Damian and Teran stood in front of old Garrik, their standard enclosure, waiting for him to enlighten the both of them with explanations after debriefing him on what transpired with them in the shower room.
"I'm afraid I will not be of much help. Other than what everyone else already knows." He exclaimed while still lounging on the hay-filled bed with both hands resting on his crooked wooden cane.
"Master, any information about Weavers, will do since I don't have any knowledge whatsoever," Damian responded as he stood next to Teran while both of them faced him. Garrik took a deep breath before speaking as one of his hands motioned them both to sit on the bed behind them.
"All I know is that Weavers possess control over the elements, bending them to their will. I've heard of Weavers summoning rivers to villages in the middle of the desert. Others say Weavers could crumble a mountain with a single wave of a wand.
I would have said that these were tricks of the mind, but I have witnessed some familiar feats on a minor scale. But seeing that I am not a Weaver myself, my understanding of the matter is almost none existent."
Garrik's explanation pause there as his ears twitched, clearly not wanting anyone else to hear the conversation he was having with his disciples. Moments went by as Damian started to ponder. thinking this was the entirety of what Garrik learned.
Feeling that the three of them were out of earshot, he continued, "Although..." The old elf conversed, drawing Damian back from his thought process "Weavers are sought after by most of the individuals with authority. And are promised wealth and status, and if you wish to learn more...
Your best bet will be to join the Four Heavens Academy in the Capital city or one of its branches, which for you Damian would be in the human kingdom, and from what you told me earlier, you should be released in five days, so this is a perfect opportunity for you. do you not think so as well?." Garrik's mustache curled as it tried to dispense a smile hidden beneath it.
Damian stared at the old elf for a moment before he responded, "I guess that's the best option. and regarding your request Master Garrik. I agree" Damian already planned to admit to Garrik's proposal either way, but he felt that given it some thought wouldn't hurt.
But what bothered Damian at this point was a small blue window at the lower edge of his peripheral vision that showed after his skirmish in the bathhouse.
you have Learned Passive: Corruption corruption Levels: 20%
(Meanwhile..)
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Kyn is being escorted to the warden's office by one of the prison's guards as he enters the well lit and somewhat warm room. He finds himself standing in front of Sargon, who is in the middle of writing on a few parchments while Zol stands beside him.
"Oh good, Kuskyn, you are here," Sargon pauses momentarily before he looked at the heaping mass of muscle and iron next to him. "Zol, would you be a dear and fetch our Warden to be? I still have a few things that require his attention." he issued as if a mother shooing a child to have some grown-up talk.
Zol nods slightly before he walks passing by Kuskyn, eyeing him down before exiting the office, leaving both Sargon and Kuskyn in the room.
Sargon rears the chair causing it to whine as it seems he either finished his paper or just got bored of it entirely while he makes his way around the room as if inspecting it for anything out of the ordinary. "I am sure you already know about Garrik's little project. Have you met him yet?" Sargon questioned, while his hands traced on the stone wall near him.
"Yes, and I am still not impressed. However, that human does have a weird aura about him." Kuskyn answered while his eyes are scanning after the warden as if studying his movements. "Well, either way, that boy is more than what he lets out to be." Sargon rubs his fingers together as if checking for dust on the wall. He keeps walking around his office until he is standing face to face with Kuskyn, who towered Sargon by a foot before he resumed speaking.
"I want you to provoke him into attacking you, favorably in the tournament where I have sight on him." As the words left the Warden's mouth, a gentle smile showed on his face before fading as if it was never there. "Well, I do have a question. Since your little guard dog is out of this room, and you are this close to me..."
While Kuskyn was in the middle of speaking, Sargon raised his visage only to meet face to face with eyes fixated on him like a hawk that just found its prey and ripe for the picking " what can stop me from ripping your throat out and taking over the prison for my own?" Kuskyn continued.
Sargon blinked a few times with confusion on his face before he replied, "Oh? I think the right question is.." The warden pauses as his head tilted to the side, and his face distorted into a wide grin with a stare reflecting both Malice and joy. "Who can stop me from peeling your skin while you scream for mercy."
The so-called bloodbath Kyn felt a chilling aura creep under his skin. As if it was always there, but he just noticed it's presence. all this time who was on the assumption that Zol was Sargon's only line of defense but now Kuskyn suddenly realized that he's just like a helpless mouse trapped in a steel cage with a giant snake named the Crimson Warden that can swallow him whole without any issue, and to make matters worse, Kuskyn was poking the snake with his own little tale.
"Know that you are just a little lab rat. I gave the quirk that made you take that old geezer's leg, and I can take it away just as easily, so you will do what I say, when and how I say it." Sargon kept speaking while he turned away from Kuskyn and walked towards his desk, and when he turned back to face Kuskyn, who is now sweating bullets, Sargon's face was already back to normal, or more like innocent. "So would you kindly go and do what I say?" The warden finishes his threat with what seemed like a polite request.
"Y-yes, I-I'll do as you say, Warden." Kuskyn turned to leave in a hurry, and just as his hand was about to reach the doorknob, Sargon spoke again, "Oh, and next time you bare your fangs at me. I will literally break every bone in your body while you still draw breath before I crush your heart like a grape... Now you may leave."
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The next day came, and Damian was in the same box of a room the Flesh carnival participants waited before their battle. This room had a somewhat decent collection of weapons dangling from hooks hanging from the wall in front of the stone bench protruding from the other wall. Damian went to pick his usual sword and shield since he's used to this combination ever since his time in Knights of oblivion. The guard in the room stood between Damian and the weapons before Damian could even touch them.
"mind telling me what are you doing, blocking me from the weapons?" Damian hissed, "Orders from the Warden" The guard replied. just as those words left the guard's mouth, the door where Damian came from opened, and Sargon emerged. "oh, that would be on me, Mr. Damian" Sargon spoke with a theatric manner. "and the reasoning behind it is...?" Damian enquired, turning his attention away from the guard. "...oh yes, well, I heard from a witness that you ran into an altercation in the bathhouse with one of the other prisoners and even managed to dispatch them, resulting in ending the life of two of them" Sargon exclaimed.
"-That son of a bitch!! wait till I get my hands on him-" "they attacked us, and if I didn't kill them, I wouldn't be standing here now" Damian explained, hoping this was enough to defuse the situation. " oh I am well aware of that... but none the less you did assault and managed to kill two participants of the tournament. I am afraid that a penalty must be issued" Sargon said with a poorly acted frown if not exaggerated frown. Damian was in shock. Do the elves hate the humans so much that they would do anything to get rid of any human they can get their hands on? "so this is more of an execution than a fight," Damian disapproved with his hands curling into fists.
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"Oh, heavens no. Why would I do that? I am merely doing my job as a Warden, and all prisoners are equal in my eyes. What I am doing is giving you a penalty, just as stated in the tournament rules. so since you killed two participants of the tournament, you will enter this fight and the next unarmed although you may wear armor, I believe this is fair.. do you not agree, Mr. Damian?" Sargon gleed still maintaining the theatric act, which is obvious to all in the room.
"Do I have a say in this?" Damian asked, already knowing the answer but there was no harm in asking, he thought, no matter how weak the opponent he faces, fighting unarmed is a huge disadvantage. "afraid not, rules are rules, though I am sure you will find a way out" Sargon smiled faintly finally finished with his theatrics as he turned to leave. Damian's blood boiled as a vein popped into existence on his forehead. As he looked at the sword and shield he was denied, then at the pile of scrap armor cast in the corner of the room. Then he noticed something in the pile that might change his current predicament. "So I can wear any armor?"
"well, of course, I am not cruel to let you fight with no protection whatsoever" Sargon replied, "I'll see what I can manage" Damian whispered to himself as he gave a long stare at his -Stats- "-let's hope these will do the trick-".
Name / Level Damian.A.Walker - 18 Rank / Title Bronze Prisoner - Survivor Stats Health 290/290 Stamina 300/300 Mana 230/230 Strength Endurance Intellect Wisdom 28 29 23 22 Agility Perception Willpower Luck 30 32 23 15
Roughly ten minutes later, at the Arena grounds. Flint doing his usual occupation, working the crowd into a cocktail of cheers and roars. "CRIMINALS & GENTS WITHOUT FURTHER ADO. LET US WELCOME OUR TWO FIGHTERS FOR THIS FIGHT. ARE YOU READYYYYY!!?" the crowd goes wild in anticipation for the massacre that is about to be unleashed. "FIRST TO ARRIVE WE HAVE OUR NIMBLE BELOVED THIEF & CUTTHROAT...SELANAAAAAAAAR!!" the arena drowns in cheers as a slender elf enters, strolling on the rough sands. Dark sunken holes adorned by a set of green eyes and pale skin, making one easily mistake him for a living corpse. Holding onto his waist are two curved blades that are between the length of a dagger and a shortsword.
"NEXT IS OUR MOSTLY HATED UNDERDOG... DAAAAAAAMIAAAAAAAN!!" the crowd goes into a frenzy of boos and curses at Damian even before he set foot on the field, but they all die down when he emerges without a weapon or a shield, although what he wore was more strange. Two pieces of plates covered most of his chest and upper back areas, along with two gauntlets covering his hands and arms to the elbows, in addition to two armor footwear plates that reached out to his knees.
"AHEM... TO EXPLAIN WHAT YOU FINE FOLKS ARE WITNESSING... DUE TO A VIOLATION ON DAMIAN'S PART, HE IS NOT ALLOWED THE EQUIPMENT OF WEAPONS AT THE START OF THIS FIGHT AND THE NEXT" a few seconds of silence roamed the arena before laughs covered it entirely, seemingly the crowd enjoyed the scene of what they considered the example of humiliation.
Selanaar joined in the misfortune of his opponent. "I have to thank you for your generosity. I was honestly having trouble finding a way around your shield, but to think you would be totally unarmed. I will be ending this as fast as possible" the thin Elf pronounced as he pulled the two blades with a sinister smile and malicious eyes.
"Do your worst, Tinkerbell, just because I'm not holding a sword and shield doesn't mean I'm unarmed, just unequipped" Damian spoke, as he seemed unperturbed by his situation in the least. "oh? and how do you plan to prevent me from turning you into a blood seeping sponge?" Selanaar chuckled as he lowered his poster preparing to lunge.
"FIGHTERS READY!?" the announcer shouted, beckoning the two in the arena to prepare themselves ten feet apart from each other. Damian started hopping in place, switching his weight constantly from one foot to the other, left to right, while both his fists rose, one covering his midsection and the other to his chin.
"FIGHT!!!" Selanaar wasted no time as he turned into a blur in a second, appearing next to Damian, aiming both his blades at Damian's neck as if he had done so hundreds of times before. but both of them missed their, as one of Damian's gauntlets swiftly rose, pushing away the blades. "ever heard of MMA?" Damian turned his body towards Selanaar, and while his right arm is blocking the blades. his left fist bolts from his side, forming a left hook and planting it in Selanaar's right side, forcing him three feet away. "UUOGH!!".
36 Damage
Damian was never good at sports, but he loved watching them like any other guy, furthermore after watching something for long periods of time, he understood the basic gist of it. Weight distribution, the center of gravity, weak points, as well as some basic moves. In addition, Knights of oblivion had countless classes and subclasses. Some players used martial arts as a class, their weapons of choice... gauntlets and armguards. Still, his skill in that department was extremely inferior, but the stats brought their own merits to the mix.
As Selanaar stumbled a few feet back, his eyes wide and trickles of blood seeped from his lips. A shocking revelation silenced the crowd's voices. None of them saw an unarmed person overpower an armed person before. Damian was still hopping in place, yet his face showed him to be shocked as well. not that he didn't believe he could do it, but it never occurred to him that it would go this well. suddenly a smile crept over Damian's face as he said. "I think it's time for some Cultural Exchange."