A purple haze took to the land, for the noonval sun bore heavily even in the evening, and as the millions of bodies relaxed upon a particularly harsh day, a carriage bolted across the stone, towards a large estate that was but a quarter of an hour away, although it would have normally taken a half hour, but the finely adorned guards blew their horns.
“Why are you so worried?” one called, towards the one figure who was the target of a thousand assassins.
“I fear you may disrespect the warriors and they shall take it to heart and hold it against me,” Miriam admitted, speaking with an earnest heart, for this matter weighed more than even the assassins upon her mind.
“I’ll try not to.”
Miriam could feel it in the air.
He was going to.
The estate was as one expected, large, expansive, green, holding but a touch of luxury, but it was an estate which was to house warriors, who preferred the views of simpler matters, and the guards there were the kind which were not acceptable enough to protect them, but they would still protect them with duty upon their breasts, proudly displayed with the stylized lion of Aswadasad, to those who wore breastplate, to those who wore their shalwar, each adorned in turbans, and beards of steel, with scimitars at their side.
As the carriages rolled in, the figures stood, the warriors stood, all five, each of whom were great warriors, each at least Masters, each at least in their thirties, some reaching their fifties, or at the very least, looked to appear in their fifties, and so were more than likely sixty.
“It must be they,” the largest said, adorned head to toe in steel, and wore a large greatsabre upon his back.
“Noor Illuminates, they are so young,” the fellow said, adorned in pure white, wearing a small hat atop his head, a thick beard flowing down to his chest, a long blade strapped to his side.
As the figures all revealed themselves, from those whose hands were callused, even to a woman who was not built to step onto the battlefield, her hands too soft, the figures called out their greetings.
“Amira, do you jest?” the fellow in steel called, tall, wide, thick with muscle, even under his steel, his short beard thick, greyed by time, one tooth silver as he grinned wide like a beast.
“He’s mine,” Adam whispered to Jurot, who let out a small huff through his nostrils, for he was definitely the kind who fought with great strength, but he stepped back for his brother’s sake.
Miriam glanced aside to Kal Zahid, the pair then looking to the figure who wore the amulet of death over his chest, and the two let out a soft sigh. “Kal Strong Steel Sword, please teach this young man a lesson.”
“If the Amira has requested I teach this young man a lesson, what can I do?” the older Aswadian stated, forming a fist, cracking his knuckles. “What sins did you commit to make even the demure Amira ask me to beat you well?”
“Demure?” the half elf replied, causing the two glance his way once more. “I suppose I did commit quite the sin last ni-,”
“Adam,” Kitool called.
“Oh. No, not like that! I’m married! How can you suggest such a thing! I just mean I beat u-,”
“Adam,” Kitool called once more.
Adam froze in place, wetness surfacing on his eyes, and the half elf trembled lightly.
“Ah? You are a strong one?” Strong Steel Sword called, feeling the aura emanating from the half elf.
“Something like that?”
“Oh ho? A young man who does not know his place in the world?” The older Aswadian reached for his blade, drawing it, rolling his shoulders as he readied himself. “I must thank the Amira for such a delicacy.”
“I’m only going to fight if you don’t hold back,” Adam replied, donning his helmet, and before they could all greet themselves, the two stepped to the side to begin their bout. “Make sure you all watch carefully!”
“I am Navid, they call me the Strong Steel Sword,” Navid said, clasping his blade with both hands, circling his blade over his shoulders to warm his muscles and to stretch them.
“I am Adam, they call me a fool of a Mo,” Adam replied, causing the older man to let out a most thunderous bellow, until finally he grinned wide like a beast once more.
“Shall we begin?” Navid roared.
spinning the blade over his shoulders
Battle Order
D20 + 1 = 3 (2)
“Oh dear,” one of the women called. “To allow Strong Steel Sword to go first? What a shame, what a shame, Noorshukhur.”
“What a shame,” the man with the small white hat called.
“…”
“You do not agree?” Pious Sword asked, as the half dragon’s eyes remained completely focused on the bout.
Mana: 39 -> 38
Spell: Shield
Defence: 26 -> 31
Health: 140 -> 120
Strong Steel Sword’s was strong and steely, for he managed to force even the half elf back, who winced as he leapt backwards away, his shield arm shaking slightly.
‘What?’ Navid thought, for though he had managed to force the half elf away, there was no way he should have seemed so eager to fight. “Oh ho? Strong! Strong indeed!”
“I’m sorry, Kal Navid, but my brother and sister are watching, and if they tell my children I lost…” Adam inhaled deeply.
Fighting Spirit: 3 -> 2
Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage)
D20 + 11 = 23 (12)
D20 + 11 = 28 (17)
Hit!
Mana: 38 -> 37
Ability: Divine Smite
4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 31 (15)(7)
31 damage!
Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage)
D20 + 11 = 16 (5)
D20 + 11 = 26 (15)
Hit!
Mana: 37 -> 36
Ability: Divine Smite
4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 27 (11)(7)
27 damage!
Onward Soar: 1 -> 0
Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage)
D20 + 11 = 21 (10)
D20 + 11 = 26 (15)
Hit!
Mana: 36 -> 35
Ability: Divine Smite
4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 33 (17)(7)
33 damage!
Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage)
D20 + 11 = 23 (12)
D20 + 11 = 25 (14)
Hit!
Mana: 35 -> 34
Ability: Divine Smite
4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 30 (20)(7)
30 damage!
As Strong Steel Sword was forced back by the violent clash, the others around watched with sheer shock, as the half elf’s axe glowed white and rocked through the older Aswadian, who was at least a Grandmaster.
Impossible was the thought.
However, the Amira had all called for them on such short notice, sending them letters that evening to prepare themselves for a bout, and should they claim victory against their opponents, a thousand silver awaited them.
Impossible was the thought as Navid inhaled sharply and flexed his muscles, rushing forward, and clasping his greatblade in both hands, he swung violently.
Mana: 34 -> 33
Spell: Shield
Defence: 26 -> 31
Health: 120 -> 100
Attack: Heavy Axe
D20 + 11 = 28 (17)
Hit!
Mana: 33 -> 32
Ability: Divine Smite
4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 27 (16)(2)
27 damage!
Attack: Heavy Axe
D20 + 11 = 29 (18)
Hit!
Mana: 32 -> 31
Ability: Divine Smite
8D6 + 4D6 + 9 = 57 (28)(20)
57 damage!
As the pair clashed once more, the others watched with bated breath, for how was the half elf, who bobbed and weaved, who shouldered the greatblade, who took a knee to raise his shield to block a heavy blow, and then sprung upwards with such spryness, and whose axe blurred with such terrible force, it even forced someone with the word Strong in their martial epithet, stumbling backward, until finally, with the force of such great holy fury, the man flew back, steel scraping against stone as he groaned.
The half elf exhaled, groaning slightly, and with his heart pounding heavily in his chest, he let out a soft sigh. “Thank you for the fight, Kal Navid! Who is ne-,”
“Adam,” Kitool called, causing the half elf to freeze once more. Her steps were silent as she approached, leaning in to whisper into the half elf’s ears. “It is a good chance to form connections with great warriors of Aswadasad.”
‘Oh yeah,’ Adam thought.
“You also promised the Amira you would not disrespect them.”
Adam sheathed his axe, and tied his shield to his back as Navid grunted, managing to find his place within the world once more, though could barely keep himself upon his feet as he flexed his muscles, unable to feel anything.
“Thank you so much, ahm!” Adam declared, clasping his palm over his fist, bowing his head. “As you can see, I possess some strength, but there are few who were able to wound me as you have.”
“Mo, what kind of monster are you, and how have I never heard of you?” Navid grumbled back, reaching to his side, feeling an even greater ache in his back as he remained keeled even as he stood.
“They call me Mo Adam, High Alchemist of the United Kindom, but elsewhere I am known as the Crazy Father.”
“Ah!” Navid called, standing suddenly, his back twinging once more as he half knelt, pointing to the half elf. “You are that Adam!”
‘Oh?’ Adam thought.