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Post by Anselm Reifanlik on Dec 7, 2017 2:18:16 GMT
Rugged fingers stroked a thick, dwarven beard, a true symbol of pompous aesthetic driven by narcissistic elites feigning indifference to the opinions of those beneath them, when in reality, those at the top were nourished by the approval of the lower class and the bourgeoisie. Anselm was no exception. While he himself had at one point been a part of the lowest class in the dwarf society, through hard work and consistent determination to better his situation, he had made a name and a reputation for himself. At this point, the master blacksmith was convinced the only thing he was truly missing in his life was a noble title. Though, he supposed that if he really were to try, he may be able to attain one through marriage. However, the obsessive compulsive perfectionist had no interest in affairs of the heart or in the amount of effort that he had witnessed matrimony to be. He assumed one day he would fall victim to its clutches if only to create a son, a worthy heir to his trade, his one true love. Forging weapons among the torrid coals dancing in the fireplace whilst he rhythmically beat metals into submission in order to craft the perfect weapons, for a pretty penny of course, was what brought Anselm the greatest joy. This joy was naturally what had brought him here today.
He had no real interest in fighting, he felt himself above it. Why waste his energy? However, such a tournament allowed for the perfect opportunity for free advertisement. He had spent some time weighing the pros and cons about whether or not he should join the fray and battle random citizens of Oedir, citizens that were of all the races, not just his own. Eventually, he had come to reason that he would battle. He was a fair fighter, though admittedly, not the best. He expected to make it decently far in the battle royale, take out a least a few rivals. If nothing else, he would be able to talk up his wonderfully crafted weapons and show that even those with no talent could easily wield his light weight swords that cut flesh like butter. He knew of the impressive reward money, but he had no use for such coin and thus was of no interest to him. He was making enough money on his own time, without having to worry about watching ugly fighting faces attacking him and ruining his perfect appearance.
He stopped walking for a moment to take a gander at those who were also signing up. He grimaced. There were many entering that seemed they too would be able to hold their own for some time. An emotion he was not all to familiar with fell over him. He refused to classify it as fear or nervousness, though he was willing to acknowledge he was now having some sense of anxiety and perhaps even self doubt before signing up. Anselm dug deep into his coat pocket and retrieved a lovely pipe, already filled with tobacco. From the other pocket, he retrieved a match and set his tobacco aflame, puffing several times to steady his nerves before he proceeded through the gates and to the young man taking names. The man greeted him with a smile. "Signing up as a gladiator then, sir? I'll just need your name and the type of magic or weapon you'll be fighting with." Anselm puffed his pipe once before, exhaling several o shaped smoke rings. He gripped his battle axe tightly, his resolve to enter the fight strengthened once more. "Anselm Reifanlik, I'll be battling with my battle axe." |
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Apothecary
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Post by Braelyn Willowmist on Dec 7, 2017 6:06:16 GMT
Violence was something Braelyn took pains to avoid for herself. She had spent a good deal of her childhood training to become a fairy swordsmen and follow in her mother's footsteps, however, being abducted by men and forced into slavery derailed her training and forced her to see violence as unnecessary and in most cases, extremely detrimental both physically and mentally for all parties involved. She felt the same towards the Battle Royale, that on the whole, it was very unnecessary, a show of brawns instead of brains in a feeble attempt to quell the rising rancor between and within the races. In some ways, she could understand why the mages believed this would help even if she refused to align herself with their thinking. Nonetheless, she found herself here, amongst those signing up to be gladiators. She watched them, signing their names on the dotted line with little to no concern for their personal wellbeing in order to fight in front of all of Oedir for the mere reward of money. She could not understand why money could be such a motivator. Though, she was able to fully provide for herself within the Niwetri forest and often did not even like to sleep indoors. She recognized that not all were as lucky as she in this manner and thus, she attempted to refrain from judging those who needed even a chance at the reward money.
She hadn't noticed, but she had been standing completely still in the middle of those actively moving towards the sign ups. She felt herself, small and easily moved, being corralled with those who were moving, no doubt not even noticing the frail fairy they were bouncing around. She squeaked her disapproval and quickly flew up above them, feeling eyes follow her flight path into the sidelines and away from the traffic, a few gasps and words of confusion. "A fairy? Here? She can't be signing up.....of course not! She'd lose immediately. Look at her.....where did she even come from?" She exhaled heavily. It was easy for her to forget how small she truly was until she was among the other races and while she was not here to fight, she was mildly annoyed at the general belief that size indicated battle skill. Dwarves were not thought to be as frail as fairies, and often, they were much the same size. Though, she supposed it was the general wispy appearance associated with fairies that lead people into believing they could not handle their own. That coupled with their preference for entertainment and religion over interacting with the rest of Oedir.
She shook her head, feeling the buns on her head bob around slightly. She tucked them in tighter and proceeded through the gates, following those that were moving towards the spectator seating. She had found herself here, and while she did not agree, she might as well attempt to see the fun in it. Not to mention, she could be here as emergency medical assistance should the need arise. |
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Head Tracker
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Post by Dorian Namara on Dec 7, 2017 8:15:47 GMT
The college grounds were buzzing with life as droves flocked to the tournament. From pauper to prince, it seemed every soul in Oedir had heard about it and decided to show. Among the crowds, walking back and forth from the stands, to the gladiator pits, and the signup booths was a large figure. Dressed in a full set of ornate hardened leather and chain mail, with the hilt two short-swords peaking out parallel behind his left shoulder, the man looked like a combatant to be sure. With slow and precise movement the figure moved through the crowds, carrying himself quietly, but sternly; a man that had obviously seen combat and looked like he was ready for a day full of it. This was no gladiator though, and would likely shock most that he was a representative of the college itself; Dorian Namara.
He had spent every hour from the time the council decided on hosting this even, vocally protesting it. Nothing about it sat right to him. Now that the day had arrive to actually host it, he knew there was no changing minds now. So he reluctantly fulfilled his job, diverting several trackers from their real jobs into blending in with the crowds that would be arriving. He had personally walked almost every square inch of area that the tournament was being held on, ensuring nothing was there but what needed to be there. Part of it was obligation to duty, but another part of it was guilt. He had been gone for the last several months, on orders of the headmaster, to hunt down a group of rogue mages. Due to this he was absent from the festival and everything that had happened there. Perhaps if he had been quicker, or better, or more alert he could have done his job and made sure nothing happened. Instead, they were in the situation of hosting this stupid tournament to appease some aristocrats. It was political garbage in his opinion, but he blamed himself for it none the less. This time would be different though, he would personally see to it.
From his tourings of the grounds, he had seen plenty of royalty. It seemed as though most of the Dwarven leadership was here, not to mention the King of the Immortals himself. There was also a large variety of combatants, it was sure to be an interesting show... If you were interested in that sort of thing... Which Dorian wasn't... At all... And had made very clear to the headmaster how foolish this was. But does anyone listen to Dorian? No! They host the tournament anyways and invite two kingdoms who are historically known for warring to not only come, but compete! What kind of dumb as... No, no. He hadn't been hired to voice his opinion on politics. He had his job to protect the college, and all mages. The only problem was the Dorian could do that well, very well in fact, he just found it much more difficult to protect them from themselves.
Slowly he made his way toward the sign-up booths. Most of the combatants signing up looked like your typical money hungry fools, likely to be slaughtered within the first round,
"Dorian! Decided to sign in? Represent the college, show everyone what we're made of?" A mage working the booth chirped as Dorian walked behind them.
"I'm made of whiskey and hatred Fenias, I find it highly unlikely people need to witness me in combat to figure that out. Besides I represent the college by making sure we stay safe... As much as I can't stop us from killing ourselves." It was no secret he didn't want the tournament to proceed, but the venom in his last statement was unmistakable.
"Oh, come now Dorian. You're usually so chipper. You know, you really should compete. I know your skills in magic aren't as impressive as some of us, but your skills in combat are beyond impressive."
Dorian had to physically resist rolling his eyes, he kept his true ability well hidden, so he was used to comments like this, but that didn't mean they didn't get annoying, "Fenias, there isn't enough money, or whiskey, or women with which I could be bribed to join this glorified pissing contest." The other mage shrugged and went back to work signing people in. Dorian stood behind the booth, his arms folded as he watched each potential "gladiator" sign in.
A dwarf signing in to his right caught his eye, he held a very impressive battle-axe. The dwarf seemed a little hesitant about registering, but then Dorian could be mistaken. Regardless, there were likely many of these untrained young boys and girls that were going to have their blood spilled by that weapon. After a few more moments of waiting, Dorian made his way with crowds to the stands. Upon entering, however, he turned to a private stairway that led to the balcony of the mages. He preferred to be among the people, but he couldn't deny the vantage point the balcony gave over nearly everything. From his perch he could clearly make out the faces of the nobles from each kingdom in their little roosts, as well as the faces of each of his trackers among the crowds below. Dorian stood near the edge of the balcony, arms folded, like an imposing gargoyle overlooking the stadium. He cared little for the safety of the nobles, they had their own guards. His focus today was the safety of the college and nothing else, they rest of them could burn for all he ca-
"Drink Sir Namara?" One of the servants that was hired to tend to the royals and the mages in their balconies approached Dorian with a pitcher of wine, and another of mead. The slightest smile tinged at the edge of his lips... Ok... Maybe this wasn't so bad.
//spectator |
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Outlaw/Wanderer
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Wryn
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Post by Wryn on Dec 9, 2017 9:50:49 GMT
Coin was always so hard for them to come by. Two outlaws, could find few legal ways to earn change. But then Rad had mentioned this tournament. Wryn had immediately tried to dissuade him. It was too dangerous, too public, too many wandering eyes. But no, he was entering regardless. She followed him like a pouting child. Crossing her arms and glaring when he went to the table to sign up. Following him further and through the crowd of people until they reached where they were to part ways. He told her goodbye, up until that point she hadn't said a word since their arrival. Just glared at him from beneath her wavy locks. But hearing his goodbye she quickly scampered forward to grab his arm and pull him in for a quick hug.
"Just don't die, ok? Thats all I care about."
She sighed and released him, watching his retreating form nervously. With butterflies in her stomach, Wryn would head to the stands and take a random seat that she would perch on the very edge of. Hyper alert and afraid something might happen to Rad. There were so many contenders here...could he really beat them all? She chewed on her nail and waited in silence for the start of it all. Seriously contemplating going to see Rad even if he had directed her to the stands.
(spectator)
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Arlyn
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Post by Arlyn on Dec 10, 2017 3:49:21 GMT
The Introductory Rite
All the gladiators had entered the tournament. The spectators had gathered in their seats, awaiting the beginning of the Introductory Rite. Most of the leaders have come, sitting in their respective balconies as they watched the ceremony beneath them unfold. As the coliseum became more and more filed with spectators and contestants, the mages who hosted the event surely smiled with contentment. They hadn't expected so many people to arrive, it had exceeded their expectations. But perhaps there was still some tension hanging in the air, after what happened from the last event. Though this time the mages took extra precautions. Many guards stood within the halls, all throughout the school and the coliseum. There was no way a tragedy would befall their event, since when it was to show that they wished to not start another war, right?
Once everyone was gathered, and majority of the leaders had been seated, the doors of the stadium begun to close. That was, people were still granted access, but it was to show that it was starting. Sundown had come, and the night sky was already beginning to show with twinkling stars high above. It was incredibly noisy, as the hustlers still were getting themselves seated. The mages waited until approximately an hour later to get the show started. All of the names were entered into the system, and so the matches were ready to be made. Everyone's commotion began to die down when the stadium changed hue of color. Mages from all sides of the coliseum casted their magic, as lights from all directions shown across the audience, giving a spectacular show.
"Welcome ladies and gentlemen," announced a mage with a projected voice from somewhere unseen. "To the Oedir Battle Royale!!!" A roar of cheer erupted from the excited audience, ready to see the battles taking place. "Only one will win, and take the thousand gold! We mages here at Lledrith give thanks to all races in attendance, and hope that peace will continue!" A homage to peace, hoping that the races wouldn't take this event too politically. For whomever won, this would benefits all races not just the victor. "Now let's begin the Introductory Rite!!!"
From within the arena, many mages dressed in cloaks of different colors walked onto the field, some holding torches while others held onto staffs with gems at their tips glowing in many hues. They appeared to be younger students, and circling the arena they held up their devices. A few others held up their hands as magical light stemmed from them, heading toward the center of the arena from all sides. Then four mages, from the east, west, south, and north side, entered the field. They were in the spotlight, in hues of blue, red, green, and white. The one in blue swung their hands around in a circular manner, before placing them onto the ground as fluorescent blue water splashed across the ground, and toward the center of the arena where it whirled into a pool. The second mage in red then followed in that same manner, fire erupting from the ground as it dashed to the center to create a gigantic flame. Then followed by earth as a rocky formation formed surrounding the fire and water. Lastly the air mage sent air swirling around the entire arena, blowing a gust of warm breeze over the audience as it then neared the middle, looking like a small whirlwind as the fire, water, and earth circled into the air within the center. As they hovered high in the stadium the other mages shined their bright lights, sort of like a spotlight upon the spectacle as they whirled in creative shapes. Other mages circled them and created different lights, illusions showing the many different races and magical creatures as they pranced around the arena around the center. Then as more and more lights focused on the center and shined on the audience, the mages then gathered at the center, where the highest point of the four elements reached, hovering over the entire stadium as it then erupted into an explosion of color and light. As it trickled down back into the arena, the mages gathered in a circle as a small fire stared within the center, perhaps as a result from the four elements combined. But it was all intentional as they gathered around the flame, and the flame grew larger and larger before it reached a massive and impressive size. As the mages were now all in the center, the entire stadium then darkened. Blue light flashed around the seating, and white and violet lights dotted the arena and the other balconies. Then, mages from the outer ring on top of the stadium casted bright lights into the air, exploding on impact like fireworks. The sky turned pink as the show continued. Colors after colors shined throughout the night sky, leaving the audience at awe.
It soon came to a stop, and the mages exited the arena in a timely fashion. Then the lights resumed within the arena, however their colorful hues still were impressive. "Alright everyone that concludes that Introductory Rite!!!" A round of applause was given from the excited audience. Cheers were made as they were impressed by the wonderful sights of colors and lights of the show. Indeed the mages had put on the show of the highest effort and quality. "Now let the matches begin!!!" Another roar erupted throughout the arena. Indeed that's what people wanted to see. That's what they came here for after all. Some were even standing to get a better look at who the first contestants might be.
"First off we have... Kaya Atiqtalaaq Nanuq versus Khaalius Sandrus !" The crowd erupted in cheer upon hearing the first two names. "Then we will be having Zander Carval versus Captain Waters face off! After that we have Radulfr Caput Lupinum versus Anselm Reifanlik ! The following match will be Ruthalla Elanan versus Éamon Lyall ! And finally, we will have Farkas Volkov versus uh... a skeleton! An undead skeleton ladies and gentleman! Oh boy what a ride this will be!" Everyone seemed a bit skeptical about the last one. But nevertheless they still cheered. "Let's give our contestants a round of applause!" The clapping increased in volume, as they prepared for viewing the matches taking place. Everyone was excited, however no one seemed to notice that within the darkness... danger was lurking.
(Ok so this concludes the first stage of the Oedir Battle Royale. More spectators can come join but the entry for the gladiators is now closed. If you have been tagged for a match please start a thread with your designated opponent and post the links to them below so that the spectators can go view them! The winners will be determined randomly at the date the round ends. Or if a character goes inactive, they will be disqualified and lose the match. Then the winners will proceed to the next round to fight the other winners and then the final round will consist a face off of three gladiators.
The dates for the matches are as follows:
Round 1: Dec 9 - Dec 14
Round 2: Dec 14 - Dec 19
Round 3: Dec 19 - Dec 24
Stay tuned for the Murder Mystery!)
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Nobleman
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Post by Khaalius Sandrus on Dec 11, 2017 9:39:27 GMT
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Nobleman
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Post by Khaalius Sandrus on Dec 14, 2017 15:17:25 GMT
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