The BlackSand Tournament I: Round I, Duel IV

From Valen Battler of The Coliseum

Valen Battler of the Coliseum (3845)

Valen was sitting in the small inn room he had picked for the night. It was frugal. The room only hosted a hay bed against the wall, a desk with chair and a small, opaque mirror. “Not bad for a few coppers” Valen thought weighting the coin sachet that was hung on his waist.

He stood up, moved to the front of the mirror, and stared into his reflection. His rugged, brown beard covered most of his face. He was shirtless. His shoulders were broad and his pectoral muscular. He run his fingers against the several scars he had collected across years of fights and skirmishes. He stopped his hand on top of one of them. Right next to his heart, a short scar just a few inches long. Not the deepest cut on his skin, but definitely the deepest cut in his soul.

He had collected it during the darkest night of his past. A night he wish he could forget. Yet, a night that turned him into the man he was today. The night he became a warrior.

His tribe had convened for the holy rite of passage that would turn him from just a boy into a man. He had waited for that night for years: to finally become part of the tribe warriors. Never he could have expected what that night eventually turned into.

Driven by fear and jealousy, the men and women of his tribe attacked Valen instead of celebrating him. Fearful that he might become too strong of a warrior, unstoppable in his raise to tribe chieftain. So they hit him with everything they had. Spears were thrown, arrows loosened, sword drawn. But he avoided, parried, and stopped all attacks, fighting back with all his rage. And he killed them all. One by one.

Until she came. The only love Valen had ever known. Beautiful, she stood in front of him, dagger in her hand. And she charged him. In shock, Valen didn’t even try to defend himself and her knife pierced him right next to his heart. Leaving that hideous scar in his body, soul, and mind. “Maybe she missed on purpose. Maybe she did not mean to” he tried to recollect, still hopeful. But he brought his attention back to his reflection in the mirror. A small tear fell down his left cheek. He shook his head and chased those memories away: “Not point in this.”

The sun was now high in the sky and it was time for Valen to head to his duel. He wore his fur armor and picked up his weapon and helmet. He then left the inn and quickly walked to the nearby tournament arena.

Fighting was all he had left. It was the only way he could free his mind of his thoughts. The only way he could live in the present, leaving his past behind. The only way he could think of a future.

He was ready. His axe and shield held firmly. His blue helmet covering his face. “I am ready” he exhaled.

From Urlok Amputator of Bears

Urlok Amputator of Bears (4132)

Urlok was running fast in the night, his loyal jaguar Forcett following him closely. They were out hunting. “Hunt hunt in the night” Urlok grunted with his high-pitch goblin voice. The trail they had been following had gone cold a few days earlier. But finally they had picked it back up.

They were chasing a Noar Bear: a rare creature that only lived in the lands of the North. “Why down south?” Urlok grunted again, questioning why the bear would venture so far from his northern home. After a few days of hunting, they had travelled all the way from the Rabbit Lake to BlackSand. Yet the bear always seemed to evade them. Until now. “Hunt, hunt” Urlok instructed Forcett, who immediately recognized the order and sprinted ahead.

The bear was close, Urlok could feel it. Forcett’s task was to attack it from the front and push it back towards Urlok. Then Urlok would engage the bear. Most goblins wouldn’t dear fight such beast. But Urlok was no common goblin. His broad shoulders and tall legs made it quite large compared to his peers and his muscular arms gave him the strength of a full grown bull. Especially his right arm, which had been magically replaced with a massive, furry bear arm he had grown accustomed to control as if it was his own.

And with that arm he launched his attack as soon as the Noar Bear appeared. “I got you” Urlok yelled, and he punched the bear hard right on its nose with unbelievable strength. The bear groaned loudly in pain before collapsing to the ground, defeated. Urlok decided not to kill it: this species was too rare to kill. Instead, he cut some fur and carved out only the few teeth he knew would quickly grow back. Afterall, he needed something he could trade for some gold coins.

“Trade now” he grunted in approval weighting his hunting prize on his left hand. “Few coppers. Let’s go city now” Urlok told Forcett. They left the bear, that would probably awake in a couple hours time, and headed to the nearby city of BlackSand to trade.

Once in the city, Urlok quickly found demand for his hunting spoils. A merchant with a round stony face offered one gold coin for the teeth and a few more silver for some samples of the fur. “Good trade.”

The merchant, seemingly more interested in his bear arm than what he had just traded, told Urlok he should participate in a fighting tournament. “Urlok very strong in fighting” Urlok told the merchant, who nodded in approval and told him to head to the tournament arena in four day-time. “Strange merchant” Urlok admitted, slightly confused.

Four days later he showed up for the tournament. “Good money for win” he told Forcett, almost apologetically, as the jaguar seemed more interested in getting back to hunting rather than walking around the city streets. “Time to fight fight” Urlok said, as his name was called from inside the fighting pit announcing the start of his duel.