From: casmaxim@aol.com (Cas Maxim)
Date: 31 May 1999 02:37:12 EDT
A striking, shrill noise in the still night. Like a blacksmith laboring at his forge, molding red-hot iron into a lethal blade. Like the ominous tolls of a church bell summoning those who are faithful to that sort of thing for services, or, more accurate by the tone, the inacessant nagging rings of a convent's doorbell, summoning the nuns to their daily duties. Or to a trained and experienced ear, the meeting of two
blades clashing, warrior against warrior in a struggle for bloody superiority. Those who guessed that would only be
partially right.
In a open-air atrium,subject to the bluish hue of the early morning sky, as well as illuminated by several torches which burned with a brightness that was fast becoming annoying to his eyes, one Cassius Gaius Maximius was feinting, thrusting, cutting,parrying,stophitting...an illusion. And he was winning. The illusion was not a spectre, nor a nightmare, but rather a manifestation of Cassius's own magical powers, and an intentionally created one. One
might call it a "training dummy", except it could move, and think, albeit on a mystical program. Cassius had been sparring with this illusion all night, instructing it to take on the styles of the various Warlords of the DoS. Over the course of the eve, it had wielded various weapons...longsword, broadsword, katana,scimitar,battle axe,gladius, sabre...even it's own bare fists a couple times. None of them sharp, of course...this was not the Arena,
there was no Ward, and he definitely wasn't gonna risk injury *here*. Sweat ran down Cas's brow, his onyx eyes locked onto the illusion, looking for the slightest hint of motion. That hint came...so did commitment..a thrust lunged in with a practice broadsword...and Cassius dropped into his Roman stophhiting position, and stopped it cold. 5th point. Spar over. Satisified, Cassius banished the illusion with a wave of his hand. He had beaten that
particular style 5 times that night, he felt me mastered it. Imperator was sheathed quickly, and Cassius went around, gratefully snuffing the torchlights. He then stepped onto the balcony and leaned heavily against a white marble railing, looking out into the rolling hills, the sun gently rising above them. He had lost the Sixth Ring to Lupton this Friday. Tomorrow, he would rebound. As he walked in, he thought pensively....considering that the
rewards of victory the next eve were rewards he was not certain he wished to claim, should he be triumphant. But..maybe he would. After all...*if* he were to win the Tournament, he would have earned the shot, no? But banish such thoughts. They were far away and very possibly not in reach anyways. But as he laid himself to be besides his beloved Laylla, the centurion knew this: He was a fighter. And would come to fight.
((OOC: Warlords in the Tournament, I encourage you to write something similiar.))
Cassius Gaius Maximius
Laylla's husband.
Roman pretorian
Warlord in DoS
Former Baron of the Sixth
Mage in DoM
Member of HDT
"I am an honorable man, but to duel me is not a pleasant experience, if only for the pain"
Twas the Night before the Tournament....
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: simini@aol.com (Simini)
Date: 31 May 1999 07:42:16 EDT
Simini awoke as usual to the slanting rays of dawn upon her bed. This day, though, she was not required to get up and begin her chores about the farm. This day, she'd arranged for one of the Kelly boys to get them done.
This day, she was allowed the privilege of snuggling close to the Baron beside her and staying in bed a few more hours.
This day was the Tournament, and she needed her sleep.
Date: 31 May 1999 07:42:16 EDT
Simini awoke as usual to the slanting rays of dawn upon her bed. This day, though, she was not required to get up and begin her chores about the farm. This day, she'd arranged for one of the Kelly boys to get them done.
This day, she was allowed the privilege of snuggling close to the Baron beside her and staying in bed a few more hours.
This day was the Tournament, and she needed her sleep.
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: gnrtdrgoon@aol.com (GnrtDrgoon)
Date: 31 May 1999 09:34:37 EDT
G'nort sits alone, for now, in his tavern, doing the same thing he does before any tourney, or matchup. Making a hearty breakfast and enjoying a good meal. He's practiced enough in his lifetime, and this, his swansong, should simply be for fun.
Date: 31 May 1999 09:34:37 EDT
G'nort sits alone, for now, in his tavern, doing the same thing he does before any tourney, or matchup. Making a hearty breakfast and enjoying a good meal. He's practiced enough in his lifetime, and this, his swansong, should simply be for fun.
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: dreystarke@aol.com (DreyStarke)
Date: 31 May 1999 11:45:06 EDT
He licked his lips polishing his blade with a cloth and smooth stone to sharpen it. He simply stopped all of a suddenly and lets his eyes rest out the window of his room. His head propped up against the palm of his hand while his elbow lying against the table beside him.
Drey smiled and reason being, he was enjoying his stay at this community. A warlord's tournament he then grinned about and it was also his first. Whatever ever they are and about, he would surely find out first hand. He closed his eyes for a moment thinking about it before picking up his blade and cloth.
He began polishing it once more before going to sleep.
Date: 31 May 1999 11:45:06 EDT
He licked his lips polishing his blade with a cloth and smooth stone to sharpen it. He simply stopped all of a suddenly and lets his eyes rest out the window of his room. His head propped up against the palm of his hand while his elbow lying against the table beside him.
Drey smiled and reason being, he was enjoying his stay at this community. A warlord's tournament he then grinned about and it was also his first. Whatever ever they are and about, he would surely find out first hand. He closed his eyes for a moment thinking about it before picking up his blade and cloth.
He began polishing it once more before going to sleep.
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: pkardinal@aol.com (PKardinal)
Date: 31 May 1999 12:28:24 EDT
Phil didn't even worry about the tournament that night. He lived for every breathing minute and didn't worry about the future. What happens happens, and in most cases there is nothing he can do about it.
Practicing won't make him a better dueler as of now. Dueling on and off for three years is what made him a good dueler. Watching his opponents and looking for openings in their stance is what made him a good dueler. Being aware. Practicing the night before a Warlords' Tournament will do jack squat.
The night before the tournament Phil went out to a few bars and met a few girls of names he can't remember, and they became just a few more notches under his belt. He sat at home and got his rest after that. That was about all he could do besides the fact of doing a little bit of reading and wiping off his blade, Peacekeeper, before he went to bed.
Phil woke up the day of the tourney and took a few deep breaths, feeling a bit better than normal. He then went outside to enjoy the morning dew on the freshly cut blades of grass and the newly budded flowers. After eating a heary meal, he went for a jog and then hit the weights for a little longer than usual. It was time for him to win this Tourney.
Date: 31 May 1999 12:28:24 EDT
Phil didn't even worry about the tournament that night. He lived for every breathing minute and didn't worry about the future. What happens happens, and in most cases there is nothing he can do about it.
Practicing won't make him a better dueler as of now. Dueling on and off for three years is what made him a good dueler. Watching his opponents and looking for openings in their stance is what made him a good dueler. Being aware. Practicing the night before a Warlords' Tournament will do jack squat.
The night before the tournament Phil went out to a few bars and met a few girls of names he can't remember, and they became just a few more notches under his belt. He sat at home and got his rest after that. That was about all he could do besides the fact of doing a little bit of reading and wiping off his blade, Peacekeeper, before he went to bed.
Phil woke up the day of the tourney and took a few deep breaths, feeling a bit better than normal. He then went outside to enjoy the morning dew on the freshly cut blades of grass and the newly budded flowers. After eating a heary meal, he went for a jog and then hit the weights for a little longer than usual. It was time for him to win this Tourney.
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: aspenminds@aol.com (AspenMinds)
Date: 31 May 1999 13:36:15 EDT
Sitting alone in his two room house/shop, the florist considered all that was done and all that will be done. He took his blade down off the wall and pulled it from it's sheath. It glowed a blood red from the fire that crackled in the hearth a few feet away. After checking it over he found no dents in the white blade. Using a polishing cloth he
polisted the blade for a time before sheathing it and hanging it back on the wall. He wondered at what had possesed him to make such a large purchase. Shaking his head he banked the fire and rolled into bed, falling asleep within moment.
It was even before sunrise when he awoke. His blankets and pillow thrown about his room from his horrible dream last night. Gingerly touching his nose he realised that it had not been a dream but in truth, reality. He couldn't beleive it. He would make his apologies to those who needed then later today. After gathering up all his blankets and his pillow he made his bed into a neat soldiers bunk, just as he had been taught. He then went to
cheek on his plants, watering those that needed it and those that needed trimming or clipping or what not. After several hours long aftr the sun had come up he stepped out onto the street and opened his shop. This day was like any other for him, the night is when it changed forever. All he could do is see how the sales would go this morning and find out his fate this evening. He turns back into his shop and tenders to the flowers that are for sale
and awaits a customer.
Aspen
Date: 31 May 1999 13:36:15 EDT
Sitting alone in his two room house/shop, the florist considered all that was done and all that will be done. He took his blade down off the wall and pulled it from it's sheath. It glowed a blood red from the fire that crackled in the hearth a few feet away. After checking it over he found no dents in the white blade. Using a polishing cloth he
polisted the blade for a time before sheathing it and hanging it back on the wall. He wondered at what had possesed him to make such a large purchase. Shaking his head he banked the fire and rolled into bed, falling asleep within moment.
It was even before sunrise when he awoke. His blankets and pillow thrown about his room from his horrible dream last night. Gingerly touching his nose he realised that it had not been a dream but in truth, reality. He couldn't beleive it. He would make his apologies to those who needed then later today. After gathering up all his blankets and his pillow he made his bed into a neat soldiers bunk, just as he had been taught. He then went to
cheek on his plants, watering those that needed it and those that needed trimming or clipping or what not. After several hours long aftr the sun had come up he stepped out onto the street and opened his shop. This day was like any other for him, the night is when it changed forever. All he could do is see how the sales would go this morning and find out his fate this evening. He turns back into his shop and tenders to the flowers that are for sale
and awaits a customer.
Aspen
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: wickedblde@aol.com (WickedBlde)
Date: 31 May 1999 15:44:52 EDT
The sparsely lit chamber afforded little room for sight, providing only the faint delineations of the seated form upon his throne of alabaster. A suppressingly heavy cloak pinned the creature to its perch and melted into the cobblestone floor as a cascade of black blood would seep down a sanguinary escarpment and encroach on the flat. Abruptly a shrill creak of a door preluded the crack of light that gradually evolved
into a piercing beam.
The silhouette of a figure corrupted the pouring light and the seated body shifted to catch favorably the remaining quantity. His eyes cracked aridly open "Who disturbs my repose?" Contemptuous. Dark, mirrorlike eyes and ashen skin rejected the illumination and appeared almost etherial in the stark contrast of white and black, light and darkness.
The crippled, hunchbacked figure dragged itself through the mouth of the doorway; its sheer ugliness effaced any semblance to either sex, and, for all means and purposes, such a label was unnecessary for a creature that would never procreate. "M'lord,"--a raspy, itching voice--"'Tis th' daye thou hast requested moy address." It fumbled nervously with its grossly disfigured hands.
"I see; marvellous. Velegath--" The seated figured paused in thought, "--retrieve me my blade and oil it."
"And sharpen the serrations." Seraph amended with strict extemporaneity. "--Tonight is strictly business."
Date: 31 May 1999 15:44:52 EDT
The sparsely lit chamber afforded little room for sight, providing only the faint delineations of the seated form upon his throne of alabaster. A suppressingly heavy cloak pinned the creature to its perch and melted into the cobblestone floor as a cascade of black blood would seep down a sanguinary escarpment and encroach on the flat. Abruptly a shrill creak of a door preluded the crack of light that gradually evolved
into a piercing beam.
The silhouette of a figure corrupted the pouring light and the seated body shifted to catch favorably the remaining quantity. His eyes cracked aridly open "Who disturbs my repose?" Contemptuous. Dark, mirrorlike eyes and ashen skin rejected the illumination and appeared almost etherial in the stark contrast of white and black, light and darkness.
The crippled, hunchbacked figure dragged itself through the mouth of the doorway; its sheer ugliness effaced any semblance to either sex, and, for all means and purposes, such a label was unnecessary for a creature that would never procreate. "M'lord,"--a raspy, itching voice--"'Tis th' daye thou hast requested moy address." It fumbled nervously with its grossly disfigured hands.
"I see; marvellous. Velegath--" The seated figured paused in thought, "--retrieve me my blade and oil it."
"And sharpen the serrations." Seraph amended with strict extemporaneity. "--Tonight is strictly business."
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: deluthan@aol.com (Deluthan)
Date: 31 May 1999 18:24:40 EDT
He awoke late that afternoon, and the blistering daylight had found its path through the east-bedroom window 'hind which he slept, piercing his opaque eyelids. Launching the deerskin blanket from atop his body, he sat and twisted until his feet met the floor. The silhouette rose into the cottage air, its nakedness bathing in the warm sun's waters. Over the man's right, his reflection stared at the rectangular
crimson burn across his shoulder and chest--an effect of an over-tight sheath strap--from behind the netherworldly mirror.
Today will be the first step, Del thought as he tangled with his own decadent irises. He would allow the engulfment of his own selfish desires to push him through tonight. Failure this time would mean delay, and more punishing time as this creature he had morphed into. He seeked escape, and no veteran, upstart, ex-baron, nor pride-induced warlord would stand in his way.
Not if he could help it.
Date: 31 May 1999 18:24:40 EDT
He awoke late that afternoon, and the blistering daylight had found its path through the east-bedroom window 'hind which he slept, piercing his opaque eyelids. Launching the deerskin blanket from atop his body, he sat and twisted until his feet met the floor. The silhouette rose into the cottage air, its nakedness bathing in the warm sun's waters. Over the man's right, his reflection stared at the rectangular
crimson burn across his shoulder and chest--an effect of an over-tight sheath strap--from behind the netherworldly mirror.
Today will be the first step, Del thought as he tangled with his own decadent irises. He would allow the engulfment of his own selfish desires to push him through tonight. Failure this time would mean delay, and more punishing time as this creature he had morphed into. He seeked escape, and no veteran, upstart, ex-baron, nor pride-induced warlord would stand in his way.
Not if he could help it.
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: carnage669@aol.com (Carnage669)
Date: 31 May 1999 19:49:31 EDT
Cletus opened one eye. The bright sun immediatly filling it, sending a sharp pain through his head. He lay motionless for a few minutes before attempting to open the other eye. That yeilded the same conclusion.
Cletus layed on his back, both eyes open, staring straight up at the ceiling. His mouth was dry. His head pounded. His body ached. Whatever happened last night, he was feeling it now. Cletus rolled back over and closed both his eyes, determined not to get out of bed until the last possible moment.
Date: 31 May 1999 19:49:31 EDT
Cletus opened one eye. The bright sun immediatly filling it, sending a sharp pain through his head. He lay motionless for a few minutes before attempting to open the other eye. That yeilded the same conclusion.
Cletus layed on his back, both eyes open, staring straight up at the ceiling. His mouth was dry. His head pounded. His body ached. Whatever happened last night, he was feeling it now. Cletus rolled back over and closed both his eyes, determined not to get out of bed until the last possible moment.
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: karnafexx@aol.com (Karnafexx)
Date: 31 May 1999 19:49:41 EDT
Billy sat in the tap room of the Dead Nicholas, doing what he did second best, drinking up a storm. As always, Gideon Mars stood gaurd from the hidden alcove, watching William with a mixture of dread and admiration. Billy was able to withstand enourmous amounts of damage and be up and running in a matter of hours, or days depending on the injury. He also had a hard time getting drunk because of his bodies habit of regenerating itself.
Billy's body saw the yukon as a poison and leeched it out of his system almost as fast as he drank it.
As he neared the end of his third bottle of Jack, Billy slid out his sap gloves and a can of Dark Beech leather oil and started cleaning the gloves. It was a habit he had had for years to work away the butterflies of important matches.
Billy was fully aware that he was trying to make history again tonight, trying to once again do something noone else had done. As far as he knew, noone had ever won three warlords tournaments, Billy, Ian and possibly one other person had been two time winners. With Ian out of the picture for good it seemed, Billy was in good contention to reach the mark first.
All of that he would give up happily for the chance to meet a few choice people in the ring in the next few nights, and crush them into dust.
One person he DIDN'T want to duel was Kaprielle, someone he had the utmost respect and admiration for. Aside from that, Billy had to admit to himself that he'd loved the woman for quite some time, something he would have to get around to telling her eventually. He'd always hesitated because he felt himself the type of man women would love to have a fling with, but never bring home to momma.
As he popped open the fourth bottle of Yukon Jack within two hours, he figured on handling first things first.
Date: 31 May 1999 19:49:41 EDT
Billy sat in the tap room of the Dead Nicholas, doing what he did second best, drinking up a storm. As always, Gideon Mars stood gaurd from the hidden alcove, watching William with a mixture of dread and admiration. Billy was able to withstand enourmous amounts of damage and be up and running in a matter of hours, or days depending on the injury. He also had a hard time getting drunk because of his bodies habit of regenerating itself.
Billy's body saw the yukon as a poison and leeched it out of his system almost as fast as he drank it.
As he neared the end of his third bottle of Jack, Billy slid out his sap gloves and a can of Dark Beech leather oil and started cleaning the gloves. It was a habit he had had for years to work away the butterflies of important matches.
Billy was fully aware that he was trying to make history again tonight, trying to once again do something noone else had done. As far as he knew, noone had ever won three warlords tournaments, Billy, Ian and possibly one other person had been two time winners. With Ian out of the picture for good it seemed, Billy was in good contention to reach the mark first.
All of that he would give up happily for the chance to meet a few choice people in the ring in the next few nights, and crush them into dust.
One person he DIDN'T want to duel was Kaprielle, someone he had the utmost respect and admiration for. Aside from that, Billy had to admit to himself that he'd loved the woman for quite some time, something he would have to get around to telling her eventually. He'd always hesitated because he felt himself the type of man women would love to have a fling with, but never bring home to momma.
As he popped open the fourth bottle of Yukon Jack within two hours, he figured on handling first things first.
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: karnafexx@aol.com (Karnafexx)
Date: 01 Jun 1999 01:09:40 EDT
It was later that night that he and Kappy sat in his double wide hot tub in his private room at the Dead Nicholas, drinking wine and celebrating their fortunes.
"Only a few more wins babe...and we both come off winners."
Her reply was cut off as he pulled her under the warm, soap water, into an embrace.
Date: 01 Jun 1999 01:09:40 EDT
It was later that night that he and Kappy sat in his double wide hot tub in his private room at the Dead Nicholas, drinking wine and celebrating their fortunes.
"Only a few more wins babe...and we both come off winners."
Her reply was cut off as he pulled her under the warm, soap water, into an embrace.