“Baba,” the little girl called, her tiny face barely peeking through her hat and thick coat. “I am hungry.”
“If you are hungry, then you must eat,” the old man replied, reaching out to strap the crimson blade at his side. He reached out a hand, holding out his pinky and ring finger for the girl, who grabbed them, and followed after her grandfather.
“I miss daddy,” the girl said, pouting.
“Your father is working hard,” the old man replied. “When he returns, he will spoil you.”
“I do not want spoil, I want daddy.”
The old man sighed, wondering how the Mad Dog dealt with his greatdaughter. ‘How can I speak back when she is so cute?’ He lifted the girl up, planting a kiss on her forehead, while the girl smiled shyly.
“Baba…”
“Yes?”
“I love baba.”
“I love you too, my Chisen,” the old man replied, wondering if he should spill more blood with his blade.
Meanwhile, another old man played with a little girl, though her younger sibling was also nearby, drawing away with a dagger like grip upon the pencil.
“Babo, you are so fat now!” Jirot accused with her chubby, accusatory, potato eating, mischief causing, fingers.
“I am bulking, my dear, bulking!” the old man’s heart throbbed with pain, as though he didn’t wish to gain such weight, his grandson had informed him of the best way to gain strength so many years ago.
“Mummy is bulking too?” Jirot asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Even though they call me Mad Dog, not even I can say such,” the old man said, pulling the girl to his chest, planting a firm kiss on her forehead. “You cannot say such things, okay?”
“Okay…” The girl smirked.
“Jirot, you cannot, or I will tell nana.”
“No! I did not say it! I did not!” Jirot gasped, clutching his shirt tight in hand. “If you lie I will tell mummy!”
“I will not lie, and you cannot say it, okay?”
“Okay.” The girl calmed down, still partly afraid of the old man telling her grandmother. After all, if he told her grandmother, then she would not be able to eat two potatoes, only one. ‘How can she do this?’
“Your babo is working so hard.”
“Good job, babo,” little Jarot said, reaching out to pat the old man’s forearm, before feeling how squidgy it had become. He squeezed it gently.
The older man wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but since his greatson was enjoying himself, he decided to allow it.
Just this once.
“Babo, daddy is working hard, so I must wait,” Jirot said.
“That is right.”
“Even though I miss daddy, I am waiting for him.”
“You miss your daddy?”
“No!” Jirot replied, but she pouted. “I am waiting because I am such a good girl.”
“You are your mother’s daughter.”
The girl smiled. “I am daddy’s dohtur too.”
“You are my greatdaughter too, so sometimes, you can cause a mess, but only a little.”
“Only little bit,” Jirot confirmed. “I will cause mess later.”
“Later? What will you do?”
“I will…” The girl thought. “I will tell daddy he is smelly boy.” She cackled with delight.
“Oh?” Jarot replied. The girl stopped cackling, upon seeing her greatfather’s look, but as he smirked, she returned back to cackling. “With how much trouble you cause, you are certainly your father’s daughter.”
“Daddy is always making such mess, mummy always cleaning up. How can he do this?” The girl shrugged, utterly exasperated.
“He is my grandson, after all,” the old Iyrman said, brushing the girl’s cheek with his thumb. “He must make a mess, since he is my grandson.”
Jirot shook her head lightly, sighing. “Smelly boys.” She peeked up at her greatfather to see if he’d tell her off before she cackled.
While the daughter caused a mess in the Iyr, the father caused a mess in the North.
Battle Order
D20 + 1 = 4 (3)
Health: 112 -> 81
Strength Save
D20 + 8 = 15
Success!
Fighting Spirit: 3 -> 2
Health: 81 -> 86
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 11 (1)
D20 + 10 = 19 (9)
Miss!
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 12 (2)
D20 + 10 = 24 (14)
Hit!
Wraith: 3 -> 2
Mana: 25 -> 24
Ability: Divine Smite
2D6 + 2D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 27 (5)(6)(7)
27 damage!
Onward Soar: 1 -> 0
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 12 (2)
D20 + 10 = 24 (14)
Hit!
Wraith: 2 -> 1
Mana: 24 -> 23
Ability: Divine Smite
2D6 + 2D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 27 (10)(5)(3)
27 damage!
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 12 (2)
D20 + 10 = 18 (8)
Miss!
Tough Spirit: 1 -> 0
2D6 + 8 = 19 (11)
Health: 86 -> 105
Sir Roseia moved with a graceful swiftness, like a petal in the wind, her blade following after her like an avalanche. Even as Adam drew up his shield, he stepped back.
“By His Majesty’s grace,” the young woman chanted, before the thunder shook the air around them, her blade shaking slightly with thunderous might. A golden light spun around her blade, exploding against Adam’s armour. Adam winced as the thunderous force slammed through him, threatening to fracture his bones.
As she continued her assault, Adam focused, stepping forward with axe in hand, his blade swimming through the air, flashing hot and cold, their magical steel clashing.
The young woman winced as she stepped back, feeling the great force of Wraith, which she had felt once before. Except, last time, it hadn’t been through a single hit, which had forced her cape to dissolve and to protect her, but rather, now it was blunt like a hammer, the force shattering through her body.
Fighting Spirit: 2 -> 1
Health: 105 -> 110
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 14 (4)
D20 + 10 = 29 (19)
Hit!
Mana: 23 -> 21
Wraith: 1 -> 3
Wraith: 3 -> 0
Mana: 21 -> 18
Ability: Divine Smite
4D6 + 12D6 + 8D6 + 9 = 93 (14)(45)(25)
93 damage!
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 12 (2)
D20 + 10 = 18 (8)
Miss!
Sir Roseia’s heart pounded wildly within her chest, clutching at her blade tighter in hand, swinging wildly, desperately. She spoke the words to her magic again, but even as she did, her blade barely managed to glance off of Adam’s shield, her shaking arms doing little against the half elf.
Adam focused deeply, stepping forward, forcing the young woman back with his great blows. As she swung her blade wildly, Adam ducked under the swing, and struck against her side with a great blow, which would have potentially killed an Expert outright, expending his magic with a flood of adrenaline. As he was about to raise his axe in the air, the red cape shredded into thousands of strands, disappearing into the air, and the golden light around her blade dissipated into the air.
‘Ah.’
They clashed once more, but now Adam could see it, the shock in the woman’s eyes. She could see it too, the smile from through his helmet.
Fighting Spirit: 1 -> 0
Health: 110 -> 112
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 14 (4)
D20 + 10 = 16 (6)
Miss!
Attack - Wraith (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 13 (3)
D20 + 10 = 22 (12)
Mana: 18 -> 17
Ability: Divine Smite
2D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 24 (7)(8)
24 damage!
The clash of magical steel rung through the air. The young woman chanted the words to her spell once more, full of conviction and desperation, the golden light spinning around her blade once more. Adam only smiled, slamming his shield against her blade, and he stepped forward, beginning to focus once more.
“Right,” Adam said, far too playfully. “Last time, the Grand Duchess protected you from me.”
“You fiend!” She snarled, managing to deflect Adam’s blow, though felt the throbbing through her forearms. She realised she couldn’t keep defending from his onslaught, so thrust her blade forth.
Adam’s axe tore against the front of her armour, his magic pulsing through into her bones.
She crumpled, like paper.
Victory!
XP Gained: +200
XP: 4 800 -> 5 000
Adam grabbed the back of her shoulders as the woman fell, before gently dropping to a knee, resting her against the arena floor. He waited a moment, before finally raising his axe, the crowd shaking the stadium with their raucousness.
Lay on Hands: 40 -> 39
The woman gasped as the warmth of Adam’s magic filled her, and she tried to raise her sword, but Adam’s shin blocked it. Her sight returned, the blurry shapes filling her mind. Someone pulled up her visor, and there she saw it, even though the vague shapes, that of a noble’s smile.
“This time, the Grand Duchess allowed me to beat your ass,” Adam said, his voice far too light, far too playful to be speaking to a woman who was related to the Grand Duchess and the current King’s Sword. “Next time you see me, you better not forget that I held back when I lost to you, and when I beat you.”
Adam pulled away, raising his axe and shield in the air, circling around the stadium, allowing the rush of emotion to fill him once more. The heat and the tingling rushed through him like a tsunami. He inhaled deeply as the applause threatened to shatter his body, while his pounding heart filled him with a great joy. It wasn’t quite as joyous as when his daughter bullied him, nor quite as satisfying, but there were few things as satisfying as finally giving a noble what was coming to them.
“Yeah!” His voice carried even through the crowd’s shouting and applause. He ran from one end to the next, leaping and swinging his axe through the air, and if it had not been nightval, and he hadn’t been wearing full plate, he would have pulled his shirt over his head.
“Yeah! Come on then! Come on then!” the half elf shouted, punching the air repeatedly, causing the crowd to shout and cheer louder. He rushed over to one side of the crowd, raising his axe towards them. “Yeah!” He rushed to the other side, raising his shield. “Yeah!” He spun around with his shield and axe out, and continued to fight the air in celebration.
It was only when the Priest and the guards appeared, that Adam stopped, but for a moment, the guards reached for their blades upon seeing how Adam feinted towards them, his shield and axe up, the half elf coaxing them to fight him, before he sheathed his axe and laughed wildly.
‘Is he an idiot?’ one of the guards thought, reading to attack.
“Mm mm mm mm mmm! I am eating good tonight!” Adam laughed as he walked into the winning section, where the winners glanced his way, surprised to see the half elf. “I hope none of you bet wrong, because damn, I bet right!”
“How much you bet?”
“A few thou,” Adam replied, wiggling his shoulders.
“A few thousand?” the older fellow asked.
“I sure did!” Adam said, bouncing from one side to the next.
“Then drinks are on you?”
“Drinks are on me, they’re on Kitool,” Adam said, shuffling his way over to the young Iyrman who had stepped out of the shadows when Adam started to talk about money. He continued to bounce from one side to the next, reaching out to high five Kitool. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging! I was finally allowed to beat her up!”
Kitool slapped his hand gently, before crossing her arms again. “Stop acting the fool, or you will be in great trouble with the Grand Duchess.”
“Ah, come on!” Adam snapped his fingers as he bounced. “I finally got my revenge after all these years and put-,”
“Adam,” Kitool warned, her voice stern.
Adam stopped snapping his fingers, though he continued to bounce and shimmy his shoulders slightly. “You can’t stop me from dancing, though.”
“Stop it, you queer fool,” another victor said. “Win with some decorum!”
“Decorum? She was-,”
“Adam,” Kitool warned again.
Adam inhaled deeply, crossing his arms, finally stopping. “Fine.” He hummed quietly to himself, nodding his head lightly. ‘Hoo! Baby! What a rush! Yeah! Wear your good knickers, because I’m gonna-,’ Adam jolted slightly, inhaling deeply. ‘Whoa. Alright. Relax. Come on, bro.’
“Kitool?”
“Yes?”
“Man, I want to win so bad.”
“Do your best.”
“Yeah. You too, Kitool. You need to win your segment.”
Kitool glanced towards the figures around her, some of whom she would still need to face, from the Delirious Sword, to the others who would prove difficult. “I will do my best.”
It wasn’t long until Jurot and Jaygak both appeared, the pair having won their bouts, Adam greeting them all with a shake of the forearm, and the smile upon his face revealed more than enough to them.
“Congratulations, Adam,” Jaygak said, smiling towards him.
“Congratulations? Didn’t you guys also bet as much as me?” Adam winked.
Jaygak smiled, winking back. Jurot and Kitool exchanged a look, understanding that Adam was causing trouble for them, but luckily, they were Iyrmen. They took in the sights of the older group, each of whom would cause them the most trouble.
As the group left the victor’s stadium together, a voice called out.
“Executive Adam, the Grand Duchess wishes to speak with you.”
“Ah? With little ol’ me?” Adam asked, before he turned. “Alright.”
“I will come too,” Jurot said.
“The Grand Duchess requested only his presence.”
Jurot stared down at the servant. “I will come too.”
“…”
“…”
Adam closed his eyes. ‘Oh. I’m in trouble.’