[Warrick] No tomb so proud as his...

[Vincent D'Ordyn]

It had taken Gray the better part of eight trials to get to the Warrick Fort. The trip had been dull and uneventful, though the road was filled with many other heading in the same direction as Gray himself. Though Gray kept to himself during the whole trip, he did enjoy watching the people as he passed them on the road. It was also nice for Gray to be out of the city for awhile. He had forgotten how nice it was to camp out in the open, and just enjoy the nice weather and the unfettered view of the stars at night.

By the time Gray actually arrived at the fort, the place was swarming with people from all over. He could see the colors of every house splashed across the grounds of the Warrick lands. Like a painter had splashed them across a canvas without much care for where the colors fell.

Gray's first and only stop was the registration booth for the tournament. "Name?" The scribe behind the desk asked.

"Gray." Gray replied.

The scribe looked up at him, a skeptical look across his face deepening as he caught a look under Gray's hood. "Family name?" The scribe asked as he continued to look at Gray's face, or what bit he could see, as half of Gray's face was hidden behind a mask, even under his hood.

"No family name." Gray replied. To which the scribe let out sigh, but wrote what Gray had told him.

"What events are you wishing to participate in?" The scribe asked, tapping his quill against the parchment, his boredom showing through the thin veneer of professionalism he had worn.

"Blades, and Unarmed Combat." Gray state simply.

"Okay, keep an ear out. Your name will be called for your match. If you do not show up for your matches you will be disqualified." With a quick stroke of his quill the scribe wrote him off as easily as he had Gray's events, and with that Gray walked away. After wandering the grounds for a few breaks Gray found a quite place under a tree that was still close enough to the tournament grounds that he would be able to hear when his name was called. There he took the time to get his head straight and ready for the events that were about to come.

That is were Gray spent the time between his arrival and when he finally heard his name called for his first event, Unarmed Combat. With that Gray slowly stood and walked to the tournament field that had been called with his name and the name of his opponent, Yurik Vandan. Gray didn't recognize the name, but that made no difference to Gray, some of the best fighters were often overlooked. As he walked into the center of the field his opponent already stood in the middle of the field waiting for him.

"May the best man see victory this day." Yurik called out as Gray took up his place on the field.

"And may all bathe in wine and mead." Gray answered in kind, though without the mirth that normally came with the response.

Then with the crash of a gong the fight was on. At first Yurik just began to side step Gray, circling him looking for an opening. So Gray gave him one, and Yurik took the bait. As he struck at Gray's open right side, and as he did Gray reacted using the man's own weight and momentum and sent the man tumbling. Before Yurik could stand Gray was above him and with some pressure pushed him back to the ground with his boot. "Stay down friend. This round is mine." Gray stated, and with a heavy sigh Yurik conceded the match. "Good call." Gray said as he offered a hand to the man to help him off the ground.

After the match Gray returned to his spot under the tree and again began to get himself sorted for his next event. Breaks passed and Gray heard other called up for different events. Some he recognized as nobles, others as members of the Iron Hand and some like his opponent he had never heard of before. Finally Gray's name was called for the Blades event.

Again Gray stood from his resting place and headed to the named field. This time though Gray was the first one to the field, though he didn't have to wait long before his opponent walked out onto the field to meet him. Robyn Smoke was the name that had been called but the person that stood across from him was not whom he had been expecting. The woman standing across from him was all long limbs and lean muscle. As she took her place in the center of the field she drew her blade and with a small salute gave a customary line of a fair match. Gray responded in kind and drew one of his blades, and with that the match was on.

Robyn was quick off the line when the match began, and Gray was instantly on the defensive. She was fast and well skilled with her blade. Gray danced backwards, countering her thrusts and strikes as he went. If the match continues like this I'm going to be in trouble. Gray thought as he dodged to the left of one of her thrusts. Taking the small amount of time after her thrust to put some distance between them. As she began closing the distance Gray took up his stance and ready himself for or onslaught of attacks, and they came just as Gray had planned. For bits the two traded blows, parries and ripostes, and after they took a step back from each other, both out of breath and dripping sweat. This fight had dragged on longer than Gray had wanted.

Taking deep breaths trying to reorient himself Gray studied his opponent. She like him was worn out, and her speed and strength had began to fade. Gray knew their next exchange would be their last. With another deep breath, Gray took the initiative this time, and he pushed Robyn hard. Forcing her to backpedal as he pushed the slight advantage. She did well to keep up with him now as he pushed her back, but eventually his constant pushing and her backpedaling caught her up, and tripped over her own feet. As she went to pick herself up Gray's blade touched her right above her heart. "My... win..." Gray said between breaths as he looked down at Robyn from behind his mask. With a quick and practice movement, Gray sheathed his sword and again offered his hand to help his opponent up. "Well fought Madame Smoke. You had me really dancing their for a time." Gray continued, offering her a small smile as he helped her up.

[Victoria Krome]

After the meeting with her parents, Victoria began to prepare for the fight to come. Doing her hair up in the usual braided bun fashion, she put on the house cloak above her armour. She certainly wasn’t going to fight in that thing, that would be half the battle lost, trying to move around and fight in the cloak. She would be more likely to trip and end up on the floor wearing it than ending up victorious in the battle. The lass couldn’t let that happen, could she? That would be a disaster that would end up disgracing her entire family and beyond. Nope, that definitely couldn’t happen.

Fully equipped and ready, the young woman was about to leave the tent, when she turned to see a tall young man dressed in the colours of House Warwick, bowing in respect. He informed her that her competitor was waiting for her in the arena, and that it would be a person by the name of Vera Ash. A steward then. Figures. Vera Ash. Never heard of that name before. Can’t say that I know her. But this Vera would more than certainly know who she is, nobility and all. Oh well. “Oh, I guess it’s time then. Let us go.” Moving off, Victoria followed the steward towards the arena.

As she approached the arena, the young noble saw her opponent standing at the other end of the arena. Victoria had fully expected her opposition to be clad in full plate armour today, but yet it seemed that she was not entirely wrong either. This Vera Ash was clad in a steel breastplate and a full faced steel helmet, but every other part of her armour was leather. Nice style, she thought to herself. Going to have to adapt this particular concept into my collections, sooner or later.

Taking off her cloak and dumping it into the hands of the steward she had arrived with, the young noble stepped into the arena proper, ready to begin the match. Her opponent was clad in a full faced helmet, and she gave a nod and drew her sword in a forward gesture, the blade facing towards her. Unsheathing her blade, Victoria mirrored the exact same gesture, commencing the fight. Vera rushed towards her with great speed, but she was ready for her, raising her shield to block the strike from doing anything much at all. The young noble’s sword & shield combination was a great counter to her opponent’s dual blades. All she really needed was to knock one of the blades off.

That would be as good as half the battle won. For now, she was content to let her opponent strike and wail at her with blows and blows. The young Krome received a plethora of blows, blocking them with her shield or parrying them with her own sword whenever she saw the chance to do so. Victoria was hoping to either anger or lure her opponent in a false sense of knowing that she was winning. Half a break into the battle, she finally found the opening she had been waiting for.

Vera had begun to tire, and coupled with the frustration and jeers of the crowd for not having landed a single successful hit, she had began to grow impatient and her face was positively boiling with anger. Instead of simply parrying her strike this time, Victoria launched her first offensive attack of the fight, batting her swords away, while advancing forwards. Her opponent, caught off guard by the sudden offence after a whole entire period of no attacks, retreated as she struggled to contain the blows. Swinging a low slash towards her legs, Vera swung both her blades down in anticipation of the attack, but all she got the pommel of her sword crashing down onto the front of her helmet. The force made Vera stagger, and the noble took this chance to disarm her of one of her blades, while swinging her own blade onto the arm that held her opponent’s remaining blade. She wouldn’t want to be Vera right now.

The heat plus the sweat and the concussion in the helmet was one she had felt before and not pleasant was certainly an understatement. Victoria didn’t let up. She soon followed up with several more slashes, both high and low, and by now, her opponent was mostly spent, and barely managed to block less than half of the blows.
After yet another particularly heavy strike to her opponent’s left shoulder later, Vera toppled backwards, where she lay bested and defeated. Victoria had outwitted her opponent with a combination of both strategy and skill. She had to win and she did. Thankfully so. Her father was already hooting and cheering from his seat in the noble stands, noble behaviour be damned.

[Lazuli]

"Cousin," Lazuli acknowledged the young man and offered a warm smile, even if his words had thrown her momentarily. "There will be no need for that," she told him and watched as he sped towards his match, newly announced and first up.
Zvezdana also excused herself after congratulating Vivian on her promotion and before Lazuli took her leave to make her way to the crossbow event, she put her arms around Vivian in another warm embrace and wished her luck, not that she believed the young woman needed it. Lazuli ducked out of the way of a knight on his horse, one of her father's old friends who she still recognised and ran across the field to join the other opponents in her event, none of which she could put a name to.
Weapon drawn and bolts strapped to her thigh, she eyed up the competition, watching as each took their turn at sending a bolt closest to the mark. Lazuli was taking note of posture, quality of weapons, technique, and the speed at which they worked. Those who landed a shot closest to the bullseye she paid particular mind to, hoping to pick up a few tips for when it came time for her to take her shot.
Summoned, she stepped up to the mark, closed her eyes and felt a few stray strands of hair brush against her face lightly, and took note of the gentle breeze and the direction in which it blew. When she opened her eyes again she fixed them on the target and took a bolt from her quiver, looking down the length of it to make sure it was straight before loading it into the crossbow. The baroness then lowered the weapon to the ground, put her toes against the foothold and drew back the string until it was locked in place by a small bronze nut. Weapon raised, she braced it against her form, just as her father had taught her, and put her finger over the trigger, applying pressure slowly until she was sure of her shot and let the bolt fly.
With a hard thud the bolt made contact with the target and she was informed that her score was bested only by one other. Having secured a place in the second round, Lazuli opted to join Zvezdana in the stands and watch to see how Vivian got on. When she moved to sit down next to the woman, however, Isabel summoned her with and wave and Lazuli made sure Zvezdana joined her.
"Your grandfather assures me that Veljorn will be here soon and might be competing in the jousting, but has promised to join us in the stands first."
Lazuli felt her stomach flip, she had never felt no nervous about meeting a stranger before and closed her hand over Zvezdana's before turning to her to whisper something. "I don't think I can do this."

[Vivian Shiryu]

Vivian nodded at Rafael when he showed, then smacked upside the back of the head at his poor attempt at a proper greeting. "That is no way to address guests, superiors in military rank, or the heir apparent to the seat of House Warrick. Remember, unless she cedes the position, she's the one who will carry on the Warrick line." she said, her tone cold but not unkind. She completely ignored the servant until she was done with her lecture, then turned to Zvezdana. "And the congratulations are for a promotion, Lady Venora." she said, smiling at Zvezdana, who she actually liked, for all that they weren't close. "Zvezdana, Lazuli, Rafael, I will see you all later. For now, I must attend my match." she said, returning Lazuli's hug before bowing before she turned and headed to the tournament grounds.

The Warrick Sergeant headed to one of the four melee combat arena, there greeted by a man in plate armor who smirked mockingly at her before he lowered his visor. Vivian simply smirked as she drew her rapier and raised in it salute before the beginning of the match was called. The main raised his sword and charged the young noblewoman, but she had seen this technique in training before. She sidestepped the basic charge as the man brought his sword down. It was a heavy blow, but it hit air as she swung her rapier, making a light cut in the un-armored part just under his breast plate. She could have done much more serious damage with a thrust, but this was a tournament, not a battle.

Grunting in pain, the man turned and swung at her her again, this time from the shoulder to the hip. Reaching up, parried the swing with her rapier, first stepping out to let the blade pass her by, then stepping and applying a bit of additional pressure to force the blade away from her body. Once the blade was forced away, Vivian stepped in again and swung, this time smashing the hand-guard of her rapier into the bottom of her opponent's helmet. The helmet rung like a bell and the man grunted in pain as he reeled back but went still when he felt the point of Vivian's rapier touch his throat, the weak point now exposed from her strike against his helmet.

The judge called an end to the match, naming Vivian the victor and the Warrick Sergeant once again raised her rapier in salute to her defeated foe, who this time returned the gesture. Sheathing her sword, Vivian left the arena for now and headed to the Warrick box, where she saw that Vivian and Zvezdana had been pulled aside by their grandmother. Waving a greeting at the guards that always stood at such boxes, Vivian walked up to her cousin and the Venora noble-woman, sitting down in an empty chair. "That was fun. How'd you do, Lazuli? I didn't get the chance to watch." she said, grimacing at the fact that she'd had to miss Lazuli's event.

[Zvezdana Venora]

Zvezdana was by herself in a sea of nobility, the colors clashing against one another in the stands. Her seat was fair, her glass was full, but it mildly bored her to not have someone to talk to. She enjoyed gossiping about the other families, their abilities in the ring, the match that was to be made this evening. All of it would have made for juicy conversation. Instead, she was by herself. Those that she may come close to calling friends were in the ring or blasting at stuffed targets. Could she call them friends? There was the possibility that even that was not the case, especially when she envied the one that was closest to her to the point of doing something about it.

In reality, Zvezdana had no friends.

Her attention was drawn away from her self-pity to the clash of steel on steel again. Someone new was in the ring. This someone did not wear the markings of a house. He fought well, besting both of his opponents over the trials while she basked in the hot sun drinking her wine. She was starting to get a pleasant blush across her cheeks from the alcohol. Zvezdana would have to consider eating soon as she did not want to become as boisterous as the Krome lord, who was cheering as his daughter entered the ring. His daughter, whom had been identified just before she dumped her cloak off with the man that had escorted her to the ring, also fought extremely well.

It was odd to see the woman fight in so little. She was mostly in leather, but that increased her speed. The other woman was significantly larger, and the Krome speedster allowed this to work for her. They played for quite a while as she wore her opponent out by taking the defensive. Then, it was over. Zvezdana had watch most of the match, but had only stopped to observe Lazuli do fairly well in the crossbow tournament. She was on to the next round, against one that had done slightly better. She had not personally seen the person that landed first, but was no curious whom it was. To best the token person of the day was dangerous. Would it be worth throwing the match to allow the young Baroness the opportunity to win?

Whatever the case would be, her eyes were drawn to the skirts and deep red armor of Lazuli joining her. Or almost joining her. Before she knew it, Zvezdana was leaving her plush seat in the noble stands and joining the host family on the center platform. Zvezdana was now mildly beginning to regret the amount of win she had drunk over the course of the day. Duchess Warrick was mentioning that Lord Veljorn was to join them briefly before his joust. Her hand reminded her that Lazuli was not as sure about this as she personally would have been.

I don't think I can do this.

The words rattled around her foggy brain. It suddenly made her irritated that this young farmer – How could she be nobility? She preferred mucking around in the soil and wearing armor than representing her house appropriately. – would be marrying another lord before her. Yet, the urge to take Lazuli by the shoulders and shake her like a screaming child had to be quelled quickly. Zvezdana placed a soft smile on her face, clasping her free hand over Lazuli’s hands. In a voice louder than she intended, she stated calmly, ”Whether or not you can, you must. You are the baroness and you have responsibilities as the heir to Warrick. Think of it like a battlefield. Remember what little I have taught you. He is just another pawn – or maybe a rook or king – in this chess game. Make him your ally and your friend.”

Oh how she hated how easily she could make it seem like she cared.

[Rafael Warrick]

21st Ymiden 716

Soundly defeated, he would really rather just disappear off the tourney grounds. He was bound to leave for Andaris by the end of the day anyway, to begin his training under Knight Malcolm there. With his intention to show up at Malcolm's doorstep as the tourney victor shattered, there really was only one reason left to remain, and that was the light throb in the back of his head, courtesy of Sergeant Vivian, his dear, dear cousin. And now that he thought of his cousins, he considered Lazuli could probably do with a little stress relief as well. Wasn't she just so very fortunate that he had the perfect cure for such ailments?

After he’d sheathed his blade and returned it to his small tent, he searched the area for Vivian. He found her on the main Warrick stands, next to Lazuli and the gorgeous Lady Venora. He tip-toed around the scaffolding and approached from the far side so that Vivian wouldn’t see him coming until the very last moment. He could just hear her buttering up Lazuli when he plopped beside her and smacked her on the back. Hard. "Revenge," he explained dryly.

“So, did you win?” he grinned at her. “I got my ass kicked. Wish I’d been fighting you instead, would’ve been so much easier,” he rolled his eyes at her. Though he knew very little about his cousin, he knew enough to press her buttons. Or he thought he did at least.

“Wouldn’t want to fight you though,” he said to Lazuli, without the slightest care of having interrupted her previous conversation. All these nervous, uptight people could use a little shaking up. Besides, it would likely be quite a while before he’d see any of them again, might as well make the most of the moment. "You'd shoot me before I'd ever come close." It wasn't a very good attempt at relieving his cousin's obvious nervousness, but it was a sincere one.

His eyes fell on Zvezdana and lingered a little too long. But he had nothing to say to the noble woman. Except that she looked pretty. But if he said that, Vivian would probably skin him alive. And that wasn't quite worth it.

[Griffin]

G R I F F I N

Victor led the way up broad steps to the temporary box overlooking the main arena. He scanned the swelling crowd of young nobility and allowed a brief smile. An unknown raven-haired beauty with elegant fingers curled around a glass of wine. Then three more familiar faces, children of Warrick’s line. He approached and a second man stepped into the box behind him. Clad in black, finely tooled armour Veljorn took his time to consider the party. The sturdy leather of his jerkin was emblazoned with a crest, not dissimilar to the Burhan sigil, but that curved like a serpent.
“Baroness,” Victor approached his niece and beckoned the dark-haired man forward. Veljorn at a little over six feet towered over most of the group, but was of an average height for a Biqaj. A commanding presence was softened by pale eyes and a slanted nose. His gaze rested on his betrothed with slow appraisal and he bowed to the collected group before straightening.
“The red of Warrick suits you, my Lady,” the words were carefully considered, “I hear that your talent with a crossbow has served you well in competition?” He extended a tan hand towards the Baroness in order to collect hers.
Victor watched the exchange like a mother hen, his own gaze slipping to rest on the youngest Warrick, warning the lad against any impromptu mischief. This was not the time or place. He looked then to Vivian, in the hope that she would assist in ensuring a smooth introduction.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Victor nodded, “and that you will join us in the lists?” He gave another rare smile before his attention settled on the unknown maiden.
“I am afraid I have not had the pleasure of an introduction my Lady?” Blue eyes focused of Zvezdana.
In the distance, further calls attempted to rally combatants once more. Second rounds of Melee contests would take place in the outer arenas. However the archery butts were lifted onto the main arena where the majority of the swarming crowd gathered, craning necks to peer into the box. Excited whispers passing from person to person as gossip spread. The Baroness was meeting her husband, such a tragic man, but ambitious…

The ranged events would be concluded, and then the joust. The competition would end with the final matches of unarmed combat and bladed weapons. Then the feasting could begin in earnest.
The box was surrounded by men and woman in well-crafted armour and cloaks of Burhan blue, interspersed with officials of house Warrick.

[Lazuli]

With Zvezdana on her right and Isabel parked on her left, Lazuli was quiet as her tutor in the art if etiquette spoke, she had only had a few lessons, but already she had grown in confidence, able to look a stranger in the eye now at the very least. Lazuli stole her hand away from Lady Venora, comfort found in the warm, tired embrace of her grandmother's reaching hands as Zvezdana's worlds saw both of them fall silent. Isabel gave her granddaughter a look that said 'she is dangerous, she is not your friend,' a look interpreted by Lazuli to mean the complete opposite, and slowly, reassuringly, the girl smiled.
Her icy blue gaze set on Rafael then as the young Warrick smacked Vivian upside the head, an action the girl would never choose to take against her cousin, for Vivian had a reputation for ending the fights other people started; one could only wonder what she made of her own.
"You're kind, cousin," Lazuli smiled while Isabel only ignored the boy.

A few minutes passed before uncle Victor showed up with a tall man, dark of hair and lean of limb shadowing him. The man was introduced as Veljorn, and both Lazuli and her grandmother got to their feet. Isabel was all smiles, pleased with herself and the arrangement she had worked hard to make, while Lazuli did not know what to make of the man. He was far taller than she was, his face touched with signs of age, soft crows-feet marking the edge of his eyes, and his smile lines were ever present and worn.
Veljorn's hands were cold, and though his words kind, Lazuli barely had time to speak before Victor claimed the man's attention, fishing for the identity of Lady Venora.
"Thank you," Lazuli acknowledged, "I should get to the arena and participate in the final round. This is Zvezdana, Lady Zvezdana of House Venora," she smiled at the woman, if it meant she could look anywhere but into Veljorn's eyes, it was a welcomed distraction, "and my cousins Vivian and Rafael," Lazuli added before moving to pick up her crossbow.
As she departed for the arena, she felt Isabel's fingers brush her shoulder and turned only when she heard the woman's footfalls follow in pursuit of her. Her grandmother ushered her from the stands and spoke to her just beyond the steps. "He's handsome, I told you he was handsome," the woman grinned. "And he was kind enough not to ogle your friend like the rest of them," she put her hands on Lazuli's shoulders. "Speak to him dear, after his joust, I shall arrange it in your absence."
Lazuli looked up into the stands and saw Victor laugh about something someone must have said, then glanced aside. "All right," she nodded, "I'll speak with him."

Free of her grandmother's clutches and watching from the edge of the arena, Lazuli was invited in by her opponent, a young man some years older than herself, who went by the name Christof Mikhail. "Congratulations, Lady Warrick, I hear you will be married next season."
"Thank you, Ser."
"Oh I'm not a knight," he smiled, "my father owns the grain-store in Warrick, you send us your wheat and soy every arc, always on time, good quality too."
She studied the man closely and eventually nodded. "Shall we begin?"
"Ladies first," Christof gestured to the target.
Lazuli stepped up to the mark, lowered her crossbow and placed her foot in the hold to attach a bolt to the neck of the weapon and draw back the string until it locked in place. When she raised the weapon she was surprised to find that the people stood beyond the small target, set twice the distance from her person than the last had been, didn't so much as flinch, but instead held their ground. She swallowed, the idea of shooting one of them by mistake leaving her very nervous. She licked her dry lips and looked to the stands, drawing encouragement from her family before putting bolt to purpose. The bolt sped across the arena faster than anyone could keep track and thudded into one of the outer rings on the target.
The crowd cheered while Lazuli only felt relieved that she hadn't shot anyone. Christof congratulated her and winked as he passed her by on his way to the mark. She stood a few steps behind him, well beyond the reach of his shadow and watched as he lined up his own shot, and at the very last second, lifted his weapon slightly. The bolt was released and when it didn't show up on the target, the crowd gasped and those stood beyond padded themselves down to make sure it hadn't gone clean through them. It was one of the staff that discovered the bolt first, a pair who had been carrying a large silver plate beyond the gathered crowd, holding a pig, fresh from the spitfire which had moments ago boosted a fresh red apple between its chops.
One of the servants took up the bolt from the floor, the apple pinned to its end. The crowed roared with laughter and astonishment, and even though Lazuli was moments later announced the winner of her event by her opponent, she pulled her hand away from his, where he had held it pointed to the sky and looked him in the eye as he turned to see what was wrong. "You didn't need to embarrass me," she scolded lightly, "I'd much rather have taken the loss," the young woman turned and marched towards the gate, her crossbow abandoned to the sands as she then made good use of her boots and ran into the crowd, escaping the tourney.

[Victoria Krome]

Her previous fight had gone as expected, and Victoria had emerged the victor. It had by no means been an effortless fight, but the important thing was that she won anyway. After the first round had concluded, she made off to a nearby resting area for the fighters and took a break and gathering back her strength for the next round.

She knew that the next round would definitely be more difficult than the first, for these beginnings rounds were more often than not a weeding process, separating the weak from the strong, or the wheat from the chaff. As she rested, she casually watched some of the the other activities going on around the fighting grounds, and in hardly any time at all, the call was sounded for the second round to begin.

The same steward from House Warwick had returned and informed her that her name competitor will be a man by the name of Paul Marick and to get ready. The lass then doned back the golden cloak of her house and made way back into the arena for the round to come. When Victoria arrived, she settled into the same routine of removing the cloak and handing it back to the steward who had his arms hands outstretched expectantly this time around, prepared for her to do the same.

Her eyes widened before settling into a frown. This Paul Marick was tall and built like a tank. Heavily armoured in plate armour from top to toe, his head encased in a steel full faced helmet that betrayed no emotion. The man looked double the size of her, and carried a sword twice the length of hers. He didn’t carry a shield, but then again she supposed that he wouldn’t have the need of one anyway, not in this fight at least.

She felt like a mouse going up against a cat. Her first thought was to carry out the same tactic she had done earlier, as he had to be slow in all this heavy plated armour, won’t he? There was no taunting, no jeering, or no greetings. The man made his move all of a sudden.

By the light chatter in the audience, they too were still caught unawares that the round had began. Her plan went out of the window as her opponent who was built like a mountain charged her with a bellow. Victoria was caught off guard by not just the sudden charge, but at how fast he was. As quick as she was, all she had the time for was the raise her shield and brace for the charge. His sword swung around with a wicked slash and fortunately her shield was there to catch the blow.

The aftershock was not something she had ever felt before, and the blow sent a wild throbbing sensation down her arm and the entirety of her body as the force caused her to slide several feet back. This guy was not only strong, he was wicked fast as well. She wondered how long his previous opponent lasted.

Her shield arm felt like it was about to fall off, and Victoria was sure that she wouldn’t be able to take more hits like this one. Despite it only being bits into the round, she was already drenched in sweat, her body working overtime to cope with the physical struggle of keeping up with the mountain of a man. Sensing victory, her opponent didn’t let up and followed up with another attack. She knew that she had to avoid his attacks entirely, as blocking them was no longer a valid option. Several attacks later, that had been a sound strategy, but her opponent looked no worse for wear, and the lass was almost at the brink of exhaustion.

Even her usually boisterous father had settled into his seat silently, no longer the cheery self he was earlier. Despite making several successful strikes onto her opponent, they seemed to do nothing, to affect nothing, like as though she was simply poking him with a stick. The decisive moment came when he swung forward with a similar attack like his first one but that had turned out to be a feint, and the next thing she saw was the pommel of his large sword before blackness claimed her. Victoria awoke in a tent to the sight of her parents looming over her. That was it dawned onto her.

The fight was over. She had lost. Not like she could have won anyway.

Did you not see the size of that man?

[Vivian Shiryu]

Vivian's only reaction to Rafael smacking her on the back was to turn and give him an even stare. "I won my match. If you lost yours, then you would stand little chance against me." she said, her tone colder than a Cylus snow-storm before she heard Isabel introduce Veljorn. Bowing in greeting much like she did to Zvezdana, Vivian looked over the man. He was fit, but she wondered if he was really a warrior or if he just played at it. However, before she could say more, she heard her name called for her second match. "Lady Venora, Lord Burhan, cousins, I will see you all after." she said, bowing again before she left the Warrick box.

The blade arenas weren't as crowded as the ranged arenas, and she was glad for it. Lazuli deserved her audience this day. For now though, her mind was on her opponent. Genevive Allanach drew her sword at the same time as Vivian, smirking confidently. "Another Warrick come down from the ivory towers to play with the peasants. And with such a fancy sword as well, but no real armor." she said, tauntingly as she lowered the visor to her plate armor.

Vivian just laughed and worked her shoulders, her blade glinting in the sunlight. Her shield was still a simple buckler, but it would be enough for this match. "You must be the one who bested my cousin. No matter, I am not so easily beaten." she said, stepping forward at the same time as her opponent. Genevive swung first, her long-sword coming out in a light swing. Vivian caught it on her shield, letting it catch the blade as she countered with at her opponents visor. There was a deep scratching sound, metal screaming against metal as sparks flew from the contact point, and when Vivian stepped away, her sword and left a noticeable scratch across Genevive's visor without taking any notable damage of its own.

The heavier armored Genevive stepped back and reached up to feel the scratch in alarm. Vivian merely raised her blade and pointed at her opponent with it in response. "Come. You bested the squire. Now test yourself against the soldier." she said, her tone confident before she charged her opponent. Genevive swung at Vivian again, a much more serious overhand blow this time. Vivian dodged to the side Genevive had swung from and swung again, leaving a deep scratch on Genevive's breastplate. Genevive turned and swung at Vivian again and this time the young noble caught it on her sword, the blades ringing as they clashed before Vivian sidestepped and let her opponents sword slide off her blade as Vivian swung her shield and back-handed Genevive across the helmet with it.

Like her first opponent, Genevive reached up to clutch her now deafening helmet and Vivian again took advantage of the opening this provided, planting her foot on Genevive's blade and bringing the hilt of her rapier down on her opponents sword-hand. The combination of the ringing blow to the helmet and the blow to the hand caused Genevive to drop the sword, but the knight didn't raise her head to expose her throat like the one from before had. So Vivian instead took advantage of her swords thin blade and slipped it into eye-slits of her opponents visor, though she was careful not to draw blood.

Genevive stopped moving and shouted "I yield!", at which point the referee declared Vivian the winner. Withdrawing her rapier, Vivian bent down and picked up Genevive's longsword, handing it back to her opponent. "Don't let your past victories make you overconfident, or let yourself be so easily caught off-guard. Your own surprise beat you as much did my skill." Vivian said, smiling slightly before she turned and left the arena. She wanted to return to the box, if only to tell Rafael that she had bested the one who beat him, but she instead turned towards the jousting lists. She knew it wouldn't be long before her next match.