InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Ah blitznack!"

The Dragon Age (thedragonage) wrote in thebattleage,
@ 2011-06-16 22:53:00

Entry tags:

! complete, (plot), brennan wulfe, cormac murrough, elsa vargas, imenry barras, vashedan

Tournament: Combat final round
Who: Open to all, Imenry Barras, Vashedan, Alistair Theirin (NPC)
When: 4 Solis, 9:45
Where: Vigils Keep Arena
Summary: The combat finalists face off on the field.
Rating: T

With each day the crowds grew bigger, Alistair had felt like that for quite some time now, and although he was aware that it was great news for Amaranthine, for the Grey Wardens and for the spirit of the people, it made his nerves worse. More people staring at him, hoping he would be the awesome war leader that he felt he wasn't.

Squinting out over the crowds, he swallowed and asked himself if they really did enjoy listening to his speeches or if they were just very polite about it. Either way, he thought a trifle triumphantly, this day he came prepared. Late last night he had hunted down Bethany and convinced her to write a speech for him. It had taken some wheedling, and the notion that for once Alistair would hold a speech worthy of his position, but she had accepted. Alistair was convinced she'd do a better job than he would himself, and than Dougal too for that matter. (Souvenirs, he scoffed to himself). Her brother was the Champion after all, public speaking probably ran in the family.

Rising and unfolding the sheet of paper, Alistair cleared his voice and looked down on it. A reverent silence fell over the audience and he could see hundreds of faces turning towards him, like flowers in sunlight. Swallowing again he felt his mouth go completely dry as his hands started to sweat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the fourth day of the tournament. With each passing day, the stakes have risen, the battle has grown fiercer..." Alistair found himself getting immersed in the words written on the paper with her small, cramped hand. It looked like an ant had drown in her ink-pot and then done a final, struggling walk over the sheet of paper, but he could feel the words coursing through him, their power making his blood flow quicker.

"Today we will watch two of the finest warriors battle, testing their strength, endurance and skill against each other. Seventy-five sovereigns are at stake, but also so much more, ladies and gentlemen. This is the day when one of our combatants will walk away a winner forever, richer not only in money, but in glory."

Cheekily, Bethany had even included some instructions for him, and he found himself following them without thinking; lifting his hand in an imperious salute.

"Let the fight begin!"

Slumping back in his chair, he could only hear the sound of his blood crashing and chasing through his body at a too quick pace. Only when it didn't abate did he realise that it was the sound of the crowds cheering, chanting his name, the name of the Grey Wardens, of the city, everything in a jumbled mass.

Alistair decided on the spot that Bethany was to write all of his speeches from that day on, because clearly it was a win-win situation for all of them. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward to look at the combatants as they approached each other.

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imenry
2011-06-22 12:51 am UTC (link)

Imenry was prepared when she stepped out across the dirt-packed ground of the arena today. She’d practiced long and hard and had trained most of her life. If she couldn’t win today’s fight then perhaps her opponent was simply better. That would be a hard pill to swallow. Out of the warriors in the village, Imenry had always been the strongest, fiercest one of her class. She’d been better than all of her peers because she’d worked harder than all of them. The tournament thus far had shown her that she worked harder than many warriors across Thedas. Some of them she’d had strength on, years of experience, others the power and stamina of youth.

Today she knew she was facing the kind of opponent people rarely fought against. The woman, the Tal’Vashoth she’d heard her called, hailed from a race so far north that their kind were rarely seen here, and the fact that she was a woman was apparently even more uncommon. To Imenry, that meant nothing. Woman or man they werely a fighter, and if this woman had advanced to the final round of combat against her, then she was a warrior to be respected.

Imenry didn’t find herself intimidated by the woman’s size or strange appearance either. She was other, foreign, but so had Imenry always undeniably been in this world of lowlanders. Around her the crowd was cheering. She didn’t know who they were cheering for or against and it didn’t matter. The audience was secondary to her. The fight was why she was here. It wasn’t the money, nor the glory the Warden Commander had spoken about. It was a simple test for herself, set by herself. If she failed, then she needed to get better. If she succeeded then she wouldn’t become lax in her training. That was how one ended up dead on the battlefield.

Standing in the center of the arena, Imenry slowly drew her blade, comforted by the heavy weight of it in her hands, the way the hilt warmed against the calluses of her hands as she let her eyes scan the area and waited for her opponent.