Fable - Ask Thirst Beyond Measure

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC

That morning proved to be the same as any morning ought to be in the city of Ragash. Its inhabitants woke up in beds alone or with company. Visitors in taverns or at their friends’. Families, individuals, arose to the sound of birds from open windows with curtains waving like the waves of an ocean. To the scent of roses if they were fortunate for the flower. To the sight of sunlight shining high.

Nonsense, in the end. Or a bit of a dichotomy. For it didn’t really matter what city, what settlement, what continent. Wherever there was peace there was bound to be conflict. Order for some. Disorder for others. With families. In homes. Alone. In back alleys. The city captured these contrary elements. Ragash was really not so very different.

Except, today would be different. Today there was conflict that would be limited to a ring. A circle so round but not the crown of a king. Victory, though, would be just as rewarding.

Today there were those who would play a game and those who would spectate.

Zyndyrr K’yoshin was among the former. He was a player.

“Games. One hundred and fifty days of games.”

Someone had said in a tavern the previous evening. Maybe he was exaggerating the figure but it was enough to grab the attention of one particular person. A wanderer. Someone who was not so versed of the world because his world was underground. For he was drow, and while not all drow were strangers above ground, this one was.

One thing led to the other. Information validated and, whatever his reasons, and whatever the case of the number of days, someone’s days would be numbered. There would be losers in this game. Apparently defeat could mean blood loss and limb loss and, if that didn’t lead to death, then maybe what would was a hammer to the head or a sword through the neck.

Because this was a game for gladiators. And its contest was waged on the stage of the coliseum.

He didn’t know much about Ragash, if he was being honest, though just as often as not he is dishonest. Even if he offered no lies that morning, what he did offer was a disguise. He decided it was best to hide his identity as a drow for now, to cover his face, to use a different name. He wasn’t famous. He wasn’t infamous. He was no one, really, but so be it. There was, if he’d admit it, a bit of amusement in the theatrics of his trick.

So Zyndyrr K’yoshin entered the arena, walked across the concrete and the sand, not as Zyndyrr K’yoshin but as, well, we’ll let the announcer announce that. Whatever his stage name, however, he came in black armor and red cloak, hood pulled over head, with a theatrical white mask that covered his face with intricate design.

“His identity is a fable! Yet he will gladly fight and win if able! While his face may be a mystery, he claims to be a skilled swordsman who knows how to kill with his twin scimitars! His name? JACK OF BLADES!”

Jack stood with his arms crossed at one end of the arena, swords sheathed, one at either hip, as he waited for his opponent and the show to begin. For the game to get underway.

Serryn

 

[Serryn]

Serryn stood in the wings of the arena, her hood down, revealing her long, pointed ears. The left arm of her cloak hung empty, her right arm crossed under chest, her back against the wall. She could hear the cheers from the stands outside, and she wondered vaguely whose idea it had been to toss a bunch of unlucky people into a pit together and tell them to fight.

It would certainly be a profitable few days, or however long this so-called "game" went on far. Both for the betters and for Serryn. She dealt not in money or bodies, but in secrets. And many were willing to sell their secrets for a price. A price Serryn was willing to pay. She also had time to spare, time to prepare and plan, and every detail counted.

She watched from where she stood with the other contestants who waited their turn to fight. The announcer giddily announced the first two fighters, one of whom wore a mask and referred to himself as "Jack". Serryn was no fool; this Jack character wanted his identity hidden, that much was clear. She did as well, but her form of disguise was less obvious.

Soon the fight in the arena would begin; whoever won would face the next contestant. And on and on it would go, until there was only one man (or woman) left standing. Serryn kept her ears peeled as she watched the two in the ring.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Opposite him, as opposed to his entrance, his opponent was more open. He was taller. He was stronger—in the sense of being more muscular—but that merit alone was of its own contest. His weapon was a great axe. He had armor. Darker. No helmet. He was certainly uglier. For, he was an orc. Of course. Why not toss an orc and a drow into the pit as surely as one tosses a coin for a witch? Whatever that meant.

“This one is no mystery, ladies and gentlemen! He has made a bit of a name for himself in the plains! In the wilderness! Let’s see if he makes it to the end of this tournament! Allow me introduce the one and only Ivann Eyescream!”

Ivann Eyescream, is it? Zyndyrr—Jack—snickered behind his mask. I want ice cream, more like. Though the orc, despite having plenty of idiots to his kindred race, did not appear to be so stupid anyway as he responded with speech.

“We who are about to die…salute you!”

Salute who? There was a cheer from the audience as he raised his axe to the sunlit welkin. The gods? The audience? The announcer? Your bastard orc bouncers back in whatever backward bog you call your homeland? Thoughts could often get the better of him but whatever.

“LET THE GAMES…BEGIN!”

So it begins.

Zyn—Jack—walked forward toward his opponent, his gait as steady as the orc. Arms unfurled, a hand at hilt either side of hip, yet swords not drawn this moment. The orc had his axe out already of course, flourished it with a twirl. Oh for goodness sake. Showing off for the whole world. They came each other’s way. Boots quiet on the sand. Either man was silent.

That is one fuckugly face. Sure, he had seen uglier orcs, but this Ivann’s lips were cracked, his eyes dark and marred like from lack of sleep, with one eye orange as an ember. Pretty, after a manner.

Closer. Still no hilt is lifted from scabbard. Jack knows what he must do. He must close in, get behind that axehead’s reach, step into the guard of his opponent, and he did not need his scimitars for this. He had other equipment on his person. Shurikens. Push dagger. Kerambit. And twin kukri.

Suddenly Ivann snorted as if in contempt for his opponent despite his previous expression. His snort became a roar as he stormed forth and swung his axe at Jack. The cloaked and hooded gladiator sidestepped the swing but did not close in. Jack had the agility. He had the speed. He would first make his opponent pant. And make him angry with each missed swing.

Serryn

 

[Serryn]

Serryn watched closely; considering she would face whoever won this round, she needed to know as much as possible about her potential opponent before she walked into that ring, not only so she could beat him if she needed to, but so that she could get the information she wanted too. Just looking at the two of them, she thought the masked gladiator would be a better option- for information, at least.

Already a plan was forming in her head as she watched 'Jack' dodge attacks from the orc. The orc was larger and apparently stronger but this Jack fellow seemed quicker on his feet and smarter. That would certainly make her eventual fight with him more entertaining, if he managed to win.

As the fight went on, she could see what Jack was trying to do- get under Ivann's skin by continually dodging and taunting him. It would wear him out soon enough, securing a win for Jack. Fight smarter, not harder, Serryn thought. That was certainly a motto she lived by well enough.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Jack's strategy was beginning to work already. Sorry not sorry. He thought as he promptly dodged another incoming swing from his opponent’s weapon. The orc sure did know how to wield his axe. Jack would give him that much. Even if he smells a bit like horseshit.

“YOU COWARD!”

The orc roared and, if the man behind the mask was being honest, members of the audience did chant things that didn’t sound too pleasing.

“This is one shameful fucking performance. Stop running and fiiiiiiiight!”

Zyn didn’t mind it, however, and neither did Jack. There was a difference. There were tactics that mattered in this strategy. A coward ran from his enemy. Jack didn’t. He just danced. If the orc couldn’t see it? Good. That was the point and purpose. If the audience didn’t? Jack didn’t give a shit.

“RAWWWWWRRRRRRR!!”

Ivann lifted his great axe and all at once he dropped it down as if he was about to chop a log. Now. This was Jack’s moment and his movement was swift as he sprung into action, not backward, not sideward, but forward, toward the orc.

A flash of steel whipped into the wind from beneath Jack’s fabric. His left kukri bit into skin beneath his opponent’s left armpit, giving the orc a different reason to roar. Jack spun around Ivann’s back the next instant. He wasn’t finished.

His right kukri cut across the back of Ivann’s right knee, giving him yet another reason to scream; more in anger than agony, surely, as anybody would freely admit. Yet, again, this was the strategy. Jack would tease, Jack would taunt, without saying anything. His blades would speak.

Would his opponent listen? Would the audience?

Spoiler: Dice Roll Result

Jack's attack
Roll D20
17/20

Serryn

 

[Serryn]

Serryn watched the fight with an apparently blank expression. She could tell it would be over soon, and she readied herself.

The crowd was calling Jack a coward. Was it cowardly to dodge all of his opponents attacks? Perhaps. But he was working smarter, not harder, and if it meant he won, what did other's opinions of him matter? Many held opinions of Serryn and her penchant for killing, but others did not concern her. She worried only about herself.

It was clear that the masked gladiator's tactics were working. Ivann grew angrier by the second, especially after a Jack left a couple of nicks on him; more to anger than to harm. The masked man was smart, Serryn admitted to herself, and she was certain now that she would be facing him herself in just a few moments.

What would he do once faced with an opponent just like him, if not better?

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

The orc roared. So did the audience. Jack had their attention. He also made his opponent kind of look like an idiot. Oh. Right. No he didn’t. Ivann already looked like one to begin with. But now he was a bumbling stumbling fool who had just been bloodied.

“Hey!” Jack spoke over the distance in their moment of quiet. “Wanted you to know that you smell like whatever I pissed out last night. Don’t orcs bathe?”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY!?” Ivann spat, hands choking the haft of his axe.

Oh my. Adrenaline surged within Zyndyrr’s veins. The man behind the mask was loving this dance. He could have just as much fun dragging this out as he could, well, not. He had an audience, after all, and this tournament was as much a chance to dance as it was his to win.

“That’s right, fat man.” Jack flourished his kukris, twirling them like butterfly knives. “Go back to Orc Camp.” His blades slid into sheaths only to be replaced with unsheathed scimitars that sang into his arms. “Or come kill me…if you can.”

“...Fat man?” Ivann’s lips threatened to split into pieces. “FAT MAAAAAAAN!?” The orc roared and tore forth before he swung his axe downward. Anger issues aside, it was a mighty blow, only his opponent became a ghost.

Sidestepping behind his enemy’s swing, Jack concurrently slashed both his swords toward one another in a cross or X. The curved and cruel blades tore through the neck to take the orc’s head.
There were two definite thuds on the ground as Ivann Eyescream slumped to his knees while his head rolled around. It was a quick end, a clean death, but it was also the result of knowing one’s enemy.
The drow had achieved victory this round, sheathing his swords and crossing his arms, if admittedly relishing the attention from audience. Yet…who was his next opponent?

Serryn

 

[Serryn]

Serryn raised a brow as the orc lost his head to his foolishness. She glanced at her missing left arm with the ghost of a smile.

Ivann's body and head were dragged out of the arena, and Serryn was gestured to enter. She did, the light of the sun illuminating her person. She wore no hood, no mask- she was clad in form fitting black suit that stretched with every move she made; it fit her like a second skin. The left arm ended at the stump of her left arm, just above her elbow joint. Her long, pointed ears were visible between locks of her short hair. Sometimes, the best disguises were the ones that hid in broad daylight.

She walked towards the center where 'Jack' was waiting, a swagger in her hips and a look of almost confident boredom across her face. There were two daggers sheathed at her hip, but from all anyone else could tell, those were her only weapons.

As soon as the crowd could take her appearance in, there was a broad mixture of jeers and cheers. Many who recognized her knew her as Ghost, and they shouted with excitement as she appeared. They knew what she was capable of. The ones who jeered, did not know her- they saw her missing arm and few weapons as a weakness and she could not fault them for thinking that.

It would certainly make this more interesting.

"I present to you... GHOST!"

The announcer's introduction for her was short, but it did the job. Many who could not see her well recognized her name, a name she had worked hard to spread throughout Arethil- just enough that they knew who to call, but no where near large enough for her to assassinated for all she'd done. Balance.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC

They were opposites already. Man. Woman. Masked. Unmasked. He stood arms crossed, rigid in posture if relaxed in shoulder. She walked in a waltz, exaggerated hip with daggers and swagger in her outfit, even he had to admit. It was maybe cliche but the man beneath Jack loved a woman in black. It was his own armor’s color next to the red cloak.

She had some semblance of class if not caste at least. Maybe two weapons are for sentiment? A one-armed woman didn’t need both blades unless she had a hidden second hand. Daggers on her hip. Knives in her ears. There was more than one species those pointy ears owed their shape to and it wasn’t limited to his own.

Unfortunately neither Jack or Zyndyrr had heard of her before. That wasn’t too unusual given the fact that this drow was relatively fresh from underground. The announcer shut up again as Jack stood motionless, gazing at his new opponent from behind his mask.

“Ghost. Wonderful. Much better than I Want Ice Cream.”

She would already know his name as Jack of Blades.

Jack didn’t miss that confidence written in her face.

“Two scimitars. Which one takes your right arm?”

Serryn

 

[Serryn]

Serryn did not reply to Jack's questions as the announcer began this second fight. She drew a knife with her intact right hand, twirling it with a flourish over her fingers.

Her teal gaze never left Jack's, even if she couldn't see his face beneath his mask and hood. She spread her arms wide (or rather, her arm), as if inviting Jack to make the first move.

Her stance was firm, her body taut, ready for any sort of attack. Jack would find that he would not be able to sneak under her guard like he had with the orc. She would force him to fight, to really fight, and perhaps prove to the rest of the crowd that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Her arm did not change, and neither did her expression or her stance. She stood still, as if waiting for something.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC

For a certainty, Jack was already as interested in his opponent as curious of her nature. Unlike her, he had not been given a chance to observe her combat, only her stance, and it came with a dagger like the daggers in her eyes. Naturally, she wasn’t rushing forward toward him. In part because of her observations of his strategy and tactics since made. In part because she only had one arm.

Yet Jack would not put that past her. Neither would he attack her like he had the orc. That one was taller, larger, dumber, had a great big axe with a barren haft, two arms, easier to step into his guard. This woman? Different. Had a dagger that just might stab the man trying to get behind her. Or get into her pants. He could see that.

However, how quick was she with that dagger? How quick was he with his kukri? It entered his grip, right hand only, leaving his left hand free. Bring a knife to a knife fight, right?

“FIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

Fine…

Jack didn’t run either. He just walked quickly. Unless interrupted, he attacked as he entered within range of his opponent, and the dance began.
He swung his kukri diagonally downward toward his opponent’s left shoulder; a simple maneuver that would open flesh and blood from her shoulder to her right hip. Chants and cheers came from the audience whether Jack hit or missed.

Serryn

 

[Serryn]

Serryn let Jack come towards her as the crowd became restless. She shifted her stance a minute amount, and brought up her left arm, catching the blade with her hand before it could glance upon her shoulder.

A shadow hand.

A shadow had taken the shape of an arm at the base of her elbow, matching her regular right arm in size and shape. The biggest difference was Serryn's ghost arm was much stronger than her right arm.

Her expression still cool, calm, and collected, Serryn focused on control over her newly formed left arm- working it like a real hand and arm, only better. The blade began to bend under her touch, rather than the edge slicing through her ghostly hand.

If he hadn't known before, Jack would certainly know now why they called her Ghost. So did the crowd, as they screamed when they realized what was happening.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Exquisite. As time passed as fast as heartbeats it was the one thought that Jack could afford that instant as he witnessed that ‘shadow hand’ pop into existence. Well that certainly explained some winning theories at least. Only difference was clearly it was no mere hand as it grabbed steel. Jack could feel that ghostly touch as surely as her fingers were fleshy.

But the moment of admiration lasted only that moment. Without knowing the full extent of his opponent’s amputation trick, Jack attempted to rip his kukri from her grip the instant she caught it. If that didn’t work, and Ghost continued trying to bend the blade due to Jack’s being unable to remove it from her hand, well, he’d have to do something else in the instant he attempted to remove his weapon.

Serryn

 

[Serryn]

Serryn's gaze was unmoving. Just as she had caught his blade and began to bend it, he jerked it back. He wouldn't have been able to pull it from her grip if she hadn't let go of it. She had gotten what she had wanted out of that little trick, and she had plenty more up her sleeves.

Barely two seconds had passed since she had released his blade but Serryn made use of them. As he jerked his knife back, expecting resistance and finding none, he would find himself off balance, giving Serryn just enough room to aim a kick to his chest.

If he couldn't manage to dodge, it, her kick would send him to the ground on his back.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin