Division 1: Osato vs. Lisean [Archive]

Osato

02-10-07, 12:40 PM

A tournament of legends.

That was what Osato had been told while walking through the streets of Radasanth. It was a 'tournament of legends', a battleground for the famous and the hero on the rise. It was supposedly even going to attract the likes of some physically amazing drow, a ice demon from Salvar, and the mystic Orlouge. It was the last one that caught Osato's attention more than any other.

"Hero of Radasanth" he had been called, "Protector of the people", was another name the sell-sword had overheard. Both, along with the countless others that people used to describe him, brought a picture of a coward to the man's mind. Corone had fallen apart. The great democracy had been crushed and crumbled under the weight of a dictatorship. Rebels had begun forming, but most of those were even under the false guise of freedom and liberty.

If this 'Silence Sei' was so grand, where was he to protect the massive city of Radasanth?

It was that question that was on the tongues of all men. But, what was more important to Osato was that he would finally be recognized. Fighting against generals from Salvar and former heroes of Corone would put him in the eyes and hearts of all the people on the island nation. War and strife would always be prevalent, but at least with the tournament it would be organized and meant for the betterment and glory of those that deserved it.

Osato was assured that he was one of the few that deserved the glory. He had signed up, with a flock of others, most of whom he had quickly ignored. However, when he had entered, he could not have helped but notice the scrawl of one Sei Orlouge and one Ashiakin. The rumors had been true, and Osato was bursting with excitement at the prospect of fighting the legends of Althanas.

~*~

Broken and decrepit, the scene for his first battle was anything but joyful. It was an arena, cliche and common for tournaments. However, unlike the kind that was used in the cell, this one was shattered and wounded, forgotten and left to fall victim to time's bitter hand.

Jagged fissures spread throughout the broken plaster. More cracks branched off of those, scattering about like loose tributaries. Dust and grime flaked off of the walls, adding to the muddy stage and crimson stains. Above the high walls, which were lined with cruel and twisted barbs, were the rows upon rows of seating. None sat in attendance for the match, however, but the ghosts of the past.

The overwhelming silence was eerie, sending chills up the mercenaries arm. He turned around slowly, numerous times, taking in as much of the scene as he could. The smell was bearable, but only because there was little choice in the matter. The air was thick, humid, but smelt stale as if it had lingered for far too long. Overhead heavy gray clouds hung, overburdened with a load they undoubtedly longed to relieve themselves of.

It all made for a solemn and depressing sight. Osato was far from used to such decrepit and disgusting scenes, being the pretty boy that he was. To put himself intentionally in such a place would be something akin to suicide, but the Ai'Bron gave his opinion very little care when they had created the arena. He only hoped his opponent would arrive quickly so that he could leave the ruined arena.