Fantasy For my Family

[Cyrionessa]

Cerys raised her eyebrows. Fighting against that odd creature was going to be at least interesting. From what she had gathered of him, he wasn't a push-over. Most people said that "you needed to see him fight to understand." Well, apparently she was about to see him fight first hand. As she walked through the crowds, she just hoped that the Vejta kid that she had spoken to had gotten Rudd the message that she had sent. Cerys didn't have long to ponder these thoughts since she was soon walking through the arena gates.

 

[Twizinator]

"Hail!" Oliver greeted his opponent with a raise of his right arm, fully clad in leather armor and his cylinder-like gauntlet. "You must be Aatron Valenski of the Maveret clan! Salutations, sir!" he boomed with a deep bow. "I am Oliver Montacus Layfaire III, but I am certain you already knew that," he said with a beaming smile. A crowd of women behind him squealed, cheering him on even before the battle began. "I wish you the best of fortune in this duel. Please, my good man, aid me in making this a battle that will be sung of by our spectators for years to come!" he was practically shouting as he riled up the crowd, which roared and applauded in response.


Oliver twisted around, dramatically pointing with his unarmored hand at a young woman among the crowd of swooning ladies. "My dear miss, what is your name?"


"Ah," the woman gasped, surprised to be acknowledged. She twisted a lock of her long, wavy, scarlet hair around her finger as her face turned a matching shade. "My name? I-I am Gwendolyn. B-but you can call me Gwen if you want to, Mister Layfaire!" she quickly added, meekly and cutely smiling at him from her position in the second row of the stands.


"Gwendolyn! I shall speak your full name, for if I did not I would be robbing it of a portion of its beauty!" Oliver bellowed. "Would you, Gwendolyn, do me the honor of allowing me to dedicate my duel with Aatron to you?"


Gwen's knees barely held. "Wh-what?! I mean, I guess so, I mean, if you want to, I..." She took a deep breath to calm down. "Yes, I would!"


"Marvelous!" Oliver exclaimed, turning to face his opponent. The judge, meanwhile, had his forehead in his hand as he endured Oliver's ramblings. "Sir Aatron, do you now understand the significance of this duel?! It is a skirmish between men, a war waged in the name of our queen, Gwendolyn!" He pointed an accusing finger at the Maveret. "If would dare disappoint her with anything less than your full strength clashing against mine, I will never forgive you! Prepare yourself, and fight me as if your life depends on it, Aatron!"


The judge rolled his eyes. "He's been ready for ages, obviously," he said to Aatron, the look in his eye one of a man who's getting really tired of this sh*t. "Are you prepared?"

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron did not speak as the man across from him monologued. Nor did he speak when the judge asked him if he was ready. His only response was a pressure upon the arena, as wind started to swirl around him violently.


"I'll take that as a yes."


The judge threw his hand up into the air


"Let the match . . . begin!"


No sooner had he spoken then a blade of wind was already flying straight at Oliver from Aatron's naginata.

 

[Twizinator]

The wind slash hit Oliver dead-on, exploding violently on impact. When the air settled after a moment, Oliver stood totally unharmed. He hadn't flinched, or even given any sign that he'd acknowledged the attack. His defensive mana channeling throughout his body was unmatched now; he'd spend every spare moment since his duel with Valk honing this one technique to asinine levels of durability.


"Perhaps you did not hear me, friend!" Oliver said in an upbeat tone as he started walking towards Aatron. "I requested your full strength. Please do not hold back; warm-up swings such as that one are not particularly entertaining for our adoring public!" He kicked off his heel and flew into a rush of jabs and hooks, each brutal swing having the strength to crush bone if they connected.

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron's eyes narrowed as the man charged him and started the volley of punches. Aatron somersaulted over Oliver, pulling his naginata back for another swing. A part of him understood why such a boisterous man boasted a winning streak such as he did. It was one thing to block an attack like that, it was completely another to act like it did not exist. Luckily for Aatron . . . he had trained to pierce through armor. A green sheen formed over the blade of his weapon as the wind condensed around it and formed an incredibly thin edge. A vacuum between two layers of air. He would not be able to fire this as a blade, but it would serve him well. Aatron weaved between a few more blows, deflecting a few with his weapon, but never blocking it head on. He had decided that would end badly when one of his opponent's strikes crushed the concrete they were standing on. He gathered wind beneath his feet and slid several feet to the side, slashing as he did so. A look at his opponent's shoulder greeted him with an extremely shallow cut, barely drawing blood. He narrowed his eyes. Even his mana almost at its maximum output, cutting through this man was like cutting through brick with a butter knife.

 

[Twizinator]

A brief stillness to the action settled as both Aatron and Oliver stood at opposite ends after the last engagement. Oliver briefly inspected his shoulder. It was a shallow wound, not even bleeding anymore. The fact that he'd been cut at all, though, surprised Oliver. "I'm impressed!" he said with a grin, "I honestly wasn't expecting you to cut me after that disappointing wind slash. Good, good! This should be a grand encounter after all!" he roared with happiness and kicked off the earth, leaving dents where his feet had dug into the hard ground. Once more, he began a volley of blows, but this time kicks were mixed in with the punches. They weren't as punishing as his fists but the force behind them still demanded respect.

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron narrowed his eyes and back-flipped away from Oliver as he charged again. This man had a very straightforward mentality to the fight. Normally, this was something that Aatron would count as foolhardy and use against him. But against someone who seemed to be built like a freight train, it was actually the most efficient way of going about things. He continued to push aside blows, slicing a few more times where the opportunity presented itself, but never making any kind of dent. It was when he jumped in the air over one of Oliver's kicks that he saw the fist coming straight at his torso. If he took that, forget losing, he might actually die. The naginata was thrown skyward . . . and a massive explosion took over the arena, where Oliver and Aatron both skidded to the far sides. Aatron was in a low, crouched stance, with his hand on the hilt of his katana, still sheathed. His naginata flew down from the sky, embedding itself a few inches in the arena as the dust cleared. A collective gasp went through the audience, as the concrete floor of the arena was split in two. A perfect line from where the two combatants had been a second ago

 

[Twizinator]

Oliver calmly looked from the enormous gash in the arena, to Aatron, to his katana, back to the gash, and finally to Aatron again. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. "Haaaaaahahahahaaaahohohoaaaaaaaaa! That was damn impressive! I was beginning to wonder if that sword at your hip was just for show, but I have never been so joyous to have been proven wrong!"


He took a few steps toward Aatron. "Another man would say you've been holding back, but I get the feeling your combat style is going to be different with that blade compared to your polearm," he said with a gesture to the naginata. "So, let's see what this new blade of yours has to offer!" He bellowed, and instead of charging, leapt into the air. "Come! LET ME TEST YOUR STEEL WITH MY OWN!" he roared while aiming his gauntlet to fall like an axe on Aatron's shoulder.

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron once again did not say anything. His gaze was kept focused, and didn't even flinch as Oliver jumped up into the air. Moments before Oliver would connect with him, Aatron's gaze flashed upward. In that moment, one would see a blur where his sword arm was. Only the most perceptive would see his arm move, and next to no one would see the sword move. In less than a second, it had been swung and returned to its sheathe. But what resulted was a massive force of wind, which collided dead-on with Oliver's gauntlet. The force shook through the entire arena, and caused another massive cloud of dust. However, this time the crowd did not have to wait until the dust settled to see more, as a figure flew up out of the dust. Aatron had one hand on the ribbon of his Naginata, and was riding the polearm like a surfboard. Once in the air, two more blurs appeared, followed by two more explosions on the arena.

 

[Twizinator]

Oliver grunted in minor annoyance. He always was a bit irritated by opponents that took to the sky, attacking from afar. They were a bit trickier to deal with. That man's speed with the sword was incredible...Oliver wondered if he would've been faster than Valk, before the incident. Regardless of his speed, Oliver was confident in one thing, and that was in his raw power. He knew he would win in a straight-on encounter up close. The hard part was closing the distance.


Oliver dashed around the arena, occasionally leaping into the air at Aatron. Each time he kept missing the man, but with each leap and each attempted strike, he could tell he was getting closer. He was beginning to be able to read Aatron's movements. Though, this works in reverse. Aatron was likely getting a grasp of his own combat style and how he moved, which was likely why he hadn't caught the guy just yet.


"I must say, seeing you riding around makes me jealous," he goaded after another swing and a miss. "Where's my flying mount, eh?"

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron closed his eyes as the man continued to speak. Did he ever shut up? A battleground was not the place for words . . . it was a place where they were meaningless in the wake of action. He twisted around another of the man's flying leaps before shooting off higher into the air. He had to make a decisive strike. As Oliver leapt up for another attack, Aatron let the naginata fall from his feet and float into his hand. He seemed to have an almost unearthly grace as he floated backwards, then headfirst straight at the man. There was a shout as Aatron brought the weapon in his hands down as hard as he could, and landed on the floor a few seconds after. He could feel the cracks in the wood beneath his hands . . . but he had not held back with his mana . . . and it showed by the blood dripping down off the blade

 

[Twizinator]

Oliver looked to his left arm. His forearm had been slashed, through the leather armor gauntlet and into his skin. The cut was deeper than the one on his shoulder, but not bad enough to hamper him in any meaningful way. Still, that man's blade had gone through the armor all too easily. Really, there was no point in the armor; his skin was tougher than any metal at this point.


At that thought, Oliver smiled, and began undoing the clasps on his armor. With heavy-sounding thuds, the leather sections that covered his right arm fell to the floor, and with a loud crash, so too did his hammer gauntlet. He removed his damaged leather glove on his left arm, as well. Now he was totally bare from his waist-up, and his right arm could be seen as it always was underneath the steel: wrapped in bandages from fingertip to elbow. "I thank you, Aatron of Maveret," Oliver said, stretching and flexing his right arm. The lack of armor meant a lot of weight was gone; he was so much lighter now he felt as if he could fly. "It's been ages since I fought an opponent that allowed me to get rid of my handicap," he said, referring to the discarded bits and sections of armor.


"Against you..." he said as flames sprung to life, circulating and writhing all across his body, "...I can go all out." With a fiery explosion he almost literally flew at Aatron, his fireball of a right fist inches from Aatron's face and a wide smile on his own.

 

[HilgenHoffer]

Odom tumbled through the doors of the armory, dragging in dust as he rolled to a stop. He sat on his rear, legs sprawled, leaning back on his hands as he gazed up at the glorious collection of weapons before him. His eyes made a slow trek from one side of the room to the other, pondering what use he could make with each tool in a blank stone arena. He paused for a moment, staring at the hammer, but continued searching.


Suddenly, he stood, and were there anyone to observe, they would have seen his lustful gaze resting on a cold, elegant, steel kusarigama. Odom's lean figure reflected on its scything blade, and as he held a single finger to its dark chain, the weight hanging beneath floated back and forth, a silent pendulum of decision and execution. As his finger connected with the chilled metal, he could hear it whisper to him, in tones of calm certainty, mixed with a playful mirth, and he smiled. This would be the perfect tool for his next game.

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron had barely any time to react. The fist was already inches in front of his face, so he did the only thing he could do. Brought his naginata in between himself and the fist. As yet another explosion overtook the arena, Aatron flew backwards out of the cloud, skidding to a halt over the concrete. His naginata was now in two pieces, one in each hand. The man spoke of not holding back, then kept power like this in reserve?! Aatron shook his head as he leapt out of the way of another megaton impact, the explosion breaking off chunks of the arena. When it came to stamina, there was no chance of winning, and if he was hit once, he would lose. He had to end this now. Aatron spun the broken haft of the naginata briefly before slamming it into the concrete of the arena, creating a massive swirl of wind around him. He let go of the half with the blade, letting it fly high into the atmosphere. He then put his hand to his blade before two more blurs happened. Two massive blades of wind crashed across the arena, making and X that held untold destructive power in the center.

 

[Twizinator]

Oliver bent his legs as he prepared to dodge the wind-X but froze just as he was about to spring upwards. He realized where he was standing, and looked over his shoulder. Watching with her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed among the other anxious spectators, was Gwendolyn. Surely the mana barrier used to protect the patrons enjoying fights would protect them from this? Yet the look on the judge's face made Oliver doubt that. This level of arte was beyond what they'd prepared for; in short, this duel had gotten out of control.


Oliver's face became a grim smile as he stood his ground, becoming the defense between the wind-X and the aghast crowd. Just before impact, Oliver crossed his arms in front of him, and the wind-X hit him with arena-shaking force. When the resulting cloud of debris, dust, and smoke cleared, Oliver was still standing. His arms, however, hung limply at his sides, both dripping an unnerving amount of blood onto the concrete.


"Ah..." the judge began as he saw Oliver's condition, "The...the winner of this duel is Aa-"


"What are you saying?" Oliver interrupted, still grinning through the pain. "I am still standing. This duel is not yet over."


The judge didn't know what to say. "..............Are you sure?" he asked, staring at Oliver's arms.


"Quite!" The last of the Layfaire responded in an upbeat tone. "Until one of us is unconscious or calls 'mercy', I beseech you not to end this glorious battle. Allow my selfishness, please...I have never had such an appropriately dramatic conflict!"


Despite his words, Oliver knew he was in a bad spot. That attack hadn't just cut him: every bone from his shoulder to wrist was more or less shattered, and the muscles at least as damaged. Yet if there was one thing Oliver would never do, it was run away. He was no coward like his father.


"Come, Aatron!" he shouted, albeit weaker than previous bellows, "Don't just stand there, let's resume!" With that, flames burst from his body, covering him in scorching heat. He ran straight at Aatron like usual, his arms utterly unmovable, yet his willpower seemed to have only been bolstered. He remembered what that Vejta boy had said about his kicks being weak...well, they would have to do. It wasn't as if he had any other attacks at his disposal now.

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron could scarcely believe his eyes as the man charged. He had been completely prepared for the man to dodge out of the way of that attack, it was one of his more blatantly obvious ones. Besides the point, he had put his arms at the very crux of the blow, he was certain just about every bone in the man's arms were broken at this stage. What surprised him less was the fact that the man still charged. Why had he-- Aatron stopped as he remembered where the man's gaze had gone. In his hast to make an attack powerful enough to distract the man, he had completely removed all limiters he usually held in the arena. He couldn't help but break a smile, the man, while utterly consumed by the glory of battle, had not been willing to risk innocent life.


"You asked me earlier where your ride was did you not?"


From behind Oliver, the bladed haft of the naginata that had been thrown skyward was flying toward him. What was unexpected however, was when Aatron threw the remaining half of the weapon that he held onto, with the end of the ribbon around the blade wrapping itself around that . . . The two formed a harness that took Oliver by the back and forced him towards Aatron faster. Initially, this was supposed to have caught the man off-guard, but as it stood, the extra momentum was something of an apology. The man let out a roar as the mana around his blade flowed so thick it could almost be seen with the naked eye amongst the wind.


And then it was released.


Oliver was behind Aatron, the two pieces of his weapon clattering to the arena floor. Pieces of the arena started to fall everywhere, with three clean cuts shown through the whole thing. Aatron was crouched low, with his sword drawn to one side, clearly having caused the slices in the concrete. He was silent for minute, then he coughed up a fistful of blood onto the ground below him. The katana went into the ground as he fell to one knee, taking in short breaths. He'd been hit. It hurt like hell. He was pretty sure if Oliver still had the use of his arms, then all of his organs would be paste right now.

 

[Twizinator]

Somehow, Oliver was still standing - but just barely. His breaths came ragged and harsh as a result of his gamble. He'd sacrificed defense for offense in the clash. While this had allowed him to deliver a devastating knee to Aatron's abdomen, he'd paid dearly by taking all three slashes to his own torso. At least he'd managed to land a blow against that air-surfing bastard.


Oliver tried to take shift his feet to turn and face Aatron but as he moved his vision blurred. He'd lost quite a bit of blood to that man's blade. "Heh...how unfortunate...I can't seem to move..." Oliver muttered to himself with a smirk.


The judge looked from one combatant to the other, each appearing ready to keel over any second. He sighed as he remembered what Oliver said about ending the match. "Before this continues," he shouted, "I will be confirming whether both parties can continue, and desire to. Oliver of Trevastos!" he shouted to the man, "Can you continue?"


Oliver offered no response. No words or movement. In fact, he was so still it was unnerving. The crowd began murmuring. "...Oliver?" the judge repeated, making his way over to him, and moved in front of the man. His eyes widened in shock and immediately called for the medics. Oliver's eyes were still open but they were glazed over; his smirk was frozen on his face and his breathing was barely perceivable. He had lost consciousness from his bleeding, which had yet to let up. Despite all of that, though, he had not fallen.


A pair of healers rushed to Oliver, carefully lying him onto a stretcher. As they hurried out of the arena, the judge moved hastily over to Aatron. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he saw that, while definitely injured, he was in no immediate danger - and failing that, he was conscious. The judge slowly moved to the center of the ring and, in a grand gesture at Aatron, shouted "I declare the winner to be...Aatron, of the Maveret!"


The crowd cheered, amazed by the fight they'd just born witness to. Gwendolyn, along with many of the girls that had been apart of Oliver's cheerleading squad, had already departed for the young Layfaire's bedside.

 

[Cyrionessa]

Cerys never bothered looking at the weapons room. The Demon Cat had all its weapons built in and no man-made weapon had ever beaten her claws. But this was Odom, that odd one. Her body tingled with excitement at the thought of this next fight; finally, maybe she'd found someone who could stand up to her. Her only problem at this point was making sure that she didn't lose herself inside the beast. The Bloodlust was both a blessing and a curse. The more that she took on the aspects of the Cat, the less human she became. She stood just outside the arena gate, breathing in and out calmly. How thirsty was the Cat this day? Everyone was going to find out soon.

 

[Twizinator]

Mythia sighed; she was having more trouble than she thought with this research. Her discussion a few days ago with Gerza had made her start wondering about the intricacies of Ryrax's right eye. How did he get it? Why does he gain power by consuming fell one flesh, which should be inherently toxic to a deadly degree for a human to ingest? Most worrisome...what did the runes that encircled the iris mean?


The last question plagued her the most. She could find no match for the runes anywhere. Regardless of how ancient the writings were that she could dig out of the archives, there were no matches. Well, almost none. The runes that were scribed around his eye and the runes in the oldest texts had some base similarities, but they were definitely different. She could infer that this meant the runes were not necessarily in different languages, but perhaps different versions of each other, 'dialects', if you will. Unfortunately, this did not help her much. She still had no idea what the runes said, as the differences in the languages were enough to make a direct translation impossible. "Dammit..." Mythia grumbled quietly as she tossed aside an old and dusty tome, "What in the Tyrant's name do those freakin' runes say?!"


Mythia blinked as she realized what she'd just said. She had cursed the Tyrant, a very common expression of frustration, nothing out of the ordinary about it. It did, however, make her think about fell ones again. There had to be a connection there, considering how Ryrax consumed them and gleaned power of some sort from it. She wished Gerza was awake...he most definitely could help her in that line of research.

 

[HilgenHoffer]

Odom crouched at the very tip of a flag pole, resting on the arch of one foot, the other resting on his knee. As he gazed down at the arena, he held his kusarigama in one hand, the chain reaching across to his other, the weight dangling from his finger, swaying to and fro. Infinite scenes played through his mind. Infinite possibilities of how he might play this game. Infinite ways to win, infinite ways to die.


The announcement echoed in the air once again. "Odom Maveret and Cerys Xevren, you are summoned to Arena 2."


He smiled. If he had a tail, it would have been twitching.


The audience let out a collective gasp as a slender figure landed lithely on one side of the arena, blond hair whipping behind his head as he slowly straightened. A grin split his face; not a cocky grin, but that of a child before opening a present. Odom loved to fight, and this particular battle, he thought, would be particularly amusing.


His pendulum continued it mesmerizing sway as he crouched, waiting for the black cat to appear.

 

[Ixidor92]

Aatron let out a few exasperated breaths and forced himself to his feet. The blade by his side, once so deadly, was now a crutch as he forced himself to walk away from the arena. Victory? Could he really call it that? Aatron pondered over the fight as he picked up the pieces of his naginata and left the arena with a limp. If Oliver hadn't taken that blow before the final strike, would he still be victorious? Would he even be alive? The man had lost the use of his arms before hitting him, it was the only reason Aatron could walk right now. He shook his head as he made it to the infirmary. He couldn't say.


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[Cyrionessa]

There was nothing dramatic in the way that Cerys walked into the arena. Medium steps with a casual demeanor were the only things that were obvious about her entrance. If anything, she seemed a little TOO comfortable and anyone that had seen her go all out in a fight knew that this was probably not the greatest sign. Cerys tended to be nervous when her state of mind was normal. When the Demon Cat was out, on the other hand, she was utterly relaxed in battle.


Her green eyes stared down her opponent, something wild behind them making the air a bit more tense. Staring into those eyes was like staring into something with a feral soul. Her nails grated against her pants a bit, the only sign that she was eager to fight.


"Want to get this show on the road already?"

 

[Twizinator]

Some murmuring could be heard from the very back of the stands on one side, and quite a few spectators were shifting to move away from a particular location, away from the back ledge. They were moving away from Ryrax, who was descending gradually from the sky, eventually landing on the top of the stands. The stands were cleared in a ring around him, the crowd willing to sacrifice elbow room in order to avoid the Mad Wolf. Why was he even here?


The atmosphere around him was calm and focused as he stared down at the fighters in the arena, the battle just about to begin. He sat cross-legged on the stand's edge, straight-backed and awaiting the beginning of the duel.

 

[HilgenHoffer]

Odom said nothing. The weight on his weapon continued its metered swaying, and his feet stayed planted on the dusty ground. His smile, however, grew noticeably wider.


The judge raised an arm between the warriors. "This fight will follow the standard 'neutral zone' rules. No interference, no death. The victor will be decided by either incapacitation or concession. Are the combatants ready?"


Odom's smile grew yet wider. He sat up just slightly, his crouch now a deep stance, and he began to spin the weight of his cold kusarigama in a slow circle. Its blade shimmered in the brilliant light of the gently sinking sun.

 

[Cyrionessa]

Wicked claws grew out from Cerys' finger nails and the red eyes of the Demon Cat appeared. She stared him in the eyes as her humanity slowly began to slip away. Have to end this quick. Can't let it go for too long. The kusarigama was a weapon that seemed a bit clumsy, honestly, for anyone to use. What did this man have up his sleeves? Her speed was going to be crucial here.


Looking over at the judge, she simply nodded before quickly returning her gaze back to Odom. It was time.