could win a tournament at the arena...also at noon.

Then after a few seconds of curious glances by the two men at each other, a third person arrived. Heavily cloaked in black robes and holding a twisted wood staff.

Go inside and sign up for the Skirmishers gauntlet, that's the only way you'll get any answers...either of you.

And like that the cloaked figure had vanished, it was up to the two men what they were going to do next, do as they were told? Or do something else?

[Spiffy]

Cicero Bladewalker

Cicero watched as the red-eyed man made his way in the arena. He scowled in displeasure upon realizing he was a demon-folk. One of the fiends he spent years combating in Roh. Cicero never met one he liked and he was positive this one would be no different. They were a thorn in the side of most other races as far as he was concerned. Roh was the prime example of this. They would raid and pillage the inhabitants far too often. With such a large number of them it was hard to keep them at bay. Cicero sent his fair share of them to the pits of Hell. He suffered many wounds and loss of allies. His scars were a testament to that. They were a plague upon the lands.

Standing up, Cicero crossed his arms and stared at the man. He looked tough. He wasn't just any bandit. The real question remained, "Why would He send for a bottle of wine for me and challenge me to the arena..Or am I mistaken?" He didn't have to wonder long, for a man dressed in black made his appearance. In his hand was a twisted wooden staff. He made his speech and vanished as quickly as he had come. It was apparent he had magical abilities.

What was this man's game anyway? What was he planning? Was he working with this demon-folk? It was hard to know for certain. To Cicero it could be a huge trap or a big opportunity. He wished the man offered more of an explanation of WHAT WAS GOING ON, but Cicero was not able to speak fast enough before he vanished.

Cicero shrugged and headed for the skirmirshers gauntlet to sign up. He would not usually trust a stranger upon first meeting them. Especially a dark robed, magic using one. Boredom drove him through the red flags in his mind. However, this still had not gone the way he had imagined. Cicero thought he would engage in a quick duel, defeat his opponent and head home before supper. It was turning out more complicated. He glanced back at the red-eyed wonder and asked, "Are you working for that dark figure?"

[Spiritzer]

@Spiffy@Roughdragon1

Outside The Arena, Alvion

Rakkath was already halfway up the steps leading to the coliseum when he was shot a question. The half naked barbarian turned sideways eyeing the metal clad knight for a moment, thoughts swirling through his head. He HATED questions. So he spat hatefully into the ground at his feet, dribble still clinging to bits of his frazzled beard like cobwebs on a curtain.

"I work for NO ONE!"

He said almost threateningly, with his hand sliding ever closer to the axe at his hip. Rakkath would not mind taking out this armored talker right here, right now. It would stop the gums from flapping, at least. He bet that it was all squishy and brittle behind that metal casing.

"Rakkath will enjoy uncanning you!"

The barbarian slid his thumb over his own throat. All it would take for him to make his move is one more word from the knight. One. More. Word.

Would Cicero continue antagonizing this contender? Or would he take the high road?

[Spiffy]

Cicero Bladewalker

Cicero looked down at the savage with disdain. Not only was he a Demon-folk, but he threatened Cicero and slighted his honor! This would not do..

"You dare threaten an honor-bound knight?"

Cicero gripped his sword hilt with his hand and readied himself in a combat stance. The slightest movement from his opponent and he would draw his longsword. He would not be jeered by this inhuman freak of nature. Perhaps cutting him down a size would remove that brutish nature as well.

Only one way to find out..

[Spiritzer]

@Spiffy@Roughdragon1

Outside The Arena, Alvion

Raged swelled red through Rakkath's face with every word shoved out through Cicero's helmet, he never liked these city types anyway to start with. The dark hooded man already strained his hold of his temper, if not for the promise of 10,000 gold he would have long landed an axe in his chest. Now, he would just have to vent on this armored fool!

Quickly and with well-trained movements, the savage pulled a throwing axe from his belt and hurled it at Cicero. It soared through the air at uncanny speeds belying the force it was thrown with, sailing straight towards the slots the knight looked through in his visor. Rakkath knew the steel was weaker there.

Then, giving Cicero no time for quarter, the barbarian unhooked a larger axe with a broader blade from the back of his belt while bounding two strides forward next to his enemy - bellowing a warcry as he did so, all to bring it's sharp edge into the exposed joints on his right with all the fury he could bear.

The vulgar Rakkath was no stranger to the tools used by city men, the metal suits they wore did not make them any stronger inside.

[Spiffy]

Cicero Bladewalker

Cicero's eyes widened as the throwing axe hurled through the air toward his face. With lightning quick reflexes, from years of training, his muscle memory kicked in. Cicero drew his sword and attempted to block the axe in the same motion. As he did this, Cicero angled his head downward so that if the axe got through it would glance off the top of his helmet.

As the fiend approached, Cicero lunged forward diagonally toward his left to avoid the axe hitting his joint spot. He hoped that it would only glance off a stronger piece of his armor. At the same time, he would thrust his sword at his opponent's chest with full force.

Even the toughest barbarian could not survive their heart being pierced. That was the thought anyway.

[Spiritzer]

@Spiffy

Outside The Arena, Alvion

But unlike Cicero had hoped, the axe did not glance off the top of his helmet. It was thrown with such force and speed that the blade dug into the metal before he could deflect it, but fortunately it stopped just shy of his head within. The edge would softly prod at his scalp within, now severely blunted by his armor, the rest of the weapon stuck out like a sore thumb from his helmet.

However, the knight's quick thinking and subtle movements gave him opportunity to counterattack the barbarian's approach. Forcing Rakkath to reangle himself to avoid narrowly scraping the blade meant for his heart, leading to his axe missing the target and glancing off the reinforced part of cicero's armor and throwing him behind the knight.

But the barbarian was quick on his feet, sliding a single yard before he touched the ground to achor a turn. Now, his opponent had his back turned towards Rakkath. He raised his axe once more, now seeking to plant it into his enemy's back. There was no honor in a fight, Rakkath sought every opportunity he had ---

"HALT!!"

A stern shout from the side came just as Cicero was readying himself for the attack, followed by a rain of three arrows that smashed in between the two contenders. One even driving itself into Rakkath's hand axe, causing the barbarian to flinch.

"Cease now or be executed!" Several spears were quickly placed across the necks of both offenders, more on Rakkath than Cicero. Held by five city guards, three archers readying another volley behind then to fire at any sudden movement.

"There WILL be NO duels OUTSIDE the arena!" It was hard to tell which one of them yelled it, they wore helmets that hid their features. Perhaps that was the whole point.

"And certainly NONE at this hour!" Indeed, it wasn't even opening hours for the arena yet. They haven't even registered at the entrance. What momentary madness took over them?

Rakkath relented, if he moved another inch then he had no doubt they would run him through. He cursed in his tongue and backed away from Cicero and the guard's weapons, glaring at the knight before heading up towards the actual arena. Too many city men now. No doubt he will not forget this.

It was then that Cicero heard a familiar laughing.

"Good, good. You will be perfect for this."

But no one else seemed to hear it.

What will Cicero do?

[Spiffy]

Cicero Bladewalker

Cicero nodded at the guardsmen and slowly sheathed his sword to avoid being impaled. He was pretty sure he knew a few of them personally. He was pretty familiar with the arena in Alvion, after all.

"My apologies, you know what it's like when the blood boils over."

He pried the axe from his helmet and dropped the crude weapon. It clattered to the stone pavement with an obnoxious clang.

That's when he heard the ominous laughter of that cloaked man. There was no doubt in Cicero's mind that he could not be trusted, but he had to figure out what lay ahead.

He strode forward, keeping a wary eye on his former opponent. With a temper like his there was no telling when he would lash out again. Cicero maintained a safe distance as he entered the sign up area.

[Spiritzer]

@Spiffy

The Arena's Holding Area, Alvion

The guards relented their spears, letting the knight pass. Indeed some of them may have known him, but even then, they had to do their job. The mask of peace Alvion had to be maintained, even if darker things loomed about.

The soldiers left, returning to their post quite some distance away. Leaving only two to guard the entrance once more.

---

The signing up was brief, all it took were their names and signatures. There were a few waivers of injuries that let them unshoulder the blame for any grievious harm to the contestants, but then again - many did not know how to read them. Education was a privilege in Alvion, not a neccesity.

Cicero was soon directed to his waiting area, a cubicle in a series of them lining the outer circle of the arena. He had not entered his quarters when he saw that there were one or two stalwart fans probably waiting for some other fighters, they had not noticed the knight's pressence yet. But one other person did.

"...genūs medià inferní."

"I've seen their kind. They get stronger the longer and the more brutal the fight gets."

A dark figure, hooded as well though this one broader than the last with thick, scarred forearms and calloused fingers twiddling a strand of mirthweed gripped between his teeth. Leaning lazily against the shaded section of a broken pillar that used to be part of the coliseum right outside Cicero's room,

"But I guess, you already know that." The figure turned sideways slightly towards the contender, his shoulder long hair now visible but obscured still was his face. In a coarse, gutteral tone that seemed only a pitch away from a growl. Yet, still formally. "Hmm. Yes. I saw your fight, you knew what you were doing."

Then he slowly turned back to facing away, as if cautious not to be seen from afar as obviously speaking to his listener. "Then you also know footwork and swordsmanship can only get you so far, if you are to truly best them then you need to even the playing field. ...Humans like us, just weren't born with the gifts they have. Strength, agility, stamina. Those bastards, they have it all." He lets out a sharp, annoyed breath between his teeth. Discontent rife in his words.

"...but Humanity, WE, have our wits." It is then that he lifted his left hand, holding a bubble like vial of bright orange liquid. Clear as the sunset. "This can give you more strength than they have. Better. Faster. Stronger. And only Humans can take it. We don't need no corrupted blood to be better. And no, it's not magical either, the abjurers won't know a thing."

Then he sighed,

"They call it 'Thorion's Revenge'. I use it to defend myself against the nasty stuff out there, bears, trolls and the like. Barehanded. But it seem like you might have more use for it right now ...I guess I can part with a sip for a mere 200 silver. Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing one of us give them a good trashing in the tournament for once. ...So? What do you say?"

He shakes the bottle enticingly, it's contents swirling an amber hue. What will the knight do now faced with this offer? Accept his help, reject him outright? Or something more?

---

---

@Cyrania

Inside The Praising Dawn Tavern, Alvion

"Look 'ere, elf. Yer barkin' up yer wrong bleedin' tree if yer wansum magicky stuff. I run a bleedin' tavern for Gorm's sake and yer wasting me time!"

It was not Gwyneria's fault that she asked the barkeep where the nearest place was she could practice her spells or learn more. Back in Ispar, knowledge was a virtue to be shared, the taverns there were more than willing to point you in the direction of choice for the right bit of business. Who knew Alvion was so different? She had been sitting here, purchasing this swill they called 'Ale' for hours and not a single magician had passed by and the tavern owner seemed unwilling to part with any useful information.

She truly felt like a fish out of water in this foreign land. It was warm. The people had their priorities all wrong. And it was very warm! Desperate, she raised her hand for the third time and slid a few more copper coins across the counter.

The barkeep begrudgingly took her coins and pushed yet another frothy mug into her outstretched hands, she could feel his exasperation building. It was then that he noticed her book under her elbows, particularly the heraldry of a tree embedded on the cover.

"Girly, fine. Yer one of 'em naturey types? Can ye heal?" He did not wait for her to give him a proper answer. "T'ere be a tourny up right in hightown by noon, yer can go help with patchin' up the bleedin' good-fer-nuthins who beat each other silly up d'ere with yer magic mumbo jumbo. Might meet someone better than yer at it. Maybe earn sum coin to pay fer better drinks next time, yeah?"

That seemed to be all the information he was willing to give, but the tavern itself was abuzz with patrons. None seemed particularly scholarly but you never know what you might find if you asked. Or. She could take the barkeep's advice and head towards hightown and look for the venue of this 'tourny' than risk mingling with the crowd here.

[Cyrania]

Gwyneira Elfreda

Gwyneira sighed. Well, it's not what I was wanting, but at least its something. She thought to herself. She took another sip of her so-called ale, grimaced, and said. "And just where is this 'tourny', if I may ask?"

The barkeep sighed before he grudgingly gave her directions, then repeated them and repeated them as the elf struggled to follow what he was saying. Finally, he at least got her pointed in the right direction and they both left relieved that all interaction between the two was finally over. Gwyn grumbled to herself as she went along, pulling her hood up over her head. No library whatsoever? In a town like this? How do they even function? There must be someplace they store books. Come on girl, calm yourself down. You may have just discovered one of the few who don't care about books and reading. You may find more information at this 'tourny' or at least get paid doing something useful. Just keep your focus around you and don't get lost. Dangerous folk reside in towns. Assuming that I knew nature magic and healing simply because of a tree on the cover. Really!

And so she made her way towards hightown in the direction the barkeep had pointed alternatively watching around her and getting annoyed at past events.

[Spiritzer]

@Cyrania

Outside The Arena, Alvion

Soon Gwyneira found herself in hightown, like the namesake it was built on a terrace that overlooked the other parts of the city. Temples, banks, official buildings were all here. The place shone brightly in the risen sun, even the air smelled a bit fresher.

It was not hard to find the arena, afterall such an iconic landmark of Alvion was not to be hidden. Red flags lined the way on banner stands leading up to it. As Gwyneira approached the place, the bustle started to pick up as well.

A barker stood outside the entrance, taking bets and giving tips to potential customers. If she fancied herself a betting woman, she could approach him.

Behind him, a booth had been set up. A pensive looking woman in a grey dress scribbled furiously at a pile of parchment. The sign beside her read "Registration and Enquiry" in common.

[Spiffy]

Cicero Bladewalker

Cicero cocked his head to the side while he listened to the gruff figure. He was curious as to how he came across such a coveted alchemic concoction. Cicero walked over and asked,

"May I have a smell to make sure all is as you say?"

Cicero knew there was no brew called 'Thorion's Revenge.' However, there was a deity named 'Thorion.' As he sniffed the concotion he realized it was the very same brew he had before.

During a battle in the land of Roh, Cicero fought against multiple Demon Folk attacks with a few allies. They were outmanned and outmatched. That's when his ally offered a drink from his vial to the men around him. Invigorated, Cicero and the others fought with an intensity he never had experienced before. When all was done, his ally was gone, but Cicero and the others survived to fight another day.

This was the very same sunset liquid. However, 200 silver for it seemed a little pricey for a single sip. Then there was the moral ramifications of taking energy during a tournament. Was it legal? Probably not.

"200 is very pricey for a drink. I'll give a percentage of the winnings I earn in battle to you. Consider it an investment in myself."

Cicero extended his hand to shake with the man, confident he would agree to Cicero's generous offer.

Cicero believed this was a betting kind of guy who liked to see humanity overcome great obstacles. Perhaps he would jump at an offer to be included in Cicero's prize money. He could be a coach of sorts..

[Spiritzer]

@Spiffy

The Arena's Holding area, Alvion

The man uncorked the vial, confidently letting the knight smell the mixture. It smelled of grapes and smoke, sickeningly sweet as it choked the nostrils.

As cicero retreated back into his thoughts, a wry smile curved on the thin lips of the stranger ...only to disappear when he made a counter offer.

He shook his head calmly, not a single handshake returned.

"I'm a business man, not a philanthropist. I'd like to see you win, but the best I can do is offer this to you first over anyone else. Tell you what," He stoppered the vial. "170 silver, just for you if you tell me your name so I can bet on it. I'm feelin generous today."

"But If you are not making the purchase, I've got your opponents waiting for me ...you only get a chance like this once in a blue moon, knight." The man straightened his hood, a warning sign that he was prepared to leave if the deal didn't go through.

[Cyrania]

Gwyneira Elfreda

The arena was a sight to behold. The grand colosseum decorated with red banners, all set up to watch skillful fighters match blades and see who triumphed. The betting table was soon apparent, but Gwyn didn't do that kind of betting. Besides, she had to make sure she had the coin to last her travels. She couldn't spot any obvious place for healers to sign up, but the registration booth was also the enquiry booth and the women behind definitely seemed to be worried about something. The elf approached the women in the grey dress.

"Excuse me," Gwyn said. "I heard that the tournament could use healers. Where do I sign up for that?"

[Spiritzer]

@Cyrania

Outside The Arena, Alvion

"You want to sign up as a healer? Now?"

Her once vexed expression crunched into a moment of bewilderment, nervousness then softened into quiet pondering.

"That's fortiutous. Are you by any chance the replacement for Hilda? She's been missing all morn and no one has seen her. I've sent word but The fights are going to take place in a few hours and --- nevermind!" The woman tucked her tresses behind her ears, she too was an elf though clearly not from Ispar.

"So!" She calmed down slightly, going back to the cheery tone she was taught to address any and all who engaged the booth. "How may I address you, miss? And what do you know of healing wounds?"

She plucked out a small knife from under the table, blade surgically sharp. Placing it on the desk. It was just like one of the tests Gwyneira had back at school, the professors would test their students by asking them to knick themselves and repair the wounds with the spells they had previously learnt. The deeper the wound, the more advanced the class. The elf seemed in a hurry, usually these showcases were far more prepared and ceremoniious.

[Cyrania]

Gwyneira Elfreda

"Well I didn't know about Hilda, but I could easily take her place."

Gwyn picked up the dagger and thought about what sort of injury to heal. It had to be impressive enough to show off what she could do without either killing herself or leaving her crippled for life. This was not the classroom where there was a more advanced teacher who could hopefully correct you if you failed unless you were really stupid. She wasn't quite good enough to practically raise the dead, but she could handle more than a simple slice wound. Then Gwyn had an idea and rolled up her left sleeve.

"I tend to be addressed as Miss Elfeda." She replied. Then she stabbed her inner left elbow where the bones met, grimacing against the pain as she injured tendons, bones, and veins. The wound bleed impressively as finally she drew out the dagger. Then cast her standard healing spell, knitting back together the veins and tendons and rebuilding the bones while also killing any infections. "I studied advanced healing at the Ispar Academy. I can heal most anything, from lacerations to burns to broken bones to poison to cut off limbs and anything in between." Gwyn then handed the knife back to the other elf. "Was this proof enough of my abilities or do you require another demonstration?"

[Spiffy]

Cicero Bladewalker

Cicero listened to the man intently. He rejected his original offer but lowered the price to 170. Cicero grinned extended his hand again and replied,

"Deal. The name's Cicero. I'll save the vial for later."

After shaking hands, Cicero handed over 170 silvers. Cicero would glance around briefly. Then he returned his gaze to the man. He seemed to have experience and knowledge of things that were in another sphere then the one Cicero usually ran in. Notably, alchemic concoctions and the like. It was a bold question to inquire, but it was worth asking,

"This may sound like a strange thing to ask, but would you consider being my coach for the duration of this tournament? I would pay you part of the winnings. On top of your bets, it would make you a very wealthy man.

He didn't exactly expect the man to agree. His experience could prove invaluable, so Cicero hoped that prize money would be worth it to him.

[Spiritzer]

@Spiffy

The Arena's Holding Area, Alvion

"That's, your choice, friend."

He grabbed the bag with glee, counting the coins within. 15 gold pieces and 20 silvers, perfect.

"Your ....Coach!?" The man asked looking up, clearly suprised as his gruff voice hopped a pitch higher. At this point, between his visor and the shadows of the hood, it was still hard to see any of his other features. His skin was a pale, sickly colour. Likely not in the best of health, despite his build. "Me?"

"Ahahah! Thou doth jest too much." He laughed a low chortle.

...
...
...

"Oh. You're serious ...!" He gave it some thought, scratching his chin as he did so then scratching his hair behind his head. This was still profit, right? Right?

"I'm no swordsman, ain't going to lie, can't stand the smell of death, personally." He mumbled, sniffing then rubbing his nose. "But tell ya what, if you're not opposed, I can get the lowdown on them you be fighting. The things they wouldn't want you to know. It's gonna cost you, say, like, 30%." He rubbed his fingers together, glancing at the other rooms and seemingly already coming up with a plan.

The man turned back towards cicero. "Unless it's too ...unhonorable?"

---

---

---

@Cyrania

Outside The Arena, Alvion

The elf looked at Gwyneira's spell, she seemed familiar with the proccess. Chanting tone, good. Prana flow, smooth. Still concentrating despite the pain. This was not the first healer she had to interview. "Very good! Very good! You'll do fine in there, dear."

It looked like she had the weight of the world lifted off her shoulders, she tilted her head up and muttered a prayer to whichever diety had blessed her this day. Clasping her hands for but a brief moment,

"Here we go. Now, go put this brooch on and the guards will let you in when they see it. Your charge is ..." Handing Gwyneira an intricately folded blue ribbon and pin.

She flipped open a book of records. "...212, 211 ....Olberion the Unbent and Cicero Bladewalker." She closed the book, opening her hand to get the knife back from Gwyneira. "Just patch them up after their fights, keep them hale and healthy. We don't want any real casualities." Then she put a finger to her lips.

"AAAAANYWHO, when the whole thing is over, report back here with all the other healers and we'll give you your pay. It's 5 gold today, lunch and dinner provided. You get to watch the fights your charges are in as well. ...yeep, that's all!"

"Slots 212 and 211 are on the first floor, immediately to your right when you reach the outer ring." She gestured the way, not really able to leave her booth to guide the newcomer. "Oh oh oh! And IIIF you meet someone called Hilda, short stocky, red hair, supposed to be wearing a white cloak, ...tell her to get her hind here posthaste. His Highness Therion is expecting her to be by his side at the stands during thee matches!"