His heart drummed excitement through his veins, pushing out the nerves. He gripped his magical shield tight in hand, feeling its great magic within. He gripped his axe tighter in hand, the axe which was far too dangerous to be used in his hands. As he closed his eyes, a flash of memories rushed through him.
That of a child, so small, so ugly, who ended up crawling far too quickly. She ended up talking far too quickly. She ended up walking far too quickly.
The dirt upon the twins. The scar upon the eldest girl, who protected her younger siblings. A red skinned baby who randomly appeared into existence one day.
Then the pair of small, wrinkled, fragile babies. One with leaf shaped ears, the other, no doubt his son.
‘Am I going to die?’ The thought belonged to his opponent, who could feel the oppressive aura of the figure before him.
The oppressive aura of a father who would rather die than lose.
13D6.
‘Two hits,” Adam thought. ‘And if he expends each charge, that’s 13D6. The average damage is about forty five, or so? Then you add in Jurot’s strength and his big angry bonus and the magical bonus, that should be what, eight, nine, additional damage per hit. If he rolls average, that’s about… sixty? Sixty damage.’
Yet, somehow, even though Adam assumed average damage, the foe stood, arms and legs shaking from Jurot’s violent onslaught. The axe had threatened to break through his armour. Indeed, if the fellow was any normal figure, he would have probably fallen back from such a mighty blow, but this was no normal figure.
‘So this is the Iyrman who beat Sir Gordan?’ Mason thought, still feeling the aftermath of the heavy blows against him. ‘Unfortunately for you, Iyrman, I’m from the North!’ Mason’s greatsword, glowing a pale blue, cut through the air, and struck against his shield, the noise thundering.
Adam made note there was no actual thunder. ‘You’re holding back?’
Except, there was something different. Even as Mason’s blade struck so viciously, so viciously he would have certainly dropped a typical Expert, he could still feel the chill down his spine. He managed to duck under a wicked blow that threatened to knock him out, even through his full plate, and the pair continued to exchange heavy blows, until finally, the victor emerged.
Though Mason had certainly struck true, striking true against Jurot was still worse than striking him while he wasn’t raging, and though the member of the Order of the Ice Blades had a good showing against the Iyrman, Jurot had also managed to strike true too. Jurot flexed, raising his axe, which shook ever so slightly. He had taken quite a battering, not quite at half Health, but he wasn’t shaking because he had been struck, but rather, he wanted to keep fighting.
“Good fight,” Adam said, patting Jurot’s shoulder once he returned. “It wasn’t quite as clean as my fight against the Priest, but it was still pretty good.”
“It is a shame our fights were placed in such a way,” Jurot said, since he was unable to watch the fights.
XP: 3 800
‘It’s not like he was worth much XP.’ Adam took a moment to realise why. ‘Oh. Right. Thank you.’
[No problem.]
With perhaps the politest conversation he had ever had with Bell, Adam wondered if he should speak to them more often. ‘Maybe another time.’
Since the arena had been quartered after the first day, multiple fights could be watched at the same time, and though Adam and Jurot were both fighters, they hadn’t managed to take their place within the ring. Instead, they sat near the top of the general seats, watching the fights from above, though it was still awkward to see any fights that didn’t take place in their quarter.
“Ah! Look!” Adam said, pointing out to a figure in full plate.
“Executive Jaygak!” called the announcer as the young Iyrman raised her blade within the air, circling around the arena.
“Executive Jaygak?” Adam asked, frowning. “Why doesn’t she have a cool name?”
“You are also called Executive.”
“Yeah, but we all know that’s boring. Shouldn’t she have something cooler? Jaygak the Inferno. Jaygak, Death Incarnate. Jaygak the Horny.”
“…”
“You know that was funny.”
“…”
‘Fine. Be like that.’
Jaygak awaited for her opponent, before he was introduced.
“Sir Rory Eastspear of the Golden Spears.”
‘It’s true…’ Jaygak thought, trying to calm her heart. Of all the people she was coming to face against, it was him?
“My greetings to you, Iyrman,” Rory called out, removing his helmet to bow his head. His copper hair curled backwards, his jade eyes emboldened his smile of pearls.
“You too,” Jaygak replied, removing her helmet, bowing her head in return.
“Hey, Jurot,” Adam whispered in the stands. “Aren’t the Golden Spears based in East Aldland?”
“Yes.”
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“It feels like Jaygak’s showing a lot of respect.”
“Yes.”
“…” Adam raised his brows, but Jurot remained focused on the encounter between the pair.
Rory Eastspear smiled wider towards the woman. He stood tall and strong, full of grace, as one might have expected of an Eastspear. He wore full plate armour, forged in the East, with all manner of engravings through the breastplate, though the rest of the armour was fairly plain. His long cloak was the blue of a clear noonval sky, and dropped down to the back of his knees, rather than down towards his ankles. He wielded a large, round, bronze shield, and a spear, the gold tip gleaming even during nightval.
“Did you know that our family has history,” Jaygak asked, daring to waste the crowd’s time.
“We do?”
“Do you know of the name Jogak the Firestorm?”
“No.”
“What a shame.” Jaygak clutched her blade in hand. “It was during the Demonic Devastation when he was stabbed in the back by the Aldishmen. I will speak to you the tale after our bout.”
“Perhaps if you win?”
“Okay,” Jaygak replied. “I will prepare the wine and cheese.”
Rory smiled even wider, before bowing his head lightly.
Jurot stared at the pair for a long moment. “Adam. Do not look away.”
“Kitool’s about to fi-,”
“You cannot look away,” Jurot said, his eyes completely focused between Jaygak and Rory. ‘Jaygak…’
‘You have to beat him up, Jaygak, since he’s from the East,’ Adam thought, sending out as much fortune as he could, though he supposed vibes wouldn’t help. ‘Plus, Jurot and I bet thousands of gold, so…’
‘I should not show her up,’ Rory thought. ‘It would be untoward.’
“Sir Rory,” Jaygak called.
“Yes?”
“I will not hold back.”
“I will not hold back either,” the Oathsworn replied, flashing another charming smile, before they both donned their helmets, and the fellow spun his spear, taking his stance, shield up, spear point beside the round shield.
Jaygak inhaled deeply, focusing herself. ‘One swing at a time.’
The air fell silent before them. Then, the pair exploded into a vicious display of spear and blade, gold and white. An explosion of thunder rocked through the arena as Jaygak flew back, but the most shocking thing of all, was that the Oathsworn, Sir Rory, stepped back.
‘What was that?’ he thought, feeling the ache through his body. He was thankful the explosive Thunderous Smite and his Divine Smite had managed to rock her, but her onslaught was so vicious, he thought he would die. He stumbled back to put some distance between them, and though he was ready to heal himself, he watched as Jaygak, instantly leapt onto her feet with such nimbleness, one might have expected her to be descended from a panther. It had been so sudden, the warrior almost slipped, while Jaygak leapt at him, glowing blade in hand.
What was most terrifying of all was that even though Jaygak attacked with such savagery, seemingly with the intent to kill the Oathsworn, she let out no growl, no grunt, and other than sharp breaths, there was no comfort in the silence which engulfed Rory, before finally, the glowing blade gave way to darkness.
The shock filled the crowd, as much as it had the first day when a particular fellow in purple had defeated the greatest genius the North had ever created, or so it was said. Jaygak had, with greater ease, managed to defeat the likes of Sir Rory Eastspear!
That Eastspear!
“Adam, do you understand the significance of this victory?” Jurot asked.
“We just earned a boat load of gold, and Jaygak beat some guy she hated?” Adam replied.
“No,” Jurot replied. “You have heard the tale.”
“I have?”
History Check (Intelligence)
D20 + 3 = 12 (9)
“I’m not sure…” Adam admitted.
“Sir Rory Eastspear is descended from Sir Hunter Eastspear, who held the title of The Young Hawk.”
“Yeah?”
“Jaygak will tell the tale,” Jurot said.
Kitool continued to face against her own opponent, who was a Rage Dancer, and was a vicious fellow, a Master, she was certain. She almost regretted joining the older section of the tournament, but she fought hard. Even so, she left swiftly after her bout, to go to see Jaygak.
As the four joined together, Adam wondered if he should have called for Lucy and Mara, who kicked it with the Marshal of East Port. Oh, and Jane too. ‘No, I should leave them to watch the fights, since they’re having fun.’
“I didn’t expect you to be so powerful,” Rory stated, as the group met at an inn in the evening. He had arrived with another Bronze Shield, but also a Silver Shield.
‘Is she Sir Edith?’ Jaygak thought, glancing aside towards the Silver Shield, before raising her cup of wine to Sir Rory. “The blade I wield is truly great. Without it, I may not have been able to defeat you.”
Sir Rory, who could still feel the ache of Jaygak’s blade, understood how the blade was truly great, but the stitches he required as her blade slipped through the chinks in his armour, revealed that she was just being polite. “I will take your kind words to heal my bruised ego.”
“It’s not the only thing that was bruised,” Adam said, chuckling lightly, before noting Jaygak’s judging look, and he quickly stopped. Adam cleared his throat.
“You mentioned that our families have a history?”
“Your ancestor, Sir Hunter Eastspear, the Young Hawk, made his name during the Demonic Devastation,” Jaygak said, catching the man’s eyes, who held a deep pride within them.
“It was a turbulent time, and I can only be humbled by what my ancestor managed to accomplish,” Rory replied, sipping his wine, smiling slightly.
“My father’s name is Jogak, but there is another Jogak I grew up hearing of. Jogak the Firestorm.”
“You did mention the name.”
“Jogak the Firestorm was active during the Demonic Devastation, along with his cousin, Gangak the Blade. My grandaunt is named after her, and she herself earned the title of Flame Brand in Aswadasad. She was…” Jaygak smiled. “This isn’t about her. During the Demonic Devastation, our family had reached great heights. Jogak the Firestorm fought hard, slaying demon after demon. Gangak the Blade slew two of the Demon Generals, her bladework so great, they decided against adding a prefix to her title. They fought. They fought and they fought. They protected East Aldland, with many of the Orders which had been active during the time. The Fifty Red Blades, they were active then, I’m sure you know, since your ancestor fought alongside a few.”
“He fought alongside Sir Leona,” Rory confirmed.
“The Red Lioness,” Jaygak confirmed. “He also fought alongside the Spear of the Breeze, whose son he eventually fostered, and he also fostered another young boy, who eventually became a local hero of South Aldland, now Floria. The Copper Sword of the South.”
“Sir Tommen, yes,” Rory replied, surprised that the young Iyrman knew of the hero, whose name was overshadowed by so many other legends.
“The Spear in the Golden Spears refers to Eastspear,” Jaygak said. “Some people don’t wish to accept it, but we all know.”
Rory smiled slightly. “So it does.” He wanted to ask more, but waited, because the girl seemed to hold a serious look in her eyes.
“Jogak the Firestorm met the Young Hawk many times, and though the Young Hawk was, as you’d guess, young, he was an impressive warrior. Jogak’s words at the time spoke highly of the Young Hawk. They fought only a few times alongside one another, once every few months, but as the war neared its end, and the demons were all but defeated, my ancestor was killed by the treachery of Aldishmen. Stabbed in the back and through his throat. Near the end of the war, when many great heroes continued to fight, to earn greater fame and glory, to stamp their names within the history books of Aldland, it was the Young Hawk who returned the bodies.”
Jaygak poured a cup of wine for the Order member, and she stared into his eyes. “That is why I didn’t hold back, Sir Rory.”
The Oathsworn remained silent for a long moment. He had heard that his ancestor had, for some reason, shirked the last few months of the war. ‘It was to return the Iyrmen?’ He raised his cup. “Thank you, Jaygak.”
Jaygak bowed her head, sipping the wine.
Adam glanced around between the pair. ‘I didn’t realise he was one of the good ones.’
Sir Edith had wanted to speak up, but considering the mood in the air, that of comradery, she decided against it. ‘Kids these days, honestly.’