You Sunk My Battleship! (Closed)
“Still a little wet behind the ears.”
That horrible pun haunted Rehtul’s memories as he paced across the deck of the giant ship, waiting for his opponent to show up. How could anyone on the face of the planet find these puns funny in even the most remote way? A scowl crossed his face as he considered ways to freeze the annoying monk’s blood and impale him with the frozen fluid.
A deep breath escaped through his lips as he considered the arena he had found himself in. The ship that he stood upon was leaning at an odd angle, having run up some large rocks that were jutting out in the middle of the ocean. It was solid, and didn’t appear that it would be going anywhere until the wood had significantly rotted.
“Knowing the monks here at the Citadel, that’ll never happen,” he muttered under his breath. Around the ship were pillars of rock jutting up from the waves below, each of varying heights. The young man looked them up and down. They were solid, but hard to access without some method of reaching them. He considered the options, but couldn’t really think of any reason to go that far into the sky unless he was really looking to have the long range advantage on a short range opponent.
Sounds like it wouldn’t be a lot of fun, though... more like shooting fish in a barrel, he thought. His eyes scanned the horizon for any other built in traps or natural hazards. He narrowed his eyes at the darkness on the horizon.
A storm?
The clouds billowing on the horizon were as black as night, and were steadily growing closer. It became apparent the more he looked around that this was a hazard arena, one that was designed to test people on how they handled the environment and each other. A sigh escaped his lips as he propped himself up against one of the rigging nets.
A black look crossed his face as he looked up at the flag above the crow’s nest. It was the Raiaeran flag, though a really old version that the young man had only ever seen in history books. He could only theorize that it was based upon a design that had been out of favor with the government of the country a few hundred, perhaps even thousand, years ago.
“This is troublesome. I’m sitting here on a derelict ship that’s leaning at an angle with a storm coming in. I need to prepare for this,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and pulled on the belts halfway up his arm, locking them in place around his elbows, where the long, flowing garment wouldn’t be able to obstruct any intricate hand movements he would have to make.
He reached deep into the pockets of his newest snow white robe and produced a pair of white leather gloves that he had recently acquired from the Bazaar and slipped them on.
“Let’s see if these things resist the elements as easily as I was told by that shop keeper.”
He extended his left hand out to his side and drew the water from around the ship into a long shape before grasping the water and watching out of the corner of his eye as it instantly solidified into a long bladed spear in his hand. He gave it a couple of trial swings before smiling.
“Excellent. Not even the smallest discomfort from handling the weapon,” he said triumphantly.