[Flashback] The Grand Tourney [Solo]

[Talen Stirling]

55th Day of Spring 503 A.V. Festival for the Discovery of Denval by Kenabelle Wright. Blonde, short and skinny blue-eyed Talen was so excited today, and practically bounced from stand to stand as he went about the Raster Market, looking to spend the big, shiny gold miza he was carrying like a golden heart in his hand. It felt foreign and exciting holding the large coin, and he'd spent many a moment just staring at it with awe, holding it up into the sunlight outside of his house and looking at the glimmer of it. This particular Miza had a silvery white rim, minted sometime somewhere in celebration of the watchtower flashing to Winter. Today, it was sunny but not yet warm as it was only the middle of spring. Talen grinned, he was thoroughly enjoying the mere watching and looking at all the goods he could buy, weighing sugar-coated apples against foreign looking pieces of sweet candy in a balance of price and sweetness. He was reluctant to break up the coin anyway, so for now looking about the shops would be enough. Today, he was free to do whatever he wanted, and he savoured the freedom that came with the holiday. No working in fields or boring child duties, no mother calling him in for dinner, because food was being given out for free from a huge metal bowl in the middle of an open field-turned-meeting place. He came up to the road to the fields and quickly ran over to a shopkeeper to buy a candied apple and a few of the strangest sticky candy he'd never seen before. He wasn't happy when the coin was broken up, but receiving 4 gleaming silvers back cheered him up considerably. He left the marketplace for the field, and walked slowly as he approached the true source of today's excitement: A couple of square areas had been marked up upon the field. The sun shone on a few, rather old and simple but still pretty banners hanging from each corner. Grown men, young boys and a few girls were all walking about testing armour, wooden shields and swords. It was the site for the tournament and games, a series of competitions amongst the young Denvali to prove themselves. They were divided into categories by approximate age, and Talen had despite his mother's protests signed up for both the running and the sword-fighting competition. His mouth was agape as he watched some of the older boy's go at it in leather padding wielding wooden swords in a combination of fury and (lacking) skill. He felt a shiver of both excitement and fear, the prospect of testing himself excited him yet his age group was 12 - 14. The fact that he was doomed to be beaten by the older and stronger boys didn't quite occur to him, and he was busily daydreaming about the moment he raised the winner's trophy over his head. Suddenly, he saw Alice smile at him from across the field where she sat on a haystack, and immediately a bull charged his stomach with a mighty tackle as it jumped all the way up into his throat. She was a pretty girl, about the same age as him with dark hair and large eyes. Perhaps it was the way she frowned and smiled at him, or the way she always took special care to hit him when they were playing all kinds of games with the other kids, but he felt weird when he looked at her. It was as if he was absolutely terrified and entranced at the same time. As horrifying as the paralyzing stare of some abysmal demon, yet tempting and fascinating like the most forbidden of places and the sweetest of candy. Suddenly, she laughed, and he sensed it wasn't with him. Looking down, he saw and felt the candied apple fall off the stick and roll down his shorts. He tried to stop it, but it slid through his fingers leaving them sticky with caramelized sugar. It dropped onto the ground and rolled in the dirt, alongside Talen's dignity which followed suit and shattered on the ground like small bubbles of glass. He looked up again, the feeling of disgrace overwhelming as she turned away and ran, feet falling lightly and quickly under her white skirt. Somehow, he liked the way she ran, which puzzled him. He murmured a curse, and ate the last of his sweets to dull the pain. She was just a stupid girl, what did he care what she thought anyway! He walked over to the edge of the marked areas doggedly and inspected the playing field and the people in it with what he imagined to be a analysing and experienced look. The dirt was dry and beaten flat by many a foot, which meant footing would be steady in a fight. That wasn't an advantage to him, but he'd manage. The field was slightly higher on one side, which could be useful fighting against the taller, older boys. His father had explained him how a short man could use low strikes to make a taller man unable to parry on a slope. He knew he'd have to be faster and smarter than the others, but fortunately the fighting was not all about brute strength. There were judges to count hits and wounds, and decide when the fight was over. Talen grinned as he imagined his opponents trip and slide in furious rage when he weaved around their imaginary fat and clumsy bodies. Then she wouldn't be laughing at him! With one hand on the haystack he jumped over it and ran over to a road next to it, a few people were standing around it drinking, and a couple of young boys were stretching and running back and forth. Looking up the path, a two-hundred-meter part of the road was surrounded by people and a few obstacles. This, this was the race.

[Talen Stirling]

The Race The two main stretches of the road at the beginning and the middle were dry dirt and stone, which'd be peaceful enough apart from vicious shoves from the other boys. Hitting wasn't allowed, but a light shove wouldn't be cared about in the heat of things - And when you're running as fast as you can, a light shove doesn't seem very light. After the first stretch was a small dug-out long hole, which had a little stream in the bottom of it. He felt a little scared, no, not him! The others would, though, it was a place where people would be slowed down down, run into each other and drop out of the race. His eyes quickly moved onwards to the middle stretch of road, which was clean though slightly curved. The last stretch of road, however, was fiendish. Water and soft dirt from elsewhere had been sprayed across the field, and was continuously being wettened by laughing young men. It'd be hell to cross, especially with a dozen other boys hammering their way through it... This day was so exciting! He walked along the trail up to the starting point, it'd be his turn soon and he wasn't going to miss it for the world. After screaming, howling and crying at his mother to be allowed to partake in both challenges, he wouldn't let all his work go to waste. He wasn't any less than the other boys, he wouldn't be seen as frail and someone to be protected. Someday, he'd be the one to protect everyone else, and they'd look up to him. He looked around at his competition, and suddenly felt his stomach ache again. Alot of the boys were taller than him, several had more muscle and they all looked thoroughly mean and grim. There were abit more than a dozen of them. He murmured a little prayer to Priskil about never giving up and never surrendering, and then walked over next to the group. They hardly even noticed him. A tall blonde man with an athetical body, whom he thought were part of the Dandy Guild because of his shiny hair and perfectly cut beard, approached the boys. With a wide smile and a grin, he told them to take up their positions and then announced to the gathering crowd that the race for their age group would begin in a minute. However, at this point Talen had long since stopped listening and shoved his way inbetween two boys who only a little taller than him, and most likely not any faster. His breathing was already fast, and he tried to calm himself by thinking of peaceful things yet failed miserably. How could he be calm when he stood here on the brink of death!? He looked at the crowd for a moment, his mother and father would definetely be out there. He could almost imagine how she'd be angry and concerned and he'd be smiling proudly. Suddenly, the countdown was begun. 1... Talen was quivering a little, but had at least gotten his breathing under control. 2... 3... He crouched down, one foot behind the other though both behind the center of his weight as he leaned forward for a fast start. 5... 6... What happened to 4!? 7... 8... He took a deep breath, and tensed his wiry frame for an explosive start. 9... 10! He exploded, everything was a blur of arms and dust, and suddenly he was free. He didn't dare to look back, but the two next to him had apparently more or less tackled each other and fallen behind. He was hammering across the dirt amongst the front of the pack, only touching ground with the tip of his foot before sending himself forward. He was leaning a little forward as he ran, though he still kept his balance. He'd need it. Sure enough, the first shoulder came towards him yet he dodged below it and the fourteen-year-old who'd tried to tackle him was pulled out of the way by another one. He looked back one second, he was almost a full head taller than him with what looked like dark eyes of fire and brown hair that flew behind him as he ran. He was slowly overtaking him, and so were two other tall boys and blasphemously a lithe girl as well. He suddenly realised they were at the pond, and instead of jumping into it he weaved left behind the others and ran into the water on the flank. It sprayed up about him, along with the water from the others who were falling, shoving and crashing all over each other in the middle. The wet cool chaos lasted a blinding moment as he jumped over flying limbs, and suddenly he was alone. He almost smiled, yet was too winded and focused on running. His feet fell quickly and lightly across the ground, his legs burned and hurt but his determination to continue was empowered by the fact that he was actually in the lead. He instinctively leaned forward and to the right as the path slowly turned, and it felt good to put the strain on another part of his legs. The fact that he was so light and hadn't lost much speed allowed him to keep up a high speed with little effort compared to many of the others, even though it was still causing his lungs to heave and his legs to scream. He hissed and forced himself to run hard, as he could hear the others catching up to him from behind. Looking up, he saw mud but it was impossible to break they'd catch up overtake or shove him out of the way. As he came around the last of the turn, he ran into the mud, feet slipping as he almost feel off the path -- And then suddenly the lower part of an arm hit his shoulder from just behind. He howled in anger and surprise as he flew, skipped and slid off the entire road and stumbled off, falling into a large fisherman who caught him. He shook himself loose and looked back at the trail in disbelief, wide eyed and almost crying. Everyone had overtaken him, even the chubby, slow and small kids were approaching the finish line. The boy who'd shoved him off the trail was celebrating his victory, the same one who had tried to end the run for him earlier. He wasn't that angry at him, disappointed but it was all fair in the ga-- Wait... Was that Alice talking to him? A dull knife was driven into his back and through his chest. Or rather, it felt like it. He stared for a second, images of dreadful things happening to that boy flashing before his eyes like magical divination. Things that he did. He felt hollow, and didn't move. Then, slowly, all of that empty space was filled by anger. Furious and raging anger, anger encapsuled in a prison of ice untill it could be unleashed upon it's target. Suddenly, he could move again, and twisted away from the scene of the atrocity. He walked towards the food stand, there was some time untill the fighting tournament, and his stomach was growling viciously for food. He imagined how he'd trash "that boy" in the tournament, how he'd make him suffer for what he'd done. He smiled, as he saw himself swipe him off his feet with a powerful strike to his legs, and then finish him off with a dramatic stab. His dark dreams of vengeance were disturbed as he popped his head up just over the table selling food, and got a large bowl of stew handed to him quickly. He didn't speak to anyone and avoided the few friends he had as he made his way to the marked areas and sat down on a fence eating his stew with a rough hewn wooden spoon. It was revitalizing, yet he still felt beaten and down. He'd completely failed the race, an embarassment to both his parents and everyone else, including himself. By Priskil, he'd make it up to everyone. No way he'd give up, she'd give him strength and he'd carry on. Blast 'em!

[Talen Stirling]

All's fair in... The finals of the next age group was about to go down. The competitors were wearing a padded leather armour that covered their bodies from the still considerably danger of the wooden swords, as well as leather helmets that were open to the face though the cheek guard was forward enough to still protect it from sweeping strikes. Talen wiped his brow clean of salty sweat, licked his fingers to taste it and then leaned forward as he inspected them begin weaving about each other. They were moving carefully, sometimes moving forward but neither daring to begin the real exchange of blows before they had a position where the other was off-balance or at an angle where he couldn't block properly. It all happened in a flash, one lowered his shield and swung in a sweeping high strike, which the other stepped under and parried with his shield as he cut up towards his opponents sword arm hitting it and then jumping two steps back to avoid his opponents backswing. A judge counted a single hit - They had to strike with sufficient force to do actual damage in a real fight in order to count, and in some cases body parts would be ruled out of use. That same judge would end the fight according to fatal hits and how many one had taken - And how long he would have bled. The rulings were given out based on each fight, though generally few "survived" many blows. The physical violence was in truth not all that great, yet the mental pressure was nothing like practice or games. They wanted to win. Denval was descended from a military outpost, and their ancestors had never completely let them forget that heritage. Many private Denvali practiced martial arts even up into old age in their free time, and many of their young took their "games" dead seriously. At least those that really participated. Talen took it seriously, and watched in concentration as the two of them exchanged blows. Both tried to find an opening by feigning them, by trying to knock their opponent off-balance with the shield or when they made a strike, or create one by making false attacks only to go in from a different angle. The one who'd got a strike in was smiling, and perhaps the fact he had so much excess psychological superiority was the reason he suddenly spread his arms for a wide, tempting and taunting opening that his opponent suddenly lunged for. He overexerted himself, and the first hammered down his shield with wild force ontop of his wooden sword and swiped his own into the side of his helmet with brutal force sending him skidding onto the dirt. Cries of surprise and shock echoed, people jumped in to heal him and the winner was pronounced. Talen absorbed it all with a light shining in his eyes, he wanted it to be him who was standing there victorious. He wanted to be the person whose arms were hoisted in the air and who could bathe in the pride in his familys and friends eyes, and the envy of his opponents. His age-group was approaching the outfitting area, where armour shield and sword was handed out. Obviously, the shield could be chosen to put away yet few did. Talen jumped off the haystack and landed nimbly on his feet, though his legs felt a tiny bit heavy from the running and violent fall. He jogged over to the people handing out equipment, and a burly man helped him pick out equipment for himself. He knew well what sizes he used, everything had to be firm without impeding movement in the least. His shield was a little smaller than the others, it required precision to block with it but a larger one would weigh him down, lock him down and slow him down. And then he'd have lost. The boy from before was there, carrying larger weapons than Talen and looking fearsome. Talen gave him a scorching glance from the corner of his eyes. He'd pay for what he'd done, although this queasy feeling in his stomach he got as he looked at him didn't feel quite right. They were not all that many in the group, and each fight would throw one more person out of the tournament. No rematches and no point scores kept, just a fight and a winner. The air felt strangely heavy, and he pulled at the collar of his leather shirt. It felt too hot, and he felt like he was being strangled by it as the boys were quickly lined up and given numbers by the men who arranged the tournament. The boy next to him was about his own height, a little bulkier with both more muscle and more fat. Durbin, was his name. Talen knew, they'd played several times and fought before. D sent him a friendly stare, but since that kid] was behind him Talen give him a murderous stare in return that was completely unlike him. The judges explained the fight placement. Number one-two would fight each other, 3-4, 5-6, and so on. With 11 opponents one would have to face an extra opponent. Talen smiled viciously, he was number three and D was number four. For once today fortune smiled upon him. There were four marked up areas, and they were all being occupied by the four first pairs. Talen walked with almost a bounce, feeling energy burn under his skin and a wild need to run and strike and move. The stew he'd eaten must've been alive 'cause his stomach felt like it was crawling around in there. He walked over to the one side of the little pen and looked over at D, who looked nervously and threateningly at him. He was carrying a large round shield and a rather broad wooden sword, equipment that looked like it was slightly overly large for him. Talen grinned arrogantly at him and swung his own sword in a cross pattern moving only his wrist. Durbin wouldn't stand a chance with that kind of gear, even if he was strong. Or at least so he told himself. He steadied his breath by taking a few big gulps and letting them out slowly, then raised his shield higher and held his sword down along his side. He sent Durbin a vicious stare - He was going to end this before he got a foot to the ground, if D was scared he'd keep him in that state. "FIGHT!" A voice roared, and Talen exploded in a run towards Durbin rather than the usual slow approach. He pretended to be about to tackle Durbin with the shield first, who naturally shoved his shield forward to block him - But instead Talen swerved right dodging the shield and swinging his sword while moving hitting D's arse with a resounding smacking noise before he could turn and retaliate. He jumped back away from D's heavy swings and in the back of his mind heard the judge count "One!". He smiled at D as he panted, and walked backwards, staying just out of range for D's vicious counter-attack to have any effect. He parried one of D's higher swings and sidestepped quickly a few times to get some space. Where was the opening? When he struck or pulled back, low or high? The big guy swung a low strike and Talen warded it off into the air with the shield and swung in himself only to hit Durbin's massive wooden wall. Pfft, he'd need it big as he was himself. Allright, if there was no opening he'd just have to make one. D swung a wide strike from the side, but instead of dodging it Talen stepped towards it and swung his shield into the blow, the heavier shield sending his sword arm far to the side, while Talen stepped forward, crouched low and slashed hard at D's feet - And missed as he jumped backwards. D's sword came flying back and he used his shield to block it - Only to see Durbin charging him using his shield as a battering ram. He had no time to dodge, and instead swung his shield in front of him barely in time to catch D's straight on. His weight and momentum sent them both flying backwards, D flying over him like an overweight bird balancing shield-to-shield. Not that Talen realised, everything was a blur of weight, force and dust untill suddenly he was free and scrambled on his feet as Durbin did the same. He span around, and calmed himself. It had all been chaos, but now Durbin looked tired and although he felt battered he was ready to kick his ass. He walked forward towards D quickly, and walked sideways around him like a prowling animal. Whenever Durbin tried to lash out, he'd try to punish the extension. He dodged and weaved under strikes, slashed at arms and legs like a viper whenever he moved. If he didn't, he'd attack wildly and suddenly while moving only to pull back after a strike or two and leave Durbin stressed. He moved one foot at a time, pulling it up to the other and taking another step never letting down his guard. With a grunt D stepped in and swung his sword from his left side - Against Talen's sword arm. He took the opportunity. He ducked slightly and raised the blade at an angle to parry D's swing upwards as well as stepped closer and stabbed the blunt edge of his shield up into his opponents chin as hard as he could. The force of the blow sent Durbin falling backwards, and Talen slashed quickly at his arm, then hard at his legs to conclude his fall. A judge yelled something as dust flew to the sides and spittle in the air when D struck the ground.

[Talen Stirling]

War This hadn't come quite as easily as he had expected. People were scurrying around Durbin who was half carried out of the square, and for a moment he almost felt bad for using such a violent move on him. Then he saw the boy and all regrets were washed away, he'd won, and he would move on to the next fight. Besides, D knew what he was in for and probably wasn't all that hurt. He hoped... Bah, of course he wasn't, his fat alone would prevent any serious damage. Talen giggled at that thought, and waved at his dad who was standing next to the square with a broad smile. His father's curly brown hair and stubbles gave him abit of a ragged look that didn't hide the kind, proud smile across his face. He ran over there; the next round would be in some time so he had time for most anything. "Did you see me?! Did you see how I threw him around when he attacked with that huge charge, did you see the shieldpunch? It was perfect! Did you? Did you?" His father just grinned, murmured a yes and then pointed to the boy. "Is that your next opponent? Beware of that one, he's both strong and fast. I saw him before; he'll try to break you with a violent onslaught at first to set himself in respect, you'll have to get through that and counterattack." His father grinned, but Talen didn't see he was busily studying his opponent. They'd talked about swordsmanship many times before him and his dad; his father had explained many things, positions and concepts. "Remember what I told you about hard and soft? If he attacks with great force you need to bend and be soft instead of trying to stop him by force and break." Talen nodded absent mindedly, he remembered well enough. Strong attacks had to be warded off to use their own force against them; weak attacks had to be met with force in order to break them. A simple enough concept, but difficult to master. "Good luck son, even if you have to forfeit I'm already proud of you." He felt a heavy hand pat him on the back and he took a deep breath and walked towards the marked up area where he would fight. He walked slowly into the area and lifted his shield slowly, his opponent standing tall and menacing in front of him. He was one of the few who instead of a sword and shield carried a vast Bastard Sword. He held it low and relaxed, and looked at Talen with a stare that seemed to scream contempt and disregard for such a small whelp. Talen exhaled deeply and held his sword out to the side behind the shield for an attack, a defensive poise where he would block and strike in quick succession. The judge, an elderly man who had more experienced with weapons than perhaps all of the combatants together, raised a blade in his one hand. When he dropped it the fight would begin. He was terrified though he refused to admit it, his mind was overflowing with images of that vast wooden thing splattering his brains across the arena, of his parents crying and himself losing the fight without even being able to raise a blade. "Good luck Talen!" He looked to the side, Alice was laughing at him from the edge of the arena. He smiled back instinctively, and almost raised his sword-arm to wave when instinct caused him to lift his shield to the side - For it to be hit with the full force of his opponent's first strike that sent Talen flying to the side with a shocked grunt. He staggered backwards, and barely managed to spin in the fall to block the next swing; it came up from below and almost threw him up and then down. He almost screamed but had no breath as he fell backwards and his opponent hammered the sword down from below. He desperately threw his shield up but only managed to ward the blow off to the side where it struck his arm and the judge counted one. Suddenly, he stopped his backwards stutter with a foot on the ground behind him, yet his opponent swung blindly in from the side. A form of clarity hit him and he stepped forward ducking low elegantly and holding his shield out to the side at an angle which let his opponent blow slide off softly and quickly into thin air above him. Meanwhile he swung his own blade hard and although the boy tried to dodge he was still counted a strike on one leg. Only two to go. They both walked backwards warily, apparently his opponent had changed his tactic from the onslaught he'd broken. Talen walked down the slight slope, but when the boy attacked he did so at a distance, using his superior range and strength to either force Talen backwards or make it hard for him to parry and counterattack. The long blade came flying down first against his head, and then against his legs. He dodged and parried repeeatedly, but sweat and fear was covering his face; how could he fight him if he couldn't reach him? The blade once again came flying back towards his head and he raised his shield to ward it off - Yet it's directory switched in midair and although he tried to dodge backwards it still tore across the front of his chest. He'd be screwed if he didn't move soon. He took a few steps to each side, looking for an opening even as he swerved backwards from another swing. Fine, if there was none to be had he would make one. He sprinted towards his opponent, but as the Bastard sword came crashing down he knew he wouldn't be able to block it with shield alone; he raised both blade and shield catching the heavy blow with trembling arms and a blunt pain as the force jarred through them. They were close now, and Talen grinned while he parried and kicked brutally upwards just after catching the heavy blow. The boy's eyes widened in pain and surprise as his manhood was struck by a tough leather boot; he flailed backwards but not fast enough as Talen threw himself towards him swinging his shield up towards his sword-arm blocking him from striking down and sliced once - twice - thrice across his chest. A judge roared, and Talen stepped a halfstep back turned around and grinned a vicious smile. "All's fair in--" The ground was hard as steel. The side of his head felt numb, and the ground seemed to tremble up and down as if there was an earthquake. He had won, he shouldn't be lying here now... The ground was dry, the grass was itchy around him and he could hear some people yelling for him. He'd won, he had to get up. The ground was so comfortable though... And black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, calling for sleep. But he had won... & Love He was recounted the events by his father when he woke up close by in a makeshift bed of hay and a single dirty sheet. When he turned around from his attack the older boy had struck a powerful blow in the heat of battle and before he could stop it he'd hit the side of Talen's head with great force, giving him a concussion and knocking him unconscious despite his helmet. There'd been a great deal of worrying and medical treatment then, alot of chaos and fear. What Talen didn't know was that a bleeding inside of his head, even a small one, could quite likely be fatal. Nor was he told; it wouldn't avail anything and those who had seen to him believed he would be allright. He was disappointed more than anything now. Everything he had worked for had failed, and now he was lying in a haystack with strict orders not to move 'lest he injure himself. A few scrapes on his arms and knees were bandaged up thoroughly, and he'd probably be wearing those for weeks or months as well... Curse his curse. He sat up in his bed and looked around; it was growing late and some of the stands were being taken down, people were walking away from the area either home or like many to The Stranger's Welcome for a pint. It was weird; everything was all over, the entire day he'd been looking forward to for a couple of weeks. For once he'd been allowed to participate, and then all of this happened. Suddenly he saw Alice, she was walking towards him and his parents were standing a short distance away talking to a healer. She smiled and waved, and once again his heart jumped up into his throat. He became painfully aware of the fact that he was lying down, and swung his legs out over the side of the haystack-gone-bed. She walked up in front of him and pouted, looking at him with a judging expression; "You shouldn't go get yourself in trouble like that! My brother almost killed you..!" She looked worried for him, and that fact alongside the fact that the boy had been her brother somehow made it feel like he was sitting on a gold throne, rather than one of hay. She sat down next to him on the bed, and he almost jumped up and ran except he felt paralyzed. His limbs wouldn't move, nor would his eyes avert themselves from hers. They were like wells or portals of some wicked spell, drawing him in with a pull like gravity. He tried to smile and speak, but words came slowly through his terrified voice. "Sorry, I.. Just wanted to be good." He smiled a little, but it was whiped from his face when Alice didn't answer but leaned closer towards him. Blind terror gripped his soul as if staring into The Void itself. She kissed him; short and sweet on the lips touched as if by the wings of a butterfly. He was frozen, his mind not knowing what to do or what to think, reeling with the concussion and the experience. And then she was gone, jumping off the haystack and running away with a smile and a wave. Talen smiled absent mindedly; there was something about the way that she moved he liked, but couldn't explain with words.

[Tabarnac]

XP Award! Talen XP Award: Observation +3; Running +3; Longsword +5; Shield +5; Unarmed Combat +1 Additional Notes: Cool beans. The only thing to change is: there is no Watchtower in Denval. Well, there is, but it’s hidden and knowing about it requires approval from me. But regardless, it’s not visible. If you have a desire to develop holidays for Denval, I’d love the help. Just start PMing me ideas so I can help and support you in your efforts. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Keep writing!