Legend of Ransera

The grandeur of the coliseum that was the Proving Grounds were filled with excitement, only the general populace attended the event with a few of the noble houses included. Today a tourney had been held in light of recent events, advocating for the Sky Guard as they were seeking to bolster their ranks. Rickter knew the other motives that were founded by them though, understanding the depth of priority set in motion by those who hosted the tourney.

The Dawnguard was expanding ever so, their growth quickening now that Talon had returned as Arcas. There was no denying the fact they would need every able-bodied warrior in their ranks, be it fighter, mage, or even rogue. His reason for attending was far more simplistic by nature though, having spent a good amount of time being busy after the new year swept across the city.

The Eclipse still hung heavily in the sky, blocking the sun as the city defenses kept both the Proving Grounds and Kalzasi safe. Shadows from the Void would not penetrate them so easily now, since the towers were well guarded after what happened last Ash. Even so, the purpose of this tournament was rather twofold, serving both Orders as the Skyguard sought recruits for the Dawnmartyrs, and then the people of the city found distraction from the difficult times that had wracked the city itself.

Snow still fell even though Frost had ended over a month ago, leaving everyone to worry about the late winter still lingering. But the battlefield in which the tourney was held remained cleared, as the sands of the coliseum had been salted, preventing any chances of unfair contests in the event ice accumulated on the field itself. That said, the cheering of the crowd and from his companions did somewhat lift his spirits, as the wolf did find humor and solace in watching others fight for once. Having spent a good amount of time fighting as is, he could appreciate the art of combat better when he spectated others.

Thus as he sat on the front row of the stands with his companion Patrick, and the two brothers that had accompanied him, the wolf sat with his arms crossed as he witnessed the fight of two warriors in action. Theirs was an engagement of art in itself, which led the wolf to chuckle when the three brothers bickered over which one was their favorite. "Oh come on! You can tell the other guy has strength!" Connor who was the youngest of the three brothers disputed as he pointed to the larger fellow, a contestant on the larger side who fought with a two-handed weapon.

"Yeah," Dominik the oldest brother present agreed with a rebuttal, "but the other guy clearly has more stamina to contend with."

"Plus the way he has battled so far is art!" Patrick weighed in with a clench of his fists, clearly passionate over the differences between them. When he looked to Rickter who had been calmly watching this whole time, the Atinoran's grin widened as he glanced back out on the battlefield while inquiring of the wolf's opinion. "Which one's your favorite, big guy?"

"I can't say I have a favorite, but I do enjoy the difference in their fighting styles." He admitted thoughtfully, his gaze keenly on the other combatant as he pondered what sort of style this one in particular possessed.

"Dialogue" Monologue
"Patrick"
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"

---

---

Beads of sweat clung to Grigori's forehead as he watched the massive sword slash once again through the air. He jumped backwards, outranging the blade but unable to counter or press an advantage. He knew that range and weight were the greatsword's biggest strengths, but he was finding it difficult to counterattack under the circumstances. Instead, he moved forward, baited the swing, and danced back, allowing the barely-armored swordsman to tire himself out. And so the fight went, with Grigori moving forward one step, and jumping backward two. The crowd, at first, found the quick movements endearing and cheered for the smaller fighter, but Grigori was sure that he was going to lose their fickle favor at any moment, and that he would have to do something daring, and stupid, to keep them from wanting his blood.

The greatsword came across again, aimed at where Grigori would have stepped if he had not seen the blow coming. Instead, he rolled forward under the blade, popping up within the man's reach. He poked out with his rapier, gouging a small hole in the mighty warrior's shoulder. He growled and spun with alarming alacrity, lashing out at Grigori with a gauntleted fist instead of his sword. The mailed fist slammed into Grigori's jaw, launching him backwards onto the ground. Dazed, he stared up at the sun from his back, trying to get his vision to stop swimming. It cleared just in time to roll away from a nasty chop brought down by the warrior, slamming the edge of his blade into the ground and spraying up dust. The crowd screamed at the near kill.

Leaping to his feet in the cloud of dust, Grigori set to finding an opening to once again make this swordsman bleed. The man was enraged, which meant he was bound to make a mistake. In Grigori stalked, allowing the seemingly tireless warrior to take another swing. Instead of retreating, he ducked the blow and stood his ground, letting the greatswordsman come to him without realizing he was doing so. When in range, Grigori swept low with his leg, knocking the man off balance and causing him to stumble. Capitalizing on his opponent's momentum, Grigori jumped off the ground with both feet, planting both squarely into the man's chest and blasting him backwards and onto his back. Grigori landed on the ground and rolled, speed and agility overtaking the larger man's ability to recover from the blow. Three quick jabs of the rapier cut the man's hand wide open, forcing him to release his grip on the mighty sword. Deftly, Grigori used the flat of his blade to flick the hilt of the greatsword up, and he caught it with his offhand and threw it away from the bigger warrior. Seeing he was defeated, the big man braced for a killing blow, but the tip of the rapier pressed against his collarbone instead.

"You yield," Grigori said, not asking. The man's shoulders slumped as he drew in deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. The crowd roared, and when the screaming abated, the two warriors walked separately from the grounds. Grigori followed the path back into the small room where he got ready before the fight, and unclipping his sword belt, slumped onto an uncomfortable chair. There was another fight, but he had a few rounds to rest before he had to go back out. Leaning his head back, the sweat began to cool in the dark room, sending chills up and down his arms. Hair standing on end, Grigori rubbed his hands together and kept his eyes closed. He must've fallen asleep.

"Grigori?" The words were meek and small, but they were enough to rouse him from his slumber. Snapping to attention, he immediately reached for his blade, but relaxed almost immediately at the sight of two young children, no older than 12, staring at him. One, the girl, giggled as he jolted, but the boy looked determined.

"My sister and I just wanted to tell you that you are our favorite in this whole tournament. You fight like a cat," the boy said, and Grigori smiled. That might have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to him, and he believed the child. He smiled and reached out a hand for the boy to take.

"Thank you, little one. It takes years of practice and dedication, but anyone can fight like I can, anyone can grow their passion like I have," Grigori assured him, beckoning them closer. "Do you like to fight?" He asked. The boy shook his head and gestured at his sister.

"She's the fighter! Look at her! She could fight a whole mountain if she wanted!" He exclaimed, and his zeal for his sister was evident in his voice. He admired her, and she stood proudly with her chin high. She was slight, not muscular, but looked to be quite dextrous.

"What are your names, little friends?" Grigori asked, and this time, the girl spoke.

"I'm Ilena, and this is my little brother Taugh, which is short for Murtaugh. We live here in the city," she said proudly, and Grigori could not help but smile.

"Well, Ilena, find me after the tournament, there is somebody I'd like you both to meet," Grigori said, offering an encouraging smile. Dalm likely would not take on two city children to train, but there was always the chance that he would, or would know someone who might train this girl to become a mighty warrior. "But for now, I have to take my sword out there and dance around my next opponent. I'll see you in the stands," he said with a bright smile. In unison, both children threw arms around him and scurried off, and Grigori picked up his sword belt with renewed determination. He could hear the chants of the crowd as the ongoing fight was drawing to a close. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the cool stone hallway leading back to the fighting grounds

---

The amount of skill displayed by the smaller warrior, and his agility with the rapier, both impressed Rickter to the degree that he almost envied. The wolf had never been a warrior light on his feet when it came to combat, and even now, much of his agility stemmed from reliance on Kinetics or Traversion to achieve even half of that. "Hell yeah!!" Patrick cheered dramatically through clenched teeth as he joined the crowd, the wolf briefly gave a side glance at him before he chuckled into a warm grin. He noticed Connor had suddenly gone missing from the trio of brothers, but, hadn't lost the scent of the younger one entirely among the crowd.

Rickter paid it no thought since the brothers were prone to do their own usual thing. From what he understood, the youngest Barnell was more the mischief maker than the others were, even so much as gave Patrick himself a run for his money when it came down to it. With the victory belonging to the rapier wielder, the crowd fed the contestants their congratulatory applause, before the announcer of the tourney entered the fields to announce the next set of contestants. A match between a Sky Guard Avialae that favored the claymore, and then a dark-haired human fitted in Kensei armor.

"Oooooo!! That guy has a katana!" The Atinoran enthused still with excitement plastered across his expression, Rickter honestly had no idea that Patrick enjoyed sport as much as he did.

"If that's what I think it is, then isn't that man a Kensei?" Dominik inquired with a thoughtful look to the wolf.

Rickter nodded in response. "Correct. The Kensei are noble warriors throughout Karnor, theirs is a moral code that lives and dies by the way of the sword." Having not forgotten his training underneath one, Rickter almost felt sorry for the poor Sky Guard with the claymore. "If our Avialae friend isn't careful, that man could cut clean through a claymore with enough skill."

"And I'm back!" Connor called out over the crowd as the combatants started their battle. "Did you all miss me?"

"Almost didn't notice you were gone." Dominik teased the younger sibling, as Patrick pointed out to the Kensei with admiration.

"Watch this guy kick ass, Connor!"

"Speaking of which," the youngest sibling remarked, "I just had a word with the host of the tourney." Everyone one, Rickter included, turned their attention onto the younger sibling. Did Connor just volunteer himself to join in on the tourney?! The youngest sibling smirked. "Hope you don't mind, but I mentioned a certain wolf would be honored to join." Oh... Patrick and Dominik looked at Rickter next, both sharing varied levels of amusement by that statement. In terms of the Barnell lingo, Rickter had been "Conned" by the youngest sibling.

The wolf furrowed his gaze slightly before he exhaled a sigh, the match nearly over in a few minutes when in fact, the Kensei did cleave the claymore in two. Before the Sky Guard could draw any other weapon, he'd been forced to yield rather quickly, leading the match to end rather abruptly when the crowd roared another enthused cheer. "Fuck yeah!!!"

Heh, not quite Patrick. If Rickter were the one lined up next after all, then that meant he'd be facing against... Mr. Light-On-His-Heels as the wolf remembered him at the moment. "Oh fuck me..." He remarked as the two combatants were cleared from the battlefield, with the announcer back to call out to the cheering crowd.

"Our next contestant, Grigori, is ready to face against a warrior of well-known repute." Rickter swallowed hard as he felt the boys enthusiastically pat him on the arm, suggestively urging him to head on down from where they were in the stalls. Reluctant as he was, the wolf couldn't disappoint those gathered here today, not when Connor had already gave him a stake in this. Besides, Rickter could've used a bit of a healthy distraction such as this, it wasn't every day he got to try his hand at a tourney. "That's right folks, you've seen him in Provings past, give it up for Rickter Maze!!"

The cheer in the crowd nearly led him to blush a bit, having never really enjoyed such praise in his life before. Regardless he entered the arena from the stands and approached the center, and stood next to the announcer as they both awaited for Grigori to join him on the battlefield.

"Dialogue" Monologue
"Patrick"
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"