Elenra wasn’t about to let the
half-orc get the upper hand, they leaned into their parry and drove the trident
down into the dirt, slipping their hand to the back of their belt. A flash of
light glinted off metal as a second weapon appeared in Elenra’s free hand, a
dagger that struck Kuran’s face. A howl of pain came from the Half-Orc woman as
she staggard back, the crowd bellowed their pproval at first blood.
Annice reeled, the sight of blood
turned her stomach, but the battle enthralled her. Sh joined with the crowd in
the cheering, letting out a bellow of her own in support of the Half-Orc Kuran.
She had seen the woman fight in the past and knew this was only the beginning.
Kuran put some distance between
herself and the wood elf, blood now streaking down the side of her face. The
blade had missed her eye, but there was now a nasty gash from chin to brow, and
she was literally seeing red. The warrior’s eyes narrowed, and she reeled back,
bellowing out a roar. She knew she still had the advantage in reach, but that
wasn’t what she wanted now, she wanted to get up close and personal.
Storming forward, Kuran came at
Elenra like a charging bull. The lithe Elf could have deftly avoided the
advance, had Kuran not lashed out with the trident when they did, causing
Elenra to falter, and shuffle back… right into a tackle. Kuran took Elenra off
their feet and lifted them into the air, trident clattering to the side. The
half-orc had the much smaller elf up above her head, ankles between one set of
fingers and the back of a neck pinched in the other. Elenra tried to swing
their longsword back to find purchase in flesh but there was none to be had,
and the dagger could only make small insignificant glances against Kuran’s
powerful forearms. Kuran held the Elf aloft for some seconds, the crowd frothing
with jeers and applauds at the display, before finally arching back, and
lurching forward, using all of her great might to slam the Elf into the dirt.
The crowd let out a cooing groan in unison as the dust rose around Elenra’s
body.
Kuran turned from her opponent, trudging
along the dirt towards her trident. Being without a weapon on the battlefield was
generally a bad idea but, at this moment, Elenra didn’t exactly have a handle on
their weapons either. The stinging in Kuran’s arm told her that Elenra’s dagger
had made a few significant wounds after all but it did little to stop her
masterful grip of the weapon. Turning back, she grinned and watched as Elenra
was only now starting to stir, groaning in pain and in a daze. The half-orc
woman stalked up to the Elf, slowly, casually, boasting in her victory. She
raised the trident just as Elenra snapped into focus, but it was too late.
Kuran watched the elf raise their hands defensively in a reflex, completely neglecting
to take up their arms, which was the only defence the elf had.
Or so Kuran thought.
From Elenra’s outstretched hand
came a gout of flame roaring from their fingers. The immense heat washed over the
crowd all the way up to the third balcony, like walking into a hot summer day.
Kuran stumbled and scrambled away, hands on her face as she shrieked, trident
clattering into the dirt. She stumbled to the ground and rolled desperately,
when she was done her face was now soot covered and ashy brown, and she could
smell burning hair. She didn’t know that Elenra was a spell caster, and now she
was without her weapon and staring the elf down as they rose to their feet.
Elenra had not exactly turned the
tabled, more-so evened the playing field. They were still groggy, their entire
backside ached like the skin itself had split, and the world wobbled in their
vision. It was a miracle they were able to pull the arcane spell from their
mind and cast it as they did. But they stood firm, feet finding the ground and
the world’s spin slowing to a dull throb in her vision. They only evened the
playing field but they could, if they made the right move, turn the tide.
Elenra took one strong step forward
and searched their inner mind for the spells they had stored there this dawn, concentration
was difficult but they were a warrior and this was not the first time they had
cast a spell in battle nor the first time they did so while in agony. They
found the spell. The Wood Elf brought their hands together index finger to
index finger, ring with ring, and pinkies straight ahead. The middle fingers
curled in towards the palm and met at the knuckles, with the somatic gesture
complete Elenra let out a Power Word in the language of the arcane and the
world rippled. Wind from nowhere seemed to blast Elenra in the face, lifting
their hair aloft as she chanted her power words, turning their gaze to the
Half-Orc
Kuran’s eyes widened in shock and
not an insubstantial amount of fear. She leapt to her feet and sprinted for her
trident, she needed to interrupt the spell! Fingers reached out and she nearly
had the weapon, but the very earth cracked between her digits and the shaft of
the weapon, shifting the trident away from her. Reeling from the crack Kuran
turned back to Elenra’ who stared with wide and wild eyes, and a face of
intense concentration. The magical energies ripped through them as they
continued the spell’s power word chant. Another crack formed to Kuran’s other
side, the earth itself splitting and separating. Another formed in front of the
Half-Orc, and again behind her, at which point the very ground Kuran stood upon
sank, and the warrior faultered as they fell with the earth and collapsed into
a newly formed pit ten feet deep. She shook her head, slightly dazed and at
that moment noticed she could no longer hear the crowd and could not discern whether
it was due to the cacophony of magically shifting stone or if they had simply
all gone silent. She raised her gaze to the lip of the pit, where she could see
Elenra move into the second phase of the spell. Kuran
Elenra’s hands split from each
other, taking on a new somatic gesture. Now the ring fingers curled in toward
the palm and all other fingers lay outstretched. New words of power boomed
through the Elf’s throat as she drew her hands back together, and the earth
began to move again. Now the pit that had been formed was shrinking, closing in
on all sides. Elenra noticed, out of the corner of their eye, that the trident
was caught in the shifting rock and was being dragged to the pit but paid it no
mind. Even if the trident fell it would do Kuran no good once she was encased
in an ever shrinking stone coffin, besides it was not like they could do
anything about it as they moved through the delicate spell weaving. They paid
it less mind when the weapon finally did fall, only noting that it might as
well be a parting gift, the War Heroine buried with her weapon, fitting. The
pit shrank and soon it would all be over.
A shrieking bellow of a warcry blasted
out of the pit, followed shortly thereafter by Kuran, trident in hand. In the
last moments before the pit swallowed her she had managed to grasp her weapon
and used it and her tremendous strength to vault free of the hole. Soaring
though the air with rage in her eyes she bore down on the elf and felt the sickening
resistance against her palm as the trident sunk into flesh. The weight of the Half-Orcish
woman dragged the elf down to the ground and the trident’s prongs sank further,
a gurgling scream the only response from Elenra.
The world slowed for a moment, it
passed in a breath but felt as long as half a day. Upon Elenra’s chest a glowing
glyph of warding formed and the magical protections afforded to them by the Tournament
flashed into life, pulling the trident from their torso, and pushing Kuran away
in a harmless, but quite forceful burst of power. A killing blow detected by
the Glyph marked the end of the battle and Elenra’s healer, a Cleric of the Order
of Verkal the God of Mercy, was already sprinting out to aide Elenra as
Brisbane’s voice boomed once again across the arena.
“Aye now that was a fight!” He
called as he walked to the center of the arena. “Lads and Lasses give it up for
these absolutely mad fighters! Elenra Silma Greenbloom!” He gestured his hands
towards Elenra, who was groggily coming to as the wounds in their torso closed
as the holy magic of their healer walked through them. They waved weakly as the
crowd exploded in their appreciation for them. “And of course, winner of this match
and movin on to the next round… KURAN TUUUUSKTOOOOOOTH!” The crowd let out an
even greater cheer for the Half-Orc as she leaned against her Trident and her
own Healer tended to the wounds she received. She pulled her still bleeding arm
from the healer’s grasp and raised it triumphantly into the air.
Annice felt hot faced, and pressed
the back of her palms against her cheeks to attempt to cool them. What a fight!
She felt almost exhausted just watching it, and nearly screamed herself hoarse
when Elenra had started casting spells! There was not a moment of shame in her
now as she wailed out in cheer and jubilation, and that was only the first
fight! The tournament continued on like that with each fight seemingly more
grand than the next. Annice had watched all the warriors here fight at least a
dozen times over the seasons, but this was so different. The vigor and ferocity
they all fought with was palpably different. This was a Champion Tournament and
that meant a bigger prize pot than a simple exhibition tourney, but more than
that it meant glory. For Annice it meant a slight bit of frustration for one
special reason. As it was an official Champions event, it meant that the victor
of last yea’s Champions was automatically entered into the semi-finals, and
last year’s Champion Victor was her favorite fighter. So when the first match
of the semi-finals at last came, Annice found renewed energy in her tormented throat
to lead the cheer for her favored champion.
“Oy now this here gent needs no
introduction to be sure!” Brisbane bellowed. “But it be me job to do it and I
know he loves to hear his own name!” The dwarf laughed. “Here he is to fight
for you all… The Hero of the People, victor of tournaments all across the realm,
and last years Champion of Champions, it is WILHELM THE UNYIEEELDIIIING!”
Wilhelm stepped into the arena, and
the arena was deafening. He brushed a hand through his golden hair, and shifted
to one foot, raising his hand in greeting to the people. Wilhelm was very
handsome, with a golden mop of golden hair tied into a tight bun at the back of
his skull and sheered on each side. Short bearded and square jawed, and with eyes
of emerald color. The only thing that marred his otherwise pristine features were
a set of three parallel scars that trained from his forehead down his face, two
ending at his brow and one circling around his eye, a memory of a very close
call. He was adorned in black trousers and sturdy leather boots. A brownish red
tunic peeked out from under his breastplate which linked to his shoulder pauldrons.
Strapped to his waist was a rather large Warhammer, and to his back an even
bigger maul. Fans would know that maul as the Unit of Measurement, because that’s
what it was.
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