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Home » Great Library at Hoeth » Tome of Creation » RPG Articles » Arena of Death - Champion of the Phoenix 2004
| Arena of Death - Champion of the Phoenix 2004 |
| by NZBFBM |
Summary:
Outer Kingdoms
| Code: |
Outlying Colonies_________
vs. |___Loremasters__________
Loremasters_______________| |
|___Loremasters____________
Cothique__________________ | |
vs. |___Eataine______________| |
Eataine___________________| |
|___Loremasters
Yvresse___________________ |
vs. |___Yvresse_______________ |
Chrace___________________| | |
|___Yvresse________________|
Nagarythe_________________ |
vs. |___Tiranoc______________|
Tiranoc___________________|
|
Inner Kingdoms
| Code: |
Saphery__________________
vs. |___Saphery ____
Caledor___________________| |
|___Saphery
Avelorn___________________ |
vs. |___Eyllrion____|
Eyllrion__________________|
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Contestants:
Outlying Colonies
Prince Ar-Earandur
Ithilmar Barded Elven Steed
Enchanted Shield
Vambraces of Defence
Dragon Armour
Foe Bane
249 pts Total
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Loremasters
Prince Regulus
High Elf Prince
Armor of the Gods
Swordmaster Honor
Guardian Phoenix
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Cothique
Thorion (Elf Prince) w/ Barded Elven Steed, Heavy Armor, Shield, Helm of Fortune, Guardian Phoenix, Blade of Sea Gold and Pure of Heart
250 pts
It is left to the elves of Cothique to patrol the shifting isles… to maintain a fleet, and fight the Norse invaders that constantly harass the northern shores of Ulthuan. To the south, Cothique borders Yvresse. Cothique, like any province, has its princes. Each prince is a master of a region – a piece of Cothique. No region is as prized in Cothique as the southern region. The prince of that region is the guardian of not only the southern shores but also the warden of the border between Cothique and Yvresse.
Since time immemorial the family of Frostwind has ruled over these lands. The present lord of the region, Thorion Frostwind, is – or so it is said – the finest Prince the region has ever known. His brilliance and sense of honor are rivaled only by his skill at arms. It was Thorion that called all the noble sons of Cothique to his castle, to train them all in the way of the Silver Helms. Though many went back to their own homes, fully trained, to defend their own families' lands many choose to stay instead. And so, year by year, the legendary Cavalry Army of Frostwind grows.
Thorion himself is an elf of intimidating stature. More muscular than most, some think there is human blood mingled with his elven blood. His hair is as black as midnight, interrupted only by a shock of silver hair at his brow. His eyes are green, and shine with wisdom and strength. Always does he ride to battle atop his mighty elven steed, fearing naught but failure. Failing his homeland and family... these are all that he dreads
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Eataine
Lord nachri, prince of eataine, commander of the seaguard, second to lord aislinn himself.
Lord nachri: (prince 125 pnt)
Armour of the gods.(35 pnt)
Blade of dartling steel.(45 pnt)
Talisman of protection( 10 pnt)
Fluff:
Lord nachri is the son af an old elf lord, the ruler of tor ilthar. He had one brother, ellydian. At young age, they were sent to lothern to the phoenix king. There they learned how to battle. When they both became adult, Nachri was gifted a magical talisman . They quickly rose into the ranks of the seaguard and soon Nachri became commander of a hawkship. Ellydian was his second in command. They raided the coasts of the badlands, in an attempt to save any prisonners. But soon, Nachri was called back to lothern, Ellydian remained to command the ship. In lothern, Nachri was given a special mission. He was granted a group of seaguard and five ships and his goal was to sail to a mystical isle called Albion. He quickly set sail and he landed on the west coast, where a large empire force was established. With the seaguard reinforcments , the empire drove quickly towards the mystical bastion of the old ones. There they came, and they managed to get some important artefacts. Nachri found a golden suit of armour, wich he wears on this day. He retreated quickly towards his ships, but when he was at sea, he was attacked by 2 monstrous beasts, commanded by the vile druchii. They sunk 2 of his ships, but thanks to the massed fire of his seaguard, the beasts retreated. The last seaguard remained with nachri untill now. They form his bodyguard, the fabled phoenix phalanx. Nachri went back to lothern, were he found his brother, crippled because of the big club of an orc warlord. His brother gifted him with his amulet, when he wears this amulet, he thinks his brother is with him and he fights with the strenght of 2. In lothern, he was able to chose a weapon from the great armouries from lothern. He chose a magnificent blade. It is like there is a real spirit in the sword, guiding nachri's hand with a speed unthinkable to his opponents. Quickly nachri set sail to hunt the orc warlord, named glanash. Finally he met him at the edge of the marshes of madness. The battle was over in a couple of minuts, the stupid orcs were no match for the tactical skills of nachri and the discipline of his army. In a few minuts, most of the orcs lay headless on the plain. Nachri went back to lothern. There he remained at the court of the phoenix king. He was dispatched to fight in middenheim. He went to middenheim and he defended the northern causeway. Even though half his army was dead, the wall remained under his control. When the battle was over, he went back towards lothern and he remains there, commanding his army against anyone who dares to threaten his beautiful province.
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Yvresse
Aerandir Calanor (Elf Prince) 246 Pts
Halberd
Heavy Armour
Shield
Ithilmar Barding
Null Stone
1 Elf Steed
Basic fluff I just threw together:
Aerandir was an unusual elf by Yvressan standards, he trained at the prestigious Yvressan military academy of Armis Kormailn, and excelled in the use of the halberd, yet he never preferred to fight on fight, like many Yvressans do. Upon graduating from Armis Kormailn, Aerandir enlisted with the Yvressan Dragoons, the only standing regiment of cavalry within Yvresse, and Aerandir sound found he had a natural talent for horseback fighting, this combined with his formal training with a halberd combined to create quite the unorthodox fighting style.
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Chrace
Lord Exus
Elf prince/helm of fortune/enchanted shield/POH/Darting blade/
elf steed with barding. 237pts
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Nagarythe
TimmyMWD
Prince, blade of darting steel,vambraces of defense, dragon armor, shield, barded steed
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Tiranoc
Aravar Galdean:
Elven Steed (with Ilthmir Barding), Great Weapon, Armor of Heroes, Helm of Fortune, Guardian Pheonix, and pure of Heart.
As a native of Tiranoc, Aravar was taught to ride thier fast and deadly chariots to a razor-sharp skill. His attention, however, was not fixated on the chariot, but the things driving it. He had a natural affinity for one horse. named Maevanis, that some Ellyrions would envy. He rode this horse every day, and onve he became a commander, he forsook the traditional way of the chariot, and he rode on his favorite horse surrounded by his most trusted comrades and friends, who were minor nobles in his house. Aravar learned the sacred way of this glaive, an exotic weapon that was hardly practiced in Ulthuan any longer. After many hard years of figting Druchii and all manner or chaotic monsters, Aravar made his pilgramige to Middenhiem. After an extreamly succesful campaign, where Aravar had defeated the Hordes of Chaos at every turn, even at one point destroying the body of Archanon, who was ressurected by the foul powers of chaos. Hearing the summons that he was to be the champion of his province, he left, and has not been heard of since... until now.
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Saphery
Athilean
Equipment:
Longsword (handweapon), Greatsword, Sheild, Heavy Armour, Vambraces of Defence. (uses Sword/Shield combo)
Honours:
Swordmaster, Pure of Heart.
Description:
Athilean is of average height, has long blond hair, and light green eyes. He wears a silver suit of heavy ithilmar armour, with a dark blue cloak and carries a sheild with the emblem of the white tower on the front.
Background:
Athilean was originally a Prince of Ultuan. Up until about a centuary years ago he had spent his time leading High Elven armies against the Dark Elves that had invaded Ulthuan. He had also served under Tyrion on one occasion to reclaim the Blighted Isle. One day this all changed when his army was overwhelmed by a superior Dark Elf force. Prince Athilean called the retreat knowing it was hopeless. It was during this retreat the Athilean was dragged off his horse by a group of Blackguard. He fought as well as he could, but he knew it was helpless their were just too many. It wasn't long before Athilean was left lying on the ground, in a slowly expanding pool of his own blood. The Dark Elves stood over him, taunting the High Elf prince. Prince Athilean new this would be the end.
Suddenly a lightning bolt struck down several of the Blackguard. Several seconds later a group of Swordmasters joined the fray, swiftly hacking down the Blackguard surrounding the Prince. The Swordmasters dragged the Prince to safety, while the mage covered their retreat. Once the mage was sure Athilean was ok, he lead the Swordmasters away saying he had other matters to attend to. He left Athilean alone, to contemplate what had just happened.
Athilean saw this as some sort of divine intervention, and so decided that he would join the ranks of the White Tower. He never did find out the name of the mage that had been responsible for saving his life.
So he traveled to the White Tower to try and find his true path in life. He spent over a year trying to enter the fabled tower but it was not to be. Finally giving up in defeat he turned his back on the tower and prepared to leave. Only to find that no matter which way he turned the tower was always in front of him. He walked slowly towards the tower, expecting it to disappear at any time. Finally reaching the bottom of the tower he looked up, the tower was still there. He reached out his hand and touched the tower itself. It was real, he had finally made it.
Athilean spent years learning the ways of the Swordmasters. Upon becoming a Swordmaster he abdicated his position as a Prince of Ulthuan, believing that being a Prince had nothing to do with his new calling in life. The title of Prince went to one of his sons.
He know serves the White Tower and Saphery, in what ever capacity they see fit.
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Caledor
Kheral Dragonfire (Prince)
Golden Shield
Vembraces of Defence
Dragon armour
Dragontooth Lance (lance)
Clenorithi (Elven steed)
Total = 247
Kheral is a young elf but one from a great line of fighters, his ancestors fought alongside Aenarion during the great war against Chaos. This is where his weapon, the Dragontooth Lance, comes from. His great,great,great grandsire (sorry im not too good with family trees) fought with Aenarion mounted on Ilitnouri a great and noble beast. When he died in battle he took two of the great dragons teeth out and went to the forge in Vauls Anvil and sharpened the teeth into weapons, the Dragontooth Lance and the Dragontooth Blade. These weapons have ever since been kept in the Dragonfires family passed on from generation to generation, as a result they have seen many a battle and caused much bloodshed and the spirit of Ilitnouri lives on in these weapons. Kheral has lead his forces fighting evil and is becoming a known and respected General throughout Ulthuan. It is with great honour that he marches to the games as the Champion of Caledor.
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Avelorn
Prince Aethis Galahern
Lord,
Pure of heart
Sword of Might
Armor of Protection
Golden Sheild
Helm of Fortune
Steed
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Eyllrion
Nimgon Marewing
Elven prince, dragon armour, halbred, barded steed and NULL STONE
Battles
The city of Lothern was a washed with colour and music. The week long festival was building to its zenith with the Champion of the Phoenix being the main feature on the final two days. The Tournament was to take place in the great Colosseum dedicated to the god Kurnous. Its tall seamless marble walls towered above the city drawing awe from all those who lay eyes upon in.
Inside the Colosseum the formalities were already underway. The seats were full of the rich and powerful from all across Ulthuan. The sun radiated down onto them as if the Gods themselves were watching with intent. All eyes were drawn to the centre of the arena below as an announcer walked to the centre of the Colosseum. The rich earth beneath his feet leaving no mark of where he had been. The sun danced off his richly decorated armour as he waited for silence to fall upon the crowd.
The Announcer unravelled the scroll and glanced around him. Thousands of eyes gazed upon him as he read from the scroll. “Our Phoenix King Finubar the Seafarer, Princes of the Kingdoms, Lords and Ladies my fellow Citizens. May I present to you your Champions. From the Inner Kingdoms:
Prince Athilean, Champion of Saphery
Prince Aethis Galahern the Dire Avenger, Champion of Avelorn
Prince Kheral Dragonfire, Champion of Caledor
And Prince Elethion Firehearth, Champion of Ellyrion
Representing the Outer Kingdoms:
Prince Ar-Earandur, Champion of the Outlying Colonies
Prince Thorion, Champion of Cothique
Prince Aerandir Calanor, Champion of Yvresse
Lord Nachri, Champion of Eataine
Lord Exus, Champion of Chrace –
Prince Regulus, Champion of the Loremasters
Prince TimmyMWD, Champion of Nagarythe
And Prince Aravar Galdean, Champion of Tiranoc”
While the Announcer read from the scroll one of the large oak doors at the end of the Colosseum swung open and the twelve chosen Champions entered under the banner of their Kingdoms to an ecstatic cheer from the crowd. Each champion was dressed in his ceremonial white robes, bearing only his weapon of choice. The procession circled the arena cheering and waving to the crowd before lining up in front of the Phoenix King’s throne, high up at the northern end. The cheering died away as each Champion took a knee in front of Finubar and presented their weapons. The Standard Bearers behind each champion dipped their banners as the Phoenix King rose up from his seat, all except Caledor.
Raising his arm, Finubar signalled for the ceremony to continue. Twelve maidens brought fourth twelve identical silver bowls filled with the most pure water that flows only from the springs of Avelorn. Each Champion dipped his blade into the water three times saying a silent pray to their chosen god to protect them in the forth coming battles. Still standing, Finubar spoke out loud to all the audience. “My fellow Asur, today marks a great day in our history. Before you are the Champions of your realms. In two days time one of them will be named the Champion of the Phoenix.” Turing to the Champions he continued. “Until then, may Asuryan watch over you all, and may you fight with all the skill you can muster. Let the tournament begin.” With that Finubar sat back down on his throne and the crowd cheered once more as their Champions glided back towards the oak doors to prepare for their matches. The tournament was underway...
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Match 1: Outlying Colonies vs. Loremasters - NZBFBM
Prince Ar-Earandur could hear the sound of the crowd above him as he prepared for the forth coming battle. He calmed his steed with soft words as he finished tightening the saddle. An Orderly approached from the door leading to the arena. “My lord we are ready for you.” Ar-Earandur closed his eyes and said a quick pray before vaulting up into the saddle. Griping his sword and shield tight to his body he spurred his steed on through the door towards the arena.
The morning light was blinding after the darkness beneath the arena. The crowd erupted with joyous cheers as Prince Ar-Earandur and Prince Regulus entered from opposite ends of the Arena. Both Contenders locked eyes as they approached each other. The crowd grew silent as the Announcer stood up from his seat. His sweet voice carried over the crowd
“Presenting Prince Ar-Earandur, Champion of the Outlying Colonies and Prince Regulus, Champion of the Loremasters.” Both Contestants bowed towards the Phoenix Kings and then the crowd. Only one would go on, and the other would face the bitter taste of defeat.
Once again the Crowd grew quiet. Holding in their anticipation as they waited for Finubar to signal the start of the fight. Raising his hand, Finubar let it fall in a simple motion to start the duel.
Kicking his steed, Ar-Earandur charged into the fight, eager to get to grips with his adversary. Regulus dug is toes into the dirt and tightened his grip on his great weapon as the horse thundered down on his position. Ar-Earandur raised his twisted blade high over his head as he prepared to strike.
At the last moment Regulus sprung forward attempting to get inside the arc of Ar-Earandur’s strike. This move caught Ar-Earandur off guard as his blows slid harmlessly off armour of Regulus. Turning quickly, the Loremaster slashed back at the passing Prince raking his great weapon across the shoulders of the mounted warrior.
With a cry of pain, Ar-Earandur fell from his saddle. The noise of the crowd filled his ears as he struggled up to his feet to continue the battle. With anger, he charged Regulus again raining blow after blow. Regulus struggled to fight back all the blows. But his foot slipped on the lose dirt kicked up by the horse. As he fell Ar-Earandur slashed out cutting through his Regulus’ armour.
Recovering Regulus rolled backwards to end up in a low crouch. He thrust his long blade up at Ar-Earandur who’s guard was exposed. The tip of his blade sliced into the cheek of Ar-Earandur. Both warriors back off, each short of breath. Once again Ar-Earandur pushed in the attack, not wanting his opponent to regain his composure. The Warriors traded blows as the flowed around each other in a deadly exchange. Suddenly Regulus spotted an opening in Ar-Earandur defence. He slashed his weapon up knocking away his sword. It clattered across the field. Before he could recover, Regulus kicked out the legs of Ar-Earandur sending him crashing to the ground. In a flash his blade was at the throat of the downed warrior.
The Crowd was silent. Regulus could hear his own heart thumping. He withdrew his blade and offered a hand to his opponent. Ar-Earandur took it and pulled himself up. Clasping he hand on Regulus’ shoulder, Ar-Earandur accepted his defeat. The crowd went wild. The first victory had been found.
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Match 2: Cothique vs Eataine - Anrol
..After the spectacle of the opening fight there was much excitement and anticipation amongst the crowd of the great arena. Whilst the fighters left the arena and the next two combatants got ready, there was some entertainment during the interval. Some of the crowd seemed pleased at the sight of attractive female dancers and acrobats. Other less patient areas of the crowd jeered and roared as they waited for the next fight. They expeted a great contest, and as the two combatants emerged from the arena doors, that's what they would get....
...the crowd hushed, Thorion, who hailed from Cothique, was fiddling around with the reins of his steed as Finubar raised his arm. Nachri, and elven lord representing Eataine, stood perfectly still with his blade at his side, staring at his opponent. Thorion then mounted on his horse quickly and Finubar lowered his arm sharply, the contest had begun. Nachri raised his glowing blade with his arms and steadied himself as Thorion kicked his steed into action and thundered towards his opponent. As Thorion approached Nachri was caught off guard by the speed of the elven steed, and braced as it came towards him, raising his sword towards his target. As Thorion closed upon Nachri he slashed at the elf, catching his counterpart in the arm and causing a deep wound Nachri cried out in pain and a cheer rose from the crowd, ever eager for blood. Luckily though Thorion had not caught Nachri's sword weilding arm, which was terribly quick and had caught Thorion as he sped past, however the gem the elf wore around his neck glew as the blade struck his armour and the blade harmlessly bounced off. The elven steed halted to a stop, kicking up small dust pebbles as it did so. The crowd was roaring for Thorion, they had seen him wound his counterpart and were urging him on to continue his assualt. Again he charged at Nachri, encouraging his steed towards the elf, bawling as he did so. Though this time the elf was readied for Thorion's assualt and with supernatural speed the shining blade sped out in front of Thorion's path, though only clipping the elf's armour and shaking him slightly and was not enough to dismount the elf from Cothique, who bravely hung on to his mount but did not strike out at his opponent.
Nachri held his arm, he was bleeding significantly and he knew he would have to strike decively if he was to win this fight. Yet again Thorion spurred his steed on towards the wounded elf, determined to win the contest. The steed flew towards Nachri who watched carefully as it approached and swifly dodged to the side as the steed threatened to run him down, though again he failed to account for the blade of Thorion, who again struck Nachri, this time in the midriff, slicing effortlessly through the gleaming golden armour of the Eataine elf. There was a huge gasp from the crowd as the elf fell to his knees and clutched his chest, he was bleeding again, and the pain could be seen across his face, but also in his eyes was a gaze and it was a determined gaze, he was not finished yet.The crowd quickly began cheering again as they watched the mounted elf halt his steed and circle around. Seeing his opponent on his knees Thorion motioned the steed towards the wounded elf, in an attempt to finish him off and finish the fight. The hooves of the elven warhorse thundered across the ground as the great beast and it's master glided towards the floored elf.
The horse had gotten to within a few feet of the elf when Nachri got to his feet.
Thorion had no time to react as the scarily fast blade blurred across his face and collided with his helmet, throwing him from his now panicking steed, colliding to the floor with a terrible crunch. Again a gasp went up from the crowd. Nachri had found a second wind and still in terrible pain marched towards Thorion, who's helm had been utterly destroyed and face was covered in blood, his cheek had been sliced open as the blade of his adversary had caught his neck and brushed up onto his face, which he was clutching with his hand. Thorion crawled across and fumbled for his weapon, picking it up and stabbing it into the ground to aid him in getting to his feet. Nachri clutching his chest which was pouring large quantities of blood onto the ground, walked towards Thorion, who staggered towards the elf in belated response. Thorion jabbed his blade towards his foe, but there was no power behind the elf's thrust and it bounced simply off the dented armour of Nachri, who's blade weaved a blurry arc of destruction towards Thorion. He attempted to get out of the path of the blade, but it was simply too fast for him to read, the blade moved like quicksilver, faster than the eyes could comprehend and before he knew it the blade had sliced across his legs, he toppled to the ground again, howling in pain.
As the great body of the elf collided with the floor Nachri also toppled, however he summoned the strength to put out a hand,catch himself and sit down on the ground, breathing deeply and tending to the gash in his chest. Thorion was beaten, lying unconcious next to the figure of Nachri, who was spent and badly wounded badly himself. Finubar motioned towards the still concious elf and declared the elf from Eataine the winner, there was much rejoicing from the crowd who were satisfied they had witnessed a long fight, where both combatants had given there all, and they loved it.
Four young elven males then entered the arena, two of them went over to the almost lifeless frame of Thorion and picked him up, readying to hoist him out of the arena. The other pair wandered over to Nachri, who was gratefully accepted their aid as they supported him and carried him out of the arena through the great doors, a winner...
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Match 3: Yvresse vs Chrace - Anrol
.....The crowd were cheering and waving all sorts of banners in the air, they had been thoroughly entertained by the first of the arena bouts and were desperate for more. It was then silenced as two more noble elves entered throught the greats doors, each with a steely gaze strolled over to their respective steeds. A shout went up from the crowd "We have ourselves a jousting match!". The two elves, Aerandir a noble elven prince from Yvresse and hailing from Chrace, Lord Exus, mounted up on their horses, another interesting clash was sure to follow.....
......Without much of a delay Finubar signalled the start of the bout and the two opponents tentively jerked their mounts into action. The bounding hooves filled the arena with thunderous claps, and the cheers of support rose up from amongst the crowd. The two beasts made their way at full speed towards each other, carrying along the two elven combatants, weilding their chosen weapons ready to strike out when they were close enough. Exus raised his sword and pointed at the incoming rider, the weapon glowing magnificantly as he gestured to his counterpart. Aerandir returned his gaze with a smirk, and Exus's face suddenly turned pale as he saw his once shining sword reduced to a dull grey, and his arm dropped as the sword gained weight, surely this was the work of the incoming Aerandir, who was still smiling.
The two elves pulled alongside each other and the two noble elf clashed, Exus had been put off by the sudden change his sword underwent and stuggled to strike a blow towards his opponent, who in turn spun his halberd in a feat of martial skill and caught Exus's sheild arm, smashing him from his saddle and onto the ground. There was a terrible wail as the elf from Chrace collided with the dirt. He had landed awquardly on his ankle, and it buckled underneath him. Gasps went up from the crowd and Aerandir slowed up his mount. Turning to face his fallen opponent he saw the elf hobble to his feet, hardly putting any weight on what was clearly a damaged ankle. Aerandir saw this as the perfect oppurtunity and quickly headed towards Exus. With a grimace on his face telling of his pain Exus faced Aerandir and braced for the impact of the charge. The steed flew past terribly quickly, Aerandir swung his halberd towards Exus, who was prepared however and ducked under the arc of the mighty weapon, missing his assailant himself as he rose.
Again Aerandir flew past Exus on his mount, attempting to behead his opponent with a swing of his halberd, but this time the blow was parried by the elf, who returned with a pinpoint blow to Aerandir's side, which sent him reeling, his mount panicking and running amok around the arena. The beast was finally calmed by the young elves marshalling at the side of the arena, always prepared to make sure that stray horses would not interefere with the bout. Aerandir coughed as he rose from the ground, and rotated to see Exus hobbling towards him. Being knocked from his steed had clearly enraged the elf, who tore towards Exus, halberd firmly grasped in hand. Exus looked spent, he was supporting himself on his one good leg, and attempting to fend of the attack of the elf from Yvresse had clearly taken the wind from him. However as Aerandir approached at blinding speed, he managed to absorb the impact of the halberd with his sheild, he his balance became unsure and he staggered backwards, such was the power behind the swing. He had no time to mount an attack on his opponent, and was desperatley definding against the inevitable. Aerandir seeing his first swing collide with his opponents sheild, reached out an arm and pushed Exus's shoulder, his damaged ankle unable to take his weight, sending him staggering backwards towards the arena wall. His sheild arm flailing as he attempted to keep balance, Aerandir swung his halberd for a final time and the crowd was silenced. It's hefty blade connected square in the centre of Exus's chest, crumpling the armour towards the elf's chest and knocking the helpless elf to the ground, where he lay breathing.....heavily.....and not often. The crowd roared. Aerandir of Yvresse was the winner .Finubar aknowleged and the successful combatant gestured to the onlookers with his hand and proceeded to march out of the arena doors, wiping his brow and covering a small cut at his side.
Once again two young elven males entered the arena, with some instrument in hand. It had been observed that Exus's armour had been damaged so badly that he would have to be removed from it. The elves used the small item as it buzzed and tore a perfect line into the armour. The grounded elf could breathe again and the young elves helped him to his feet. The crowd applauded, as a sign that all was fine and he had performed honourably. Hobbling out of the arena with the aid of one of the elves, he noticed his trusted blade began to glow bright again......
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Match 4 Nagarythe vs Tiranoc - NZBFBM
By now the mid day sun was building with intensity. Heat shimmered off the marble arena, dancing back up into the sky. Already Finubar was enjoying the fresh fruit and wine brought before him for lunch. The crowd however would have to wait for the intermission before they could eat.
The Announcer stood up on his podium and proclaimed to the crowd. “The next match is between Prince Aravar Galdean of Tiranoc and Prince TimmyMWD, Champion of Nagarythe.” With these words the oak doors once again swung inwards and the two Champions entered the arena and mounted their steeds. The crowd was in awe at the stark contrast between the two Champions. Prince Aravar with his golden flowing hair sat upon his pure white steed Maevanis, embodying all the beauty of the Asur. While Prince TimmyMWD was pale of skin with jet black hair tucked underneath his helmet. Hit stead was as dark as the night. Many of the crowd exchanged hushed murmurs as they waited for the battle to begin.
Both the Champions raised their weapons in salute to each other, and then to Finubar. Finubar nodded in response before dropping his arm to start the duel. Both riders kicked their steeds hard who replied with loud brays as the charged towards each other. As they closed in the Champions prepared to strike. Prince Aravar raised his great sword to let it trail behind his body. TimmyMWD twisted his wrist, swinging his blue blade in a tight circle.
The Champions clashed each other with the force of the Gods themselves. TimmyMWD ducked low and slashed out quickly with his blade at the body of Aravar whose swinging blade whooshed over his. However TimmyMWD’s blade rolled off the armour of his Opponent. The galloping steeds quickly carried the Combatants past each other. With the cheering of the crowd filling their ears, both Riders pulled their steeds up for another pass.
Lining up the second pass Aravar kept his steed in a very close line using only his legs and words for control. At the last moment Aravar twisted his steed’s body and sent Maevanis crashing sidewise into TimmyMWD’s steed. TimmyMWD was thrown to the ground his steed landing beside him. His weapon spilled from his hand.
TimmyMWD staged to his feet. Breathing was hard but he struggled to regain his head. Suddenly the sun was blocked from him as Aravar on his rearing steed towered above him. Quickly TimmyMWD dived and rolled towards his sword before the hooves came crashing down on the position where he was only moments ago. TimmyMWD turned to face his Opponent only to see the blade of Aravar slicing down in a deadly arc towards him. Knowing it was too late to get out of its path, he raised his shield in a feeble attempt to save himself. Aravar’s sword shattered the shield into a thousand of shards that cut deep into his face. TimmyMWD cried out in pain. The crowd roared with excitement.
Knowing he had the upper hand, Aravar turned his steed once more to strike his Opponent. But before he could bring his blade to bare, his wounded Opponent threw himself at him with his blade aimed under the chest plate of the mounted warrior. But with the blood dripping in his eyes, TimmyMWD was unable to penetrate the armour of Aravar.
Aravar kicked the body of TimmyMWD back from his horse and swung his great weapon down again and again against the wounded elf. His blade cut deep into the side of TimmyMWD who dropped to his knees with a cry of pain.
Aravar dismounted and walked towards the body of the shattered elf. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, he brought his blade to rest against the neck of TimmyMWD. The eyes of the broken elf said it all. He had been defeated. Even as the blood flowed from his side and forehead, TimmyMWD could not bring himself to look up towards Finubar. He knew the fight was over.
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Loremasters vs Eataine - Anrol
After a long intermission,many members of the crowd were returning to their seats as the great arena doors burst open again. Two familiar faces stepped out and made their way into the centre of the great building. The crowd roaring and waving as they entered, the break in the action had left them hungry for more contests. They watched as the two elven nobles made their way across the ground. Calmly and with a determined fixed gaze Prince Regulus walked to the far end of the arena stopped abrubtly, his sword at his side and turned to face his opponent, Lord Nachri of Eataine who was inspecting his armour, it had been badly damaged in his last bout, but the skilled elven smiths had repaired it amazingly well. Both had faced tough opponents in their previous engagements, but were looking tough and ready for the fight.
Finubar, like the rest of the patrons, hurried to his box and seated himself on his chair, quickly signalling the contest to begin. With a great roar from the crowd the two combatants marched towards each other, the shining blade of Nachri at his side as he strode forth, the great sword of Regulus raised above his head as he sprung forth towards his adversary. The two elves clashed in the centre, Nachri kicking up a cloud of dust as he leapt forward gaining height above his counterpart, thrusting his sword towards Regulus' neck. The blade blurred as it danced its way towards the elf. Soaring through the air towards the Prince Nachri's outstreched arm made towards the fast approaching elf. Regulus, heading towards Nachri with his own weapon raised above his head, was caught of guard by the blistering speed of the blade,and had to react quickly. He managed to swing his own great blade and strike his opponents weapon attempting to parry the sword away from his neck. There was a loud chink and a cheer from the crowd as the two weapons clashed, Regulus' sword had swept away the blade of Nachri, and had avoided a sure strike to his neck. The leaping elf now landed to the side of the parrying prince, elegantly removing his sword arm from Regulus' blade. Swiftly manouvering himself, turning himself to face his opponent Nachri slashed again at Regulus, his blade moving like quicksilver and catching the elf at his hip, he desperatly tried to avoid it but was slowed as he tryed to bring his own blade around. The gleaming blade tore into the elf's side, creating a large gash from which patched off blood spurted. Regulus reeled and dropped his blade to the ground, which sent up another large cloud of dust. He held his hip, poking and jabbing at his wound, he grimaced as he stood upright and saw the figure of his foe heading for him at great pace. Nachri raised his weaponq quickl and again swung at Regulus. Dispite wiping his side with his hand, the prince deftly moved out of the blurred path of the shining blade and tumbled towards the dirt,rolled along the ground and picked up his weapon with ease. He got to his feet in one swift movement.
Nachri again flung himself forward towards the now stationary figure of his opponent, and motinoned his weapon for his elven foe's legs. Being more prepared this time for the immense speed at which Nachri could move, Regulus thrust his sword, easily identifiable as one of the great swords used by the famed swordmasters from Hoeth, and connected with Nachri's outstreched arm, which drooped to the elf's side as the sword smashed into it. With quick reactions Nachri retaliated and swung his sword at Regulus. The Eataine's sword managed to weave past the great blade of the elf and strike his opponent with a damaging blow, landing only a matter of inches from the wound the prince had suffered a short time before.In unison the two elves let out disturbing cries of pain and both combatants stepped backward, Regulus clutching his hip, which had been struck for the second time by Nachri, he then raised a quick glance over at his opponent and saw him holding on tightly and gazing at his arm, it was cut open much like the wound his opponent had suffered, but also it had more than likely been broken by Regulus' powerful swing, such was the akward way his arm was positioned. After the few seconds they sprang into life again and Regulus picked up his weapon. Breathing deeply and gaining his composure he marched towards Nachri. In return hearinf the footsteps of his opponent Nachri looked up to see the figure advancing towards him. Also taking a deep draw of breath the elf from Eataine raised his sword headed again into the fray. Bawling as he did so, grating his teeth and bounding towards the incoming fury of Regulus.
There was a deep anger in the prince who swung his great weapon with such a force as to send the hapless Nachri across the final few feet of the arena, where he staggered backwards and collided with the arena wall. Blood poured from his chest, his armour again buckled. The crowd fell silent and one of the spectators reached down and patted the clearly beaten Nachri on the head, "You did proud, oh honourable one" he wispered before being pulled back up to the stands. Nachri was tended to by the elven stewards as Finubar pointed to Regulus, signifying him as the sucessful combatant, who strode out of the arena, his weapon gleaming in the sun as he made his way through the great doors, once again, a victor of an exciting contest...
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Saphery vs Caledor - NZBFBM
The Crowd was energized with joy. This was to be the first fight of the Inner Kingdoms between the long time rivals Saphery and Caledor. As the large oak doors swung inwards the young Kheral Dragonfire of Caledor and veteran Athilean steeped into the arena and were a washed with sunlight. Athilean raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He saw his young opponent mounting his steed, winding the crowd up with cheers and gestures with his lance. Athilean smirked to himself, such youth and confidence only made one rash and predictable. He strolled into position adjusting his shield sword as he prepared for the fight.
Finubar signalled the start of the fighting and the crowd roared with excitement. Kheral kicked his steed into life and charged forward to the waiting warrior. He lowered his lance aiming for the heart of his opponent.
As the mounted warrior closed, Athilean started squinting. The morning sun was radiating off Kheral’s shield which was glowing brighter and brighter. Kheral was almost on top of him, Athilean was blinded by the light from the shield, he tried to step sidewise to get out of the range of the lance. But Kheral anticipated his move and struck Athilean square in the chest with his lance. The crowd was silent as the sound of the lance breaking echoed around the arena. Athilean was thrown off his feet with the force of the impact. He landed hard on his back. But when he looked down at his chest he saw his no puncher mark in his armour. However the talisman around his neck was glowing bright blue. He said a quick pray to the gods before standing up and dusting himself off.
The cheering crowd caused Kheral to turn his steed around. He saw Athilean standing defiant against him. Roaring in rage he threw his broken lance to the ground and pulled his sword from its sheath.
Athilean charged forward to meet mounted warrior. When they clashed Athilean moved quickly. Grabbing the reigns of Kheral’s horse and turned his steed sideways. Kheral was thrown momentarily off balance and Athilean seize the opportunity. He drove his sword up into the gap between the chest plate Kheral’s belt. Kheral cried out in pain as the sword cut into his abdomen. Regaining control over his steed Kheral lashed out in rage at his opponent. However Althileans skill did not let him down as he parried the blows directed at his head.
Althilean pushed home his advantage slashing out at the wounded warrior who was losing blood quickly from his wound. However Kheral still had enough fight still left in him to fend of the strikes.
With the loss of blood starting to affect his vision, Kheral struggled to focus on his opponent. He saw the blade swinging low towards leg. He dropped his own blade low block the blade from biting into his leg. This was the opening Althilean was looking for. While his has his opponent’s attention down low he swung his shield arm high aiming for Kheral’s head. The shield smashed into the check bone of Kheral. The force knocked Kheral backwards off his steed landing hard and winding him. In a flash Althilean was upon the downed warrior. His knee pinning down Kheral’s chest and his blade inches from his throat. As Kherals vision faded to black the last image he saw before falling unconscious was the Elven Healers lifting him off the battlefield.
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Avelorn vs. Eyllrion. - NZBFBM
Aethis sat mounted on his steed. Across the arena he locked eyes with his opponent from Eyllrion. He said a quick prayer to Khaine asking him to guide is magical blade straight and true. He glanced up to where Finubar sat, waiting for the signal to start. He saw Finubar’s hand fall and kicked his steed in the flanks. He saw is opponent doing likewise on the other side of the arena.
The steeds thundered towards each other. The skill of both riders was evident to the crowd as their horses reached top speed. Prince Aethis raised his sword above his head. As he drew closer to his opponent he could see its magical runes glowing brighter and brighter. Much brighter than usual. Suddenly with an explosion of light the runes went out. Aethis was in shock, this had never happened before. Shaking his head he focused on the target.
Nimgon Marewing smiled to himself. His enchanted talisman appeared to be having its desired effect. He lowered his Halberd, using it like a lance to gain maximum reach over his opponent. The crowd’s noise softened to a hush murmur as both opponents closed to within striking distance.
Nimgon struck the first blow. Striking with the tip of his Halberd, Nimgon aimed straight at the upper chest of Aethis. The weapon dug in deep between the scales of Aethis’ armour.
The pain Aethis felt was blinding. Instinct from centuries of training kicked in as Aethis fought through the pain. Twists his body around, Aethis rained down four very quick blows aimed at the helm of Nimgon. Nimgon was caught off guard and tried to dodge out of the way but the blows bit down into his neck. He released his grip on his Halberd as both horses speed past each other. The Halberd stayed lodged in Aethis’ shoulder for a few more seconds before the strides of his horse dislodged it and it clattered to the ground.
The crowd roared as the two warriors slowed down their steeds and turned for another pass. Nimgon spied his Halberd lying on the ground and pushed his steed hard as he raced towards it. Aethis looked up from his chest wound to see Nimgon making a move for his weapon. He too kicked his horse into life and raced to cut Nimgon off from his weapon. However the speed of Elmoths horse and the head start was too great for the Avelorn Champion to pull back.
As Nimgon neared his weapon he slipped both feet out of their stirrups. Grabbing the horn of his saddle with both hands he threw his body off the side of his horse and held on for dear life. As his feet hit the dirt beside his galloping steed, he picked up the shaft of his Halberd between his boots. Kicking the weapon high into the air, he pulled himself back into the saddle before catching his weapon. The crowd cheered at this magnificent feat of horsemanship.
However Aethis was already on top of his position before he was ready to strike. Aethis struck out trying to catch Nimgon off balance. His sword danced easily around the feeble defence Nimgon was able to muster and embedded itself into Nimgon’s leg. Nimgon struck back swinging is Halberd around and cutting deep into the arm of Aethis. Once again both horses carried their riders past each other.
Battered and bloody, the Warriors turned once more to face each other. Their steeds frothed at the mouth and panted heavily under the worker they were commanded to do. The Combatants began their run at each other again. Time seemed to slow for Aethis. The rhythm created by the hooves of his steed falling on the ground worked to calm his nerves. As he drew close he cut out once again at Nimgon. His blade sliced through the flesh surrounding Nimgon’s arm. Blood flowed freely from the recently opened gash.
Nimgon cried in pain and had to release his Halberd with his wounded arm. Gripping his Halberd in the remaining hand he held it out aiming at Aethis’ face. The blade caught him across the face. Aethis tumbled back out of his saddle, the breath escaping from his chest.
The crowd roared with excitement as Nimgon circled his steed around the body of his fallen opponent. He knew the fight was over.
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Yvresse vs Tiranoc - Anrol
As if impatience had set in the two elven steeds grunted as they were handled by the young elven marshall's who tended to them but soon settled as the reassuring prescence of their masters appeared out of the arena doors and methodically strided towards them. The two combatants were Aerandir from Yvresse, his halberd slung over his back as he headed to the far side of the arena, and Aravar who hailed from Tiranoc, his mighty sword in his hands. A quick glance from Finubar signalled both competators to mount up and both rose to the back of their beasts, Aerandir settling himself on his horse before withdrawing his halberd, and grasping it tightly. Weilding an equally large sword which gleamed in the sunlight Aravar gathered his composure as the fight was to begin. Finubar lowered his arm and hooves began to impact with the ground...
...at a blistering pace two elven horses met in the centre of the fighting arena, the gleaming splendour of Aravar's armour was doused as Aerandir approached, whose on gem shone brightly as he roared into the fray, Aravar sighed, he knew his armour's magical properties had been nullified by the Yvressan, he had seen it in previous fights, but nevertheless he bared his teeth and lowered his head, preparing for the initial joust. As they closed in on each other Aravar swung across Aerandir's chest, attempting to catch him in the midriff, but his violent arms whilstled past the oncoming elf, misjudging the speed of his opponents approach. Aerandir, avoiding the incoming weapon, brought his own weapon down towards Aravar's head, making a vertical swipe towards him. Aerandir grimaced, he had seen his halberd cut through nothing but the dusty warm air, skimming closely past his opponents right side. In as little as a few seconds the two horsemen had flown passed each other and were making headway towards the arena walls, the crowd cheering as they approached. Both recovering their breath, they turned their mounts, circled around, and stared each other down once again.
Aravar, eager to continue the contest quickly, spurred his great steed into action once again, determined, heading for the elf from Yvresse with a steely gaze. Aerandir however, was still, not moving as muscle as he carefully watched the approch of his opponent, slowly gripping his halberd and raising it to waist height. His steed stirring as the hooves of its kin bounded across the arena floor, Arevar was confused by his opponents lack of action, but didn't care to worry and continued at full speed towards the static elf, again raising his gleaming elven blade above his shoulder. As Aravar closed in Aerandir flicked his horse, and as if determining exactly it's master's wishes the beast casually strolled to its side. Araver and his mounted struggled to ajust, and flew aside of Aerandir, Aravar swung desperatley, but his outstreched weapon came up short and whilstled past Aerandir, who utilised the superior reach of his halberd and connected firmly with Aravar's back throwing him against the neck of his steed. His jaw bouncing off his faithful animal, he spat blood as his head rose, coughing violently but regaining his composure. Luckily managing to hold onto his weapon and the rearing mount Aravar manouvered around the edge of the arena, steadying himself for another assualt..
Bringing the life into his mount Aerandir halted the momentum of his swinging weapon, motioned his steed towards the turning Aravar and roaring an amazing loud cry. Araver also encouraged his steed forward, ready for another clash. Aerandir had built some pace, Araver was in the midst of acceleration, the two steeds again pulled towards each other, again Araver swung violently at his opponent, grimly determined to connect with his opponent but saw his great sword miss the intended target and tear harmlessly past Aerandir's side. Once again Aerandir returned and landed a blow on his opponent.
This time he landed his halberd firmly in the side of his opponent, the force of the blow throwing Aravar from the saddle and into a heap on the pebbled ground, his blade flying from his hands as he tumbled through the air landing but a few feet from his knee. Blood oozed from a gash to his side but he punched a hand into the ground, supporting himself as he rose to his feet. Breathing heavily, and small amounts of blood continuing to spout as he coughed, Aravar slowly walked the few feet to his blade, and wailed as he bent to retrieve it from the floor. Barely managing to lift it's weight he slowly turned around, and saw the arena wall, the crowd, but he couldn't fix his gaze upon his opponent. Hurridly he turned, and a look dismay lit up his battered face, he stared at Aerandir, remarking at the marvel of his gleaming gem and smirking, as the halberd removed his legs form underneath him, and he collided with the ground for a second time, his body impacking with the ground producing a terrible thud.
Aerandar stood proudly above the fallen elf, and Finubar aknowleged that the elf from Yvresse had taken the contest emphatically. The victor then offered his hand to Aravar who looked up at his counterpart and gingerly accepted the elven hand, he got to his feet and the two combatants withdrew from the arena, the sound of the crowd's roars dulling as they made their way through the doors....
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Eyllrion vs Saphery - NZBFBM
The sun broke over the lip of the arena for the final day of competition. Already the crowd was pouring into the arena, bubbling with excitement. The sound of their feet resonated down through the ancient stone to where the competitors waited. Nimgon Marewing, champion of Eyllrion rubbed his arm. The Healers had done a good job, his wound was barely visible and he felt no pain at all. He was ready for the battle ahead.
Already the seats were filling up quickly. A lone horn note floated across the wind announcing the start of the day’s events. The last to be seated was Finubar as he entered and signalled for the combatants to enter. The oak doors swung open and Nimgon strolled out and received the first sight of his opponent, Prince Athilean, Champion of Saphery. Nimgon swung himself up into the saddle ready to begin the fight.
As Finubar’s hand fell Nimgon kicked his steed who broke into a gallop, quickly gathering pace as he carried Nimgon towards the waiting Athilean. As he watched the mounted champion coming towards him, Athilean assumed his Miniath fighting stance and waited. Nimgon came on, and the noise of the crowd grew. Athilean could see the Halberd stretched out towards his, giving his opponent a clear advantage in reach.
Seconds before Nimgon could strike his opponent, Athilean dodged right, spinning with grace. Nimgon suddenly found himself unable to bring his Halberd around quick enough. Athilean however, was able to strike at the exposed flank of his mounted opponent. With one quick thrust, his cold steel blade sunk deep into the abdomen of Nimgon, punching thought his armour.
Nimgon gritted his teeth in pain. Not wanting to cry out in pain and show any sides of weakness. He turned his steed and prepared to engage Athilean again. As he charge in Nimgon readjusted his line to ensure that his opponent would not be able to pull the same move again. As he approached, Nimgon swung his Halberd in a wide arc, the sun dancing off its deadly blade.
Athilean saw the blade come straight at him. With a feat of great martial skill, he leaped into the air. He easily cleared the Halberd of his stunned opponent, and as he reached the crest of his leap he slashed out at the mounted warrior with his sword. Once again the weapon found the taste of flesh and blood deep in Nimgon’s shoulder. The crowd cheered as the Swordmaster landed in a roll. His opponent however was less luck. Nimgon tumbled sideways off his steed.
As he recovered his composure, Nimgon picked up his Halberd from the ground. As he looked down he saw a pool of blood left by his wound. He touched his fingers to his wound. They came back sticky with blood. But yet Nimgon felt little pain. He gripped his Halberd tightly and closed in on foot to the waiting Swordmaster.
To the cheering of the crowd both Champions charged forward. Each attacked and parried with great skill unable to over come the other.
With sweet dripping into his eyes, Athilean backed off to catch his breath. As he raised his sword arm to wipe the sweat off his brow, Nimgon seized his opportunity and struck out with a wide swing of his Halberd. Athilean didn’t see the blade until it was too late. Only his flinch saved his life as the blade sliced through his check cutting down to the bone.
Athilean looked down at his neck, his magical stone gifted to protect him. The colour was gone from it. Fire flashed in Athilean’s eyes. He struck back at Nimgon pushing his body in close to cut down on the room Nimgon has to swing his weapon. Blocking the attack with his shield, Athilean used the opening in his opponents defence to stab his blade at the exposed body. The blade sank in deep. Athilean could see his opponents eyes open wide in pain. Pulling hard on the blade he wrenched it free from the body of Nimgon.
Nimgon dropped to his knees. The paint was terrible. He watched his opponents boot come up and push his chest. He fell backwards for what seemed like an eternity. He could only watch as Athilean stood over him blocking out the sun. The sword came to his throat he knew his fight was over.
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The body of Nimgon was helped from the field. Athielan stood victories basking in the cheers from the crowd. Many threw flowers which carpeted the dirt floor. At the northern end of the stadium another Oak door swung open. A contingent of White Lions filed out and formed rank. The crowd fell silent as Finubar himself steeped out followed by his assistances. As he approached Athilean, the champion sank to his knee bowing before the Phoenix King.
Finubar placed his hand on Athilean’s shoulder and said a pray to Asuryan for him. Then one of the assistants steeped forward and presented to Finbar a crown made of the purest Ithilmar. At its front was a pure blue stone set in the middle of a 4 pointed star. Magical runes circled all the way around the crown and glowed softly even in the sunlight. Finubar lifted the crown off the pillow and placed it upon Athileans head.
Finubar spoke. “Arise Prince Athielan, Champion of the Inner Kingdoms!”
The crowd roared with excitement as Athilean rose to stand face to face with the Phoenix King. Today would go down as a proud day in Saphery’s history.
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Yvresse vs Loremasters - Anrol
After the thrill of the first battle of the finals, the crowd roared in terrible excitement, eager to see the next match. Entranced,they watched, as the great doors of the arena eased open, the two elven competators strolling through them into the awating fighting arena. Aerandir's steed awaited his master, the elven marshall next to the great beast grasping it's rains and stroking its mane.The loremaster's chosen Prince Regulus, his opponent, walked to a point at the opposite end of the arena, and stood perfectly still, grasping his great sword and watching as his Yvressan counterpart mounted his steed. As ever Finubar began the contest, having just returned from the arena floor, he sat in his chair, ready for another honourable contest. Regulus nodded to his counterpart, who returned the gesture and the contest had begun..
..Aerandir roared as he kicked life into his steed, motioning it forward to the static figure of Regulus.As it accelerated the hooves of the horse punched the ground, dust was thrown up under it's belly and the roar of the crowd echo'ed in the arena tangling with the roar of the two competators. Seeing his oponent's steed coming towards him at some speed Regulus lifted his head, manouvered his weapon, and started at a run towards the incoming elf. Quickly closing in on each other the two warriors, so determined to come out of the fight the winner, violently swung their respective weapons at each other. Regulus, seeing his mounted oponent heading for his left side, deftly organised his nimble hands, and hefted the great weapon over his head, and lowered it towards Aerandir. Unfortuantley he had miss-timed his swing and the weapon flew past Aerandir's steed, clipping it's tail hair and removing some of it with it's sharpened edge. Regulus hollered, as Aerandir flew past he swung his own halbard, his martial prowess landing the weapon in Regulus's back with some ease, causing him to cry out. The blow had been unexpected and rocked the Prince, who staggered forwards, the weight of his own blade carrying him across the dusty ground. Catching himself with his foot he stopped. Regulus reached behind himself, he sighed, as he ran his warm hand down the cold metal of his armour he could feel it deform, it was buckled where the halberd had crunched into the small of his back, and had become uncomfortable to wear, but he would bear it, such was the determined winning mentality. Gaining his breath and turning to his counterpart he saw Aerandir's steed gradually pull up, stopping but a few feet from the arena wall, where the crowd's support for Aerandir took on a number of cheers and jests. As they re-organised themselves the two elven warriors stared each other down once again, the steely gaze in their eyes meeting each other across the great expanse of the arena floor between them,,,
..Aerandir pressed his steed onwards once more. The thunderous hooves again beamed their great sounds around the arena as the horse and it's master charged furiously towards Regulus, who once again picked his blade up and set off running towards the charge of Aerandir. Time seemed to slow as the two opponents accelerated towards each other, the figure of Aereandir proud atop his faithful beast, halberd in hand ready to strike out at his loremaster opponent, and Regulus running across the ground at great speed, his greatsword held just behind him ready for a decisive swing. The crowd fell almost silent as the two combatants met in the arena for the second time. Aerandir, attempting to capitalise on his opponents lack of speed, used to reach of the halberd to thrust out towards Regulus and catch him in the chest. However the Yvressan's weapon punched through nothing, and the Prince deftly slammed his foot as he ran, bounding into the air in a great show of acrobatical skill, avoiding the outstreched polearm of his opponent and swinging his sword elegantly as he glided past. The was a horrible gargle as the great sword caught Aerandir in the face, his helmet flew off easily as the sword cut across his nose and sliced open his forehead. The force of the blow sent Aerandir in the opposite direction of his mount, who continued towards the other side of the arena. Aerandir himself landed on the solid ground, his legs landed first, buckling under the force of his tumbling fall, the rest of his body slamming to the ground with the most terriable of sounds. Blooded poured like a stream from his face, staining the ground crimson red, his arm was bent awquardly under his body as he fell, and he was unconcious. A few feet from his almost lifeless body the great gem he wore around his neck had been disconnected from his body, and lay covered in dust. Regulus who had carried on at some speed after landing, saw the trinket, and bent down to retrieve it from it's discarded state on the ground. Casually walking over to the downed Aerandir, he placed the gem across his body, staring at his opponent and watching as the life drained out of him. He could see that the fallen elf was breathing, if only a little.
..Regulus had struck him sweetly on the face, a deadly blow which had won him the contest a fact aknowleged by Finubar as he, his assisstants and bodyguard walked towards the victor in the middle of the arena, who grated his teeth as he adjusted his armour, which was still bothering him.As they did so two young elves made their way to Aerandir, his coughs a sign he was beggining to come aroud.As he stood across from Regulus the great Finubar spoke "An honourable contest we have had this day, and a victor shall be crowned. ....That warrior is Prince Regulus, Loremaster, and Winner of the Outer Kingdoms contest!" he placed a crown of sparkling gold, gleaming in the sun, it's runes glaring for all to see, upon Regulus's head, who nodded in reciept of the honour, and aknowleged the crowd with a wave. As Finubar shouted to the masses a great cheer went up from the crowd.
They knew the final was to come.........
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FINAL - LOREMASTERS VS SAPHERY
Silence filled the arena. The only sound was the gentle flapping of the flags in the breeze. Everyone was waiting with anticipation for the fi |
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