"Faris! It is good to see you!" Gork pat Faris heavily on the back. Faris laughed as he kept himself from falling.
"Ditto friend!" There were over 30 Urgals of various ages sitting in a campfire. They were heavily equipped, and a few sported some faded scars. 15 years ago, they would have given any random villager a heart attack. But now after the peace time…
"So, this is Uluthrek's pup?" One Urgal said, ripping the leg off a roasting deer with sheer force and biting into is with a terrifying ferocity.
After peace time it would still be something terrifying. But they weren't attacking him, and they were wearing an interesting headwrap.
"So, what's with the pink bows?" Faris asked innocently.
"Oh these? Lady Nightstalker commanded that if we were to enter the human kingdom peaceably, we wear these, these are apparently a symbol of nonaggression. Is it correct?" Gork looked at Faris.
Faris held back his smile. The bow was quite large and frilly, tied to the top of his horn, it was so out of place to the rest of him that it all came off as a surreal fever dream. "Well, I have no doubt any attackers would freeze up looking at those." Gork smiled at his words, which only made it harder for Faris to keep himself from cracking up. "So, why are you so near the kingdom?"
Gork puffed up his chest in pride. "We were the village representatives for the Great Games!"
Faris recalled his lessons on Urgal language and culture with Angela.
"The Urgals are an extremely combat oriented race, not just out of an innate bloodlust, but for a need to exert physical dominance over others. An Urgal dam won't glance at a male unless he as defeated at least one opponent. Eventually fighting amongst themselves become too detrimental and an Urgal goes out to hunt down deadly beasts or even men, facing them in order to be seen as worthy. For this reason, Urgals don't have as much time as they could to devote time to cultivating their own lands, which were before only in the worst parts of the spines. This gave a second reason as to their invasion of human settlements, the need to get food and livestock. Nasuada giving them land helped solve the issue of them raiding villages for food, but the second issue was their need to prove themselves in order to propagate. Nasuada then decided to host these great games every 5 years, humans, dwarves, Urgals, and even a few elves would attend, feats of strength, speed, skill and intelligence would be measured between each of them."
Faris was scarfing down a bowl of oatmeal as Angela covered the nuances of the great games.
"But ebrithil?" He asked, "The Urgals still needed to kill an opponent did they not?"
"Well normally, but the fanfare and prestige of the occasion attracted Urgals to it, through this, Urgals would not only be judged as strong amongst their peers, but also be judged amongst the best each race had to offer. While Urgals are a good deal stronger than humans on average, some human men have been shown to be swifter of foot, defeating Urgals in foot races. And the many skill-based challenges such as archery, spear throwing, and even wrestling have shown that humans and dwarves are capable of surprise upsets. The first of the games went quite well, and the second is in a few years."
"You're entering the games Gork? But you're only eight years old."
Gork shakes his head, "True, but I'm not joining the adult competitions, I will be a representative for the junior competition." He pats Faris on the head. "Besides I'm taller than you now Ushnek.
Faris did have to admit Gork resembled a fit and lanky teenager as opposed to the little kid he would have expected.
"Yes, he is almost as fit as I was when I was his age." An older looking Urgal youth smirked.
"Oh, be quiet Zhodar." Another Urgal chuckled.
Faris opened his eyes in alarm, Zhodar looked at him, then harrumphed before turning to the side.
"You defeated me Faris when you were merely half my age, and with that weak human body, you are blessed by Ahno and I did wrong provoking you, it taught me that power isn't everything."
Fairs looked at him surprised. "So, you don't hold a grudge?"
"I merely regret being unable to have a rematch. Why? Would you like to have another go?" Zhodar gave him a fierce grin. The Urgals turned to watch them with interest.
Faris thought to shake his head, then smiled. "Actually, I think I need the practice, I've got an impossible fight in two days."
"Oh?" Gork looked at him with interest, "I noticed your sword, are you a warrior in training?"
Faris shook his head, he began speaking of his time in the capital as a mage-in-training, the altercation between Seya and his friends, and agreeing to take the challenge all on his own. As he explained the rules of the duel to them the urgals grunted. "Basically, I could not in good conscious have my friends fight alongside me when they were already too exhausted. I should have taken better control over Seya's actions. And I knew they were too injured to accept the battle and hope to win, at least not without expending too much energy."
"So, are you saying you are sacrificing yourself?!" Zhodar roared in anger. Faris flinched at his ferocity. "Where's the pup that defied me?!"
"What are you talking about?" Faris yelled, dodging his punch.
"The you back then wouldn't be so cowardly giving up! He'd win, by any means! Even by a way I'd find unfair!"
Faris widened his eyes. "So, you knew?"
"It took him a few years to put it together." An older Urgal cackled, the others merely watched the battle with interest.
"So, they devised trickery to hurt your allies?! Then hurt them back! Destroy them! Make them regret facing you!" Zhodar lifted his fists to crash down of Faris, Faris ducked then yelped as the kull's fist snapped the tree at his back.
"Are you trying to kill me?"
Zhodar backed up and folded his arms. "You beat me before, and you're faster than before, now you have both strength and cunning, when you previously had cunning. So, what, there are more enemies than before?! Never enter battle expecting your loss!"
"Who said I was doing that?!" Faris yelled, punching Zhodar in the face. The kull's face was tougher than before, but so was Faris's fist, the giant of a boy stumbled. Faris clutched his hand. "Geez! Is your face made out of iron or something!?" He winced as he shook his hand in discomfort.
"Hmmm… are you scared Faris?" Zhodar wiped the blood from his face, grinning.
"No, I'm mad." Faris scowled. "These duels are honestly stupid, winning a battle means you can no longer deny the second fight, or you forfeit too much. So, the best thing to do is make them know they can't win. Well, now they think they can win, and they probably can, there's being confident, and being delusional. I already know I've lost!" He held is hand to stop Zhodar from shouting a retort. "Right now, all I want to do is make them regret looking my direction, I'm going to exhaust as much of their reserves as possible, destroy any expensive and intricate looking gear, and break as many bones in as painful a way as possible. And I want to use all the meager power I've amassed for it, so that when I do lose, they'll get diddly squat!" He laughed at Zhodar's smirk.
"So, you already thought along the same lines as I?"
"Well yeah, I'm not stupid, nor am I so cowardly that you of all people need to give me a pep talk."
"You aren't the hornless bastard I took you for all those years ago then Faris." He turned to the other Urgals. "Ushnark." He looked at the oldest of the Urgals present, he had whiskers resembling a Chinese Fu Manchu and thin beard combination. He had a heavily scarred face and body, detailing his exploits.
"Yes?" He chose to speak in the Urgal language.
"Would you mind if I give him the 'gift' the dwarves gave us?"
The scarred warrior laughed gruffly, barking some orders to two more who brought a large ornately built case larger than Faris was, it was almost as tall as the Urgal who brought it forward. He handed it to Faris, who marveled that the case wasn't as heavy as it had implied from the wood.
"What is it?" He asked.
"Open it Ushnek." Gork said. Zhodar merely nodded. Faris shrugged, opening it to reveal the most beautiful bow he had ever seen, straight from some master painter's imagination. The curve was gentle, tapering off in spirals at each end, it was extremely polished and beautiful looking, and looked to be a mix of wood, metal, and a third ivory-looking substance.
"Wow…" Faris breathed. "Why are you giving this to me?" He held the bow up irreverently, just looking at it betrayed the power and toil put into it.
"It's made of Urgal horn." Zhodar said simply, shrugging. "It is a combination of the best of dwarven crafting, mixing wood from one of the elven trees and a strong metal gifted by humans, unfortunately whichever little person that made it thought so little of us that they made it using the horns of one of our fallen. We wished to throw it away, but it is well crafted, and our herndall asked that we not insult the dwarves too much. So, our plan was to give it as a gift to someone else."
Faris remembered from Angela's teachings that dwarves often regifted trinkets they didn't find extremely valuable, because of it, sometimes even master-craft swords and armor may pass hands until it rested in the hands of someone who appreciated its true value. Faris tried to string it, finding the process incredibly taxing. Even after that he was barely able to draw it more than a few inches, the fired arrow shot stronger than any he had ever shot before, causing him to shout in shock.
"Geez! That thing's amazing!" He cast a spell to protect it from damage and disrepair of any kind, placing his foot on it and both hands draw the arrow as far as he could, he noted that the bow drew back with expert precision, but each inch took more effort than the inch before, until he was trembling with a fully drawn bow. It's a good thing I trained my flexibility and balance, he joked to himself as he raised his leg, aiming the bow with the flat of his foot. He eventually lined up with a tree. Letting go he stumbled from the severe backlash. "That draw weight is no joke…" He murmured as he looked at the aftermath. The arrow veered off the path slightly, smashing through the tree adjacent to his original target, not only did the arrow smash through it, he found that over 50% of the arrow had made it through the other side.
"As you see, even with the implicit insult, they still created an exemplary item." Gork smiled.
"And you don't mind me using it?" Faris asked worriedly.
"You are a disciple of Uluthrek, we do not mind those worthy of our respect partaking in the spoils of our people. We know that the dwarf, while talented, likely never faced our people, and that the dwarves use our horns to make bows not out of necessity or respect for their strength, but as a way to insult us."
Faris looked at his friend with worry. "Are you alright?"
"Nar Garzhvog instructed us that in order to make up for the years of terror we placed on the other races, we had to put our pride on the side. Our values differ from the rest of the races, and we may not like it, but at any point, each of the kingdoms could if they put their mind to it wipe out our peoples." The old Urgal shrugged, "If swallowing my pride allows my pups to grow to adulthood, then it is a small sacrifice."
Faris nodded. Looking at the bow.
"Of course," Zhodar smirked. "You've got to earn it."
Faris looked at them. Grinning. "Of course. So, my manhandling wasn't enough?"
The urgals grinned. "Well, you have to take out ten of them, right?"
Faris laughed. "My god, so I have to beat all ten of you?"
"No, just fight long enough to satisfy Ushnark over there."
The older Urgal grinned. "Knock out 3 of them at least."
"Me knock out three trained warriors?" Faris replied. "That seems easy enough."
"No magic…" The Urgal wagged his index finger.
Faris paled.
…
Venka was napping. Her friends were still awake and talking when they heard a knock on the door.
"Should we go get it?" Morgan asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"If it was Faris, he'd use magic to open the door, and who'd visit a stranger's dorm at night?"
The knocking resumed at a higher pace. Alanna's ear twitched in annoyance. "Why is spoken word barred while knocking is not? Perhaps we should check the door."
The knocking stopped again.
"Well that's alright the-" Nya was cut off as a loud crackling sound was heard, the doorknob flew off as an arrow bolt burst through. They got up.
"What's going on?!" Venka shot up, sleep still in her eyes. "Why are you guys still here?!" She turned to her friends.
The door flew off the hinges, revealing a bloody, bruised, and extremely irate Faris.
His friends looked on in a mix of horror and awe as their injured friend limped in. His clothing ragged, scratches and tears decorated his skin. One eye was swollen shut, the other barely spared his friends a glance. As he walked up to the bed, he saw a sleeping form snuggled under his covers. He moved them gently to see it was Seya. He turned to his friends, who looked away. Turning back, he gave a sharp forward kick, pitching her off his bed. After doing so he set down his massive ornate bow, placed it in its pack, fastened the pack, and placed it alongside the longsword he carried on his back on the floor. He then opened up a knapsack, taking out a bundle of his clothing. He trudged into the shower, slamming the door.
"Huh?! Whuz going on?!" Seya got up. "Why am I on the floor?" She walked around the bed to see the sword and bow, looking at the first-year's attention to the bathing room, which was shut and locked, she turned back to the sword and bow. "My word he had a busy day." She was met with nods of affirmation.
Nya crawled over to the sword. The rest of them crowded behind her as she unsheathed the pretty scabbard to reveal the beautiful blade underneath. She whistled in appreciation. "Where'd he find you…" She wondered out loud.
"Again, why are you all still in our room guys." Venka asked, annoyed now."
"Doctor's orders were to rest and not overexert ourselves, unfortunately we overexerted ourselves on the way here." Katya replied with a bit of impish chuckling. "You wouldn't leave us to suffer, would you?"
"Why's the door broken?!"
"That was Faris, after we…" Morgan looked down sheepishly, "Well we were debating opening the door, and he got impatient."
"Oh?" Venka looked on concerned, Faris was never that impatient. She got worried something happened.
The door to the bath slammed open. Faris was in a simple clean thin tunic and loose-fitting breeches. He had kicked the door open and was busy wiping his hair with a towel. His friends looked at him.
"Hey guys." His black eye was still apparent as he walked over to his bed.
Before they could question him, he raised his hand. "First of all, I'm tired, second of all, why are you here? Third of all, I need to sleep."
"Wait but what happened to your eye?" Morgan asked.
Faris points at the window. His friends turned to see the change in coloration, it was sunrise.
"I misjudged the distance, also, I'm going to bed."