Closed Spring Tournament Finale

[Magpie]

Timestamp: 78th of Spring, 513AV Participants: Vanator and Riaris There was a moment of breathless silence as the crowd's focus was entirely on Nivar, whose dramatic pause lengthened into one of confusion as the door at the side of the arena was flung open. A lean Akalak sprinted in, carrying a scroll of parchment. He shouted "Sir!" across the arena as he ran towards Nivar, and the flurry of muttering throughout the arena quieted to hear what he had to say. It was for the judge's table only however, and the young man skidded to a stop before the leader of Riverfall and began speaking in agitated, hushed tones. The observers directly behind the judge's table leaned forward over the barrier in an attempt to listen in. It was the people on the other side of the arena that got a better idea of the message being conveyed. They watched in silence as Nivar Chivan's face went from curiosity, to shock, to dark fury. All eyes suddenly moved to the open door of the arena, where a group of men had entered and were moving rapidly towards the judge's table. At the head of the group was a Kuvay'nas Akalak with a tall, thin, shady-looking human man. Behind the pair were three more Kuvay'nas, dragging a desperately struggling Gilaman Jawcrusher between them. The human man stopped in front of Nivar, offering a smug half-bow. There was a brief exchange of words, during which the crowd grew noticeably restless. Nivar cast the crowd a look, also agitated and clearly struggling with something. The gaze fell on Vanator and Riaris in the center of the ring, and there was a touch of fatherly protection in his face. "People of Riverfall!" The thin stranger's voice was strong when he suddenly addressed the anxious onlookers, but there was no mistaking the vein of self-satisfaction to it. "You have been decieved!" The words silenced the crowd, but it seemed the arena itself had inhaled in shock. "This man, who you welcomed into your city with open, trusting arms," He raised one arm to indicate Gilaman, who seemed to only struggle harder under the crowd's regard. "Came here not as an honest man seeking battle, but as a slaver! Fleeing from his debts to me. He sought out your best and most worthy, to sell them!" He turned and seemed to mock Gilaman as he continued to speak to the crowd. "'The Akalaks are strong,' he told me. 'They'll make fine slaves. Give me seven days to return with their best.'" The man seemed to enjoy the hiss of anger from the people watching. "Were those not your exact words in your parting message?" Gilaman let out a desperate cry and dug in his heels in an attempt to flee. His voice was lower as he looked terrified at the thin man. "I can pay! I...I... This is just a setback-" The words were not intended to carry far, but those in the front rows heard enough and a cacophony rose as the message was passed. "No, no, no, I mean, he's lying! I'm not-" The damage had been done however. An infuriated cry rose up in the crowd and it surged forward against the seating barrier. One soul, a grizzled, muscle-bound Akalak, jumped the barrier and began to pound furiously towards the bound Gilaman, drawing his lakan. "You'd take my brothers, you-" "No!" Nivar's firm, authoritative shout gave the man some pause. "This petching-" "Lykon Orina, you will stay your hand!" The Akalak halted on the spot, looking back, but the dam had been broken. A squall of angry Akalaks surged over the barrier where Lykon had jumped. The pair of Kuvay'nas at Gilaman's elbows tried, half-heartedly to protect him from the rush, but they were overrun and the three men disappeared in the crush of the crowd. Some saw Gilaman headbutt an oncomer before disappearing under the tide of people; a few saw him wriggle into a discarded cloak under the pile of thrashing bodies; and almost no one saw him crawl into the crowd and slip away. Save two men: the nearly-forgotten combatants of the ill-conceived tournament. OOC : The beginning of the end! This will be a traditional-style thread, with posts from each of you and myself in turn. Feel free to throw rocks at me if I take too long!

[Vanator]

Vanator had clambered to his feet, panting, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat and a coating of dust stuck to it. He looked over at Riaris and smiled, clapping the big Akalak on the shoulder. But when the messenger arrived at the judges table, and Jawcrusher was dragged in, Van knew something was wrong. His grin turned to a scowl of confusion, his brow knitted. Then at the revelation of the true motive behind the contest, his countenance shifted to a grimace of ire. That the tournament had been a sham was disconcerting enough, agitated that he and the fine citizens and rulers of Riverfall had been duped. But the word slaver added a dimension of rage to the Drykas' anger, the subject a matter of great passion and pain for the once enslaved Denusk, whose family had also suffered from the blight of slavery.

Looking over at Riaris, Vanator began to stalk across the area floor, his fatigue forgotten, his hand gripping the weighted wooden ax that he wished was now authentic. The crowd was getting rowdy, a few rambunctious Akalaks moving towards the captured Gilaman. Nivar stayed the outraged Riverians for only a moment when mob mentality won out and the crowd went for the traitor. By the time Vanator would arrive, Gilaman would be behind a wall of Akalak several bodies deep. He stood and watched, hoping the colored warriors exacted their justice upon the man. But an eye trained to spot danger in the endless Sea of Grass caught a glimpse of Gilaman crawling between legs, the mob oblivious in their blind rage. Van watched the offender snatch a garment and wrap it around him.

The crowd had gathered around thick, those not close enough to strike or scramble to get hold of Gilaman watched and jeered. When Vanator spotted him stepping from the back of the distracted crowd, he smacked his comrade lightly on the chest with the back of his hand, indicating the escaping criminal who tried to slip unobserved towards an exit. The Drykas trotted off to intercept, knowing Riaris would follow, or even take off ahead of him to stop Gilaman from escaping.

[Riaris Dovukalis]

There was relief with the end of the fight and as he laid still, Riaris could feel his body relaxing and the strain on his muscles slowly going away. What he needed now was a good long nap, and he would probably take one after the tournament was finished. He gave Vanator a look of respect and stood himself, taking a moment to slap his own skin and knock off the dust that wasn't caked into his sweaty flesh. Riaris had fought hard and well and he felt no shame. While claiming the final fight was what he wanted, he was ready to hear that the Drykas had gotten the best of him.

He could deal with that, Vanator was fierce opponent and his victor would be well deserved. But the truth that came was the last thing the Akalak wanted to hear. They had all been fooled, Akalak and Drykas parading around for the amusement of others, and what was worse, he wanted to make them into slaves? Riaris grunted loudly and clinched his fist tightly, he stormed off along side his companion ready to use what strength he had left to destroy Gilaman when the crowd erupted and the mob broke out.

Riaris watched closely, his pale gaze pushing passed all of the bodies circling and swarming into each other as they all tried to get to Gilaman. The Akalak calmed his breathing, but his temper was on the rise and boiling over. He too noticed the rat Gilaman scurrying away, and after Vanator pointed out his direction, Riaris followed him, ready to finish the fight they had been robbed of.

[Magpie]

Under cloak, Gilaman gave one last terrified look at the crowd pushing and climbing over itself and slipped out the side door he'd been dragged through just chimes before. His steps were erratic as he ran down the narrow corridor, kicking up the dirt floor in his wake. He heard the door open behind him and as the shouts of angry people suddenly filled the corridor, he took the last few feet in a sprint, breaking into the sunshine outside and abruptly turning left.

There were few people outside, a few of them turning with interest towards the flung open door. The interest passed though and Gilaman moved quickly down the street in a jog with his head down and hood up over his face. Not looking where he was going, he rammed shoulder-first into a bulky Akalak carrying a large bundle of metal rods over one shoulder. The man's face opened up in surprise as he caught a glimpse of Gilaman under the hood.

"Hey, you're-"

"Get lost!" Gilaman snarled, and looked back in horror as the door to the arena opened behind him. Of all people, the two competitors he'd just seen came barreling out of the corridor, sending Gilaman into an immediate panic. He turned and broke into a pounding sprint, praying the men behind him would be too tired to pursue very far.

There was a busy intersection ahead, and he realized with a rush of triumph that it was the road to the main gate. A quick turn left and he'd be home free...

[Vanator]

Pain shot through Vanator's bruised thigh as he and Riaris headed up the mob charging after the treacherous Gilaman. Bursting from the arena, they saw him in a brief heated exchange with an Akalak before running in horror before the crowd. Only adrenaline kept the exhausted Drykas moving, thoroughly drained by the intense battle with his big companion. Gilaman turned towards the main gate, Vanator's strength quickly giving out.

The Denusk still gripped the weighted wooden battle ax in his hand. An idea came to mind, not a good one, but one driven by desperation and sheer anger. There were others around, pedestrians that Gilaman moved through. Van lifted the ax in one hand, his gait becoming more stilted as he leg rebelled against him. Gauging the man's path, speed, as well as his own, Vanator waited until he had a clear shot. The Drykas roared a warning, and the street crowd parted as they saw the horseman's intent. Then Van flung the sparring ax at Gilaman, putting his aching back and sore shoulder into the throw, hoping it had the distance, and aim, to bring the man down long enough for them to get their hands on him.

[Riaris Dovukalis]

What a battle it had been, the Akalak vs the Drykas had been a long, and hard fought battle to the very end. Riaris couldn't remember a more worthy fight other than those that ended with someone's death. It appeared now that the death would still come, only it wasn't Vanator he was aiming for. He ached good, bruised muscles responding to his continued use of them despite their plea for rest. With the proud warrior, Drykas at his side, they both exploded from the area and got a very good look at the yellow tail of Gilaman as he fled towards the gate.

Riaris wasn't sure what to do, the slaver was getting away and they were still too far off to catch him. They could follow him through the gates and on into where ever he ran, but then they'd possibly run into other troubles as well. With Vanator's called to clear the lane, Riaris looked over and saw what he was planning. The Akalak burst into a hard sprint, pulling everything he had left into his legs and arms. If it worked and Vanator even caused the man to stumbles, he would be right on him.

[Magpie]

A sharp cry burst from Gilaman's throat as his escape was thrown askew. A sharp pain threw his shoulder forward, nearly toppling him off balance. Instinctively, he looked back for the source, seeing only a wooden axe falling to the ground and a mountain of violet muscle bearing down on him. He could only make an incoherent noise as he fell underneath the man, but regained his bearings enough to lash out with a viscious right hook. There was a painful crack of flesh against flesh, and he had just a second's opening.

The cloak under him came loose in the struggle and Gilaman tore it off, exposing the huge gold belt strapped to his back. He was barely able to scrabble away but saw with horror that the way to the gate was now crowded with shocked onlookers. Some were pulling away while others pushed forward for a better look, or worse, to join the brawl.

In an act of pure desperation, Gilaman lunged forward and yanked a Konti by her cloak from the ring of spectators. Her yelp turned to a shriek of terror as he whipped the ornate, pearl-handled dagger from her belt and pushed it against her throat. Her bag fell and loaves of bread and apples tumbled to the ground around them.

There was an immediate uproar in the crowd, and he pushed the dagger ever harder into the woman's pale neck, until a thin stream of blood trickled down to stain her white dress. "Back off! BACK OFF!" Gilaman screamed furiously at the pushing crowd, dragging the woman around in circles to pull her between him and whatever soul stepped closest. "You think I won't do it?!"

Continuing his dizzying spins with the now-sobbing woman, the crowd backed up ever further, men looking furiously to one another for a plan. Only Riaris and Vanator were left closest, and he paused to look at them, eyes wide and deranged. "It doesn't have to end this way; it doesn't, man." His voice dropped to a low whisper, adjusting the blade against the woman's neck so it pressed higher, away from the cut he had made. "Just tell them you're taking me in. The just let me go. That's it."

He seemed to focus on Riaris, the closer of the two. "You want this belt, man? Take it. It's yours, just-" He reached around to his back, drawing a rattled gasp from the Konti as she pulled uselessly at his dagger hand. The belt came loose from the harness and he threw it to the ground between them. "Just let me go, man. It's yours. Just tell them you're taking me in. We can all walk out of this winners."

[Vanator]

Vanator's muscles protested as he surged towards Gilaman, watching the wooden ax cause him to stumble, then Riaris pouncing on him. By the time the Drykas reached them, the man had slipped free of the Akalak and seized upon a frightened Konti. Vanator halted in his tracks, breaths panted through clenched teeth. Seeing the coward draw the blood of the helpless hostage ignited an indignant fire in the Denusk's being, burying the fatigue of the fight and chase.

"Hurt her and you are dead anyway, you petching bastard!" Van barked in rage, fists clenched. The Drykas drew no closer though, nor made any move that would compel the desperate man to do something rash. Gilaman turned his attention back to Riaris, who's hulking mass stood closer. Van looked at his friend, seeing the fury bottled in his violet features. He had seen Riaris' anger before, something that he feared could lead to the Konti getting hurt if that side of his companion were to be unleashed.

Van all but scoffed when Gilaman offered the champion's belt. He had offended too deeply to buy anyone off with such a meaningless offer. Once Gilaman's attention turned more fully to Riaris, Van inched closer, ever so slowly.

[Riaris Dovukalis]

Riaris sure that he had him, after Vanator's powerful throw the thug was knocked to the ground and he had him. Or it seemed that way before Gilaman rocked his head with a strong hook. Reaching a meaty hand up, Riaris rubbed at his jaw. He would make sure that the human paid for that. Then, no sooner than when he had the thought, a cry rang out as the fiend took a woman captive.

He was a disgusting creature, and worse Riaris had failed to end him, leaving him the chance to take a hostage. And a Konti no less, which angered the Akalak even more. He felt weak at not being able to handle this himself, and now others were getting involved. This would not due. There was a subtle change in his features, a change in stance as well when he pocketed his wooden lakan and kneeled down to retrieve the belt. Recoomas glanced at the Drykas warrior as he turned the heavy golden belt and laid it across his shoulder.

Recoomas took a deep breath as he looked around at the crowd, then back to Gilaman who was still strong arming the woman. He was a foolish man to make such a request, and publicly as well. Who knew how many people heard what he said besides he and the Drykas. The man had no tack, but that wasn't surprising given that he had no guts either. "If we're going to do this.." he started lowering his voice so that only the four of them could hear. "You have to do exactly what I say, anything else and you're finished."

He gave another glance to Vanator and turned back to Gilaman and waited for him to agree. "First release that woman. No one will believe that I'm taking you in while you've got a hostage. Second you're going to walk in front of me with your hands behind you as I..take you in. Vanator here will keep the crowd back and once we reach the gate you can leave and never return...But if you try to make a fool of me again..I will snap your neck now get moving." He gave a last look towards Vanator letting him know to follow close. As soon as they were away from the crowds...Gilaman would die.

[Magpie]

He had to stay calm.

If he could just stay calm, he could get out of this.

Gilaman was starting to regret having grabbed the women who was now trembling in his arms, each of her breaths accompanied by a shaking moan. At the same time, grabbing her had allowed him the time to bargain for his life with the men before him. He’d underestimated these people, both in his plans for the tournament and now. If he had just slipped out a moment earlier – just a single chime – he might have made it to the city gates and be home free by now.

Except he hadn’t; he’d left when he had, gotten stopped, and now here he was with a knife to a woman’s throat and his belt on the ground. The Drykas scoffed at his offer, curling a pit of resentment in his stomach. Maybe he should’ve started in the Sea of Grass; the Drykas weren’t as notorious for their strength, but they’d have made just as fine slaves.

He was almost surprised when the Akalak actually took him up on his offer. Somehow, he had expected it not to work. The Konti under his hand gasped and he could hear her whispering, “No…Don’t let him…Don’t…”

Shifting his grip, he adjusted the knife again and she quieted. He was loathe to give her up – she was his shield against getting sliced open the first step he took. His attention was fully on Riaris now, ignoring the Drykas. That one had principles, fat load of good they’d do him. Keeping his voice low, as the Akalak had, Gilaman hissed back, “How do I know you won’t cut me down the second I let her go?” Saying it aloud made it seem horribly probable. “If I die, that man in the arena will take the belt and you won’t see a single miza for your trouble. Let me live, and I can convince him to let you keep it. On your honor-”

“Honor? You-“ The Konti piped up tremblingly, and his grip tightened immediately, quieting her once again.

“On your honor, and before your Gods,” He added for good measure. “Will you let me leave this city alive?” Mizas, honor, and loyalty to the Gods; Gilaman couldn’t think of any other ways to make this man hold to his word.