Private Tales Proven Finesse

[Amell Quillon]

It was instinct when Amell’s hand shot out across Olvir’s chest and took a step forward to bring the young man behind. As if Amell could protect him from a boulder? He was no dreadlord, he had no magic. If anything they would both be crushed and their bodies would be found with Amell’s on top of Olvir’s in a feeble attempt to protect.

At least the perpetrator showed themselves. Amell couldn’t believe it, he had never seen anything quite like it before, didn’t even know it was possible for something like that to exist.

The muscles on this thing… through the patches of it’s rather light armor, Amell saw the ripple of massive strength laying just underneath it’s red skin. It’s four arms were mostly bare with nothing else but bracers, heavily tattooed in a swirling way that spoke of it being completely foreign to any Anirian. This thing wasn’t from Liadin, that much was ascertained.

With a laugh, it threw another boulder, it’s raucous voice echoing around. A few men did rush to the line of duty with drawn swords. That was how Amell noticed it: four swords were strapped to this crimson monster’s hips. Without missing a beat, it quickly drew it’s four swords.

Both Amell and Olvir could catch the few seconds it took for this creature to slaughter the ten men that hard charged at it. Bladesong ended soon enough and Amell felt dread creep into his chest.

“If you can’t do it because you’re afraid, then do it afraid.” He muttered under his breath, and reached for— oh. That was right. His sword wasn’t on him. No it was back at the carriage, he had left it because….

“THAT THE BEST HERE?!” It jeered, wiping the blood off it’s four blades. “FIGHT TOURNAMENT AND ALL THERE IS… IS WEAKLINGS! WHO’S THE CHAMPION?! BRING THEM FORTH!” Amell cursed, and without speaking to Olvir began to stride forward towards the arena smeared in blood. His hands were clasped behind his back, his head was high. At least he kept his uniform on.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Olvir had no idea what the creature was.

He had never once in his life seen anything like it. It was like a mockery of a man. Four arms, rippling muscle, skin as red as the devils. His voice was like grinding gravel, tearing through the air with taunts. The way he moved...it was...

Horrific.

Cutting into trained swordsmen and dispatching them within the span of a breath. He had thought the thing would be a brute, a monstrous thing trying to overpower those around him. Yet he could see the skill, the slight adjustments in the monsters stance.

The little noble took half a step back as Amell took a dozen forward. His eyes only catching the Guardsmen by the time he was nearly to the field. "Shit."

Doubt flickered through him, but he knew that he couldn't let Amell stand alone against the monster. With quick strides he caught up to the other man, snatching up his own sword that had been leaning against one of the pillars.

Fingers clutching the sheath tightly, almost shaking as they approached the monster.

"WHOSE THIS THEN!?"​

It bellowed.

"Another batch to the slaughter?"​

 

[Amell Quillon]

As he continued closer and closer to the crimson beast, Amell made it clear that he carried no weapon. Or rather, not an obvious one. He did of course have his dagger strapped to the small of his back— he had no armor on, he had to be prepared— but he began to slowly unfurl his hands from behind him and hold them up for the thing to see.

He didn’t expect Olvir to follow after him. A Weiroon was far more valuable than a Quillon in the Vel Anir’s Noble game of power. It was why Amell had stepped forward despite the fear that was nibbling away at his body. Amell was constantly afraid, even when he walked casually down familiar streets, he was wary of whoever was behind him. This hyper-awareness was something only a warrior could learn if they wanted to survive. Did Olvir have such a thing?

His limpid blue eyes glanced over to the young man who had made it to his side, saw the tremble in his fingers. He inhaled deeply, and when he exhaled, nice and slow as he had learned was best to settle the nerves, he looked at the crimson monster with icy ease. The corners of his mouth slightly raised.

“You asked for the champions, here we are.” Amell said, gesturing to himself and to Olvir. “Unfortunately, the tournament hasn’t been concluded but—“ Amell had no chance to finish his words as the sanguine beast started a flurry of wide slashes mixed with powerful thrusts. Hardly breathing, focusing on the arcs and sweeps of the blades inside, when the red tyrant had stopped his onslaught of a attack, Amell had to hold back from examining himself to see if he had been cut. Pure instinct had taken over, and it was probably the only thing that had kept the minor noble unscathed.

The four-armed man was grinning, and then turned towards Olvir, pointing his four blades at him.

“Wait!” Amell said, full authority in his voice, something only a commander could have. The thing paused, yellow irises flickering over to the blonde. “You want a challenge, right?”

“I want a fight!” It roared and then glided it’s swords over each other, a shrill screech coming forth. “You have no sword, too easy to kill.” It said and then looked back over at Olvir. “I’ll fight this champion—“

“Fight us together. You have four blades. How can one person compare? Unless you’re afraid to lose?” A grunt came from it, and this time it pointed it’s four blades at Amell, eyes narrowed into a strong glare.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Amell darted backward with a speed that Olvir would have called impossible. He took half a step forward before the red giant ceased his assault, leaving the other swordsmen just barely untouched. Fingers tightened on the scabbard of his sword as the creature turned to him.

His jaw set, and he moved to draw his blade before Amell suddenly cut in.

For a brief second emotions flickered over the giants face that Olvir couldn't quite recognize. A mixture of anger and perhaps...spite? The Noble frowned for a brief moment, and then issued his own challenge. "What's one champion when you could have two?!"

"Bah!" The Giant bellowed. "I'll crush the both of you. Starting with the small challenge."

Before Olvir could get out another word the giant charged forward.

His steps shook the arena, but his grace was just like before. His blades swung forward, two of them slicing high while the other struck towards Ollie's legs. With a breath darting desperately into his lungs the Noble danced backward.

Blade flickering up and scabbard tossed aside as he parried the two blades which had been coming for his skull. He let out a quiet curse, and then shifted his stance. Sword slicing forward and doing it's best to get through the Giant's guard and cut his wrist.

 

[Amell Quillon]

Amell narrowed his icy gaze at the red demon. There was nothing else that Amell felt could offer a better description. No weapon at hand, he felt small, like a ant staring up at a person. Useless, worthless, pathetic in the truest way. His hands turned into fists and her ground his teeth together. He looked over at Olvir. Two voices made their opinions known at once. Both were reasonable, both had a plan, both desired a certain outcome. He could feel his heart beating faster, his chest tightening up.

“Olvir!” Amell was pivoting on his left foot, already dashing as fast as he could toward where his belongings lay. “Don’t die!” A stupid order, one a commander knew made as much sense as to tell their soldiers to keeping breathing. But he didn’t want Olvir to think that he was being abandoned. As he ran he saw the guardsmen quaking in their boots.

He wanted to spit at them, bark and degrade them into the filth they were showing.

“What are you doing?! Help him! He’s a Weiroon for Kress’ sake!” Amell snarled at a particular group cowering together. What was the guard back home doing if this is how their men acted? At a competition no less that touted it’s wooden swords and rules. As Amell continued running, men did come to Olvir’s aid. Whether from Amell’s words or perhaps the fact that a young man was actually able to stand his own against the monster, men and women were charging once again.

Swords were poised and soon enough ten others stood by Olvir. The crimson giant laughed sardonically, kicking out with his foot at one person who came in too close. The woman went flying back, a sickening thud that matched the crunch of her breaking bones couldn’t be heard, but when she fell down to her knees, unable to catch her breath, she could only spew blood and drool. She collapsed to the sanguine floor soon enough.

Like before, the others were discarded. It was as if the giant knew that Olvir was far more skilled than him and it would be better to get the distractions out of the way. His eyes moved over the youngest Weiroon. He raised his four blades over his head, blood dripping down onto his strong broad shoulders.

“Join them,” it said, swinging it’s four blades downward.

“Move back!” Amell shouted. In that short amount of time, he had retrieved his sword, leaving behind his shield for now. Despite his shout, his face was eerily calm and collected, even his limpid eyes were coolly unbothered.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Olvir moved like lightning.

The Red Giant cut a swath through the Anirians, as though they were but children standing against him. Within a matter of moment he had carved his path through the ten other men, cutting and slicing as quickly as he could.

As he did so the giant hardly paid attention to Olvir. Using only one of his four blades to keep the Noble at bay every second or third step. His hands were a blur, his motions surprisingly swift an agile. It was only when he slayed the last man that the Giant finally slipped up.

A voice echoed in Ollie's head.

Strike.​

It called out, an in an instant Olvir saw the opening. Red blade flickered forward within the span of a breath, slicing and cutting into hide like flesh. A yelp echoed from the massive creature, and suddenly it whirled around.

"AH! BLOOD! Finally!"​

It snarled, and then suddenly dashed forward. All four blades flying down at Olvir's head.

 

[Amell Quillon]

Amell had shouted at Olvir to move back, but instead the youngest weiroon had moved in— and actually struck the beast. For a moment, when Amell’s icy glare caught sight of the blood, he wasn’t sure who it had been, but the red giant made it clear as he angled all four blades for Olvir’s head.

It was interesting, Amell realized, how his arms moved in tandem yet also— and this was the biggest surprise to the swordsman— each arm was different than the others by how it was angled or how it gripped the sword. Still rushing forward, Amell angled his own sword and stepped into the fray, this time prepared.

And upward strike that was designed to ruin the precision of the two blades that were swinging diagonally towards Olvir, gritting his teeth as he felt the pressure in his wrists move up all the way towards his shoulders. A sloppy defense, but at least it brought the enemy’s cruel gaze onto Amell as well.

“Focus on his left, I’ll focus on his right,” Amell instructed to Olvir, hoping that if they could divide the creature’s attention then perhaps they would find the time to strike and end his massacre.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Had it not been for Amell Olvir knew that his head would have been rolling on the floor. He managed to block two of the blades, his red sword sparking against the four armed giant’s own. The muscles in his forearms screaming as the creature pressed with his strength and weight against him.

The wicked grin on it’s face had twisted into rage, the wound Olvir had dragged through it’s flesh seeming to throb…and then seal up.

Ollie’s eyes widened as he watched the cut suddenly shift and knit back together. The skin slowly stitching into place as it sealed and ceased flowing blood. ”What the fu-”

There wasn’t enough time to speak.

Two more blades swiped at him, and quickly the three swordsmen fell into a rhythm of attack and defense. Even outnumbered the Giant moved like there was no challenge at all, swords swinging high, then low, then quickly forward. It was an assault unlike anything Ollie had ever experienced.

“COME ON YOU LITTLE FOOLS!”

The Beast bellowed as it pressed it’s attack.

Even Amell’s abilities paled in how the Giant moved. The thing’s stance changed, and then suddenly an elbow lashed out at the older Anirian. It’s massive size moving to slam Amell in the face and send him to the floor.

 

[Amell Quillon]

Amell’s idea was, well, it was an idea. And while it failed to do very little, it did give them a little piece of information: this giant was a monster in every sense of the world. Even with two skilled swordsmen on either side of him still couldn’t mess up his focus.

And of course, the cherry on top: it could heal itself.

Amell had only dealt with a handful of dreadlords before, usually working in tandem to get rid of a particular pesky base in the north or even just in passing and sharing a camp while one went one way and one went the other. Some of them had been third levels, a few had been second, and one had been a first level. Amell was envious, he always wished he had the aptitude for magic. Would make staying in the guard easier and less of a hassle with his family.

Would also have helped with with a monster that must have been magical as well.

The elbow to the face connected, even if with Amell’s fancy footwork and swordsmanship, everyone made mistakes. He wished he had been in full armor. The only thing Amell was able to do was to crane his neck quickly to the side, preventing him from getting a broken nose but an extremely bruised jaw instead. Oh, and he had skidded plenty of feet away from everyone.

He spat out a tooth and chuckled to himself. This thing played dirty? Excellent. Amell was the king of fighting dirty especially when the enemy liked to do it as well. He bent down, picking up a handful of dirt and ran forward, sword still poised to strike but at the last second he threw the dirt at the giant’s eyes.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

"TUAUGH!"​

A grunt escaped the beasts mouth as sand cast into it's eyes. One of it's four hands dropped the blade it had been holding, a clatter of steel resounding as it's hand clasped over it's eyes.

Even a fool could have recognized the opening, and yet the suddenness of it almost stunned the young Noble. He hesitated. Not out of fear or even a strike of terror, but the sudden shock of it. It wasn't until a voice exploded in his mind once more that he darted forward.

Cut it's legs!​

The voice hissed within his mind, and almost instantly Ollie darted forward.

Like he had been compelled the young Noble lashed out. As Amell occupied the creatures focus Ollie rushed through the Giant's guard. He slipped beneath one of it's great swords, his red blade slicing forward and catching the back of the giant's thigh.

Another cry of pain echoed out, a deep gash forming within the creatures flesh. Ollie could see it's muscle struggle, and then fail. One of it's legs buckled slightly and then the giant tumbled down onto his knee. It's swords swinging out wildly as it desperately tried to defend itself.

 

[Amell Quillon]

Amell couldn’t help but to look at Olvir with a look joyous victory. The boy was fast, was quick and didn’t hesitate to act.

The red giant fell down to his knees, one arm stabbing it’s sword into the ground to help keep it’s heavy torso upright. Amell couldn’t hesitate, much like Olvir hadn’t. Gritting his teeth, he batted back a arm, positioning himself close to the arm of support and has quickly as possible brought his sword down onto the stationary wrist.

His swung arced more like a axe that was going to be chopping wood instead of cutting through flesh and bone. Amell’s chest was heaving from the effort but based on the giant’s screams of agony and how his focus went to focus on Amell once more, the noble man knew he had been successful. Before stepping back to avoid the flurry of blades, Amell made sure to kick the large sword far away from the red menace.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

It felt as though they had been fighting for hours. Scrapping for every inch given, cutting as best as they could and marking out their foe enough to take just a little bit of advantage.

A roar of pain escaped from the giant as it’s hand was severed at the wrist. Sliced within the span of a breath. Tongue flickered out as the beast spat bile and hatred, shouting at Amell and cursing him for what he had done.

“I KILL YOU TWICE FOR THAT!”

The creature shouted, it’s voice echoing out in broken common.

All reason and tactics suddenly left the creature as it bounded up from it’s kneeling position and yanked it’s blades forward. With a flurry that could only be born of true and utter rage the giant lashed out. Blood spilled from the wrist now ending in a stump, but it did even seem to realize it in the thrashing rage.

Blades sliced, stabbed, lashed out again and again in reckless fury.

Olvir hardly had a second to breath, the creature’s anger nearly striking him. Not by purpose or design, but simply due to how close they were standing. Blades swiped, barely batted away in time as the red-giant broke away and charged directly at Amell. Seeking to throw the Guardsmen from his feet.

 

[Amell Quillon]

A flurry of blades was upon Amell and despite his opponent just being one gigantic menace with three workable arms and three swords, it seemed as if Amell was facing against three foes. This was where Amell was forced to swing his sword around and move in a circular motion along with his blade, to help him evade and defend the onslaught of anger and blades. It was a decent defensive move, but it worked much better with a multitude of individuals— because despite Amell evading, he wasn’t in a good position to attack and nonetheless, despite these movements to give him space… well…

It was just one foe he needed space from.

A conundrum of sorts. But as long as Amell was alive and breathing, he truly believed he could come out alive. But! He wasn’t alone.

His icy eyes found Olvir’s, urging him to move forward. He could say nothing, only able out to breathe and grunt and grimace, but he hoped Olvir recognized the look in his eyes, a look that told him to go. Because if the giant’s focus was on Amell, then… well, hopefully then Olvir had a chance.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

The Giant slashed, hacked, and went after Amell as though he were the only thing in the world.

It fought now not with the odd-grace that it had before, but more like a force of nature. A hurricane battering against the walls of a great Fortress City. Amell, to his credit, was keeping himself alive, desperately deflecting the giant's assault.

Ollie didn't linger.

He knew this was the only shot they had. When the creature was focused on only one of them they had both managed to strike a blow, and right now the Giant seemed to entirely have forgotten about him.

So the blade in his hand shifted, flickered, and then he darted forward. Instead of batting away the swords that swung almost haphazardly near him, Olvir only darted beneath them. One cut his shoulder, another his thigh. Swinging wildly and slicing him on the back stroke.

None of the cuts were intentional, not from the Giant, but Ollie bore them still. They were a necessary toil, a payment for what he needed.

The Butcher Blade arched up, it's red steel glinting within the light of the setting sun, then it sliced down. It's tip pierced through the back of the Giant's thigh, impaling through hard knit flesh and stabbing through the ground in one swoop. The massive creature roared, caught off balance by the pain.

And then Ollie threw himself forward.

With as much strength as he could muster, Olvir jumped onto the giant. Bashing into the creature in a hope of sending him tumbling to the ground where Amell could finally finish this.

 

[Amell Quillon]

Amell could’ve cheered at the bravery that Olvir displayed, but this was hardly something to stop and admire— even with sweat dripping down Amell’s face and despite his heaving chest and aching muscles wanting him to stop. The adrenaline was shooting through him once again once that red monster fell to the ground, wailing in agony.

The moment Olvir jumped onto the giant’s back, the monster was forced to fall forward. Amell side stepped, and with the enemy’s swords piercing into the ground in an attempt to hold it’s large body up, Amell didn’t waste this time.

“Olvir MOVE!” Was the only warning the man would give to the noble, the noble that had managed to bring this red behemoth to the ground. They didn’t have time to waste, this was an opportunity that would not be given twice to them. Swinging his sword in a series of crisscrossing arcs, Amell moved back and forth along the length of two of it’s arms, severing inch after inch of flesh, hopefully enough time for Olvir to move out of the way.

Amell raised a foot, striking the side of the creature’s head with his heel, hearing that satisfying groan.

Covered in blood, with the monster’s neck exposed, Amell began hacking away at the softer skin of the monster, looking more like a butcher than the fine swordsman he was.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Ollie didn't need to be told twice.

Almost as soon as the Lieutenant barked his order the young Noble darted immediately to the right. In his head he heard the Butchers Blade cackling, the ancient sword delighting in the caucophany of violence and chaos that had arisen out of the tournament.

Initiataly the sword had objected to this entire thing, calling it a spectacle and waste of time.

Yet now it seemed utterly thrilled, laughing and pushing Ollie move quickly.

The noble threw himself to the side, falling onto the ground and tumbling in the dirt. Crashing to the ground Ollie spun around almost immediately, half kicking himself up as he almost assumed the Giant would rise from the ground once more.

Yet when he turned Ollie saw no such thing.

Instead he witnessed Amell slashing, no, hacking into the great beast. His sword more of a cleaver as it landed again and again, cutting and carving into the giant as though he were nothing less than meat. Blood splattered, flickered onto the ground. Pooling in a great mass as the beast howled and screamed in pain.

The cries eventually fading as it's throat gurgled.

 

[Amell Quillon]

Not until the head was full detached from it’s thick neck did Amell stop, and only then, he took pause in his hacking so he could kick the massive head a few feet away from the body. He then started on the limbs, a cutting at the wrists and kicking them away, then moving to the elbows, then the shoulders, making sure that if this creature would heal itself it would be a long and slow process, giving them time to sever it’s limbs once again just in case.

An hour passed despite Amell working quickly and diligently with this gruesome task. When he was finished, he finally looked towards Olvir.

“Well. At least you’re still alive. We need to alert the Guard of this. I’m sure there’s more of him somewhere.”

Olvir