• Solo • Trials Born of Woe

4th of Cylus 721

Stronghold of education and learning, this fortress is in one of the coldest areas of Idalos and home to many knowledge seekers in a variety of disciplines. However, unknown to most, below the city are those who suffer for the sake of science. While all are welcome, not everyone will be treated as they expect.

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Woe
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Joined: Sun Feb 05, 2017 6:46 am
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Éminence grise
Renown: 1455
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Trials Born of Woe

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Evening on the 4th of Cylus 721

It was the Eve of Woe's birthtrial, or what he always supposed was his birth trial. The fifth, tomorrow. He was going to go screaming into his 34th arc on Idalos in spectacular fashion, by fighting against Fleaface, practicing his unarmed techniques against an armed opponent. He didn't expect to do well.

Fleaface was a master with a club, and could easily match Woe while he used a whip, let alone using nothing but his fists. The Mortalborn hadn’t gotten much better at hand-to-hand combat since learning the basics in Etzos, among the street fighters and ruffians that populated Westguard. It was, ironically almost, the way he’d come across Fleaface to start. Fleaface had sicced his bigger cousin on him, in a fight to defend his honor and shame Woe.

The Westguardian oaf was big and had been strong, but overall Woe had come out on top by his cunning over the strength of arms. Later that season, Fleaface came to Woe’s service, through his mother. What bargain Fleaface had struck in order to attain his mother’s favor, to the point where she attached him to her son was subject to some speculation for the Mortalborn. He didn’t know but suspected he’d been sent along to keep an eye on Woe, and make sure he did not dishonor Sintra in the future. And Woe, for the most part, hadn’t. He had in fact been rewarded with adoration from his mother, what he’d always wanted. Hadn’t he?

He stood in the middle of the Gymnasium. The rest of the city was cleared out of the Fitness Center. Something to do with a grand ball in honor of Treid, or some such. Nothing that Woe was interested in. The only ball he’d experienced had turned into a debacle and had no inclination to witness a repeat of that auspicious occasion. Nothing good could be had of a gaggle of drunken idiots joining hands to dance and fondle each other. It was one of the grotesque affectations of life.

Fleaface came in from the shadows, smiling menacingly as he brandished a small cudgel. He was ready, would Woe be?

They didn’t waste time on words. They each knew what was happening here. Fleaface would perform one last job, scouting ahead of Woe into Scalvoris, to ascertain the situation on the ground and fix his place in Egilrun before Woe took over, and began his new life in the Island. Fleaface still held a grudge toward the Mortalborn, for the humiliation, for using him, for making him a petty servant of Sintra. Fleaface made it plain his intentions to make good on Woe’s promise in his will, that he would leave the house in the Citadel to him. Woe intended to make good on that promise, as thanks and payment for all of Fleaface’s work and aid.

There were no more words between them for now. Fleaface had only agreed to leave Woe bloody and broken, but take him to his home where he might slip underneath his magic blanket, that provided healing. To rest of the tribulations of this night and awake into the first of his latest year of life, with fresh eyes.

So it began.

Woe took a defensive posture, holding up his fists, one before the other. Fleaface came forward fast, with a strike meant to elicit a reaction from Woe. Woe brought his forearm up to absorb the impact, blocking it off from his temple. Gods but the man was good with a cudgel, the shock of it traveled through the sleeve of his gambeson, into his very bone.

Woe stepped into the next attack, leading with his left now to jab at Fleaface. But he was too quick, too skilled. The etzori peasant rapped him about the knuckles, cracking the bones in his hands twice, thrice, four times before he was able to retreat.

But Fleaface wasn’t finished there. He continued the assault, pressing it. He was faster, even as agile as Woe was. He could only dodge so much before getting winded. Fleaface began jabbing the point of his small jack club, under Woe’s arm, into his ribs. He hit him so many ways from all directions, that Woe had trouble figuring which way the last attack had landed, let alone the next.

Some trills into the beating he was receiving, Woe began weaving under blows, and he detected Fleaface beginning to tire down from the first wind of combat. He took full advantage of the lull, dodging here, deflecting the club there.
word count: 782
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Woe
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Re: Trials Born of Woe






About a bit more into their vigorous sparring regiment, things were getting down to the ground game, and Fleaface found himself disarmed by a deft twist of the arm by Woe. He used his Spider's Grip ability to adhere his hands to the peasant's arm, and used that as leverage, In tandem with some footwork to unnaturally twist the man's arm. The jack he had been wielding fell to the floor. It would've been foolish for Fleaface to dive for it, and so Woe recognized that. He sought to press the advantage, knowing full well that he was more skilled at hand to hand combat than his servant.

But Fleaface wasn't without his own defenses. He was made of sturdy stuff, and the twisted arm barely phased him. He reversed the second he was released, and threw a straight, fully-committed punch toward Woe's shoulder. The impact was enough that it could be heard, a popping, although his shoulder hadn't been dislocated (yet), Fleaface must have thought he found a weak point in the Mortalborn's defenses.

Woe assumed a defensive posture, guarding his right side where the old man had hit him.

Reversing his stance was an awkward move, and one that he'd ultimately come to regret, as the old man took his loss of balance and used it to leverage more control inside of Woe's guard. Through their traded jabs, side-hooks, and haymakers, Fleaface was able to frustrate Woe's attempts to defend himself enough that he would have to go on the attack. He threw his right hand out, twisting his torso enough that he extended his shoulder. That had been the opening that Fleaface was waiting for. He managed to duck under the straight punch while grappling with the arm. Once he had a good grip, he pushed the shoulder joint out of location, smashing it with a headbutt to ensure that the joint was entirely dislocated.

Woe hissed in pain, as he fell to the ground, defeated. And after a few kicks to the sides, a few broken ribs administered by Fleaface, the bout was over. Woe was all but far away in his mind, having succumbed to pain, yet Fleaface spoke to him. "Ey, Master. Yer kin walk. Get ye back to the Assembly, and use yer fancy blanket to heal them wounds? I'll meetcher at the docks some days from now. Till then, got a three day appointment with a lassy at the Devil's Advocate." Fleaface grinned a green grotesque smile at Woe, and then turned on his heel, to leave the Fitness center.

Woe for his part, got up from where he'd fallen, and with some effort, managed to take hold of his arm. At least until he was able to splint it or push it back into place.



When he got back to the Assembly headquarters, and his room within it, Woe checked his shoulder, to see exactly what the damage was. Thankfully there didn't appear to be any fractured bones there, but it would need to be set, in order to properly heal. He had doubts about the blanket being able to set dislocated bones. While it had remarkable healing abilities when Woe slept in it, he wasn't yet sure of the extent of them.

So he took his arm in his hand, and while bracing himself against a surface, jammed it back into location. The pain was unreal, lancing up and down his shoulder, down to his elbow and his very fingertips.

He grimaced all the way back to his cot within the room he held in the Assembly Headquarters, and slipped beneath the Mother's Embrace blanket. There, he rested his wounds until morning. And while the blanket was handy at healing his broken ribs and smashed in body parts, it didn't exercise any mercy in putting him back to rights. So he howled as the night proceeded. This was some kind of birthday celebration. He only hoped that Fleaface, at least, enjoyed himself. Because that was the important thing, wasn't it?
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Doran
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Re: Trials Born of Woe

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Woe:

Knowledge:
Combat: Unarmed: Ground fighting is the endgame to most 'friendly' spars.
Endurance: Taking some cracks in the ribs.
Endurance: Getting an arm dislocated.
Endurance: Twisting limbs can cause horrible pain.
Endurance: Enduring an aggressive arm-lock
Medicine: Setting a dislocated shoulder.

Loot: -
Lost: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: None. Woe used his blanket!
Renown: 5. This fight did not go unnoticed!
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: See below.
Points: 10

Consequences: This extreme a fight has been noticed. Viden has decided to look into the matter. People are questioned following Woe’s and Fleaface’s fight, and there are investigations. Woe and Fleaface are sought out. Please play out this consequence in the current cycle!
- - -
Comments: Well … this was certainly an interesting way for Woe to celebrate his upcoming birth trial. I appreciate that you mentioned why Woe decided to spend the evening in such an unusual way – that he wanted to go into his 34th arc screaming and awake with fresh eyes.

I also like that you provided us with a bit of background on Fleaface. I was only very vaguely aware of Fleaface’s connection to Sintra before I read this thread, for example. I agree with Woe, by the way. He gives me the impression of being very good with a cudgel as well!

I thought that Woe’s and Fleaface’s fight was well-written. You did a good job at describing the action and kept it from becoming too technical. I have to say, Woe’s blanket is very useful. It would likely have taken him a long time to recover from his injuries if he hadn't had it!

While I agree that the Fitness Centre might have been emptier due to the ball, it is unlikely that Fleaface and Woe were completely alone. In the location writeup, it says that all visitors have to go through the receptionist. There would at least have been some people (staff?) there, and for that reason, Fleaface and a Woe that has broken ribs and a dislocated arm (and smashed in body parts?), among other things and is obviously in quite some pain walking out of the training room would not have gone unnoticed.

Injuries happen every now and then when you are fighting, even in a place like the Fitness Centre, but Woe’s injuries were rather extreme in my opinion. For that reason, I have decided to assign consequences. It is of course up to how exactly you go about RPing them!

I’m not sure if Woe should be able to fix his dislocated shoulder that easily at Novice Medicine while he’s obviously in a lot of pain either. At the very least, I would have liked you to write about how he struggled and describe the process in more than one or two sentences. Maybe, his blanket helped fix that problem as well once his arm was back in place though?

Let me know if you have any questions, and enjoy your rewards!
word count: 499

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