| The Colosseum is where fights for sport are held. |
AstrosJun 28, 2015 7:31 PM
| With the following day, the Sultan Stands atop a ledge overlooking the stands, it was tiring having to deal with such tasks, mostly as he rather preferd to be on the move with his army, there was also the matter of dealing with the mercenary and setting up battle plans, plus seeing what plots that daughter in law of his was up to. From what he had heard, the Arch Priest had reluctantly agreed that the pair had bonded as the old man put it, and put her skin the mark of the Sultans house. She and his son were now considerd wed by there own customs. Looking to his right was Nala, whom had still not made up her mind in joining the games or not. Likely on the lookout to see if it would be worth her time. Around the arena in various spots were Sultansworn, and even on the grounds of the Arena floor to keep the peace. Of note was a box near his sons in the most important area reserved for a merchant from Arzlan. But that was beside the point..for now the games would be started. "People of Kabul! Proud Children of the Sand! Today Generations ago, did we the family of the Kabul bring up from the lifeless desert a city of Oil, Mirth, Silver, and legend! A City that is the Envy of all! Women Of beauty! The Finest of wine! A Culture that surpasses our neighbors, and borders whos growth ushured in peace and freedom from Ignorance and false ideas! Our halls glitter with gold! Our Army Vast! Our wealth and trade streatches far and wide! But We the Kabul have always rememberd it is you! The People! Who made this all so! Today we give thanks to you! To the Sand Gods! To the Sands we are born, to the sands we Return! All is from Kabul and all shall return to Kabul!" Pausing in his speech the Sultan waits for the roars in the crowd to die down as he holds a hand up with his stern face asking for silence. "So today gifts from far and wide, trinkets, and food are to be had! And most importantly of all the Royal Games will begin! The Winner shall gain the Title Champion of Kabul, Eight Hundred Gold, five servents of your choice from amongst the servent ranks Of my own Palace. And one smaller other reward.." Smiling a bit with his eyes narrowed like a Hawk the King draws his own sword pointing it towards the sky. "A chance to dual me!" Being known as the greatest king and Warrior in Kabul's current history many would like jump at the offer for that alone. Nevermind the title and while seemingly moderate reward was more than enough to be established. He expected his son for sure would jump at the offer, if only to fight his father. As it should be. All around him Soldiers of the Sultansword hold there spears in the air while letting out a war cry. "LET THE GAMES BEGIN!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For her part Ishtar also seemed happy from her seating box with an arm wrapped with her husbands. "..oh? If you enter, should any of the slaves spend more time with you than I do...they'll soon vanish. But at least I'll make alot of money today thanks to that foolish priest." |
| Benjamin Torik Ben sat surrounded by the 27 Blood Knights, they were all roaring and cheering, causing the crowd to give them a large space to themselves. Bran was beating his meaty fist against his fat belly and screaming unintelligent words, Bran, shu' yer mouth yer ijit. Ben told him, which to answer Bran sat down, Yoo gonna en'er boss? The simpleton asks, Ben sighed, the reward was quite modest but since the Sultan was entering, it might be a fight worth testing his steel in. He grins a little, his ice blue eyes flashing with blood lust, I thin' I will Bran, I thin' I will. He says as he gets up and walks forward through the crowd, many recognized him by reputation and stepped out of the way, making a path for him. He approaches the Sultan, Scuse me yer Sultaness, I'd like t'enter if yah don' min'. |
| Glancing at the man Hasan nods with his head to what seems to be a counter with one sultansworn and a holy knight with a book taking down names for the event. "Its a melee..the first event is a free for all, those that survive will be placed in teams to re-enact our history. The final battle will be one on ones untill one is left standing. Such is the way of we, children of the sand." Turning his eye towards the box his son is in, he wonders if the boy..well man will enter as well or not. So far Nala had said nothing. |
| Benjamin Torik He nods his head in what seemed to becoming his customary bow, and then walks over to the counter with the two men. Ello, I'm signin' up fo' the figh', he says to the two. |
| "Oh? Yer entering? You know our boy's gonna jump in for that," Nala pointed out with a chuckle as she leaned back in her chair. "Though, it'll be fun to watch him..." She mused, looking out towards the arena. As the mercenary approached and stated he would enter, Nala's grin increased. "Oh, it'll be really fun to watch... I hope he decks'em in the face... Hehehe..." Beginning to chuckle rather... evily to herself, it was clear that while she didn't plan on entering, perhaps preferring to actually relax for once, she would greatly enjoy it if someone put the bounty hunter in his place. Hearing that, Tanin sports a smirk, though his attention is drawn to Ishtar who warned him about the slaves. Scoffing and rolling his eyes, he retorted. "As if I'm interested in the damn women or the money... I'm in it fer the challenge," He stated with a grin growing on his face as he left to enter himself in the games. He typically only observed the games to see if there was someone worth fighting, yet none really proved to be that interesting. His old man, however, while strong, refused to fight him... So, this was a chance for some fun, perhaps. He couldn't care much about the other rewards, however. Though it was amusing how Ishtar seemed to be jealous... Maybe he could tease her regarding the slaves later. |
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| "Me entering? Why would I do that, just five more wives for you to chase around, evil woman." Hasan says with a bit of a scowl. "Besides I'll be fully rested by the time either reaches me..hehehe..though I wouldn't be surprised if that woman of his enterd..unless something keeps her from it." He says in regards to Ishtar. Ishtar true to the Sultan's thoughts on the matter, stands to her feet as well, keeping an eye out for anyone in the seats she had reserved, it would be interesting to see how far she could go..but for now there was pleanty of time to register, so waiting was fine. "I very well might see you in it, my darling.." She says with a fixed gaze on Tanin. Though it seemed the people were excited. Meanwhile at the booth, the two men exchange a glance, it was small surprise the barbarian as many of the merchants took to calling him had entered. The holy man points to the ledger as the Sultansworn holds up a pen. "Just sign your name, or chosen mark in the ledger, if you want yo see your odds, a board with them and current merchant bids will be shown." He says simply in reply. The man with the pen then smirks slightly to add in his own words. "Once that is done, just be in time for your matches. Other than that you may wander the festival, being late is disqualification..bare that in mind, some bidders arn't past attacking you should you be costing them a sum, should you leave the arena.." |
| Benjamin Torik He scrawled his name messily onto the ledger and ignored the odds, he knew his strength and he didn't need the opinion of fat nobles who didn't know how to fight. He smiled at the man coldly, I look forwar' t'it, trus' me, i ain't gonna miss any figh'. He says as he walks back over to his group of men and sat down, they all started laughing and saying how he was going to leave with heavier pockets, [b]Now now boys, neva know who migh' enter, don' jump t'conclusions. |
| (Waiting on emps post and any other challengers before I start us off..might enter my girl waiting to see if Yz plans to talk with her or not.) |
| As the day long events go onwards, Ishtar finds herself defeated during the historical battle portion, while doing well enough at the start, and in single fights, her inability to work with a team ended up with her winning the single fight with the enemy captain, but not before losing her flag to the enemy team.. With a scowl on her face, the red eye noble watches as her husband advances further along, as well as the Mercenary Captain. A herald sitting next to the Sultan calls that days final match. "What a great fight! People of Kabula for our final match and the right to face the Sultan himself, we have the Mercenary Captain Benjamin Torick, VERSUS The Royal Prince Tanin! Given the important nature of both Combatants, pratice weapons will be used, and the battle shall continue untill one foe can no longer move or yeilds! See the Games master for odds and to place your bets! Now will both fighters enter the field, we also have a sudden specail annoucement from his majesty for the end of this event." Finishing his advertisement, the Herald and all others watch as the guards open the gates on both end making way for the final bout. |
| Benjamin Torik Ben comes out grinning his usual cocky smile, although on the inside he was extremely excited. He doubted he would win but it would a fun fight nonetheless. He had two practice swords in his hands, the weight of them was quite off putting and would effect his skill in the fight. He waved at the booing crowd, it seemed they weren't very impressed with the savage of a man. |
| Nala grins by the Sultan's side... Not only that but she spent most of her time with a mischievous cackle whilst clinging to her lover. Obviously she really wanted Tanin to win... The mercenary's very nature just completely ticked her off. Unfortunately, Tanin wasn't as... violent as she was. Sure, he enjoyed a good fight and didn't mind if it was bloody, but he didn't particularly take pleasure in the pain and damage so much as in the challenge and entertainment. After the announcement, Tanin nonchalantly made his way in as the crowd booed and cheered at the competitors. Most came in grinning and waving at the audience, even fooling around in order to please and entertain them further. Not Tanin. In fact... the Prince appeared slightly annoyed by it all. It wasn't too surprising knowing him. One reason he didn't participate in the Colosseum was because it was always so loud and crowded... this didn't go well with the kind of guy that preferred to ditch meetings, nap in trees and other seemingly uncomfortable places and generally laze around. Regardless, if Tanin beat the man, he could fight his father, which was one of the warriors he had yet to best... partially as the old man never accepted the boy's challenges, least not after he actually learned the ways of combat. He always treated him when he was weak as... well, a child and when he got strong the Sultan acted as if humoring him was a hassle. Either way, he'd get a fight out of him here. Rather than pay any heed to the crowd, Tanin simply began to do some simple stretches of his legs, arms and even rotated his neck to crack it. He wielded a... very peculiar weapon... Rather, one might not even call it a weapon. Contradicting his rather light attire were two golden gauntlets covering each fist. This was likely odd to see as an opponent, but it was known that the Prince fought unarmed typically. His fists were his weapons. The young heir believed it was better to rely on the power of your own being rather than some kind of weapon, though he didn't look down upon those who chose to fight with some form of item. As he did so, Tanin looked to the mercenary. "You really ticked off my Mom. If the Ol' Man didn't hire you, you an' yer boys would've really seen somethin' scary. You did act like a bit of a dick, though.... at least you seem to give a damn about your subordinates," He mused, likely referring to when he saved the big man who initially blocked Tanin's path. As he finished stretching motioned for Torik to come. "Whenever yer ready, Payday." Seems the Prince gave a nickname... |
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| Benjamin Torik Ben looked at the gauntlets on the Prince's hands, Yike, don' wan' them hittin' me, he says with a grin. He took a ready position, which was really just his feet spread a little apart and the sword hanging down at his sides. He spat to clear his throat and allow for easier breathing, he then narrowed his eyes and stared at his opponent. When it was a serious fight, he concentrated and went for the kill. No fooling around on the battlefield, that would get you killed. He generally let men advance on him in fights, it seemed Tanin had the same idea. He lightly skipped forward and slashed experimentally, his balance completely even and precise. |
| Raising an eyebrow at the man's attitude, Tanin tilted his head from side to side once again. "Oh... Serious..." He murmured before readying himself. Raising his fists in front of him, Tanin kept his left side slightly farther in front than his with his center of gravity lowered a bit. If the mercenary was going to treat it seriously, he wouldn't disrespect him by acting with nonchalance. As the mercenary advanced and attacked, Tanin noticed its nature. It wasn't that fast or strong... He was just testing the waters while trying to remain quick on his feet in case an attack came his way. Even so, he wasn't flailing and was staying on target as per his intent... Still, likely the bounty hunter would play the speed game. He wouldn't be winning any bouts of strength against Tanin. As the slash came towards him, it intercepted with Tanin's left gauntlet and was held there to allow the blade to skid off it, likely appearing as if the Prince himself was playing it cautious... Yeah, right. Just as the first blade skidded off the gauntlet, Tanin countered by dashing forward with aim to get close. Technically, if Ben kept him at a range, he could easily win... but if Tanin got in his personal space, he'd have the advantage. Though, rather than countering with a punch from his right, Tanin sent a kick with his right after dashing towards him. Perhaps he predicted the mercenary to try to outmaneuver him or keep his distance reacted accordingly. |
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| Benjamin Torik Luckily, Ben had spun to the right and skipped away instead of just backing up, the kick would have easily connected with him. Oh shit, that kick was unexpected and fast, I better take it really carefully with this one... he thought to himself. The Princes left side was exposed to Ben due to the mercenary's positioning, he thrust forward with his right sword, his left held high to protect against any counterattacks. Ben didn't waste time with slashes, they were more physically demanding and required more space and time to reach the opponent, a quick thrust was all that was necessary against an opponent without weapons. He remained in a crouched position, his center of gravity low to the ground, he would obviously not best the Prince with power and height. Therefore speed, agility and fast thinking were going to be the tools used, and fortunately for Ben, they were his most polished. |
| Certainly, the hired blade had the right idea. Agility and speed would be what help him towards victory, whereas keeping the mercenary still and close would help Tanin. As the bounty hunter spun to the right to avoid the kick, he then appeared to target his left side... which wasn't a very good idea, either the thrust or the target. Tanin's right side was more open than his left was just after kicking with his right leg. The thrust was as well a poor choice due to it leaving Ben open with it himself. As the blade stabbed towards him, Tanin weaved to the right of the sword however, rather than move in for a close-up attack like Torik appeared to be expecting, hence the positioning of his left blade, the Prince targeted the outstretched arm holding the blade and shot out his left hand to grab at it. If Tanin got a firm hold of the man, it'd be very disadvantageous for the mercenary... Not to mention straight-up dangerous and lethal. |
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| Benjamin Torik Ben quickly dropped the sword and withdrew his hand, he dropped the sword to allow for the weight to leave and allow his hand to withdraw quicker than it would have with it. He quickly skipped back, keeping the distance. He now only had one sword, which wasn't ideal. In fact it was down right disadvantageous, he was incompetent with one hand. Time for some dirty play, Ben thought to himself. He quickly gathered together phlegm in his throat and spat a large gob of it at the Prince, he then darted to the left and dug his sword into the ground, then proceeding to flick the sand up at the big man, grabbing some more in his right hand at the same time. The sword remained in his left hand, he was just as good with it in either hand anyway, something that had saved his life on many occasions. Hopefully, between the spit and the sand, the Prince wouldn't see the sand the Torik now had in his right hand, hidden behind his back and ready to strike. The crowd booed at the dirty tactics, but it was either die or kill on a battlefield and Ben was intent on winning, no matter the ways used to obtain that victory. He kept low and his distance, waiting for the big man to move so Ben could use his last strategy, the one that would decide the fight, either his way or the Princes. |
| "Oh...?" Tanin was surprised that he up and gave up his blade... though it was for the best. If Tanin had to grab the blade and cut his hand to keep the mercenary from squirming around, he would have. He wasn't afraid of a bit of blood... or a lot of blood. However, then Torik made a poor choice in action. It wasn't flicking up sand or grabbing a handful that the Prince may or may not have seen or predicted... it was the spit, which Tanin did not move to avoid the spit and it hit him right on. Freezing at that for a moment, a tick mark appeared on the boy's forehead as did a scowl. Rather than move to react to the sand or spit, Tanin simply crouched down and picked up the fallen blade. "Well... Ma's gonna be real happy... After I wedge this up yer ass," He growled out, obviously ticked off. Though, Ben's tricks still wouldn't work too well against Tanin. It wasn't best to really completely on Tanin's foresight when it came to a long war-plan... however if you wanted to rely on it for an immediate battle, he was damned skilled at that. Why would he have spit at Tanin, then flicked some sand and back off? Why not continue the attack? Besides, with one less blade to keep Tanin at a distance with, staying back wasn't as good an idea as before. Even if Tanin couldn't exactly have seen Torik grab the sand, it was predictable for him to pull something like that. ...There was also the fact that he was conspicuously hiding something in his right hand behind his back... For a while, Tanin simply stood there and stared him down as the crowd booed. One could wonder what he was doing... but as he remained there, the crowd slowly began to quiet down again and once they did, Tanin began marching over to him, blade in left hand. Perhaps he planned to rely on his hearing if what Ben was hiding was indeed sand? Regardless, Tanin wasn't the only one aggravated by the retort of spit... "That fucking arse did not just do that... I'll kill him... Definitely killin'em... All of'em... Him and that shit band 'o his..." Murmuring all kinds of obscenities, Nala was obviously displeased with Ben's tricks... and it showed in other ways than her voice and angered expression as the grip on the Sultan's arm tightened rather uncomfortably. |
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| Benjamin Torik Well fuck, that wasn't the reaction I expected, he's fucking angry yet not furious. Bloody hell, I just made a huge mistake. He nervously adjusts his grip and then glances at his small group of men, they were silent. Bran had a large frown on his face, seems they weren't stupid enough to not realize he was in some deep shit. In a battlefield, he had used the tactic of spitting a lot, most men were furious afterwards and wouldn't think about their next moves. Ben calmed himself down, taking a deep breath, his intelligent eyes pierced Tanin's ones. Could the Kabulian Prince use the sword in his hand? The sun was behind Ben, this was the reason he had moved back instead of attacking. Ben slightly turns both feet and puts his foot back behind his front one, to an opponent he would look very unbalanced. He dug his foot into the sand and bent both knees, albeit his right knee dipped much lower than the first, almost touching the sand. From here he pushed up from the ground, springing into the air, he used both hand to help with the jump, his right still held in a fist. He managed to leap up about half a meter higher than the Prince. This was when he used the sand, he flung it forward, the gritty substance spraying out at the man. Then he landed, went down on one knee and swung his sword upwards towards his crotch, if the blow hit, even if it was guarded, it would be tremendously painful, if it didn't then Ben would be able to do nothing to guard against an attack from his position. This was the decider. This move was designed to first make the opponent follow the jump with his eyes as anyone would. The combined sunlight that was behind Ben and the sand that he had thrown was meant to blind the opponent. Then while they were blinded, he struck at their exposed crotch, if the blow landed then Ben would easily be able to finish them off with a quick strike at the head. This was a move that required many things to be precise, which was very hard to do in the heat of a battle. The Prince's defensive like fighting style definitely helped Ben to set up the move. The jump was necessary because the sun was at an angle and to get it to shine directly into the Prince's eyes, Ben needed to leap. |
WymsicalJul 10, 2015 9:58 PM
| Glaring at his wife with his typical stare Sultan Hasan lets out a goarn as he watches the battle. "Nala..he's a mercenary, if they had any honor they would not work for coin, such men survive on the field as they fight well or they fight dirty." For his part the Arch Priest Amon scoffs at the display hitting his staff upon the railing a few times, which causes the guards to call for order, though a few of them begin beating spear ends into the ground as if cheering the young prince on. With a steady rythem. "Our son could use a little seasoning..win or fail..though I wouldn't mind giving the boy what he wants.." Rubbing Nala's hand the Sultan doesn't bother to try and force her grip off. For her part Ishtar glares with anger at the display but makes no move to join the battle, it wasn't her place to do so..plus she wanted to see what her husband could do on his own. |
| He began readying himself again. It seemed he had indeed attempted to enrage Tanin with that spitting gesture, though fortunately enough his father's stoic attitude had balanced his mother's hot head. Actually, if the spit had landed on his shoes rather than hit him, he wouldn't have even cared. Regardless, it seemed as though the mercenary was making his move again. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Payday. Show me you aren't totally predictable. Tanin spoke within' his mind shortly before Torik sprung himself towards him and off the ground. Flipping the blade in his left hand into a reverse-grip, Tanin did as expected and followed him with his eyes and when the sand was chucked at him rather than a swing of his blade, Tanin let out a scoff and brought his right forearm to his eyes and began rubbing them. Predictable... and... He mentally spoke as... he held the blade in reverse grip horizontally below his crotch to intercept the swing. "...Completely unsurprising..." He continued verbally. Torik was a mercenary, and obviously one that relied on dirty tricks and low-blows when he became at a disadvantage. Rather, it was extremely predictable in his kind. When they get nervous, they don't go for normal attacks such as one to the head or even the upper body at all... They desperately went for cheap shots, and regardless of how well the mercenary hid his emotions, there was a brief moment in which his anxiety showed. He even looked to his mob unsuringly. If Torik had done something out of the ordinary for his kind, such as go for a strike or even a stab at anywhere above the waist where he was least armored, it would've connected and done some damage. Of course, the force still pushed up a bit and landed lightly against its target... but the impact wasn't at all what was intended, mostly thanks to the Prince's strength combined with the better defensive stability of the reverse-grip. Such places were still... sensitive, however, and likely he'd be... sore afterwards... but thankfully it was a delayed pain. After having rubbed his eyes momentarily, Tanin once again opened them and stared down at him... though with an expression different from the aggravated scowl. It was a bit more unnerving... one that showed his mother's side rather well. In fact, it was the same, bloodthirsty grin Nala had used on the bounty Hunter prior... though plastered on someone who actually had the ability to hit him, it was likely more effective. Cocking his right arm back, he spoke again. "Using sand on the people who call this shit desert a home... Ya' done fucked up, Payday." Afterwards, the right arm shot right at the mercenary's face. "Fuck the sand. He's a damned idiot if he thinks chucking sand will do much to a Kabulian. I'm talkin' about that fucking slobber that shot out of his mouth! Who tha' hell does he think he is?!" Continuing to growl like a rabid dog... or even a wolf. Sighing after that, she nodded. "Of course... he's just a runt, after all. Strong one, though..." Huffing a bit, Nala appeared to calm and her grip loosen. "Just go a bit easy on-HEY! I'm gonna' rip that sellsword a new arse in his skull!" She shouted out upon witnessing the mercenary's attempted low-blow. Well... she was almost calmed down... almost... |
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| Benjamin Torik The punch connected with this face, breaking his nose and sending blood spraying from his face. He fell back and rolled, clutching his face with his right hand. He stood a good 3 meters away, still clutching his face, delirious. He blinked a couple times, his face was covered in blood. He let his hand drop, he spat out a molar and displayed the mess of his nose. He then smiled, grinning widely, then he started laughing. He stopped shortly after though, it hurt to laugh. I can hones' say, tha's the firs' time I've been hi' i' the face, he says, grinning widely. Finally, someone that could beat him, it would be boring to be the best. This way, he could train and challenge himself to be better and than beat someone harder than him. He raised his left arm, the one with the sword in it, and leveled it at the Prince. Still grinning, Sorry bout the spi' mate, Ben says before dropping the sword, he raises his arms to either side and bows. Deeply. Even to the Sultan, Ben only inclined his head. The Prince had earned his respect however, and Ben respected no one unless they could beat him in a fight. He came up from the bow and announced loudly, I yield! He was still grinning quite unnervingly, blood dripping from his ruin of a nose. |
| Raising en eyebrow at that, the Sultan raises a hand to stop the fight, which was a bit disappointing and not just to him it seemed. "..Very well Mister Torik.." Standing from up on high as it were, Hasan throws to him a rolled up peice of paper weighed down with a small bag. "Your Orders, and something to take care of your nose..It is up to you if you wish to get underway or attend the closing." In the bag was a few golden coins, but on the paper were his orders, which read as so. Captain Benjamin Torik, Kabulian Mercenary Company, your orders are as follows, make contact with bandit tribes in exchange for services renderd..we shall find a suitable reward..regardless have them to raid the countryside, and more so to stir up trouble along the mountain plains. Whatever else they do is upon you. Be warry of angering the countryside. Your own orders are simple. Await the arrival of the Alzan forces through the pass, and leave them be. Once they pass through attack and destory there supply trains, kill all smuggelers attempting to aid them. What you do with goods and enemy troops taken in these raids is also upon you..Fifty of the Holy Brothers will accompany you, mostly to handle supply and communications, they also are entrusted with a task that hopefully shall not be needed. Should Arlan Forces retreat, harrass them along the way with ambushes and await further orders. Furthermore do not touch anything around the Horsemans City if it can be helped. Or belonging to them, this is to cause doubt in the Arzlan ranks. That is all, go forth and await your sign, then let lose the dogs of war. Additional orders will arrive via messanger hawk. That is all, may the sands guide your blade and judgement. Sultan Hasan Kashime Kabul. While not saying what to offer them, spoils of war would likely be a good one, as well as property and slaves of the defeated enemy. While the orders didn't invite glory, it would eventually force Arzlan forces to deal with them, likely with the bandits doing as they pleases most of the attention would be directed at them but one could never be sure. Waiting for Torik to grabs his coin and note, the Sultan looks at Nala with a grunt and snort. While a far better tactical planner than he, his battle plan was drawn up by the other officers of the Kabulian Army, for at momments like these she was far to quick to anger. Calm yourself, our son knows a little of what he's about, and the next time he meets someone like Torik I suspect will be in a weeks time..regardless I must give my son what he wants." Rather than taking the steps as the angry crowd seems upset with the fight ending so early, the Sultan jumps from his seating box with a knowing grin to his face. "It seems Mister Torik would rather stay in one peice than to get worn out..which was what I was hoping on. Seems this will have to be a fair fight, my Son." Drawing his own blade, Hasan gazes into the surface of it, fortunately, this was his own pratice blade as well. "Lets see how much power you gained from your mother and I..and what you still have to reach." He says with an arrogant tight lipped glare. "COME!" Rushing forward the Sultan starts with a One-Two left, right, one handed cleave chop. And at this the crowd seems to be pleased again, having hoped that he would have an easy fight the Sultan now finds himself having to enterian the crowd, wondering if the Mercenary had planned upon such. |
| Benjamin Torik Ben grinned, father against son, how delightful. He takes his orders and turns, before leaving, he catches the eye of Nala. He grins once, just to piss her off, then walks from the arena, his blood knights following behind. He prods the mess of gristle, bone, flesh, blood and cartridge on his face. Oh well, no' like I neede' t'smell anyhow, he says with a grin. He reads the orders and turns to his men, looking at one eat faced man in particular, Phil, ride for home and get all our men to come to the witchworn passes, we will be paying our bandit friends there a visit. Phil gives an 'aye sir' and leaves, Ben starts walking towards the gates of the city, where they left their horses. |
| Somehow, Tanin could hear his mother cheering at that landed hit... or maybe it was in his head... regardless, Nala was grinning like a demon up by Hasan... The grin matched Tanin's well, however his disappeared as the mercenary forfeited. Afterwards, his father allowed the forfeit and threw him his orders. Though, while Torik was praising him, Tanin paid more attention to having to deal with the... erm... aftermath of that last hit. It was just a tap... but still... It caused his face to twist into some kind of a light grimace. What was even worse was that he knew Ishtar wasn't going to stop with their activities until she was undoubtedly bearing his heir... He hoped she'd forget for today or at least the next while. As the mercenary left, Tanin growled a bit... not so much at the man but at the soreness his attack caused. "Cheap-shots like that'll only work against weaklings and amateurs. You're not that strong if you have to rely on things like that... Mainly as anyone really strong will know how to deal with it," He stated honestly. Veteran fighters likely would have ways of dealing with such strategies... They'd as well expect it from someone with his personality. But enough of that, now his father was entering the arena. Finally, the actual person he wanted to fight. As the Sultan hopped from his seat into the arena, Tanin began to rotate his arms and stretch once again to prepare for the next battle. "Finally gonna' humor me, Ol' Man?" He questioned with a cocky grin to return his own. As Hasan drew his blade, Tanin tilted his head a couple times to emit a few cracking sounds before readying himself once again. Dashing forward to meet his father, the Prince already appeared much more enthusiastic for this conflict that his prior ones. As the swings came, Tanin halted in his sprint and pushed himself backwards with his feet to avoid the first cleave, then preferring to deal with the other one likely as expected... by attempting to bash it downwards with his right arm, then moving in to swing with his left. |
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| "Hmph..just like your mother..always getting in too close." Flicking his blade downwards with the first impact the sultan doesn't bother deflecting or trying to fight the power of his son. "Hmm..maybe more powerful." Manuvering his wrist and elbow upwards, the hilt of his sword connects with the downwards striking arm, parrying the blow. As his right arm pulls back rotating the blade for another attack, Hasan shifts his weight to the rear, leaning forward to shoulder ram his son with his left, all the while prepaiting a stab and slash combo with his right. "Hmph..this old man will send you to the next world boy." |
| Tanin laughed at that. "Will ya' now? If you do, I'm gonna be pretty pissed... Forcing me to go on this long without someone I can't just deck in tha' skull!" Though he wasn't taunting Torik... Much to the Prince's disappointment, many of his conflicts ended as such... at least the mercenary was still awake afterwards. He put his strength into it, too. Mirroring his father's movement, Tanin shifts his weight into his right side preparing to match the man's force in his own shoulder-ram, then cocking his left arm back, likely intending to counter whatever the Sultan was about to attempt with his blade. |
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| (kk ending as agreed upon) "Hmph.." With his normal scowl the Sultan shows his hard earned skill on the battlefield. "And so it ends." As his son impacts into him, and Tanin's left arm braces waiting for his attack, this ruins the heirs chances at recovering himself. manuvering his own left arm and interlocking it over and behind Tanin's the Sultan allows Tannin's own force of movement to carry him forward, up and over. No sooner does Tannin land, his father is already turning atop him, blade in hand, while dull, he draws it across his sons throat to offically kill him. Getting up as he's pronouced the Winner, the Sultan laughs lightly. "Well my son..you are stronger than us both..with that woman you have to bed I shudder at how strong and smart your children shall be..remember movement is key..you should survive the coming battles..but do not count overly on that power of yours..be mindful...heh..least she is a good wife.." As the Sultan has his arm raised being delcared the winner, the judge awaits Tannin's standing to pronouce him winner of the competition, Ishtar walks onto the field to check up on him with her normal hostile look, which likely ran in the families main branch from decades back given she and the Sultan both seemed to have gained it. "Hmph..you did well, and good thing too I bet heavily on you." With her stare going a bit more soft, she holds out a hand to help him up. |
| "Eh...? Guh!" Tanin grunted as he was twisted, flipped and a practice blade slit across his throat. With a click of his tongue, the young Prince scowls with a minor nod in acknowledgement of the Sultan's words. "...Got too ecstatic..." He commented, mainly to himself. There was also the high difference in experience that mainly contributed to his loss, of course. At least he could acknowledge where he went wrong. Laying there for a while, Tanin huffs when Ishtar approaches him. "You would." It was predictable. He was a powerful fighter and she came from a family of merchants... If she could make some extra money of this, undoubtedly she'd take such an opportunity. Smirking a bit, he takes his wife's hand and pushes himself off the ground. No sooner that he's up is he grabbing the back of his neck and subtly rotating it, though likely to dispel some pain or kink rather than to crack it... He did have an awful habit of doing that. Afterwards, he deadpans and looks to her. "Try to smile, would ya'? Thought you were comin' down to whack me for whatever reason with the glare ya' had on your face." You couldn't exactly blame him for expecting something like that... Likely, that kind of assumption remained the faults of his parents. Sighing after that, Tanin gained a bit of a scowl as well. "Ah... So loud..." He murmured, still not too keen on the Colosseum, it appeared. |
|
| The Sultan leaving his son to deal with Ishtar, heads to the center of the Arena and shouts out to the people of in the stands. "HERE ME PEOPLE OF KABUL! BE SILENT AND LISTEN!" Sweeping his right arm across the horizon as if an imperial command the crowd quites down. "On this day of our glory the festive must be cut short, for another expansion is upon us. Not by choice but because of foolish men to the east that continue to advance upon our borders, using the title Sand people upon us as if to be an insult! But we are the children of the sand, and we shall grind them down and chip at them! While we will send negoiations forward to the two kingdoms that now aimed at us, we shall muster the Army and meet them at the border in force. Nor shall we march alone, for the gods are with us. We have this war forced upon us, and we shall force peace upon them with our words." Pausing briefly and lowering his arm he hoists his blade into the air. "Should that fail then our swords!" With that a number of the Sultansworn begin beating there spears into the ground as the people repeat various slogans no doubt taught to them by the Arch Priest. Turning his back to Tanin and the rest, Hasan makes way for the palace, to prepair for his own leaving. Pausing at Ishtar however he whispers. "Keep my son out of trouble..also I give you full authority in bargining us a deal with the Draves and playing your games with the Easterners." With that he is gone as Ishtar gives a slight bow. "Ah but I did bet heavily on you as I have some beleive in my husband. Or would you rather I placed my bid on your rival? Champion." She says with a snigger. Narrowing her eyes a bit and taking Tanin arm in arm she smiles lightly though its no more friendly looking than his fathers. "Blame the ancestors..don't worry we arn't that related..I'm from a branch family." Starting to walk him away from the Arena during the Sultan's speech, she pauses long enough to catch his whisper and bow in respect. Turning her attention back to Tanin she smiles lightly. "Should we get underway..or is there something else I can do for you?" She asks with an impish grin. |
| Looking over to his father as he gave his speech, Tanin huffed. "Anyone who thinks those shiny-plates are gonna agree to peace is an idiot," He commented quietly before once again deadpanning at Ishtar once again. "Some belief? Where'd tha' rest of your belief go to?" He questioned with a scoff as she took his arm in hers. "Like I care about that. I was worried you were gonna' smack me again for some reason." As she began leading him away, Tanin sighed at her words. "Did you not notice tha' hit I took from Payday? ...Fine. Once, ya' damnable woman..." He murmured, avoiding looking at the woman's grin... He was starting to sound like his father now. Though, unlike his father, he would be experiencing something pleasurable with his spouse. Nala likely... wouldn't be happy about her son getting hurt, even though he wasn't even really hurt. |
|
| "Hmph, we'll then I leave it you to decide what to do with me." She says with her arms crossed, thinking on the speech, she gives a shrug. "There are other ways to take land than war..something I'll teach our children. And ah my darling do not be silly, I put full trust in no one but myself..though you get more than some others." Staring at him briefly she then does slap him on the top of his head. "Happy?" Pondering matters as they walked she stretches. "I have a nice coach reserved for us, to take us overnight to the Dwarven city..I'm sure you'll get restless enough with my company.." Squeezing his left arm lightly as her breasts brush against it. "I already had your weapons and some clothing packed, did you need anything else or shall we leave?" |
| Huffing a bit, Tanin walks with her. "So... You're gonna' bore the hell outta' them?" He questioned blankly, though likely he was just trying to tease her once again. "Only some?" Then came the smack on the head. Rubbing the impacted area, Tanin narrows his eyes a bit. "Not so much. You looked better when you were quiet and red-faced." As if to illustrate his point, the Prince smirked a bit after exiting the main area of the arena and groped her bottom rather suddenly, likely trying to fluster her as he had done before. "Nah, let's get a move on... Then maybe later I'll get a bit restless." |
|
| "Tch..idiot husband.." Ishtar says with a glare in his eyes at the first bit, followed with a sign. "Hmph of course only s-" Jumping up a bit with the same red look to her face as before, she growls a bit at him but says nothing as she waits for there transport to arrive. As it does so shes mostly calmed back down, thinking back to his remark on being restless she smiles in the same fashion as before. "Oh?..good thing the cabin..keeps sounds in rather well.." (Just use this thread for the travel or just jump to the dwarven city) |
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