[Judged] put down your book and kill . [MATCHED FIGHT]

[El Rey]

Fight Type: BATTLE
Prize: 50 signos from the festival for participating
Contact Made: Yes

Character #1: @El Rey
Bonded: N/A
Magic: N/A
Armor: N/A
Weapons: N/A
Current Health: 8
Current Attack: 12
Current Experience: 10

Character #2: @Noam
Bonded: n/a
Magic: n/a
Armor: Yes, not entering with
Weapons: Yes, not entering with
Current Health: 8
Current Attack: 12
Current Experience: 10

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a king walks among us

He has come to die.

It could happen at any moment - he walks the streets like any other citizen, unnoticed, never hunted. Though he is cloaked, he is not safe, for he remains iconic in many a Solterran heart. The towering, dark figure of Raum’s executioner is nearly as synonymous with the regime as Raum himself. El Rey was, after all, a tool in the hand of the devil.

He pulls his cloak tighter as he follows crowds through the canyon, and as he breaks away to follow his own path. He marvels as the guards let him through - were they so young? Recent immigrants, even? The black stallion passes down the single corridor, slipping between fighters like a shadow, though he is anything but. A puddle of orange light oozes into the cavern’s mouth. The colosseum is ahead.

Rey pauses, thinking that perhaps this is a mistake. He is not wondering if he ought to live, no, he is wondering if there are better ways to die, and if, perhaps, he should turn himself in. He remembers how Orestes had called out to him all those moons ago, without fear or hatred. Anyone else would execute him, and the people might demand it, but would their sovereign? His mind wanders finally to Juniper, and the possibility of escape, of life. He wonders if she has come all this way for blood, but knows she has not. He is certain she is at home, dancing and reveling with her sisters, not knowing where he is.

El Rey steps into the light. The murmur of unrest falls, slowly, to silence. There are whispers, he knows, but he cannot hear them. His cloak parts from him like a second shadow. Someone, somewhere, screams. There are shouts, cries of outrage, demands for his capture. He imagines the crowd surging forward, over the walls, and swallowing him, but it does not happen. In the light, he shines a little golden. A magic-blessed announcer stutters and calls, “E-El Rey, the…the Executioner!”

Boos erupt from the masses, and thought they leap from their seats, they do not come for him. No one does. He steps into the center, lit up by the evening glow, and stares down his opponent. Ah, he thinks, Father had little good to say about Pegasi.

He will make it a good death, though he be undeserving. 

”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“

I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,

---

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Summary: El Rey travels to the arena and thinks about how everyone should be trying to kill him. He takes his cloak off. He thinks Noam is a silly bird man, and stands in the arena center, facing Noam.

Attack Used: 0 
Attack(s) Left: 2 
Block Used: 0 
Block(s) Left: 1 
Item(s) Used: n/a

Response Deadline: June 26th
Tags: @Noam, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @aimless, @layla

[Noam]

N O A M

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Noam finds himself deep in the colosseum. The boom and calls of the crowds shake into his bones, and rattle against his chest. With each breath, the dust filters into his nostrils with the air – of sand and the remnants of fighters past. The dead, the living, the victorious and the glorified.

Is this what you desire?

Noam prays to Solis. His thoughts call out into the emptiness in his head – ire at the edges.

The warriors come prepared, wielding spears and knives, bearing armor and striking out with magic. Some are blessed with bondeds, who share in the blood sport.

Noam has never thought himself blessed or lucky – has always thought himself as a common man. Less of a man – a shadow, a creature of habit – he is a thing that wanders the earth in old familiar paths.  

He starts by removing the leather armor he initially brought. Hesitates, when he sets the bow and quiver down on a bench. Regards the weapon with a fondness meant for living things, the fondness for a sibling. They have killed far too many to think any less of each other; they are equals to this game of life – tools that cannot bear the capacity beyond their design.

I will learn – he promises to his god. These violent delights.

Noam fears returning to the grave, in the sense that he must wade through it again – that he cannot return to the earth like they have. And is cursed to go on living. He fears the delight of blood at his lips, and the smell of copper filling his lungs. And the peace that comes with praising Solis – engrained into a boy who forfeited his birthright for approval.

Today is different. Today is not a war – the stage is an altar.

With heavy breath Noam departs the antechamber. Arrives naked in the stark light that greets him. He jogs along the outer edges of the perimeter, just as the announcer voices his opponent.

A chorus of disapproval precedes the bull.

Feathered appendages loosen at Noam’s sides, rolling once forward and stretching wide to graze the wall of stone. Craving the ether.

A dark shadow, limber and taller than he – glistens gold under the sun. A steady gaze, a flat stare follows with oblivion in his eyes.

El Rey – the undertaker, boasts whispers of his mastery. The art of killing and torture poise behind the devil’s eyes, focusing entirely on Noam. The sparrow canters, finishes his loop and stops abruptly to face the man said to have no soul. Perhaps El Rey is merely a reflection – a thing, crafted for a singular purpose.

“A-and his opponent, Noam of Solterra!”

He can’t tell if they cheer for him – the noise is empty in the space between them.  Besides the size difference, they are similar in build. Muscle and sinew crafted for mobility in harsh terrain, and the control of momentum that comes with the recoil and release of power. There is the crown of thorns that glint ahead, and the lack of wings at the bull’s sides. Curled, gilded ears add to the impression of a demon.

The gap spans approximately two horse lengths - give or take a foot.

Noam dips his head to the stranger. Forfeits words for the tension that hangs in the air. Begins his worship song, not unlike the war songs that had lay heavy in his heart as a child – recoiling from his haunches, and lunging ahead into a canter – gaining speed. Noam’s wings have been pressed back into his sides, neck arched as he watches for signs. The pre-warnings of muscle twitches, and haunches propelling…

He darts to the right in a half jump, in a means to avoid a head on collision. Simultaneously punching out his wings in a snap like motion that bring them back to his body – feathers aimed to hide what lay below them as he passes. And may very well suffer a wound in the process.

As soon as his forelimbs touch the ground, Noam aims a buck at the beast’s ribs. Gathers his limbs underneath as fast as possible. His mind bracing for the inevitable – the relentless and unyielding labors ahead as he attempts to face his opponent.

Noam expects no holes or hesitations from the ‘executioner’.

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Summary: Does a lap around the colosseum. Faces El Rey. Dips his head, and moves toward at a canter. Darts to the right in a half jump, darting out his wings as a distraction, and aims to buck at El Rey's ribs (his left side). Lands and attempts to face him.

Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used:

Response Deadline: June 25
Tags: @El Rey, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @aimless, @layla

[El Rey]

a king walks among us

El Rey watches as the stranger comes in, wings holding the wall like an anchor. And then he’s off, cantering round the colosseum until he stops short, two mismatched eyes trying to find somewhere to hold Rey’s empty black ones. He looks like a warrior, and certainly that “-of Solterra” could’ve gone unsaid. For a native, he was unusually stocky, yes, but there is something the natives of the sands have that no one else does. Rey has learned to see it, even if he’s not quite sure what it is, or if he could say so about himself. The sands run in his blood like oxygen, oh yes, but can it be seen, smelled, touched? He isn’t sure. Perhaps I’ll write about it, he thinks, but he never will, of course, because he dies here.

They are alike, in many ways. Two stallions, bred for battle and built for it, years of torturous training strung up in them on steel nooses, and when they face each other they are calculating, calculating, calculating.

It is Noam who strikes first. This is fine, El Rey thinks; he would rather watch the stranger work before making any assumptions. They were too similarly sculpted, too divided by land and air, to know. The gray charges, and with a split second move shoots out a pale wing. Rey sees what he’s trying to hide, though, and in the moment that Noam bucks, he relaxes, bracing for a swift kick to the ribs - and he gets it. Two hooves punch into the bull’s flank, but he’s ready for it, and instead of pitching sideways with the force, he twists, chasing after Noam’s thigh with bared teeth. It was a half-moment too late to aim his horns anywhere spectacular. El Rey slams his hooves down hard into the earth, coughing as he catches his breath. He’d gone without after Noam knocked the air from his lungs, and that decision cost him a few seconds of rattled breathing. Something's probably bruised, he thinks, but not broken.  The stallion remains alert, waiting for the pegasus to come darting back in a cloud of dust. He knows that he’s too heavy to chase after anything on wings, but when that bird comes his way, he plans to knock it down. 


”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,

---

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Summary: Rey lets Noam strike first. He relaxes his muscles to soften the hit to his ribs. As Noam passes, Rey turns, trying to bite Noam's thigh. Rey has to catch his breath, but stays alert and waits for Noam to attack again. 

Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0 
Block(s) Left: 1 
Item(s) Used: n/a

Response Deadline: June 28
Tags: @Noam, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @aimless, @layla

[Noam]

N O A M

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The hit is lackluster. Noam realizes the thing inside of him craves for more. For broken ribs and open sinew. For a cry to betray the executioner as mortal, and disrobe him into his base instincts. Dismantle the rumors, and bare witness to what lay beneath calculation and training. Even if it’s for a moment, a lapse or slip - Noam yearns to grasp for some sort of similarity. Though the dance will be swift, and time might yield to momentary pauses - he begins to feel this desire flush inside him. Like a hard liquor, raw and familiar, bursting with heat and venom into his veins.

Noam cannot escape the teeth that sink and scrape along the left outer aspect of his thigh and buttox. Nor the pain that unravels from peeled skin. Nostrils flare - inhaling the earth that spins off their feet, determined to pull his flesh away. The sparrow sustains a deeper cut the length of four centimeters long. Drawing first blood, as he pulls his hindlimbs underneath him, sweeping beyond El Rey’s disjointed coughs. Carrying his momentum ahead and attempting to break their immediate vicinity.

Space is created once more, like the expansion of metal as it’s heated under the kiln. Facing his opponent in beat with an inevitable return. Without pause Noam springs towards his opponent. As the dust filters through the air - a shadow is clearly outlined in the stark light. Black as Delumine on the coldest winter nights awaits him. Skies filled with the smoke of warfare burning men, burning villages and blotting out their distant stars. 

He thinks of the war and the pile of bodies beneath him - he thinks of the enemy, steadfast and approaching with impenetrable lines. He thinks of the other children, little lions starved for the feast. Noam bites his tongue, resisting the urge to roar Solis’ name against the void, wings spread and beating as he jumps into the air. Forelimbs pull up with him like a battering ram - gaining flight for just a small, modest second - one, two strokes of the feather. Before driving his forelimbs down towards the beast’s poll.

The measure is extreme, less calculated - brash perchance, underneath the heightened hum of the audience. Perhaps with such a move, Noam can implore the same from El Rey. Beseech the extreme violence, recoiling with every muscle and inhaled deep within the devil, to lash out with less restrain and measure.

The altar has suddenly become an invitation. 

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Summary: El Rey's bite makes contact, and breaks skin. Goes deeper into the flesh, as Noam pulls ahead from him. Causing blood to flow. Noam creates some space, turns to face El Rey. Tries to put some space between them, before turning and running after. Tries to gain some elevation with his wings and jumps. Aims to land with his feet aimed at El-Rey's pole. 

Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0 
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: 

Response Deadline: July 1
Tags: @El Rey, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @aimless, @layla

[El Rey]

a king walks among us

Contact made.

Hot iron fills Rey’s mouth as he tears apart hair and skin, the pegasus dashing away but not unscathed. It was even less impressive than Noam’s kick - which could have done more than it did against someone else - but a bite from a bull was desperate, a split-second calculation that aimed to do something, anything, and not to kill. This fight’s not going where I wanted it, he thinks, and it’s not because they’re almost-even right now. Noam hasn’t gone for the kill, and neither has Rey; they are locked in amateurish dance of tooth and hoof. They are both products of higher evolution than the mundane equine - why, then, do they spar as mundane men? 

Noam sprints. El Rey thinks, Good, and savors the flesh in his mouth only a moment more before spitting it on the ground, blood and saliva and hide. Noam takes to the air, briefly, and a seed of hope sprouts in the stallion. Like a fallen star, Noam descends.

Death - 

He imagines his neck being split beneath pegasi hooves. He imagines each vertebrae snapping out of place, bones crushed by the mass of hatred swelling around them. He imagines darkness, and in that darkness, there is no Eshek to shine a light.

El Rey sidesteps left. There is nothing but sand for Noam to destroy; it is already the dust of a million bones. 

He does not die. Instead, he decides to kill. 

Wherever Noam lands, if he lands - how could he not, so close to the ground, so intent on murder (if it could be called that, and not a public service-), El Rey dips his head and fills that half-heartbeat of space between them with horns. Perhaps Noam’s neck is closest, or his shoulder, flank, what-have-you; the bull intends to coat his golden crown in blood, whatever its source. 



”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“

I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,

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Summary: El Rey spits out Noam's blood and flesh. Rey decides not to die. He dodges Noam's attack, and aims his horns at Noam's closest (Noam's right) side.

Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 1 
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used: N/A

Response Deadline: Jul 11 (or whenever)
Tags: @Noam, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @aimless, @layla

[griffin]

Congratulations!

Due to not responding by the deadline, @Noam forfeits the fight and @El Rey wins!

This thread will be locked and moved to the Archives shortly. The characters' official experience has been updated to reflect these changes (along with any signos rewards sent), so there's no need to post in the Experience Updates or Signos Redemption threads!

This thread cannot be claimed as a "completed thread" for signos redemption.

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EL REY
Participate in a Battle or Challenge: +1 EXP
Winning a Battle or Challenge: +1 EXP
Winning a Battle or Challenge: 25 Signos
TOTAL: +2 EXP, 25 Signos

NOAM
No "Participate in a Battle or Challenge" experience is gained if fight is forfeited by lack of response.
TOTAL: +0 EXP