Round One starts at 12:00 AM EST on Sunday, April 30th and will last two weeks. Good luck!
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Round One starts at 12:00 AM EST on Sunday, April 30th and will last two weeks. Good luck!
The LCC often brought some of Althanas’ greatest warriors to one of Althanas’ most disgusting areas. Lornius was such a blight upon Althanian existence that very few ventured to it for matters not related to the tournament, and even those who did often stayed away from the locals. They were like two separate islands, which never met save for the matches in which blood, pain and sweat served as the equalizer between class and creed, race and religion, at times even friend and foe.
However, Damon Kaosi was oblivious of it all. He knew why there were people in the stands cheering, why the esteemed Salvarian diplomat Ashiakin Azzarak was standing beside him, and that a monumental chapter in the history of Althanas was about to begin. In essence, though, he knew nothing. He had come to Lornius on a whim, a capricious task that he had undertaken only because he had heard about how exciting the LCC was when he’d first arrived in Corone. Now, after enduring all the necessary prerequisites, Damon had come ready to begin.
The only problem is Damon had no idea how he was supposed to begin. There was supposed to be a battle, but the boy had yet to have his delivered. It was unfortunate. After all the trouble he’d gone through in the Citadel to get a battle, dealing with a partially insane and perhaps at times even bipolar guest just to have earned it in the first place, the male who was supposed to deliver it had yet to arrive.
“This is just sand,” the boy sulked, as he let grains of the fine yellow stuff run through his fingers. “I need a battle floor here, stone, with those big stone spikes sticking up…” In the Citadel, Damon had seen a proper battle, so he wasn’t going to be fooled. A battle had stone walls and an opening that looked out over a ravine. Just because he was young didn’t mean that he could be fooled so easily. There was nothing around him but sunshine, sand, bleachers for the fans and a few scattered bits of foliage. It might be a battle suitable for others… but after the Citadel, Damon had demonstrated that at least he deserved the very best.
Ashiakin deserved the very best as well. Damon did not know much, but he knew that his partner in the tournament was someone who wags to be revered and to be respected. There was a certain unspoken elegance, something about Ashiakin that few had and that many could envy. Damon didn’t envy it, he just wanted to be like it. And so did everyone else in the audience.
So there Damon Kaosi stood ready with his partner, and much to the confusion of all those who had come to see Blank in the LCC. The name Damon Kaosi was legendary, the impertinent boy that now stood with a pouty lip certainly wasn’t. Some of the tournament goers had left the battlefield already, figuring that the child was not worth time they could better spend on some of the other first round battles. Others were intrigued, they remembered the name Ashiakin, they didn’t think that a former advisor of kings would have fallen so low as to associate with a mere boy with a famous namesake. There had to be something more…
However, as far as Damon knew, there was nothing more. He knew nothing of his past. He was just a child who had been born less than a month ago, fully capable of speech and battle but otherwise naïve. While the boy held his sword and kept a machete at his waist, neither had ever drawn blood, nor did Damon know that the tools were capable of such brutality.
All Damon wanted was for the tournament to begin. The sooner it began, the sooner he could be judged victorious. There was no way that the boy was going to let Ashiakin down. After everything that the diplomat had done for him, Damon would have felt ungrateful not to deliver the tournament to Ashiakin.
There was little reason for the boy to be nervous though. He had prepared, trained with Ashiakin for this moment. It was merely a matter now of the Citadel delivering his battle on time.
(bunny of Ashiakin approved)
Banda stood face-to-face with his opponents. Standing in the vast area of sand, he looked around. This place must go on for miles...Banda thought. It was hot, so hot that Banda would have passed out if he hadn't taken off his shirt. He was now chafing under his leather armor.
He turned to his partner, Godfrey Krzyzacki. Though the man was old enough to be his own father, Banda had somehow ended up competing in the LCC with this man. He was ready, and Banda could not help but think, how does he keep his cool like that?
The LCC is where people make a name for themselves. Also, where the big bucks is made. People have traveled far to watch these 24 teams, compete, and fight for cash, fame, and fortune. Some of the competitors were unusual, strange creatures Banda had never seen. Which lead to his opponent.
One of his opponents a boy, young, and possibly dissapointed. He carried a sword no less, and another blade at his waist. He seemed eager in demolishing his opponents, and continuing to bigger, better things. He might be a big problem... Banda thought.
His other opponent, a man Banda had never heard of him. Though why would a man, team up with a mere child Banda did not know. Banda was easily more intimadated from him, than the boy. He might be MORE of a problem... Banda thought.
Banda then looked at Godfrey, and noticed that he was sweating on his palms, and thought Aha! so you are nervous! Banda then straightened himself, and looked more confident than before. If the old fart is nervous, than there's nothing to worry about!
Finding Damon had been a windfall. Ashiakin had been combing the gutters of Lornius for weeks in search of a suitable partner for the tournament before happening upon his child prodigy. Indeed, it seemed that gutters were all that Lornius possessed--the island's few urban areas were cesspits lined with brothels and casinos, the stinking towns separated by countless miles of desolate landscape. Its inhabitants were a miserable lot, the grandchildren of petty thieves and rapists exiled to the island, a Coronian penal colony once upon a time. Years of interbreeding had not done them well. Their progeny were entirely unimpressive. No one amongst them had seemed a suitable partner for the tournament hosted by their own birthplace hosted.
Then he had happened upon this strange boy who claimed that his name was Damon Kaosi, the famous elven general that most assumed had perished many months ago and who this child seemed to know nothing about. Ashiakin had quickly surmised that Damon was capable of feats far greater than his naiveté let on. Someone with such power would make the perfect LCC partner. Even if he wasn't connected to the famous Damon Kaosi, people would still assume he was and that would give them publicity. After all, it was rumored that the man Snow who had participated in the last Adventurer's Crown was the revered thief Gild reincarnated. People would assume all sorts of ridiculous things if they sounded the least bit impressive.
Ashiakin's participation in the LCC this year was both personal and political. His lackluster performance in the most recent Serenti had damaged his image, having suffered defeat in the first round to a woman named Greed. Not only had it been deeply embarrassing, but it had set back many of Ashiakin's plans that had banked on him making it through several rounds. It wouldn't happen this time. The Salvic monarchy thirsted for land. With the island of Lornius being offered as the prize for this year's LCC, Salvar had a chance to acquire a foreign colony without losing soldiers or resources. Ashiakin's pride was still hurt after his defeat in the Serenti. He had agreed to do the king's bidding. To conquer the island of Lornius with no one's aid but Damon's.
Water lapped steadily at the barren shore. A breeze swept over the waves to cool the sand-swept coast, though the sun still glared down on the four combatants. The battleground was split. The ocean stretched as far as the eye could see on one side, while a vast expanse of desert extended from the crush of the waves to the far horizon. Some of the braver tournament-goers had followed the participants to this strange wasteland. They had set up bleachers and chairs many yards away so that they could watch.
Ashiakin had called up additional winds to surround his lithe figure, allowing the breezes to tug at the shimmering blue silks he wore. He did not feel like giving the crowd a show today. Normally he was all for that kind of behavior... Taunting the enemy with verbose insults, prolonging his victory as to give the watchers some fun. But not today. The Serenti had hurt him. He seemed sullen and withdrawn, not at all his usually sociable self, though that grim determination in his eyes remained. I'm not a celebrity today, he told himself. Not after the Serenti. Today I'm just a soldier.
He knew little about their opponents, but he was not particularly concerned about them. One of them appeared to be nothing more than an inexperienced boy seeking fame and glory, but his partner had the look of a veteran knight. Since he was unsure of Damon's capabilities at this point, given the limited amount of time he'd had to train him, he would let his partner deal with the younger one. The knight would be Ashiakin's priority.
"Damon, attack the younger man with the boomerang," he said. His voice was clear and decisive, giving the impression that he had already knew exactly how this battle was going to play out. "Remember our training together. Use whichever weapon you feel the most comfortable with. Don't let the other one, the knight, get close to you. I'll be fighting him. Go." Ashiakin did not bother to greet their opponents or ask their names. More than likely he might be disappointing a few of the fans that had come to watch. But he knew that hellos were not what they came for. They wanted nothing more than to see blood on the sand. A few ragged cheers came from the crowd when they realized that the battle was about to begin.
Ashiakin hefted his recurve bow, a composite of ulder wood and stone golem hide, and nocked a barbed arrow to it. He raised it swiftly and took aim on the center of the knight's chest. "For king and bloody country," he said derisively. Finally, there was a hint of his old smile.
Everything was happening so fast. Two strangers had arrived, Ashiakin was barking out orders, the first traces of sweat were beginning to appear on the boy’s face. For the first time in his young life, Damon was feeling tense. He didn’t understand it, why his muscles were beginning to tighten, why it seemed like the whole world was moving slower around him, or even why the noise of the crowd was suddenly so deafeningly frightening. All the boy knew was that he had to obey what Ashiakin said, no matter what the cost.
Even though the Ai’bron monks had still to deliver his battle.
Damon knew that he would go through the greatest obstacles for his LCC partner. Ashiakin had been more than a mere ally, for the experienced ice elemental had taught the young boy everything he knew. How to attack, the purpose of battle, and even what was to become of them once the tournament was over. As victors, Ashiakin would have his redemption and Damon would be his loyal ally.
As far as Damon was concerned, Ashiakin deserved nothing else.
Thus, Damon bit his lip and prepared his grip on the long sword that his partner had given him. The boy held it low, diagonal, so as to prepare for a battle ending sweep. Thus Damon began to blot out the noises around him, the cat calls of disappointed fans expecting an elven general, the water lapping up against the beach… all sounds but Ashiakin’s command were nothing more than background noise for the child as he zeroed in on the younger of the two strangers.
And then he charged forward.
It was a brave charge, but a foolish one. Damon had rushed into battle too imbued with his newfound adrenaline and drunk on a desire to please. He ran forwards, quickly, not to cover the distance before his opponent had time to prepare but because the boy was just so genuinely eager to please. Ravenous with anxiety, Damon lashed out in a wide diagonal sweep the moment he drew within range, waiting not to get a firm footing or otherwise check his momentum. It was a strong strike, a bold strike, the kind that drew a collective moment of silence from the crowd up in the bleachers.
It was a rookie mistake.
There was no doubt the crowd knew it was a mistake, it was readily apparent in the dismissive sigh that the crowd collectively released. It was likely Ashiakin knew what a foolish maneuver it was, and it would have reflected very poorly upon the level of competition had Damon’s first round opponents not known what an error it was to leap into a wild strike leading with momentum first. Everyone knew except for the boy who now slashed his sword diagonally upward, aiming hard for the thigh of his target. Had he not been so imbued with a sense to please, even Damon’s instincts would have been warning him now. As it now stood, it was unlikely that the boy would recover easily from this opening fore, should he fail to connect with the blow.
It was very unlikely that the boy would have that kind of luck. Tournaments like the LCC rarely rewarded stupidity.
Godfrey was looking around the arena of the LCC he had never been in one before and never see so many people in one area just to see bloodshed. It was differnt from the wars Godfrey had been in and the only thing like it was the fighting but this thought would vanish soon enough as the battle started.
Godfrey was teamed up with a young boy named Banda Utako he was sweating so much that he took his shirt off but it wasnt uncommon because of the heat and the crowd getting you all riled up and nervous Godfrey's palms were sweating only because he had never seen so many people focused on him. Godfrey was unsure of the reason why Banda had come to the LCC and was guessing that it was for fame and fourtane as it was for most youngsters. As for Godfrey he was here not for pride or money those were sins and he did not care for them he was here to help Banda and to fight with honor.
Now foucsing on his oppents he had seen another young boy as young as his partner Banda and a older man older than he was he thought he would let the young ones battle it out and take on the other old man to make things seem more fair.
Godfrey drew his sword and held it above his head he looked to his enemy.
"Go back to the abyss! Fall into nothingness that awaits you!" Godfrey yelled to the foe and looked to see there was a arrow pointed twoards his chest.
As the battle started, Banda was deafened by the sound of the fans. For a moment, his mind was filled with thoughts. Don't screw this up. Keep focused, and don't even think about being the hero! were what went through his head.
As the boy charged toward Banda, he seemed to have an awkward look on his face. Banda then noticed what had happened, he had made a novice move. It must be the pressure.he thought. Banda was enlighted by this mistake, and decided to teach his opponent a lesson today.
Banda easily blocked the foolish boy's attack, and without any hesitance, swung at the boy's open side. He knew this attack had a great miss ratio for the boy could easily use his other blade to parry, but by the time he would have pulled the sword out, he wouldv'e at least lost a hand. Though Banda didn't think it would be that easily.
Banda also noticed that Godfrey had come to his senses, as Godfrey shouted something about an abbys. Banda could not hear, he only hoped he could win this one match.
Ashiakin watched Damon's mistake out of the corner of his eye. Luckily his partner's opponent was too cautious to do anything more than block the clumsy attack. If Damon had lost blood over such a foolish move, Blank might have lost the crowd's favor. It wasn't that Ashiakin needed encouragement from the stands, but the cheers in the favor his team were likely to set their unknown opponents on edge. But he did not call out to Damon or offer any words to aid the boy. If he is going to make it through later rounds, I can't let him grow accustomed to constant advice from me, he thought. He'll have to do this on his own.
Still, Ashiakin dearly hoped that his partner would not disappoint him. Suffering an embarrassing defeat in the first round of two consecutive tournaments would be a little more than the demon's pride could bear. He doubted that the Salvic monarchy would welcome news of their conniving emissary and his living reservoir of magic being defeated by a mere boy and a country knight. As much as Ashiakin wanted to use the LCC to rebuild his broken image, Salvar cared little for that. Their interest lay in the fruitful trading networks that the isle of Lornius would bring them.
The demon's cool eyes swiveled back to Godfrey. He definitely had the look of a Salvic knight. Ashiakin had fought his fair share of the type in the past year, putting down rebellions and fighting in duels. This knight seemed to wear nothing more than chain mail and leather for armor. Chain mail's not good for much besides absorbing slashing attacks, he thought. My arrows should be able to punch through that easily. This will be quick. The knight's armor would weigh him down and offer little protection from Ashiakin's arrows. Even if Damon was slain, the demon was confident that he could defeat both of his opponents before they converged on him.
His dead blue lips curled into a smile at Godfrey's words. "I'm afraid nothingness is what awaits you, old man," he said, words obscured by the winds the demon kept wrapped about his figure. "You're growing old and humans don't keep well... You're from Salvar, aren't you?" He gestured toward the knight's attire. "I'm afraid kinship won't stay my hand."
Ashiakin let the arrow fly and the crowd roared. He nocked another.
Stupidity, it seemed, struck twice. Or at least it seemed that fortune would be kind upon a child. In what was an all too fortuitous break for him, Damon’s all too eager parry with the mythril longsword had been blocked. Not sidestepped, not deflected, but completely blocked. It was the only thing that could have stopped Damon’s momentum and avoided the boy from utter disaster, metal hitting metal with a resoundingly fierce thud. The boy’s feet now slid into the giving sand, creating a rut but otherwise stopping his forward motion. A few sparks flew as the result of the clash, but there was no damage to the mythril blade. Damon shuddered, the instincts of a former general now telling him everything that he had done wrong seconds ago.
However, Damon had barely begun to appreciate how lucky he was now that this more seasoned fighter had turned the transferred momentum into a side parry. Had it not been for a glimpse of the attack at the moment of the block, Damon would have certainly faltered. However, as it was, the moment that his foe had moved to counter, Damon had already dropped the longsword and reached to his side to grab at his machete. The smaller weapon was faster, lighter, and exactly what the boy would need to avoid his first taste of metal in his side.
As it seemed, it had taken extraordinary reflexes for the boy to drop his longsword and pull out his machete just in time to make the block. A drop of sweat fell from his face, and the slightest bit of a gasp fell from the crowd. They certainly expected a better opening parry from a general, but this counter could hardly have left them disappointed. Perhaps some of them had thought the first attack was mere showmanship, a lark in order to surprise the crowd with a more clever attack later on. The former Raiaeran general was said to have a sense of humor, so the crowd just as much assumed that they could expect the same from this boy now before them. If he was the Damon they knew.
The surprising counter belied an important fact. Damon’s back was now against the wall. In a single parry, the boy had managed to drop his primary weapon, and be brought on the backfoot quickly. The sand provided enough inertia, but the boy had paid a heavy price. Now his feet had dug deeper into the ground, limiting his inertia to the point where it would be difficult to make any sudden moves with his feet.
“Ashiakin,” Damon shouted, his instincts anticipating his difficulties. “HELP ME!” While the boy wasn’t exactly sure what the trouble was, he had been overcome with a feeling that now it was his opponent who had the advantage of position. He wasn’t sure what to do to overcome it, and while he was embarrassed to ask for help so quickly, Damon knew that there was no other choice. Ashiakin had taught him, and so far it seemed that the ice elemental had the patience of a Turlin monk.
In the heat of battle, Damon didn’t expect it to change. Ashiakin was to be Lornius’ duke, and a duke would always be especially kind to his most loyal friend. However, as the until then unknown shocks of adrenaline that were running through the boy’s body suggested, things were different in the heat of battle. Already, a drop of sweat had fallen from Damon’s brow, and though the boy didn’t know it, it was likely that more fluids were going to flow that day.
Banda was smiling on the inside. His young opponent, panicking, was shouting at his partner for help, Banda had already regained his hyperactive motion, of being on hiis toes. It was funny though, how he couldv'e been backed to a wall so easily.
When Banda swung at the boy, he parried. This seemed even stranger when the boy had quickly dropped his first weapon, and pulled out the machete, to parry. This left a gasp in the crowd. They want action? I'll give em' some Banda thought.
Banda noticed that his opponent had still not tried to counter his attack, and whispered in his ear, "I'll end this quick, and end your anxiety..." Banda jumped back, jumped high in the air, shouted, "Sly Striker!". As gravity took it's place, Banda took his sword in both hands, and ricochet himself towards the young boy. Banda would swing at the boy's head, that would be a decoy, his second attack would be at the boy's knees.