Fable - Ask The Field of Gold

[Wilhelm Anireth]

"And you," Wil laughed loud enough to draw the attention of others who had not yet gathered. The crowd around the ring was now a good 10 men deep. He even caught the sly passing of money between hands. The young Prince was under no illusion that he was completely outmatched. The Anirian Guard training he had received put him at a good level but what they taught those kids in that Academy was something... other. Even if his father told him it was all reformed now.

Bollocks to that.

He had to level the playing field.

"Let's just keep the damage to the face to a minimum, eh?" he grinned. The ring pulsed where it sat against his chest in such a manner it might have just been mistaken for the sun glinting against it. His feet slid into a position not too dissimilar to that of his opponent, fists raised. When the marshal dropped the flag he spun forward and threw a punch directly at the Dreadlords chest.

 

[Kassandra]

"You just may be." Kassandra mused.

It wasn't hard to peg him for what he was. A noble, but removed from the others for some reason. There could have been three choices of that. Perhaps he was a bastard. A son had out of wedlock, or someone who'd rejected the family ways.

The other two options were simple enough; A noble son bucking against the traditions of his father, or...an Initiate of the Dreadlords.

Of course the latter was the most likely, given his signing up for the same competition as she. The nobility could now reveal their magic, but like everyone else they would have to choose the three options presented to all sorcerers in the claws of Vel Anir.

Kassandra already knew what she would choose.

"Tell me, then my most Preening Peacock." She said with a smile. "How did you come to be here today?"

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair smirked and offered a grandiose bow at his new given nickname.

"I wish I could say it was for the enjoyment of spending time with other nobles, but that would be a lie. Let's just say my father...strongly encouraged me to make an appearance. That was the original reason, but some of my friends wanted to join some of the competitions. My competitive nature got the better of me, so I came along."

He was putting all of it in as nice of a way as possible, but none of it was exactly true. His dad never gave him an option. If he would have said yes, then he would likely have been limping for a few days and still ended up coming to the festival.

As for the initiates, several of them were there and it was one of the few places that they could all show off and compete without the background of the Academy. There was no way Alistair wasn't going to compete and then look like some loser...Not to mention, if he did not compete then he really would have just ended up sitting around with snobby nobles and ultimately wanting to kill himself.

"I figure the least I can do is try and win the sword fighting, or maybe impress some people with my magic."

Kassandra

 

[Lynus Anireth]

A muscle feathered in the Prince's jaw, his eyes rolling at the obscured sight of the man bowing to his sister.. He was fucking flirting with her. The bastard had the audacity to outright flirt with a member of the royal family like he had any sort of chance to...

His hand tightened in Amelia's, hearing what she said failing to accept that his little sister was an adult. He'd missed the whole part of her life where he should've been scaring off potential suitors, of being an older brother. He swallowed and nodded, dragging his gaze to his wife's hand as his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

Lynus only had to clear his throat for Arryn to glance in his direction. The guard would know well enough to take the subtle hint..

The Prince turned to Amelia. It was easy to forget how beautiful she was when he tried his best not to look at her most of the time, but on those occasions when he looked long enough to appreciate that fact, words seemed to momentarily fail him.

"I.. Youuu look. Well." he laughed awkwardly under his breath. It was like openly acknowledging her beauty was some sort of betrayal. He'd told her that she deserved better than this and he'd meant it, but the poor woman had suffered him so much already. "Lovely." he said and held his breath.

'Lovely?'... For fucks sake Lynus.

"Do you.. Have friends here today, your sister perhaps?" he asked with a glance across the field. He was just about certain that the last thing she'd want to do was sit in this tent with him all day.

 

[Arryn Cross]

Yes, he took the hint. The sigh that spilled from his lips was inaudible, but he dipped his chin and his gaze snagged on Amelia to offer her a small smile of reassurance before he casually strolled out into the crowd.

The royal guard smiled, bowed his head and winked at those he knew, depending on how exactly he knew them. A few earned that elusive cheek dimple of his that only came with a genuine lopsided grin. It wasn't long he found himself so coincidentally over by Kassandra, his hazel gaze shifting casually between the Princess and the nobleman she spoke with.

"My Princess.. My Lord." he offered a brief nod. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything... Pre-coital." The guard spoke with no hint of amusement despite the painful urge to crack a grin. Arryn disliked nobility as much as Lynus did, likely more-so since many of them enjoyed reminding him that he was here to serve the royal family and Vel'Anir. That just because he wore a shiny gold pin did not make him highborn. Riling the bastards up was fun, but making them uncomfortable was just as amusing.

 

[Riley]

"You're going to be my biggest challenger, I can feel it. Unless they do wine, then I'm losing quickly."

A quick smirk flitted across her face. Hazel-eyes held hints of gold like dangerous flashes of lightning with a blue-green mottled sky. "No shame in losing," she drew. Her smirk widened at his comment to Thorn. SHe could feel Thorn stiffen behind her. Riley twisted to look behind her.

"It's a'right. I'll be here when you get back." Thorn pursed his lips but didn't say anything else in argument. He leaned down to whisper in the curved shell of her ear. Straightened, then disappeared into the crowds.

"I am Siva. Who will I need to challenge first?"

Gaze flickered to the other woman. She was beautiful. Short, silver hair. "Dunno but I'm sure someone will take the seat soon. Nobles like to pretend but I'm sure they like a drink as much as the rest of us." A wink in her direction before she refocused on the man across from her as a small glass of golden liquid was dropped in front of those sitting.

"First to start, a shot of dragon-fire!" Yelled the one that was in charge. A petite woman with bright blue hair and a pixie-cut. There was something about her presence that felt like it would be a mistake to question her, even though her size was not threatening.

Riley scowled at the small glass in front of her. "Fuking hells," she swore and plucked it up in her fingers. Rumor was, this drink was so strong, it could turn a person temporarily blind, make them burst into a round of uncontrollable giggles, cause them to hallucinate, or instantly fall asleep. Other side effects, too. Those were just the ones she remembered hearing about.

"Bottoms up, mate," she tipped it toward that dark-haired man and tipped it down her throat before better sense could kick in.

 

[Kavaros Tal'deneshaar]

Kavaros grinned at Riley, sizing her up once more before winking to Thorn. "No shame, indeed." He mused, gods this was going to get ugly very quickly as he eyed the casks lining the back of the tent and the labels that mounted each of them.

I am Siva. Who will I need to challenge first?

Kavaros had noted his tail who had seated herself nearby, though not too close. His gaze shifted to her and now he could truly appraise her outfit. Yup. Dreadlord. "That your real name or your Dread Name?" The last bit had a growl added to it as he made his jest. "Uh, it's likely the whole table is drinking against each other. So, all of us. Probably a drink til ya drop, type of deal."

Years of a growing alcoholism were about to be put to the test! With Dragon-fire. That grin returned and he took his shot glass. "Hells, this will take me back to boot." He said with a laugh before clinking the glass against Riley's and offering a salute to Siva. "Siva, temptress, bottoms up." He tipped the glass back and his eyes closed.

So strong, needed a chaser. Kavaros would grab the shot glass right out of a burly mans hand who seemed to contemplating life beside him. There was a momentary glare before the guy nodded a sort of thanks and rose to his feet, leaving the tent.

Dragon-fire chasing Dragon-fire. They used to call that Torching the Village, and boy did it not feel like that. Kavaros would slam the table as he began to laugh. Hysterically. This brew was made with magick, so the effect was almost instantaneous.

After a few moments of laughing, Kavaros wiped the happy tears from his eyes. "Oooo-weee.. Kress that was funny." His gaze shifted to Thorn and a brow perked as both the companion and his poop stain glared at the noble. He glared back. Two-on-one for the glaring contest.

---

Riley | Siva Duskbreath

 

[Kassandra]

"Ah, so a peacock after all then." Kassandra said with a slight smile, knowing that she was really no matter.

She had entered the competition partly to make a point, and partly to show off her own skills. It was natural of course, in AlthHaven such things had been commonplace. Everyone scrambling to show just what they could do, what new discovery they happened upon.

Competition was important, keeping everyone fierce. "I look forward to seeing your feathers."

Kassandra mused, catching Arryn approaching out of the corner of her eyes.

A smile touched her lips as the Guardsmen swept into place in front of them. Her eyes flickering with mischief as the man offered his opening jest.

"Oh no need to apologize, Arryn." She remembered him of course, it was hard not to. Memories of Lynus, Arryn, and Erich Virak making themselves nuisances stood at the forefront of her mind. They had been like a pack of puppies, always gathering some sort of mischief and planting it where it would be most inconvenient.

Now she would make her own. "Were we doing anything pre-coital, I would assume there would be many more crimson cheeks around us, and your eyes would struggle to meet mine."

She'd had enough teasing at AlthHaven to deal with his.

Arryn Cross | Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistiar went to speak in protest, but stopped himself as she did have a point. Maybe everyone was a peacock for someone.

"True, I guess the real question is who are you peacocking for."

He said with a smirk, a little surprised at the philosophical turn the conversation had turned, but he liked it. She was witty, a trait that was rare in the Academy....Maybe that wasn't fair. People at the Academy had wit. It was just quickly followed up with death threats.

"I assure you my feathers are quite the sight." He replied with a light hearted chuckle.

Al had not been expecting a new arrival to budge into the conversation, but it did not take long for him to figure out what they were. Their demeanor and clothing showed them to be a fighter. Since Al did not know his face, then he was likely not nobility, but he knew Kassandra. That likely made him a high ranking guard...maybe a bodyguard.

His thoughts were suddenly flustered with the man's quick and confusing introduction. Pre-Coital? Did it really look that bad? Alistair had started a conversation to learn a bit about the princess and her magic, and it had been interpreted as this?

"Uh, I think their was a bit of a misunderstanding. I was just having a casual conversation with the Lady, nothing more." Alistair quickly explained himself. The last thing he wanted was some rumor flying around that some lowly noble from a falling House was trying to push himself onto the Princess. However...he did notice that Kassandra didn't deny it. Then again, she seemed more open to a bit of light hearted teasing.

Alistair held his hand out to the man to shake.

"I am Alistair Krixus. A pleasure to meet you."

Arryn Cross Kassandra

 

[AmeliaPirian]

Amelia watched the different emotions flicker over Lynus' face as he seemed to debate murdering the poor soul that dared to speak to his sister or just letting it go. In the end, he let the wise part of his drunk brain win and he did not go after the boy.

She returned Arryn's smile before the man ducked out of the tent. She felt like Arryn was her lifeline sometimes. He was the only thing that kept her from fleeing. That lifeline was now gone. She was on her own with her husband.

Lovely. She supposed that was better than hideous or alright. She could tell that it was not the word Lynus wanted to use though. She always found him so adorable when he got awkward and tongue-tied.

"Thank you, Lynus. You look quite handsome yourself today," she smiled at him. It reached her eyes this time. It was genuine. There was no doubt that she had landed the best looking Anireth sibling with this marriage.

Amelia looked out across the field and then back to Lynus. "I am not sure who of my friends will be here today. In all honesty, I do not have many since I was gone for so long. I have acquaintances. As for my sister, I have no idea what that child has planned. I do not think she knows until she wakes up."

It was her turn to be awkward now. "Would you like to go do something together or walk or I do not know...get to know each other more?" She looked up at her husband sheepishly.

Lynus Anireth

 

[Arryn Cross]

The guard's eyes fixed on Kassandra as he fought the urge to smirk. He hadn't expected her to be so unflustered by such a comment, and quite honestly he didn't know what to do with that. His chin dipped. Respect. Amelia had been right in assuming that the Princess seemed quite capable of handling herself.

His attention turned to the man instead, and now his lips twitched with some semblance of a smile, now he seemed suitably ruffled. His hand reached out to take that of Alastair Krixus, and he squeezed it perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary.

"Arryn Cross." he said, as though the nobleman should know exactly who he was. "The pleasure is mine, My Lord. I will leave you to your casual conversation." he smiled, his white teeth showing this time as he pulled the man to him to pat him hard on the shoulder. "Lets just see that it stays that way, eh buddy?" he said close to his ear, and let him go.

"Do have a pleasant day now. I'm certain that I'll see you around." the guard smiled casually.

 

[Elias]

Elias raised a brow behind his guard. He'd come here for a fight! A proper row! Not to dance with some Prince. The Initiate deeply inhaled... and calmly exhaled. Off to the side, just outside his periphery, the marshall's flag fluttered as he brought it down.

His opponent was quick to act, perhaps trying to land a blow to seize the initiative before Elias could build a rhythm, as he would like to do. The blow was swift and compact—a punch that had been practiced enough for him to throw confidently.

Elias reacted sharply and turned his shoulder forward to parry Wilhelm's fist with an elbow block, then extended that same arm to jab at the Prince's face.

 

[Siva Duskbreath]

The dark haired girl didn't offer her name, but the flash of intensity in her eyes and the short and concise way she responded almost certainly revealed she was not just another 'someone'. Her glance was intense, almost fearless.
"I'd rather hoped that I was able to dodge that bullet." Siva said between clenched teeth referring to having to drink and socialize with nobles. As the girl winked, Siva's gaze shyed down into the table and she took a small sip at her cup. But before she could finish it, a new mug was placed in front of her. Dragon-fire was a not a beveridge, she was familar with.

Looking up, the guy beside her addressed her too.
"Umm... I mean, part of it yes. Siva. Siva Duskbreath." She announced. It was a little confusing, yet not entirely without awakening a bit of pride, that he saw through her. She jogged her memory, but right now she couldn't remember any of them being neither students nor proctors. Explaining the competition to her, she looked left and right, seeing people coming and going as they pleased. "That seems a little unfair since the one who sits here the longest will have a sizable disadvant...".

But as Siva turned to him again, he he had just about emptied the second shots glass, and so had the girl opposite to him. Apparently they didn't care - or it was more about dropping first than being the last one standing. Siva recoiled a bit, when he suddenly started a bellowing laughter, eyes dotting around trying to make out if she missed a joke. For good measure she chuckled a bit before turning attention to her own shots glass. Gingerly, with thumb and index finger, she twirled the liquid a bit, before slowly pouring it into her mouth. She let it cascade a bit, before the intense scorching and bitterness left her stone faced and paralyzed for second, in which she fought the instinct to spit it out all over the table. In a display of, for Siva, formidable social willpower, she forced it down her throat.

Siva felt a shiver up her spine and a bit of light headedness. She blinked a couple of times and settled into herself again. That was strong alcohol for you.
"Well, that's one down. Though I guess I'll need another one to keep up with y.."

She suddenly stopped talking and her eyes fully dilated. Her hands grasped the edge of the table and drops of sweat raced down her forehead. The shivers turned to shaking and she clenched her teeth - but mentally she was in quite another place.
Crouched and knees tugged to her chin, she sat in the cold and damp isolation cell with nothing but her thoughts - and their voices. She would strain to ignore them, but they were persistent. The shadows always asked for a way to soothe her, but she knew, that if she gave them anything at all, they would take her heart as their house. She would beg, scream and pray, that this moment, was the one where the proctor would open the door, deciding it was enough. It never was. She never remembered, when she left the cell.

The transition from paralyzed to fully conscious in the bar again was swift. She looked around, wiped her forehead and sighed to herself. Was that the alcohol's doing? It felt real - the kind of real she didn't miss. What was this piss, they were serving? Well, she didn't want to back out after the first one. The smile may be forced, but it was also of relief as she turned to the man again, including the girl in her glance.
"The first one is always the worst, huh?"

Riley Kavaros Tal'deneshaar

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

The adrenaline was almost an immediate shot of euphoria into his veins and despite missing his first punch Wil's face lit up into a grin. This. He needed this. Plain, simple, messy and brutal. He didn't care if he was going to get a stern talking to by his father when it was done about what wasn't a princely thing to do, the man didn't suddenly get to decide to be a father.

His arm came back and caught the other man's forearm close to the wrist to push the punch just a little off course so it passed by his ear by a whisker. His heart thundered in his chest. That had been fast, much faster than most of the men he had fought before. The thrill of a good fight only made that drug-like adrenaline course stronger.

Almost as quickly - for he would never have a Dreadlords speed - he shot a returning hit for the other man's ribs quickly followed by a kick to his knee.

 

[Riley]

"Fuk me," she muttered as it burned down her throat. Hazels swept to Siva. Her own face went all tingly. Concern briefly flickering over her brow at the other woman's reaction. A slow blink at Kavaros and his hysterics. Yup, that would be the drink...

Eyes unfocused as one of the old proctors entered the tent. Death in his gaze. He raised a sword at Riley and took a step forward, a promise in his eyes.

Riley's chair was knocked over as she snapped to her feet. Palm forward. "Look out!" She yelled, though not sure who she was warning. An invisible snap of TK left her palm aimed to knock the Archon back and out of the tent. Only, there was no Archon there. Just some poor middle-aged drunk ginger male who went flying through the tent as Riley's power. Shouts of surprise and alarm began building as the tent's structure began to buckle and collapse But Riley was already on top of the table in pursuit of her...victim.

 

[Kavaros Tal'deneshaar]

Kav remembered hearing someone laughing with him, he just was unable to see it. Of course he had heard a joke, others were laughing too! Ohh... what a contest!

So entranced in his contest of wills was Kav, that he didn't notice Siva's reaction to her own drink, he was just trying to win. Suddenly, before Kavaros' very eyes, Thorn and his poop stains disintegrated. A blink had led to their demise and the victory, was his! He let out a whoop, when a voice pulled him from his trance.

The first one is always the worst, huh?

He looked left to Siva and shrugged. "For som-"

Look out!

The minx had rose from her seat and fired some sort of magick towards the open flap. And then, she was scrambling on the table. Alarm, laughter, more alarm.

Kav was out of his seat, running off after her. Apparently there was a killer on the loose and Riley was chasing them. She wouldn't be alone.

Riley | Siva Duskbreath

 

[Elias]

The adrenaline was almost an immediate shot of euphoria into his veins and despite missing his first punch Wil's face lit up into a grin. This. He needed this. Plain, simple, messy and brutal. He didn't care if he was going to get a stern talking to by his father when it was done about what wasn't a princely thing to do, the man didn't suddenly get to decide to be a father.

His arm came back and caught the other man's forearm close to the wrist to push the punch just a little off course so it passed by his ear by a whisker. His heart thundered in his chest. That had been fast, much faster than most of the men he had fought before. The thrill of a good fight only made that drug-like adrenaline course stronger.

Almost as quickly - for he would never have a Dreadlords speed - he shot a returning hit for the other man's ribs quickly followed by a kick to his knee.

The missed punch left Eli's side open for the Prince's counter, which connected with an audible, meaty smack. It was like striking against the weight of a boulder. Though the blow landed cleanly, Eli didn't flinch or budge an inch. The Initiate grit his teeth through the hit, wincing but holding a grunt of pain back. When the kick came, Eli lifted his leg and turned his shin out to block it.

Tap-tap—the moment Eli's foot touched the ground from blocking the kick, he lashed out with one of his own. It was a straight kick, with his toes curled up and the ball of his foot shooting out like a spearhead aimed at Wilhelm's abdomen. And exploding off his plant foot, Eli put the full weight of his body behind the kick.

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

Wil's eyes flicked up towards his opponents face when the punch connected and both brows raised upon seeing the stony returning stare. The fuck did they feed these kids in the Academy? He could feel flesh and bone give way beneath his fist but to the boy he might as well have just hit his shield instead of his body. The wonder and respect lasted only for a moment before his opponent took his chance, however.

The Prince's foot slid wide causing him to veer off balance. It was not enough to see him fall on his backside but enough that he was not in the right place to deal properly with a kick to the chest with all the man's weight and strength behind it. Wil knew he was about to hit the floor but he had no intentions of going alone. Wrapping his fingers round the other man's ankle as the foot connected with his chest, with a grunt of pain at the impact, Wil yanked the other man with him as he toppled back into the dirt.

In an attempt to get the upper hand he tried to pin said ankle and roll back onto his front and sweep his leg out behind him to give the man's face a good kick while he was down.

 

[Siva Duskbreath]

Contemplating how she would ever win over the large, and clearly quite experienced, drinker to her left, conversation seemed like the most viable option. Keeping his pace down a little so she might have time to follow him was a solid plan in her mind. However, as conversation was about to happen, what seemed like pure and golden luck had struck. The girl opposite to her suddenly unleashed a kind of arcane bolt towards what, by all means, looked like an innocent guy. Leaping on the table and following the trajectory of the poor sod outside, the provisional drinks champion beside her chose to abandon the competition also. A distraction sent from the heavens!

"Oi, wait! Does that mean I've won?!?" She called out in a voice, that was quite loud to her standards, but probably was being drowned out by the sudden outbursts from onlookers. Siva looked back and forth and tried to remember. Did she have a duty to prevent the girl murdering, or perhaps rather further mutilating, what was left of the poor, ginger sod?

"Damn it all..!" She muttered and followed the two outside the tent. She might have had such obligation, but if this girl was a Dreadlord like her, there was no way in hell, that she was throwing herself into a rapid-fire duel with someone clearly a lot more adept at that. Instead, wagging a finger at both of them, she raised her voice to a very un-Siva like level of authority.

"Need I remind you, that leaving the tent for anything than to take a piss is considered forfeiting the drinking-competition?!?" She tried, clinging to a thin sliver of hope, that this was in anyway still relevant for them right now.

Kavaros Tal'deneshaar Riley

 

[Elias]

When Elias landed, it was with a loud grunt and the expectation of a painful landing. But, much to his surprise, the melee's organizers were considerate enough to soften the ring's floor. He'd been thrown down on hard stone many a time, and compared to that, this was nothing.

The Initiate was quick to yank his foot out of the Prince's grasp during the sprawl and, as he tried to leap back to his feet, turned to face his opponent only to meet the heel of a foot. Cartilage cracked under the kick and briefly stunned Elias, who clambered to his feet with the grace of a fawn and took two large, unsteady steps away to back himself against the ropes.

Elias dispassionately stared at the Prince across the ring with a flowing stream of blood dripping over his lips and onto his chest. Then, raising a hand to his nose as he pushed off the ropes and approached Wilhelm with all the urgency of taking a leisurely morning stroll, there was an audible pop, and he stopped in the center of the ring.

"Okay," The Initiate flatly said to his opponent, "Come on."

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

Wil mirrored Elias in retreating to his side of the ring to lean against the ropes. Some doe-eyed lass passed him a pitcher and he greedily glugged it back, only half surprised to find it was water and not ale. When he'd drained the whole thing he passed it back to her without a glance and wiped his mouth. In contrast to the calm, leisurely way the Dreadlord initiate approached the fight, Wil practically bounced on the balls of his feet as he strode into the centre of the ring with purpose. The referee eyed them both up warily.

"Oh no, you first this time," Wil gave a small mocking bow before raising his fists into a defensive position in front of his face. He'd had his first taste with their initial scrap and the young prince wanted more. Faintly against his chest his ring glowed and a pulse of green webbing spread across his chest, easily mistaken for a trick of the light.

 

[Elias]

When the Prince helped himself to a generous amount of water, Elias thought it bold of him. He recalled once drinking his fill before a spar. Edric had punched him in his gut so hard that he vomited it all back up. Lesson learned and all that.

Elias remained still for a few moments after Wilhelm's provocation, then suddenly feinted a punch solely to draw a reaction out of his opponent. The Inititate smirked, waited for another second, then made the same motion but followed through this time. He threw three sharp jabs at Wil's face, then aimed a swift, compact hook under his guard aimed at his liver.

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

Wil didn't fall for the first feint, but his error came in assuming the second was also a move to throw him off balance. He uttered a quiet curse as the first punch caught him square beneath the eye and hurriedly brought his guard up in time to take the force of the next two hits. Being on the defensive and cursing himself for not being better prepared meant he missed entirely the punch heading for his liver.

However, when the punch did connect with his side what he would find was not what could be described as normal human flesh. Even accounting for muscle the Prince's skin was as hard as granite. A ripple of green light ran from the point of impact before dispersing back into his skin - if someone back blinked they might not have even seen it.

Wil only offered a small wink to his opponent before launching his own intense attack; a flurry of squarely aimed punches in quick succession towards the face, throat, kidneys and stomach.

 

[Elias]

Elias swiftly retracted his left hand back into his guard with a pained hiss. His knuckles throbbed, and a sharp pain made it difficult to tightly clench his fist. He'd missed the light over the Prince's skin, but there was nothing normal about the feedback from striking him.

"The fu-"

He swiftly swayed his head and shoulders side-to-side, avoiding the punches aimed high. The ones directed at his midsection were easily parried away. Each strike that was swatted away with Eli's left caused his hand to throb, and pain shot up through the backside of his hand, from his knuckles to his wrist. A fracture, maybe?

The Initiate slowly backed up as Wilhelm began to find gaps in his defense. A jab grazed Eli. Another strike landed against his abdomen, but not cleanly.

Eli grit his teeth and threw a sharp roundhouse kick at Wilhelm's ribs with his left leg, then would follow with a precise, heavy straight right aimed at his chin.

 

[Wilhelm Anireth]

Back and forth the two went and as time went on Wil became grimmer and more determined. Despite his request there were several bruises on his face and more on his torso. There was a murmuring of approval and respect from those gathered, many of whom had assumed the young Prince who hadn't even been raised in the Capital would fall after the first few bouts. Nearly half an hour in and the boy was still standing, though it was clearly taking a toll now.

Wil spat out a bit of blood then took another sip of water before standing.

"Last round," the referee announced, casting a concerned look between the two.

"Don't worry about my parents, Marcus. They haven't given a shit for the last 12 years. Your head is safe," he patted the older man on the shoulder in a jolly fashion before stepping up to the centre once more. There was no banding back and forth with jests this time and with his depleted strength Wil went in for a single, strong punch to the kidneys.