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
Prize: 50 signos from the festival for participating
Contact Made: Yes
Character #1: @
Bonded: N/A
Magic: N/A
Armor: N/A
Weapons: N/A
Current Health: 8
Current Attack: 12
Current Experience: 10
Character #2: @
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
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,
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,
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
Attack Used: 0
Attack(s) Left: 2
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: n/a
Response Deadline: June 26th
Tags: @
