Round 1: Lugh Vs Captain on the Wind

[Silence Sei]

You have 2 weeks to complete this battle. May the best man win!

[Lugh]

A man from the harsh lands of Berevar, I was a man who was unaware of much of Althanas. The lands of Salvar had become my second home, a place I could feel almost welcomed. Originally a foreign world, I had come to learn their language and find a place amongst friends. Yet the world outside of the tundra was a fickle place. It brought with it more conflict and difficulties than the blizzard strewn world I knew well. In the tundra the wolves you saw were the dangerous ones, in civilization the wolves you did not see were the most dangerous - disguised in the skin of sheep. Civil war had torn Knife’s Edge apart, splitting not just the nation of Salvar and the city but also the people that lived within. A guild of merchants who had offered me shelter, given me a place to stay and live, had been divided. While the war between church and state had come to a bloody and inconclusive end, the Rush had been embroiled in their own internal conflict.

“Go for our sake, we have no other that can take part in the event being held in Corone.” The words lingered on my mind. The Serenti Invitational was a tournament in some land called Corone, some island across an almost limitless body of water. To enter, and possibly win, would garner respect and a prize that would assist in the recovery of the Rush. The task would be daunting, and I feared the prospect of having to travel such a long distance across a body of water so massive. However, if it was for the betterment of people that had accepted me so easily, than I would undertake the duty.

Corone, for the most part, was something completely unexpected. I had grown and matured under the howling winds and dunes of snow. Scarce populations and even fewer chances to encounter technology were well known to me. Never in my life had I expected to visit a land so alien compared to Salvar or Berevar, a polar opposite to the well known. Serenti was a port town with diversity that ranged deeper than the most affluent of ports of the North. People I had never seen, ever dreamt of, wandered the streets alongside the few races I was familiar with. Almost overwhelming, it was a relief that I could at the very least close my eyes and taste the sea-salt in the air and feel the swirl of the wind.

The sun was high overhead. As with the rest of Corone, even the sun was not the same. Instead of providing just light it burned when it touched my skin for too long. Few clouds lingered in the sky, and all I could wish for was one of them to cover me from the heat. “Brute,” I said as I patted the massive dire-wolf at my side, “I think we are in for experiences unlike any other.” From what I had heard, anything could happen with the Serenti; from set up battles to those that happened spontaneously. Standing on the docks, looking out over an unknown sea of people and buildings, I could only hope that my opponent would find me.

((Sorry for the delay, I figure a random battle at the docks would be alright? I'm rusty as hell...))

[Captain on the Wind]

"Alright, take it easy!" yelled a drifter, stumble haphazardly out of a bar.

"Don’ ye be thinkin ya can juss ge’ away!" shouted back a drunken thug, running out after the fleeing man.

The bar was one of many, in the port-town of Serenti. The bar was set tightly in between a bunch of wooden buildings. On the right of the bar was a barber shop and to its left was a weapon and armor shop. The barber was sitting outside of his shop on a small wooden stool; enjoying a slight breeze, waiting for a customer to come in and watching the scene unfolding outside of the bar. The weapon /armor shop was more of a small merchant’s stand. There were a couple of bows with arrows displayed and all kinds of weapons and armors of average quality.

There were all kinds of different shops in a semi-circle around the port where many large ships were anchored. A cobble-stone street went parallel, in a semi-circle along the perimeter of the shops. Inside of the semi-circle was a large wooden dock, elevated about six feet from the cobble-stone street, where people were working quickly and efficiently; loading ships and unloading cargo. A lot of ships also acted as ferries. For a price or by working as part of the crew people were able to barter passage from one place to another.

Pushing ferociously out of the door, a group of inebriated hooligans heaved curse after curse at the young drifter. However they quickly lost any credibility to their menace when they cringed in terror as an agile, enchanted Karuku-tal snarled past them. The drifter turned to face his pursuers, standing tall as his friend came to his side.

“Now now, gentlemen, let’s take it easy,” Gale pleaded, trying to defuse a situation too far gone. Faust dropped low at his side, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. “Easy,” he whispered to the cat.

“Ya think ya can juss come intah mah bar, and tell meh wha’ to do?” bellowed the intoxicated patron. Behind the leader, a group of men began to form; four drunk dock workers stumbling around trying to look menacing.

“Look,” Gale began, hoping to change the situation in his favor.

“I was just saying that I didn’t think the lady appreciated the names you were calling her or you trying to pull her in or you grabbing her ass… Or you trying to kiss her. In fact, I’m pretty sure she just found you to be a vile, repulsive, belligerent, irritating, insignificant worm of an alcoholic,” Gale paused for a moment to see if the words sunk in.

Gale had never seen a tomato on a man’s body, but if he had to imagine such a thing, it would look a lot like the drunk dock workers expression. He took a deep breath to shout a drunken retort but was quickly interrupted.

“Wait, no; I thought that. But I’m pretty sure everyone would agree with me.” Gale said with a smile.

Gale was used to getting into sticky situations; especially in bars; especially about women. But usually he was able to talk his way out of a fight. But when dealt with a group of drunk thugs looking for a fight, it’s usually best to get them too angry to think straight.

This was his first day in Corone. After a long voyage from Scara Brae, a trip he took to forget about the harsh trials overcome on that distant shore, he thought he was going to have an easy time. Gale had come on what seemed to be a whim, after he had heard there was to be a tournament taking place on the island.

This is NOT what I had in mind, why do I keep involving myself in other people’s business? I must be one of those masochists I keep hearing about Gale thought to himself, getting ready to throw another insult at the fat, drunk, dock worker.

Gale quickly learned the added insult was superfluous; moments after the introspection the belligerent drunk man roared and charged the drifter. Gale was ready for the blind charge, waiting for it. Throwing caution to the wind, the raving lunatic swung wildly at Gale who fluidly moved under the punch. Using the moment he had created with the dodge Gale came back up completing the circle he made under the wide arced swing he balled a fist.

The last thing Mark remembers from that day was the sun.

Mark remembered the drifter who had ruined his fun, scaring away Penelope, the prettiest waitress at the Homeless Kraken, his favorite bar. He remembered the drifter insulting him in front of his friends. Mark remembered running at him and trying to punch him as hard as he could. But then he was gone, like he had just vanished. He remembers looking down and seeing a fist hurtling at him. He remembers the docks spinning all around him. Finally, Mark remembers hitting the ground, looking up at the sun, high above his head.

Stupid sun, were Marks last thoughts that day before waking up in a slum many hours later with some broken teeth and a mysterious bruise on his chest.

The group of drunks stood taken aback for a moment. Gale knew that this was the most important part; if he wanted to walk away clean he needed to scare them. Gale put his foot on Mark’s chest and kicked the body forward. He gave the most intimidating stare he could, looking each disoriented man in the eyes.

“Run away now,” Gale whispered, just loud enough that they would have to listen. Before they could move; before they could even think, Faust let out an ear splitting roar.

Fight-or-flight; it’s an interesting thing. Normally when faced with an overwhelming enemy a human will try to survive no matter what. Usually that means turning tail and running for the hills. But when a man has consumed a massive amount of alcohol, fear turns to rage. The four remaining dock workers ran at Gale as blindly as the first.

… Fucking cat Gale thought, scowling at Faust. Faust looked up at his friend and licked his paw. Deciding that this fight was no longer interesting Faust nimbly jumped to a pile of crates nearby, laying down very comfortably with a couple of paws hanging off the side.

“You cowardly,” Gale started to yell, but was shortly interrupted by a stamped of angry, drunk imbeciles. Rolling out of the way, Gale let the group crash into each other just before one fell off, into the water. Gale spun around and faced the remaining three attackers.

Gale was distracted for a moment, not sure he believed what he saw. Standing on the docks above the three drunk combatants was a towering giant. Beside him stood a monstrous look animal, covered in white fur which gleamed under the high sun. The man’s features were hidden by shadows cast by the sun; but Gale could not help feeling uneasy by his intimidating stature and flinched when the man put a hand on his companion.

Before Gale knew it he was surrounded by the three men.

[Lugh]

I am not sure if the woes of the world are so numerous, or if they are simply attracted to my presence. Commonly I have found myself in situations that were out of my control and those involved. To barge in to another’s dispute is what I wished to avoid more than anything, unless it was a dire state for anyone. I could not stand idly by while someone was on the brink of death and they were in need of assistance, nor could I understand the dishonorable conflict of overwhelming odds. My compassion was a fault at times, and one of those times was playing out directly in front of me. A lone man stood against four others, quickly dispatching one of them off the dock into the high tide. What the conflict could have started for was beyond me, as with almost all conflicts of the “civilized” world. It could have been innocent; it could have been started by the outnumbered man or his opponents. Whatever the case, I felt it a necessity to step in instead of playing audience to the potential carnage.

“Brute,” I whispered to my pure white companion. “The man in the water, keep him from interfering further.” The wolves head turned towards the edge of the dock. A splash of water slapped furiously on the edge of the wood, followed quickly by a beat-red face. Furious as he was, it was apparent that the man who had been first to be removed from the conflict was eager to rejoin. Instead, he came face to face with a four foot, almost four-hundred pound wolf. Brute slowly lifted the edges of his jowls and let his dagger filled maw join in the low growl. The man dropped back in the water almost as quickly as he had come out.

Towering over the other combatants, I was in an element that I finally understood. The lithe man was holding his ground. Three men stood across from him, directly in front of me. I slowly walked up and tapped one of the men on the shoulder, rather politely. He spun with a fist. The man was jumpy, and did not even wish to see who it was that tried to garner his attention. Instead of moving, I was caught off-guard and the closed fist slammed into my face. I did not stagger, but my head shot easily to the side as he caught the bottom of my chin. Had I been a smaller man, the blow would have landed heavily against my temple and most likely have knocked me out. Instead, however, a look of awe struck across his face as he slowly removed his hand from my face.

“That is no way to greet another.” My mouth moved in a way that my true language dictated, but the words of the humans – tradespeak or common – was spoken instead. Without Brute’s influence translating my words, it would be impossible to communicate with anyone outside of the meager Salvic I knew. I turned my face back towards the man and let my eyes lock with his. The pupils were dilated, despite the light, and his heavy sigh tinged the air with the scent of alcohol. It was a smell that brought me back. Some sort of grass was used to create dark water, which when ingested caused sleepiness and disorientation. My past experiences were not fondly remembered. I understood the issue. The three men were obviously what I had been laughingly referred to as “drunk”. “A mistake you have made nonetheless. I cannot allow such a rude greeting to be unanswered, nor can I stand by quietly as you dishonorably outnumber this man. If this is a Serenti Tournament battle, I was unclear that it was not one against one.”

The man took a step away from me, and backwards towards his original opponent. As he did so, I reached to the helm resting along my belt. The massive iron helmet was in the shape of a cap that covered my scarred forehead, with three foot horns extending from either side like that of a yak. I placed my cap on and stepped forward. One of the other two men turned towards me, the final man keeping his eyes fixed on the young man. “Wha’ tha ‘ell ‘re you!”

“Ki’Rial Vandenniak, warrior of the North, participant in the Serenti Invitational.” I growled my words as my heavy fist slammed into his face, knocking him backwards and into the ground. He pushed off the ground and stared at me with a reddened cheek and black eye forming. The thought of removing my axes and dealing with the men did not cross my mind. They were hardly a threat, and I could not see a weapon or armor in sight. Honor dictated that I not overpower them with weapons when they had none to speak of. “I am also opposed to this, but violence is necessary when ignorance is overpowered by reason.”

[Captain on the Wind]

A deadly calm befell the three men standing. A giant stood, towering over the three men, with horns on his head. None of the three moved an inch; they could only stare at the shear awesome strength with which a man was just brought to the ground. The colossal warrior stood proud, unwavering in the face of his stunned audience. Faust laid, sprawled on the boxes, observing the scene as it developed. Faust yawned before closing his eyes for a nap.

Gale thought to run, but something about this strange giant put Gale at ease; still, he was big and scary. Gale could not help but feel uneasy when he heard the man talk. Betraying the motion of his mouth, the words that came out were in a language Gale understood. Whatever Gale needed to do, he knew he needed to do it quick. Gale guessed that if the new large contender meant to attack him, he would have helped the four drunkards. Seeing the large white creature keeping one in the water put him at easy (if only a little).

Gale decided to take advantage of the utter confusion of the degenerates who stood. Looking from one to the other he got their attention with a nod.

“Are you going to let him do that to your mates? Gale motioned, pausing to gauge their response. “Go on, go get him,” Gale whispered, seeing the uncertainty in their faces.

Needing only a slight push in their inebriated state, the two men ran off almost willingly to meet their certain doom. The other man, who was laid out on the floor did not move, he knew the power behind the giant’s fist and was not eager to face the threat again. The two men rushed in at the same time, howling wildly at the imposing giant.

Gale had not intended to let anyone get dragged into his mess; he did not like owing a favor. Before the two men moved Gale pivoted on his left foot. Bringing his right up in a wide swing he slammed the tip of his boot into the side of one’s neck; hitting both the carotid artery and a pressure point on the side of his neck. Gale’s foot moved passed the man, bringing the unsuspecting thug down to the ground with it. Moving with the momentum of the spin, Gale spun on his right foot, brining his left in an equally wide arc ending precisely in the face of the other opponent.

Ending his spin looking in the same direction he started, Gale looked once again at the great warrior who stood before him. A crowd had gathered to watch the scene as it unfolded. Fights were common in this part of town and always fun to watch. But this time there was an air of uncertainty. These were not common thugs that entered the arena, but warrior who handled themselves with confidence and precision.

Gale had decided what he would do with the burly stranger. Walking slowly towards him, Gale picked up a two-by-four laying on the ground by his feat: doubtless, a discarded piece of wood which found its way off of a cargo box onto the floor. Gale walked easily, confidently towards the grand warrior. Lifting the piece of wood in his left hand and swinging it side to side as he walked, Gale kept his eyes fixed on those of the imposing stranger. Gale let his arm go with the momentum of the wood, allowing it to pick up speed.

“Hi,” The drifter started, as the piece of wood found its home in the face of the man who sat propped up on the ground. He fell backwards, with the wood, as Gale let it go. Unfazed, Gale reached a hand out to the enormous warrior, “Gale Silvers, ‘preciate the help.”

[Silence Sei]

Captain on the Wind Advances to Round 2!