CHAPTER FOUR
Lynard walked up the stairs to the second floor of the inn after giving the girls the clothes he had bought for them. He soon entered his room and locked the door. As he looked outside, he realized it was getting late, and he needed to hurry. He donned the new breastplate he had gotten for himself, as well as bits of armor for his legs and left arm. He always left his right arm unarmored to allow for better movement. He grabbed his sword and gave it a quick polish before heading out the door. As he reached the bottom floor, he walked quietly past the girls room. "The less they know, the better." He softly said to himself. He successfully made it past their room and headed out the front door. He walked down the short pathway to the main road and made his way to the fighting arena. He had said before that money was not an issue for him, and that was the truth. In almost every large city, shady nobles would hold fighting tournaments. The winner of such a contest would be rewarded with a hefty sum of money, and this was Lynard's main source of income. He had registered his name earlier that day, and mentally psyched himself as he walked there. He had won each contest he'd ever competed in, but as he constantly reminded himself, pride has been the downfall of many a great fighter.
As he approached the entrance to the arena. He was stopped by two armed guards. After giving his name while one guard checked the list, he was allowed to pass. He quickly made his way to the waiting room and sat down until the beginning of the contest was announced. Though Lynard did this often, he did have one regret. These contests were battles to the death, which meant either kill or be killed. Normally he didn't have a problem with this, as many of the fighters that participated simply did it because they enjoyed the act of killing. Lynard felt that the world would be better off without them anyway, and saw it as an opportunity to cleanse the world of these men and receive a nice sized bag of silver for doing it.
There were twelve combatants tonight, which meant the fighters would be paired off against one another. Lynard heard the announcement being made that the fighters were ready, and the tournament would begin. The sound of masses of people yelling could be heard faintly within the thick stone walls. Lynard heard the first two names called....Neither of them his. Lynard left the waiting room and walked down a dark corridor until he came to the opening of the arena to watch the battle. He did this not because he enjoyed it, but because he needed to judge his enemy's weaknesses and battle tactics. Two men walked up behind him. They were the fighters that were to compete in this battle. The two men walked out into the middle of the arena amidst jeers and screams from the crowd. The one on the left was a tall, lanky man. Not nearly as tall as Lynard, mind you, but compared to most men, he was a giant. He was quite thin as well, which probably meant he had quick moves and could easily dodge any number of slow attacks. The other man was of stocky build, and somewhat fat. He had a thick black beard and mustache, and was obviously strong, as he weilded a gigantic war hammer. The tall man instead brandished a thin saber from seemingly out of nowhere and the two fighters took their stances. The bell sounded and the fight began.
The strong man made the first move. He lept with surprising speed and brought his hammer down where the other warrior's head had been just moments before. "Looks like this fight will be a test of agility. If one of them can execute a surprise attack, they could have it won." Lynard said to himself. Back in the ring, the strong man looked over his shoulder just in time to duck a quick slice of the saber, obviously meant for his head. In one fluid motion, the strong man shifted his weight and brought his hammer round in a horizontal arc. The hammer struck the tall man in the side and knocked him a few yards away. However, as the blow lacked proper leverage, it did minimal damage. Lynard mused. "I'd be surprised if he even had a broken rib after that attack." A few moments later, that appeared to be the case, as the tall man seemed to have trouble breathing, making his performance in the arena lacking. He attempted an attack, but his saber was deflected by the head of the war hammer as it raised high into the air. After gasping for breath, the tall man looked up in time to see the flat metal surface of the hammer collide with his head. The momentum of the hammer carried the man's head under it until it reached the ground. The man's skull was crushed instantaneously, leaving blood, bone and brain matter splattered over five yards away from his body.
The strong man raised his hammer over his head and yelled in a language that Lynard couldn't understand, as he was declared the winner. He was granted permission to rest in the waiting room until his next fight. The fight following was a dissapointment to the fans, as it ended quickly and with one blow. Apparently a newcomer had made the mistake of underestimating these fighters, and had falsely believed he could win. He was cut down in an instant by a much more skilled fighter. The next seven battles were mundane at best. Lynard had seen it all before. After all, he had been doing this for years. The two fights he had participated in up to this point had been won with nearly no contest. He did receive a small wound on his left shoulder however, by a small man armed with a dagger. "Most likely a thief." He thought. The man had dodged one of Lynard's attacks and had stabbed him right under the shoulder plate of his armor. He had quickly been dispatched however, as Lynard had taken hold of the thief's arm and slung him into the wall, leaving a large blood stain that trailed down to the man's body crumpled on the floor of the arena.
Lynard held his bandaged shoulder as he prepared for the final round. Since there was an odd number, it would be a three man melee. He had participated in melee's before, but not often. the best tactic is to attempt to team up on one of the opponents, letting someone else expend their energy fighting, then taking advantage of the survivor's resulting fatigue. Lynard surveyed his final opponents. One of them was the strong man from the first round, who now only had half his original beard, and was missing two fingers, but otherwise fine. The other man was strange. He had brought no weapons with him, and fought only with his hands, which were bound in dark blue cloth. He wore a face mask and short hood, while the rest of his attire was tight fitting. At first glance Lynard had thought he was crazy, with no weapons or armor, but after seeing him defeat two people unscathed, he decided not to underestimate him.
As the three opponents walked to the center of the ring, they formed a circle and faced each other. The weaponless man gave a small bow to each of them, and Lynard returned the bow as a warrior's courtesy. This seemed to surprise the man, but he hadn't time to contemplate it, as the bell was rung, signifying the start of the battle. Lynard gripped his giant sword in his hand and moved around the hooded figure, hoping to take him out first, as he was confident that he could successfully dodge the strong man's war hammer. Instead of attacking him, the hooded man hopped backwards towards the strong man. With his back still facing him, he jumped and executed a flying roundhouse to the strong man, shattering his ribcage and leaving him barely conscious. With the strong man unable to fight, the hooded man was free to focus his attention on Lynard. "Dammit! This is not going the way I wanted it! Now I have to fight this freak by myself." Lynard waited, not stupid enough to make the first move. The hooded man waited for a moment as well. As they circled each other, Lynard stared intently into the man's eyes. As dawn began to break, and the arena's lights were turned off, the hooded figure moved so quick Lynard could barely follow. He had seemingly vanished into the shadows. With this man's obvious talent of deception and illusion, Lynard knew better than to trust his eyes at a time like this.
Lynard let his eyes lose focus in the breaking dawn, and listened. The crowd was silent, not wanting to miss even a second of the fight. "Good," Lynard thought."as long as they keep quiet I can find this guy." A footstep! Lynard turned and swung his sword. He didn't feel a connection. "Missed! Dammit!" He stood still once more and listened more intently. After a moment, he heard another footstep. As he was about to swing, he stopped. "No, that was too light to be a footstep. This guy must be throwing damn rocks to throw me off." Suddenly he heard a slightly heavier thud and brought his sword round, holding back none of his strength. He felt it connect, and heard a loud thud in the now bloody sand that made up the arena's floor. As the sun arched over top of the arena, it was clear to everyone who was the winner. The hooded figure's body lay sliced in half below the ribcage, with arms severed at the elbows. Lynard smiled. He had defeated his last opponent, and would make enough money to feed himself, Talia, and Dione for a few weeks at least.
The crowd roared with cheers, as a man in fancy clothes entered the arena. he announced Lynard the winner, and handed him a bag of silver. Lynard felt the weight of the bag. "Damn, this is more than most of the other prizes. I guess that's what I get for coming to a popular city like this." He smiled as he walked back down the dark corridor to the arena's exit. As he left, the two guards, who had been taking turns watching the fights, congratulated him on being the winner. He thanked them both and headed back towards the inn. The adrenaline and thrill of battle finally wearing off, Lynard found himself exhausted. He realized he would only get a few hours sleep, but he made plans to sneak in a nap that afternoon while the girls were off in the city. Lynard stripped off his armor and lay down just as the sun rose completely. Content that he had won enough money to keep their group fed and sheltered, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Lynard walked up the stairs to the second floor of the inn after giving the girls the clothes he had bought for them. He soon entered his room and locked the door. As he looked outside, he realized it was getting late, and he needed to hurry. He donned the new breastplate he had gotten for himself, as well as bits of armor for his legs and left arm. He always left his right arm unarmored to allow for better movement. He grabbed his sword and gave it a quick polish before heading out the door. As he reached the bottom floor, he walked quietly past the girls room. "The less they know, the better." He softly said to himself. He successfully made it past their room and headed out the front door. He walked down the short pathway to the main road and made his way to the fighting arena. He had said before that money was not an issue for him, and that was the truth. In almost every large city, shady nobles would hold fighting tournaments. The winner of such a contest would be rewarded with a hefty sum of money, and this was Lynard's main source of income. He had registered his name earlier that day, and mentally psyched himself as he walked there. He had won each contest he'd ever competed in, but as he constantly reminded himself, pride has been the downfall of many a great fighter.
As he approached the entrance to the arena. He was stopped by two armed guards. After giving his name while one guard checked the list, he was allowed to pass. He quickly made his way to the waiting room and sat down until the beginning of the contest was announced. Though Lynard did this often, he did have one regret. These contests were battles to the death, which meant either kill or be killed. Normally he didn't have a problem with this, as many of the fighters that participated simply did it because they enjoyed the act of killing. Lynard felt that the world would be better off without them anyway, and saw it as an opportunity to cleanse the world of these men and receive a nice sized bag of silver for doing it.
There were twelve combatants tonight, which meant the fighters would be paired off against one another. Lynard heard the announcement being made that the fighters were ready, and the tournament would begin. The sound of masses of people yelling could be heard faintly within the thick stone walls. Lynard heard the first two names called....Neither of them his. Lynard left the waiting room and walked down a dark corridor until he came to the opening of the arena to watch the battle. He did this not because he enjoyed it, but because he needed to judge his enemy's weaknesses and battle tactics. Two men walked up behind him. They were the fighters that were to compete in this battle. The two men walked out into the middle of the arena amidst jeers and screams from the crowd. The one on the left was a tall, lanky man. Not nearly as tall as Lynard, mind you, but compared to most men, he was a giant. He was quite thin as well, which probably meant he had quick moves and could easily dodge any number of slow attacks. The other man was of stocky build, and somewhat fat. He had a thick black beard and mustache, and was obviously strong, as he weilded a gigantic war hammer. The tall man instead brandished a thin saber from seemingly out of nowhere and the two fighters took their stances. The bell sounded and the fight began.
The strong man made the first move. He lept with surprising speed and brought his hammer down where the other warrior's head had been just moments before. "Looks like this fight will be a test of agility. If one of them can execute a surprise attack, they could have it won." Lynard said to himself. Back in the ring, the strong man looked over his shoulder just in time to duck a quick slice of the saber, obviously meant for his head. In one fluid motion, the strong man shifted his weight and brought his hammer round in a horizontal arc. The hammer struck the tall man in the side and knocked him a few yards away. However, as the blow lacked proper leverage, it did minimal damage. Lynard mused. "I'd be surprised if he even had a broken rib after that attack." A few moments later, that appeared to be the case, as the tall man seemed to have trouble breathing, making his performance in the arena lacking. He attempted an attack, but his saber was deflected by the head of the war hammer as it raised high into the air. After gasping for breath, the tall man looked up in time to see the flat metal surface of the hammer collide with his head. The momentum of the hammer carried the man's head under it until it reached the ground. The man's skull was crushed instantaneously, leaving blood, bone and brain matter splattered over five yards away from his body.
The strong man raised his hammer over his head and yelled in a language that Lynard couldn't understand, as he was declared the winner. He was granted permission to rest in the waiting room until his next fight. The fight following was a dissapointment to the fans, as it ended quickly and with one blow. Apparently a newcomer had made the mistake of underestimating these fighters, and had falsely believed he could win. He was cut down in an instant by a much more skilled fighter. The next seven battles were mundane at best. Lynard had seen it all before. After all, he had been doing this for years. The two fights he had participated in up to this point had been won with nearly no contest. He did receive a small wound on his left shoulder however, by a small man armed with a dagger. "Most likely a thief." He thought. The man had dodged one of Lynard's attacks and had stabbed him right under the shoulder plate of his armor. He had quickly been dispatched however, as Lynard had taken hold of the thief's arm and slung him into the wall, leaving a large blood stain that trailed down to the man's body crumpled on the floor of the arena.
Lynard held his bandaged shoulder as he prepared for the final round. Since there was an odd number, it would be a three man melee. He had participated in melee's before, but not often. the best tactic is to attempt to team up on one of the opponents, letting someone else expend their energy fighting, then taking advantage of the survivor's resulting fatigue. Lynard surveyed his final opponents. One of them was the strong man from the first round, who now only had half his original beard, and was missing two fingers, but otherwise fine. The other man was strange. He had brought no weapons with him, and fought only with his hands, which were bound in dark blue cloth. He wore a face mask and short hood, while the rest of his attire was tight fitting. At first glance Lynard had thought he was crazy, with no weapons or armor, but after seeing him defeat two people unscathed, he decided not to underestimate him.
As the three opponents walked to the center of the ring, they formed a circle and faced each other. The weaponless man gave a small bow to each of them, and Lynard returned the bow as a warrior's courtesy. This seemed to surprise the man, but he hadn't time to contemplate it, as the bell was rung, signifying the start of the battle. Lynard gripped his giant sword in his hand and moved around the hooded figure, hoping to take him out first, as he was confident that he could successfully dodge the strong man's war hammer. Instead of attacking him, the hooded man hopped backwards towards the strong man. With his back still facing him, he jumped and executed a flying roundhouse to the strong man, shattering his ribcage and leaving him barely conscious. With the strong man unable to fight, the hooded man was free to focus his attention on Lynard. "Dammit! This is not going the way I wanted it! Now I have to fight this freak by myself." Lynard waited, not stupid enough to make the first move. The hooded man waited for a moment as well. As they circled each other, Lynard stared intently into the man's eyes. As dawn began to break, and the arena's lights were turned off, the hooded figure moved so quick Lynard could barely follow. He had seemingly vanished into the shadows. With this man's obvious talent of deception and illusion, Lynard knew better than to trust his eyes at a time like this.
Lynard let his eyes lose focus in the breaking dawn, and listened. The crowd was silent, not wanting to miss even a second of the fight. "Good," Lynard thought."as long as they keep quiet I can find this guy." A footstep! Lynard turned and swung his sword. He didn't feel a connection. "Missed! Dammit!" He stood still once more and listened more intently. After a moment, he heard another footstep. As he was about to swing, he stopped. "No, that was too light to be a footstep. This guy must be throwing damn rocks to throw me off." Suddenly he heard a slightly heavier thud and brought his sword round, holding back none of his strength. He felt it connect, and heard a loud thud in the now bloody sand that made up the arena's floor. As the sun arched over top of the arena, it was clear to everyone who was the winner. The hooded figure's body lay sliced in half below the ribcage, with arms severed at the elbows. Lynard smiled. He had defeated his last opponent, and would make enough money to feed himself, Talia, and Dione for a few weeks at least.
The crowd roared with cheers, as a man in fancy clothes entered the arena. he announced Lynard the winner, and handed him a bag of silver. Lynard felt the weight of the bag. "Damn, this is more than most of the other prizes. I guess that's what I get for coming to a popular city like this." He smiled as he walked back down the dark corridor to the arena's exit. As he left, the two guards, who had been taking turns watching the fights, congratulated him on being the winner. He thanked them both and headed back towards the inn. The adrenaline and thrill of battle finally wearing off, Lynard found himself exhausted. He realized he would only get a few hours sleep, but he made plans to sneak in a nap that afternoon while the girls were off in the city. Lynard stripped off his armor and lay down just as the sun rose completely. Content that he had won enough money to keep their group fed and sheltered, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.