Fiona and Rothgart - A Clash of Blades
Mar 16, 2015 14:35:08 GMT -5
Razgriz, offduty, and 3 more like this
Post by heartofsilver on Mar 16, 2015 14:35:08 GMT -5
I honestly didn't know what this guy was going on about.
"I got some gold on you champ!"
"He's going to regret calling you out!"
"Kick this foreigner's rear! I always bet on local."
I am pretty glad to hear this guy considers me "local". Part of my difficulties in Cormyr have been that I am so obviously foreign. Might be my accent. It could also be that I tend to go against traditional law-abiding attitudes that pervade this place. Whatever. This guy apparently likes me.
"Do you eat before a fight? Maybe you should. Or shouldn't...what do you do anyways?"
"Hey, will you sign this for me? It'll be worth a fortune after you win"
Alright, I had to know what was going on.
"What's this about, bub? I gather I got a fight comin' my way. I just find it odd that ya' know more 'bout it than I do." I made sure to give him a confident smirk. I figured he'd appreciate the hint of bravado.
"Hm, I don't know. Some guy calling himself Rothgart 'The Blade' has come from the Lake of Steam to fight you. I guess he wants that 'Ace of Blade's' title. I don't really know who he is, but the betting pools say you're too chicken to show"
Are you kidding me? There were all sorts of things wrong with that statement. First of I've never been to the Lake of Steam - I am a little dubious that my reputation has extended that far. Secondly, my Ace of Blades 'title' was something my peers used to call me when we worked for the "Wild Joker's" mercenary company. We all were named after cards. I didn't win it from some championship, and it feels a little silly that some guy wants to fight me for it. But hey, I'm always up for a good fight, I'm just used to a stronger pretext, I think. Lastly, if the betting pools are calling me "chicken" then they still don't really know me. Who make's these decisions? Feh, whatever. Its kind of funny if you think about it.
I grin "Where is this guy? Do you know?"
"Um, yeah. Valkur's Roar - I think he's been staying at Talbot's"
I leave my 'adoring fan' to find a few more in the streets of Greatgaunt. I gotta say, I'm a little impressed. Apparently, this Rothgart guy must have a mouth on him. How did so many people hear about this thing, anyways? He must be throwing serious heat at me for this kind of turn-out.
I sort of enjoy the attention - It used to make me feel uncomfortable. I didn't always feel like I deserved it. But know, after all I done? Yeah, it feels kind of good to have this kind of recognition. I spend a few more moments with the people who turned up to cheer me on or offer words of encouragement before purchasing a caravan ticket to Valkur's Roar. I /had/ to meet this guy.
Talbot's inn was packed full of people. I guess Darkharp had a performance planned for the night, so it was clear not everyone was here for the fight. I wondered quietly if Darkharp didn't plan this somehow. I think hyping a fight to draw in a crowd might have been a cheap way draw attention, but then again, he's one of the few guys I know who might get word all the way to the Lake of Steam. I don't think I'll ever really know. It just was an odd coincidence.
Vlaric and Salazar were both there, probably checking out the competition. A couple of snooty, huffy elves where there - same two that felt the need to mouth off every time I'm around. I guess they must be long in the tooth over something. Holance was there as well - That thought warmed me. He's a little more of a classy guy - I mean, he didn't come here to watch blood-sport, I bet. Still though, I've been growing closer to the paladin and I feel a little guilty admitting just having him around is comforting. That's nothing I'd ever fess up to of course - I'm not some eye-batting floozy, fawning over his attentions or anything...I'm just glad he's here, I guess.
I could tell Rothgart was about to make an appearance by all the cat-calling, whooping, and cheering going on. Big, powerful steps down Talbot's stairs accompanied a mass of shouts.
"Rothart!"
"Rothart!"
"Rothart!"
I was surprised when his hulking form stepped through the swarm of "fans" - he didn't really look like what I expected him to be. Oh, sure, he was certainly strong looking, fit, athletic, even good-looking. Bit he was also well-dressed, groomed, and almost...foppish. I had over-heard he was a gladiator of some sort and I expected something rougher and more crude.
"Tell me..." he said, uncoiling his massive arms off of a pair of women "...has the Ace of Blades bothered to show?"
He didn't know what I looked like. I know there was a crowd, but I was standing right there. That was curious. He came all this way, called me out, and he didn't have a clue as to who I was. Was my reputation truly that strong, or was he just an idiot? I figured I test the waters a bit.
"Don't cha' know what she looks like, bub?"
"I do not. I heard she was a warrior of some worth though. I have come to take her title as the 'Ace of Blades'"
Yeah, I heard that part already. That bit was probably for the crowd though, whom where cheering at the boastful challenge.
"I hope The Ace of Blade's comes soon, I have adoring women to see to."
Ok, now hes just putting on a show and clearly riding this "sauve guy" act. I can work with that though...I'll go with lowbrow - its what I know anyways.
"I think the Ace of Blade's has had more women between her legs than you have, bub."
"Are you kidding me? Women flock to me after my victories!"
"Yeah, bub, but family doesn't count."
I can tell by the way the crowd laughed, they were turning against him some. Tavern patrons were my kind of people. He might win a few of the 'romantic' women who favored the "pretty boy" stuff, but those kind of women didn't usually go to taverns in dirty towns. This was my crowd.
We had a bit of a back and forth that felt worthy of an event. I felt like I was hyping the match as much as he was now, and it was felt in place. I realized I respected Rothgart's showmanship for it and I hoped he had the skill to back up his bravado. It was time to find out.
"I'm the Ace o' Blades, bub. I unda'stand ya' came a long way ta' see me."
He was likely aware it was me by now but it was time to move on to the showdown. He was rightly sporting; offered a wager - which I took, we hammered out what we thought was rules to a fair duel, we both agreed to fight with twin-blades. Honestly, it was refreshing to see someone honor the details of sporting-combat. He didn't insist that a set of potions or magical wards were a 'necessity' in a test of blade-work and wished for a "pure" contest of arms - steel verses steel. Damn right! I think this guy deserves the right to challenge me.
We exited the inn and left the town walls as to no cause a fuss to the locals even as a crowd departed with us, hooting and hollering the whole time.
We choose a fairly plain site in which to fight, there wasn't much around except a walk-path and a chicken coop. The ground was even, though the grass was wet in places which could make for slick footing if neither of us was careful.
After saluting each other, we were in our stances waiting for the count. My eyes were locked on his and his on mine. From the crowd, a hin pushed through and climbed up on a rock to issue the count. "On the a 10 count, engage! Are both sides ready?"
We both nodded, but kept our eyes locked - our opponent was before us, and the absolute focus of combat was setting in.
"10..." I tightened the grip about my blades and felt the heat from one of them touch my skin. Rothgart also had a flaming blade that contrasted his icy one. The flames from each of our blades caused the wet grass at our feet to curl and blacken
"9..." I could see Rothgart held a traditional stance for a twin-bladed style. He was schooled with some formality. I didn't see a lick of armor on the man, so I expected him to be fast. I hope this wasn't a critical error on his part to come unprotected. The way he danced on his feet left me with the impression I shouldn't underestimate him.
"8..." I didn't see any obvious weaknesses from how he held himself. Rothgart's prior boast of "23 and 0 in the arena" claim might be said in earnest. I attempted to remain icy cold, professional, and disciplined but I had to admit I felt a bit of excitement from this. Not too many people have the brass to challenge me, let alone fight me in the way I'm good at, yet this guy did just that. It was thrilling. It was such a rush!
"..3-2-1! FIGHT!" You little *troll*. The halfing issuing the count sped though the last numbers, skipping the middle. Probably hoping to look cute or catch either of us off guard. Neither of us were surprised though, so keen was our focus on each other that any sudden movement would have invoked a response.
And a response was had! Rothgart, with amazing speed, slashed at me with his twin blade, in an x-pattern, starting at my shoulders. I've seen the move before, and its usually paired with a second set of strikes that rotated the blades in his hands for an alternating cross attack. Yet, so sudden was his lunge, and so quick was Rothgart's reflexes, I barely had time to rotate hips, weave, and slip on the outside of his attack. I was familiar with the combo though, and knew the attack left him open to an outside attack if I could capitalize on it. I lowered my shoulder and thundered into him, pushing with my legs with all my force in an effort to crash into him and take him off balance.
Unfortunately for /me/, Rothgart knew of the opening his combination left, and had must have practiced endlessly to minimize it. He had already moved his blades into position and anticipated I'd act on the opening.
Unfortunately for /him/ he didn't quiet expect such a bold advance from me, and moved forward himself in order to press what he thought would be an advantage. My shoulder smashed into his chest, emitting an almost sickening, smacking sound between flesh and metal. I could hear his breath leaving his lungs and saw his eyes water up from the impact. I guess I must have really out-powered the guy too. The impact took the man clear off his feet and sent him crashing hard onto the ground in a meaty thud. He was obviously in a daze and in pain.
I lurched over him in a mount and beat him with the pommels of my blades until he passed out - he was too stunned from our impact to properly recover.
While the fight was quickly over, and decidedly weighed in my favor, I couldn't help but to feel sorry for the guy. He was better then he had a chance to show, I could tell. I just tagged him with a lucky move which ended the fight for him. Perhaps this was Tempus showing his favor. It's at times like this I wish I was gifted like William was, so I could say if this was a real sign from the Foehammer, or just another one of Tymora's whimsical fancies.
Elon carted the guy off to have the wounds patched up and so he can rest. I tried to visit him after, but he was unconscious and not in a state to talk. I quietly hope that he'd recover and see this encounter as something to strive for, to make him that much more stronger and to address to his short-comings. Rival's and enemies can make a warrior greater than they already know. I feel privileged I get to be that person for Rothgart. That night, I went to Suzial and prayed to Tempus, honoring Rothgart's bold challenge and thanked the Lord of Battles for giving me this life of mine.
((A special thanks to DM Savior Faire for this little suprise))
"I got some gold on you champ!"
"He's going to regret calling you out!"
"Kick this foreigner's rear! I always bet on local."
I am pretty glad to hear this guy considers me "local". Part of my difficulties in Cormyr have been that I am so obviously foreign. Might be my accent. It could also be that I tend to go against traditional law-abiding attitudes that pervade this place. Whatever. This guy apparently likes me.
"Do you eat before a fight? Maybe you should. Or shouldn't...what do you do anyways?"
"Hey, will you sign this for me? It'll be worth a fortune after you win"
Alright, I had to know what was going on.
"What's this about, bub? I gather I got a fight comin' my way. I just find it odd that ya' know more 'bout it than I do." I made sure to give him a confident smirk. I figured he'd appreciate the hint of bravado.
"Hm, I don't know. Some guy calling himself Rothgart 'The Blade' has come from the Lake of Steam to fight you. I guess he wants that 'Ace of Blade's' title. I don't really know who he is, but the betting pools say you're too chicken to show"
Are you kidding me? There were all sorts of things wrong with that statement. First of I've never been to the Lake of Steam - I am a little dubious that my reputation has extended that far. Secondly, my Ace of Blades 'title' was something my peers used to call me when we worked for the "Wild Joker's" mercenary company. We all were named after cards. I didn't win it from some championship, and it feels a little silly that some guy wants to fight me for it. But hey, I'm always up for a good fight, I'm just used to a stronger pretext, I think. Lastly, if the betting pools are calling me "chicken" then they still don't really know me. Who make's these decisions? Feh, whatever. Its kind of funny if you think about it.
I grin "Where is this guy? Do you know?"
"Um, yeah. Valkur's Roar - I think he's been staying at Talbot's"
I leave my 'adoring fan' to find a few more in the streets of Greatgaunt. I gotta say, I'm a little impressed. Apparently, this Rothgart guy must have a mouth on him. How did so many people hear about this thing, anyways? He must be throwing serious heat at me for this kind of turn-out.
I sort of enjoy the attention - It used to make me feel uncomfortable. I didn't always feel like I deserved it. But know, after all I done? Yeah, it feels kind of good to have this kind of recognition. I spend a few more moments with the people who turned up to cheer me on or offer words of encouragement before purchasing a caravan ticket to Valkur's Roar. I /had/ to meet this guy.
Talbot's inn was packed full of people. I guess Darkharp had a performance planned for the night, so it was clear not everyone was here for the fight. I wondered quietly if Darkharp didn't plan this somehow. I think hyping a fight to draw in a crowd might have been a cheap way draw attention, but then again, he's one of the few guys I know who might get word all the way to the Lake of Steam. I don't think I'll ever really know. It just was an odd coincidence.
Vlaric and Salazar were both there, probably checking out the competition. A couple of snooty, huffy elves where there - same two that felt the need to mouth off every time I'm around. I guess they must be long in the tooth over something. Holance was there as well - That thought warmed me. He's a little more of a classy guy - I mean, he didn't come here to watch blood-sport, I bet. Still though, I've been growing closer to the paladin and I feel a little guilty admitting just having him around is comforting. That's nothing I'd ever fess up to of course - I'm not some eye-batting floozy, fawning over his attentions or anything...I'm just glad he's here, I guess.
I could tell Rothgart was about to make an appearance by all the cat-calling, whooping, and cheering going on. Big, powerful steps down Talbot's stairs accompanied a mass of shouts.
"Rothart!"
"Rothart!"
"Rothart!"
I was surprised when his hulking form stepped through the swarm of "fans" - he didn't really look like what I expected him to be. Oh, sure, he was certainly strong looking, fit, athletic, even good-looking. Bit he was also well-dressed, groomed, and almost...foppish. I had over-heard he was a gladiator of some sort and I expected something rougher and more crude.
"Tell me..." he said, uncoiling his massive arms off of a pair of women "...has the Ace of Blades bothered to show?"
He didn't know what I looked like. I know there was a crowd, but I was standing right there. That was curious. He came all this way, called me out, and he didn't have a clue as to who I was. Was my reputation truly that strong, or was he just an idiot? I figured I test the waters a bit.
"Don't cha' know what she looks like, bub?"
"I do not. I heard she was a warrior of some worth though. I have come to take her title as the 'Ace of Blades'"
Yeah, I heard that part already. That bit was probably for the crowd though, whom where cheering at the boastful challenge.
"I hope The Ace of Blade's comes soon, I have adoring women to see to."
Ok, now hes just putting on a show and clearly riding this "sauve guy" act. I can work with that though...I'll go with lowbrow - its what I know anyways.
"I think the Ace of Blade's has had more women between her legs than you have, bub."
"Are you kidding me? Women flock to me after my victories!"
"Yeah, bub, but family doesn't count."
I can tell by the way the crowd laughed, they were turning against him some. Tavern patrons were my kind of people. He might win a few of the 'romantic' women who favored the "pretty boy" stuff, but those kind of women didn't usually go to taverns in dirty towns. This was my crowd.
We had a bit of a back and forth that felt worthy of an event. I felt like I was hyping the match as much as he was now, and it was felt in place. I realized I respected Rothgart's showmanship for it and I hoped he had the skill to back up his bravado. It was time to find out.
"I'm the Ace o' Blades, bub. I unda'stand ya' came a long way ta' see me."
He was likely aware it was me by now but it was time to move on to the showdown. He was rightly sporting; offered a wager - which I took, we hammered out what we thought was rules to a fair duel, we both agreed to fight with twin-blades. Honestly, it was refreshing to see someone honor the details of sporting-combat. He didn't insist that a set of potions or magical wards were a 'necessity' in a test of blade-work and wished for a "pure" contest of arms - steel verses steel. Damn right! I think this guy deserves the right to challenge me.
We exited the inn and left the town walls as to no cause a fuss to the locals even as a crowd departed with us, hooting and hollering the whole time.
We choose a fairly plain site in which to fight, there wasn't much around except a walk-path and a chicken coop. The ground was even, though the grass was wet in places which could make for slick footing if neither of us was careful.
After saluting each other, we were in our stances waiting for the count. My eyes were locked on his and his on mine. From the crowd, a hin pushed through and climbed up on a rock to issue the count. "On the a 10 count, engage! Are both sides ready?"
We both nodded, but kept our eyes locked - our opponent was before us, and the absolute focus of combat was setting in.
"10..." I tightened the grip about my blades and felt the heat from one of them touch my skin. Rothgart also had a flaming blade that contrasted his icy one. The flames from each of our blades caused the wet grass at our feet to curl and blacken
"9..." I could see Rothgart held a traditional stance for a twin-bladed style. He was schooled with some formality. I didn't see a lick of armor on the man, so I expected him to be fast. I hope this wasn't a critical error on his part to come unprotected. The way he danced on his feet left me with the impression I shouldn't underestimate him.
"8..." I didn't see any obvious weaknesses from how he held himself. Rothgart's prior boast of "23 and 0 in the arena" claim might be said in earnest. I attempted to remain icy cold, professional, and disciplined but I had to admit I felt a bit of excitement from this. Not too many people have the brass to challenge me, let alone fight me in the way I'm good at, yet this guy did just that. It was thrilling. It was such a rush!
"..3-2-1! FIGHT!" You little *troll*. The halfing issuing the count sped though the last numbers, skipping the middle. Probably hoping to look cute or catch either of us off guard. Neither of us were surprised though, so keen was our focus on each other that any sudden movement would have invoked a response.
And a response was had! Rothgart, with amazing speed, slashed at me with his twin blade, in an x-pattern, starting at my shoulders. I've seen the move before, and its usually paired with a second set of strikes that rotated the blades in his hands for an alternating cross attack. Yet, so sudden was his lunge, and so quick was Rothgart's reflexes, I barely had time to rotate hips, weave, and slip on the outside of his attack. I was familiar with the combo though, and knew the attack left him open to an outside attack if I could capitalize on it. I lowered my shoulder and thundered into him, pushing with my legs with all my force in an effort to crash into him and take him off balance.
Unfortunately for /me/, Rothgart knew of the opening his combination left, and had must have practiced endlessly to minimize it. He had already moved his blades into position and anticipated I'd act on the opening.
Unfortunately for /him/ he didn't quiet expect such a bold advance from me, and moved forward himself in order to press what he thought would be an advantage. My shoulder smashed into his chest, emitting an almost sickening, smacking sound between flesh and metal. I could hear his breath leaving his lungs and saw his eyes water up from the impact. I guess I must have really out-powered the guy too. The impact took the man clear off his feet and sent him crashing hard onto the ground in a meaty thud. He was obviously in a daze and in pain.
I lurched over him in a mount and beat him with the pommels of my blades until he passed out - he was too stunned from our impact to properly recover.
While the fight was quickly over, and decidedly weighed in my favor, I couldn't help but to feel sorry for the guy. He was better then he had a chance to show, I could tell. I just tagged him with a lucky move which ended the fight for him. Perhaps this was Tempus showing his favor. It's at times like this I wish I was gifted like William was, so I could say if this was a real sign from the Foehammer, or just another one of Tymora's whimsical fancies.
Elon carted the guy off to have the wounds patched up and so he can rest. I tried to visit him after, but he was unconscious and not in a state to talk. I quietly hope that he'd recover and see this encounter as something to strive for, to make him that much more stronger and to address to his short-comings. Rival's and enemies can make a warrior greater than they already know. I feel privileged I get to be that person for Rothgart. That night, I went to Suzial and prayed to Tempus, honoring Rothgart's bold challenge and thanked the Lord of Battles for giving me this life of mine.
((A special thanks to DM Savior Faire for this little suprise))