Open Chronicles The Tournament of Tides

[Monroe]

Monroe forgot the type of energy Marta commanded, and the call for bets by her was a calculated and measured thing to propose to Cathmore. She liked bets, especially when she was confident in the outcome favouring her. Most of her spare time was spent perfecting things, failing at first before she was able to teach others in her own tough love way.

Her lips skewed, eyeing Marta before dropping honeyed eyes to the coin. Then to the Olvir and the fabled sword at his side.

"Alright then. If you're betting on me, then I might as well bet on you." She shrugged, picking a coin from a pocket and lightly flattening it to the table top. Monroe lifted her new tankard and gave Olvir salute.

Olvir Marta Martigan

 

[Olvir]

Ollie grinned wide. "Now that's an idea."

He said to Marta.

The smile on his face drawing even wider as Monroe agreed next. He really was great at making new friends.

"Decided then." The young noble said as he pulled out his own coins, though two instead of one, then added a few more for the bill. "I'll bet on the two of ya."

It was easier for him to spread the coin around, and with the three of them it would be an odd sort of circle anyway. Least this way he doubled his chances and also his support. His gaze flickered back over his shoulder for a moment, lips pressing to a thin line as he heard one of the shouts for the melee drawing close.

He had a few minutes yet, his match wouldn't be kicking off at the start, but it was time to stop the drinking...or continue it. "One more for the road."

Ollie told himself as he drank from the new tankard.

 

[Marta Martigan]

Marta's grin peeled all the wider. "That's the spirit," she clank clanked her tankard on the table, and offered up a salute, as her sister had. "To the future champion of the melee!" she raised her tankard up for a clink, a bit of drink spilling over her knuckles.

Monroe Olvir

 

[Monroe]

Perhaps it was a fool's choice for them each to have a third and last round of drinks, paid for by the coin of the Anirian's father, but three drinks in had Monroe smiling freely. The trio weaved through crowds, making a bee-line for the space reserved for the mêlée. There was chanting, and singing, of which Monroe joined in briefly and was quick to stop when several people commented on her adequate singing voice. She grimaced, moving on to help push through to the edge of the arena that would hold one of the main events.

Monroe let out an impressed whistle, beckoning Olvir and Marta to join her at the fence line. "Some bruisers out here... and that may just be the largest morningstar I have ever seen..." Of course, she had seen weaponry of all makes and sizes serving with the Knights, but to her, it made sense in battle. For show? For a mêlée? It intrigued her, compelled her to stick around and contemplate raising her bet now.

"Well, Olvir, you look like you're fast on your feet." Monroe turned to look at him, appraising him with a quirked brow. "Think you can rise high in these ranks?"

Olvir Marta Martigan

 

[Olvir]

Ollie cringed inwardly as Marta declared him a future champion. Not because he didn't appreciate the gesture, but because a sharp laugh echoed out within the confines of his mind. The blade mocking him with the sound of it's mirth. This one is a comedian.

It mused within the confines of his mind, and Olvir let out a heavy sigh. Head shaking as he muttered to himself.

"Bloody talking swords." The Anirian whined quietly. Saying nothing more before they pulled themselves up from the table and began to make their way to the site of the Melee. The three friends swiftly pushing through the crowd, Ollie raising a brow as Monroe joined in with the singing.

Shooting Marta a quick look and grin before the Knight silenced herself. The smile almost instantly fading as he came to the fence and saw the weapon Monroe seemed to instantly point out. "Well."

He said plainly.

"It's either that, or I end up knocked into the ground." The Anirian said with a grimace, watching as the massive morning star was picked up by the largest man Ollie had ever seen. Standing a head taller even than Trik, his usual bodyguard dubbed by most as the 'Ogre Knight'. The color draining from his face as he watched the man swing the weapon, and completely obliterate one of the wooden practice dummies.

 

[Marta Martigan]

Marta blew a raspberry through pursed lips. "Just a bunch of show," she smacked Oliver's plated shoulder with the back of her gloved fist "Chop em down," she grinned, and mimed a low kick. "Big and top heavy as the bastard is, try and go for the knees,"

She flicked a finger at the big bastard. "Look at em, all branches and no trunk," she laughed and nudged Monroe with a sharp elbow. "Bastard like never takes leg day,"

Her eyes fell back to Ollie, a mischievous glint there in as the contestants of the melee went on with their warm ups. "Just think, if you win, our little songbird here might grace you with a serenade," she winked at the young noble. Half laughed.


Monroe Olvir

 

[Monroe]

Monroe snorted and shook her head. "You think I know serenades? I was brought up on sea shanties and drunken song." An education of lyrics that continued within the Knights of Anathaeum. She remembered a fair few songs from her time growing up in Cathmore, but Monroe never bothered to properly expand her repertoire.

"But Marta is right. He hasn't trained his legs well. You can tell by the way he walks, too much weight being thrown around."

Some people turned to look at the trio, frowning. Monroe ignored them, eyes now studying the potential opponents Olvir could face off against. "Try to keep close too. A flurry of attacks would be a great advantage for you."

Olvir Marta Martigan

 

[Olvir]

"Don't worry." Ollie said with a chuckle, trying to force himself to feel some sort of amusement at the situation. "There's only one woman who I want serenading me."

There had never been a question in his mind regarding that.

His performance in the melee today?

Even as he listened to every word of advice Marta and Monroe had to offer, he couldn't help the sense of dread in his stomach. Ollie was no slouch, true. He'd trained in three styles of the sword, but there was something different about fighting a man that size.

"Ah well." The noble said, stretching his shoulders as he glanced towards the officials. Noting the heavy painted shields which represented which lots would be going next. His own coming after the match which was next up.

"If I don't fight I can't win." He reasoned. "I'll stay close and stay quick."

And probably get hit so hard he'd lose a few inches.

"NEXT UP! WEIROON! TALFOR!"

A man shouted. Ollie and the Knight they had been watching both turning their heads. Both from having heard their names, though the former having heard it too soon. Ollie's bout moving up and changing because the massive knights previous opponent having declined to face his foe. A fate which he now assigned to the Noble Anirian.

 

[Marta Martigan]

Marta's eyes went wide. "Weiroon?" she muttered under her breath. Half laughed. "Well shit on a shingle," she shook her head. "A bloody Great Houser," she looked to Monroe with a tart grin. "Too bad'n he don't want to be serenaded by ya, now aint it?" she laughed again, and went on to smack the planks of the fence they stood about. "Alright then, Ollie! Show the big fucker what's for!" she cried out over the mad cheer of the spectators.

The big man was most certainly that. Big. Wide. And towering.

"Competitors! The announcer called. "Make ready!" The crowd's roar was near deafening.

Talfor gave a small salute, and then swung his massive ugly morning-star like a child would a doll. Each whoosh and whir helping his arm ready the rhythm. And maybe, just maybe, scare the piss out of his opponent.

"Fight!"

Marta grabbed Monroe, a huge grin splayed across her face.

 

[Monroe]

Monroe gave Marta a doubtful look at the comment of her missed opportunity of serenading a noble. "Please, there are plenty of noblefolk back home I could waste even more time on." But she soon found herself grinning. The energy of the crowd was infectious, hungry for the combat to begin as many jeered at the obvious disadvantage in size between Talfor and Weiroon, whatever that meant.

"Oi! Twenty-five silvers on the Anirian." Monroe shouted to a bookmaker, who had been trying to get by without bother until they felt Monroe's strong grip at his shoulder. Muttering to himself, he wrote up her bet and sighed as he took her betting silver and carried on.

Grinning to Marta, she shrugged, leaning into her sister-in-arms half embrace as they both looked on to watch their new friend.

"You better win me back my money, Weiroon!"

 

[Olvir]

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

He'd thought there would at least be some time to prepare. Some time to watch the brute. That would have helped him. Knowing which side the hulk favored and where he preferred to swing, but...now he was fucked. It was a guess, and all he could do was guess.

Focus. The word stabbed into his mind like a needle, coming just as the competitions bell sounded. The Ding rang out, and Talfor wasted no second charging. The boulder of a man rushed forward, and Monroe's advice echoed in Ollie's mind.

"Focus." He told himself as the Hulk rushed up and swung his massive mace. "Move."

Ollie whispered to himself as he practically flung himself to the side. Throwing his shoulder against the ground and coming up in a quick roll, the ground shaking as Talfor's mace went crashing into the ground. Within the span of a breath it came again.

Then again, and again.

Over and over the hulking Knight smashed the earth where Olvir had been standing before. Leaving naught but broken ground and cracked stone. Quickly Ollie danced around him, but never had a chance to strike, not until the blade once again stabbed into his mind. The greaves.

It hissed as Ollie came up from his latest roll, the crimson blade spinning in his hand as his head turned and he caught sight of the back of Talfor's leg.

Move. The Sword urged one last time, and Ollie felt a sudden pulse of energy run through his veins. A surge of adrenaline, or perhaps something more that sent him rushing towards the Iron Knight. He darted, and then as Talfor swung, bounded forward. Kicking himself off from the earth, and launching forward in the blink of an eye. Coming forward and up in a tight roll as the edge of his blade swung back ans sliced through the Hulking Knight's leg.

Crimson splattering across the sands as Olvir twirled forward and came up in one swift motion. The entire act having taken place within the blink of an eye, the blood drawing down his blade slowly seeping into it's steel.

Ollie's chest rising and falling as Talfor teetered, and then went smashing into the ground. Unable to stand.

 

[Marta Martigan]

Wide eyed, Marta stared at the results of the duel. Mouth hung open in disbelief, an arm wrapped tight around Monroe as she squeezed her close in the anticipation that had built up. Strong arm wrapped around the knight like a vice.

"And Weiroon Takes the victory!" the announcer cried out.

Sir Talfor groaned and shout, flailing about on his back, but his maimed leg made it hard for him to work his weight upright. All in all, the big knight looked like a big beetle, scuttling about on the wrong side of his shell.

Attendants rushed out to help the big knight, but gave him wide berth as he went on with his frustrations.

Marta loosened her grip on Roe, big grin on her face. "Well well," she said pleased as punch. "Little great houser paid off," she punched Monroe's shoulder for good measure.

 

[Monroe]

"Fuck me..." Monroe swore loudly, staring in awe after the young Anirian.

Stunned, it took her a few moments to begin sharing in the victory as Marta landed a punch to her shoulder, but Cathmore took it in stride. Grinning, she turned to Marta. "Best fucking twenty five silvers I ever bet with."

Her gaze flicked to the bookmaker, who was listening to the complaints of the sore losers that bet on Talfor, but her eyes fell onto the collection of coins collected from those that lost out. Monroe tapped Marta's arm and spun her to face the bookie. "With all that coin, Martigan, we are eating, drinking, and sleeping in the nice places tonight." That was if they ever made it to a bed that night with all the drinking and eating and celebrating that needed to be done this night coming.

Minutes later, her pockets weighed heavily, and it was to her surprise that they didn't jostle and clink with each step as herself and Marta made their way to greet the first round winner.

"You sure you wanna go back to Vel Anir, Olvir? Hells, I think you should come to Astenvale with us." She looked to Marta for her backup.