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~*Illuminating Shadows*~

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Poller5
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Poller5

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The thought that he would be fighting – and possibly killing – this man for the enjoyment of others both revolted and intrigued him: In his culture, humans were never put to this use, but he could clearly see how it excited the citizens of Varrock. Then came the memories of his homeland, wherein dogs fought to the death was he was about to do, and the shadow of his dishonour once more reared its fell head. Again was it subdued, for the great maelstrom of emotion now within his mind was not conducive to the destructive cycle.
A few minutes later, the other three pairs of combatants had been given their weapons and delegated to a section of the arena and the air was thick with suspense. The crowds fell silent as the king stood, and then did they, too, stand, and the silence was complete. "Maetha," the king said, his powerful voice carrying throughout the amphitheatre, and the battle began.
*~*~*
Lacerus sat in the stands on the same level as the king, for though he was a prisoner he was held in high esteem by the people of Varrock and many of the senators. Indeed, he would have been freed and granted citizenship many years hence had not the former king given him a life sentence, a sentence that none in the city were brave – or foolish – enough to break, mainly because the current king stood behind his father's decision, and Lacerus knew that he would never be freed.
He was going to escape.
But not, he thought wryly, if this Fremennik did not survive today's fights. The foe he was about to face was indeed mighty; had Lacerus not seen Halldór – for Roghr had told him the Fremennik's name – in action recently, his money would be on his foe, a brute of a man captured many years hence in the desert lands to the east. This promised to be an interesting fight.
*~*~*
As soon as the king said the word, his foe was in action, leaping forward with a simple slash at Halldór.

05-Apr-2008 19:14:59

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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A downward cut of his greatsword sent the scimitar downward, and quick change of direction sent his blade straight towards his enemy's gut. The man sprang back swiftly, once more bringing his blade up. Halldór then launched himself forward, and a ferocious battle ensued, their blades meeting with incredible speed and regularity.
They broke apart after a minute, but the respite was brief and soon they were locked in mortal combat once more, feinting and dodging, always searching for – but never finding – an opening. Again, they drew apart, now breathing more irregularly, and once more they launched themselves at each other.
This pattern repeated itself a few times until both combatants realized that they would get nowhere with such tactics, for they were both well-trained and skilled fighters. Smiling despite the high stakes, Halldór began pacing around his foe, scouring his mind for a plan. His foe followed his movements and seemed to be similarly searching for a way to end the fight.
Then Halldór was struck with sudden inspiration and dove inward at his foe, slashing and cutting rapidly. His foe's blade met his, but Halldór's greater strength quickly gave him the advantage as he drove his foe's blade higher and higher, always striking from below and never giving enough time to recover. Then, when he judged his foe's blade to be high enough, he slammed upward and outward with his blade, driving his opponent's scimitar wide. Even as that move was being executed, his foot came up and smashed heavily into his foe's gut – an open target, for they wore little armour – cracking his ribs and sending him sprawling backwards. Then was Halldór upon him, his blade smashing aside the feeble counter with which his foe responded, and he rested his blade upon his foe's neck.

05-Apr-2008 19:15:23 - Last edited on 05-Apr-2008 19:21:57 by Poller5

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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By now the other two fights had been concluded – neither of them had been as well matched as had been Halldór and his foe – and all eyes were upon the panting Fremennik and his defeated foe. The result polarized the audience: many had expected the scimitar-wielder from the desert to win, and so the victory of the mighty Fremennik was stunning. Many felt that the desert man had failed, and that the victory of the great barbarian was significant enough to spell the death of the man, but the others did not feel he should die. Cries of "Gûr," – death – and "Cuil," – life – resonated from the audience.
As Halldór stood there, his blade resting on his foe's neck, rage pounding through his veins, his most prevalent urge was to drive his blade down. Only great strength of will stopped him from doing so, for he knew if he killed a man who was to live then he would die most terribly. Blood pounding, he slowing turned his face towards the royal box, searching for the king's signal. The king sat silently for a long moment before extending his arm and… raising his thumb.
A primal, preternatural scream tore from Halldór's mouth as his blade slammed downward, lacerating the man's neck and spraying blood upwards. He stood there, panting, for another few moments before he realized that he had won, that in this victory honour had been re-gained, for this man, corpse, now, had been a mighty foe. He smiled grimly before he lifted his blade, walked across the arena and exited through the Annon Cuil: the gate of life. He banked to the right sharply and descended on a platform to the lower levels where he would await his next fight.
*~*~*
Lacerus had watched the great Fremennik take down his foe with a smile, for he would surely be a great ally. Indeed, for a time, he forgot their differences and thought that they would do great together.

05-Apr-2008 19:15:58 - Last edited on 05-Apr-2008 19:22:09 by Poller5

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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Then the scream issued from the Fremennik's lips and he remembered fully their differences, and the seeming joy with which the Fremennik killed his opponent shocked and revolted him. Many things, he reminded himself, would have to be overcome for them to work together to do anything. Perhaps too many, he mused. He wondered what would prove to be more important: his fierce moral code or his wish to be free. It would be interesting to see, he noted, but his mind wandered no further down that path.
He watched detachedly and remorsefully as more fights took place, fights in which a great host of men were killed. His attention peaked as Halldór fought once more, but he was pitted against a minor foe and the battle was swiftly won. The fights ended shortly thereafter, and Lacerus returned to his rooms with the bitter after taste of disgust that normally accompanied him after such a spectacle.

05-Apr-2008 19:16:24

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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~*Chapter Six: Exerus*~
The rain lashed down from the heavens, running the blood from the fights from the sandy floor of the arena. The stands were empty, save for one man walking the lower levels of the stands. His white robes marking him as a senator were soaked through, for he had stood in the rain now for twenty minutes. Not that he'd really noticed the rain, for he had been deep in thought and had just realized two things. One, that he was now soaked, and two, that he was late for a meeting with the king.
And one wasn't late for a meeting with the king. He sighed as he picked his way over the discarded chicken bones – snacks for the senators during the long fights – and exited the arena, garnering a deferential nod from a guard as he exited.
As he walked the cobblestone-paved streets towards the castle, he couldn't help but marvel at the power and richness of the Varrockian empire displayed within its capital. No other city upon Gielinor was the centre of such power, and, as such, no other city demonstrated its power in such a spectacular manner.
The city was surrounded by a high wall, at least ten feet thick in all places, and covered almost completely in marble, with magnificent sculptures decorating the towers rising from the walls every fifty meters A great moat ran around the outside of the walls, a diversion of the river Lum. Two gates – one in the north, one in the south – allowed entrance to the city, and both were heavily guarded and defended with thick drawbridges and heavy portcullises. Within the walls, two distinct sections of the city existed, separated by a shorter, thinner wall, which formed a perfect circle around the castle, courts, and senatorial residences. On the other side of the wall was the market district as well as the housings of the normal citizens.

05-Apr-2008 19:17:17

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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The amphitheatre was positioned within the north side of the wall separating the districts, with an equal amount of entrances – four –on each side, allowing all to access the fights free of charge. Bedecked in marble, it was the one of the three greatest buildings within the city, outdone by only the high temple and castle itself.
The high temple, dedicated to Brenin, the king of gods, was positioned similarly to the amphitheatre – cutting through the internal wall – on the south side, similarly allowing access to all from either side of the wall for worship. More magnificent than any other building, the castle included, the entire façade was crafted of marble, with gilded friezes and magnificent sculptures about the top, with two different, but equally impressive, entrances on either side of the wall.
As the senator mused on the might of the empire displayed within the city, his legs carried him subconsciously towards the castle, and at last he stood before it. Larger than any other building within the city, it stood on an artificially constructed hill in the exact centre of the city. Surrounded by a second moat, linked through underground tunnels to the one surrounding the city walls, the castle was accessible only across another drawbridge and through a heavily fortified gatehouse.
The senator walked to the edge of the moat on a stone platform that would receive the drawbridge when it was lowered. Walking over to a pedestal on the side of the platform, he placed the gem attached to his senatorial ring, and a spell placed on it alerted the guard within the gatehouse and simultaneously activated a spell of scrying on him, allowing the guard to view him within a mirror in the gatehouse. The drawbridge began to descend a few minutes later, and then he was walking into the most well-guarded keep upon Gielinor.

05-Apr-2008 19:17:49

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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The guard controlling the portcullises and great, iron-shod doors was always one step ahead of him, opening the next portal as he walked through the last. He was well accustomed to the castle, having been a senator for over twenty years, and made haste through the lavishly decorated passageways as he ascended to the king's chambers.
He passed over another drawbridge and through two more portcullises before he arrived. As he pushed through the heavy oak door two other senators, the others who had been called to the meeting with the king, greeted him warmly. "Well met, Exerus," the elder of the two said.
"And yourself, Sesterius," Exerus said graciously, for this man had been as a father to him for many years, and, in fact, was the one who had put his name forward as a candidate for a senator. "And you, Forinius," he said to the second senator, a short and well-built man.
"Some fight today, eh?" Forinius asked. The youngest of the senators present, he had been raised on the fights and enjoyed them more than any of the others in the room. "That Fremennik… he was something!"
Exerus grinned in spite of himself; Forinius's excitement was contagious, and he too had enjoyed the fights. "Aye, he was something. I wouldn't be wanting to go up against him in combat," he said.
"I daresay that he'll be winning his freedom soon enough," Sesterius claimed. "But I'm not for thinking that will be the end of him: there was something beyond a mere enjoyment of battle guiding his movements today. Perhaps I shall pay him a visit sometime."
"Aye, and perhaps I'll be coming with you," Exerus said, but before he could continue a portrait on the opposite wall swung open, and the king entered.
"Yes, some fights indeed," he said with a grin: he had surely been eavesdropping on their conversation. "And that Fremennik might well be soon winning his freedom; rarely have I seen one of his strength and prowess in the fights," he said with a sly wink to Sesterius.

05-Apr-2008 19:18:11

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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They all enjoyed a good laugh, for these men had known the king from many years – Sesterius and Exerus since before he was king. They were, perhaps, the men that the king trusted the most implicitly of all the senators. "Now, though, there are more pressing matters than the fights, no matter how good they were," the king said, suddenly somber, and led them into his chambers through a door in the opposite wall.
"Ardougne," the king said as soon as they were seated around a table.
"Of course," Sesterius said. "I assume, then, that they've not responded to our messages?"
"No," the king said. "They've not. And, what's more, their troops are active, and war could be imminent."
"Can we not simply destroy them now, before they are ready?" Forinius inquired.
"No, for we have only four legions to the west, and one of them is still recovering from the taking of the Fremennik lands. Transporting that many troops to the west would raise a red flag to the Ardougnians immediately," the king said, clearly disappointed that they could not crush the battle before it began.
"Is there anything that can be done?" Sesterius asked, clearly worried about the implications of a war with the power-hungry, and powerful, empire of Ardougne in the west.
"No," the king said. "But being forewarned is being forearmed, and you all should be prepared for many more such meetings with short warning in the future." The gathered senators nodded their concurrence before standing and taking their leave from the king.
They were unanimously worried.

05-Apr-2008 19:18:34

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