A Series of Emean Excursions I.

[Praetorum]

Date: 6th of Vhalar, Arc 719

Status: Ready to fight

Weapons: None

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

The roar of the crowd sent a shudder all the way down Praetorum's spine as he stood in a small dark room, shoulder to shoulder with three others. None of them spoke, but the occasional bounce or roll of the shoulder suggested an eagerness to them, an anticipation for what was to come. Prae was the only Ithecal among them, but they were all four dressed alike, in loose trousers and handwraps, the type that Clarissa used when bare knuckle boxing.

None of them held any weapons, but there was the faintest scent of blood in the air.


This had appeared from the Veil like it would be an interesting dream, and so far, it would seem Prae had been right. The iron gate before them lowered with a rusty screech, and his... presumable allies stepped forwards, out into the wide open space of what Prae recognized as an arena floor. 



Praetorum followed their lead, glancing up at the eager audience in the stadium above, hundreds of people on their feet and cheering. It was an unrealistic amount of enthusiasm, in Prae's experience, but this was a dream. As he stepped into the sunlight, he saw that two other teams of four were also coming out, each team wearing a different color of hand wrappings and trousers. One group was red, the other blue, and when Prae glanced down at his own clothing again, he saw that his team was green. 



There was no announcer or introduction; just the sound of a gong ringing through the air, and then all of the combatants were running at one another, fists and voices raised in anticipation of victory. 



Well, this seemed a simple enough contest. At least, Prae assumed that the rules of arena battles were more or less the same all over Idolas; fight them until they fall, last mortal or team standing were the winners. 


[Praetorum]

Date: 6th of Vhalar, Arc 719

Status: Moderately annoyed

Weapons: None

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

The battle seemed to have dissolved into a free for all, with no sense of team tactics or leadership, and while, in the waking world, Prae would have immediately tried to rally his team behind him, this was someone else's dream, and he was deeply reluctant to interfere with it. Especially since he didn't even know if the dreamer was another combatant, or one of the audience member, or some one else entirely. 



So instead, he scanned the scene, and found two opponents from the red team turning towards him after dispatching a blue team member. Funny, the fallen man didn't seem the least bit bruised or bloodied, instead looking for all the world like he had just lain down to take a nap.



As his two opponents approached, Prae settled first into a Solum stance, then changed his mind as they drew near, shifting his weight forwards onto his leading leg. Then, as the first enemy—a young human with hair as red as his clothing—charged into his reach, Prae twisted his hip, and kicked out at the man, his foot sweeping towards his head. The human ducked the blow, but Prae had a trick up his sleeve. Or down his pants, he supposed, as lurid as that phrasing sounded. 



Even as Prae's leg passed over open air, his tail came sweeping in after it, angling lower and slapping the human along the side of his head; the man made no sound, but fell to the side all the same, and Prae planted his feet as the man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, just in time to dodge a punch by the second red team member, a biqaj with a half shaved head. Prae's reach was longer than hers was, so he jabbed quickly at her ribs, missing by a hair, then stepped forwards and kicked outwards, forcing her to jump backwards


The first opponent seemed to have recovered now, Prae saw out of the corner of his eye, and was rising smoothly to his feet. Not wanting to get caught between two foes at once, Prae feinted towards the biqaj to keep her at bay, then turned as the human approached, and punched him in the face. Perhaps the earlier blow to the head had disoriented the man badly enough to dull his reflexes—Prae's attack was sloppy and not very subtle, but the human didn't quite manage to dodge in time, taking the hit on his temple instead of on the nose. 



He dropped like a stone again, and Prae would have felt bad it hadn't been abundantly clear that this was a dream. But since it was, he turned back to the biqaj, and charged. 


[Praetorum]

Date: 6th of Vhalar, Arc 719

Status: Done with this shit

Weapons: None

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

The red team member briefly sported a facial expression that said she was very much regretting her choice of career, before it disappeared as a sweeping kick from Prae knocked her off her feet and down into the sand, where she lay either unconscious, or pretending to be. There seemed to be little distinction in the mind of this dreamer.


Whoever it was who was having this dream, Prae decided, was not very adept at combat. These 'opponents' were sloppy, barely any better than an experienced bar-fighter. Prae was hardly a seasoned hand to hand fighter, but there were some combat instincts that were broadly applicable, such as keeping your guard up in a fight, and coordinating with your allies. Looking around at this lot, Prae couldn't help but shake his head in disgust. He'd seen better in school-yard brawls between ithecal youths. And the way they fell when hit, it seemed like the dreamer had never so much as seen a bloodied nose before. 



What a pity. This had seemed like it might be a dream worth investigating, but Prae was already rather sick of it. And deeply unnerved too, by how distant this whole thing seemed from any combat Prae had ever experienced. 



Now another man, a blue team member, came charging towards Prae with a wordless yell. Before Prae could roll his eyes, the man leaped at him, one foot extended in a clumsy flying kick. It was the sort of maneuver that you pulled if you had the height advantage on a surprised opponent, not on an Ithecal in a face to face fight. More annoyed than anything else, Prae simply stood there, and let it connect at his shoulder (his shoulder! Not even his head or groin or any other vital parts! If a legionnaire tried something this sloppy...). Then as the man fell to the floor, his movement stopped by Prae's much larger, much heavier bulk, Prae rolled his eyes, and kicked the man lightly in the ribs, more in protest than to actually hurt him. It seemed that the dream considered even that a fatal injury though, as the man gasped, and went limp.



Turning around with a heavy sigh, Prae scanned the walls of the arena around him, looking... looking... ah, there. All three of the gates that the combatants had come through were closed, but there was a fourth, plain looking wooden door set into the wall of the arena, one that Prae strongly suspected would lead back to the space between dreams. 



Ignoring another dream combatant as the woman tried in vain to suplex him, Prae stomped over to the door, and, shaking off the would be wrestler, pulled it open, and marched through, leaving this ridiculous dream behind him.

[Abra]

Praetorum

Rewards

Knowledges:

Skill:

Detection: Recognizing combat inexperience in a dreamer
Unarmed Combat (Ustrina): Using a sweeping kick against a charging enemy
Unarmed Combat (Ustrina): Following a kick with a tail whip
Unarmed Combat (Ustrina): Using a kick to put distance between you and an enemy
Unarmed Combat (Ustrina): Feinting to keep an enemy at bay
Unarmed Combat (Ustrina): Sweeping an enemy off their feet

Loot:
Injuries:
Wealth:
Renown:

EXP: 10

Feedback

I’ve been wondering how I might go about earning combat experience in a lucid dream, thanks for setting a good example. I appreciated the red vs blue team reference, if you were trying to make one. Once again I enjoyed your descriptions of combat, especially pointing out the things everyone should know how to do even if they weren’t proficient with a particular fighting style. I can’t believe someone actually tried to wrestle Prae on their own! Enjoy your rewards.