Miralda Cristina de Reon's Story

"Wow! Incredible! Newcomer Miralda has miraculously survived 23 rounds in the area! Two more rounds will put down for this weekend's tournament of champions and a spot on The Wall!"

The aforementioned Miralda was leaning against the wall of the arena, catching her breath. While no one round had been particularly demanding, fighting 23 straight people was exhausting. At most she had been allowed a minute rest between rounds, and this time was no different.

An absolute colossus of a man walked in from the opposite entrance. He looked to be at least 2 heads taller than Miralda was and made of solid muscle. He was bare-chested, wielding an ax that was almost the size of Mira herself. A deep bass emanated from him, saying, "I am sorry, little girl, but your streak ends here." All she could do in response was straighten her buckler and raise her sword.

With a roar, her enemy charged forward and swept a broad slash at her. It was all she could do to jump back out of the way from the swipe, and had to keep scrambling to avoid the many follow-ups. The man might be large, but it certainly didn't mean he was slow. He was also far to strong for her to parry reliably, and a flat block might get her sword shattered or her shield smashed. Honestly, she didn't really have a lot of options, and time was not on her side.

So she gambled. As her opponent went in with a downward smash, it was caught by the buckler on her left hand. The ax cut into the shield all the way through, cutting her arm, before she her arm was forced down with the ax's momentum. As her arm came down, she used the motion as leverage to spin herself around, ending with her back to the ax and her sword to her opponent's throat. Her arm was now free of the ruined shield, and blood flowed freely to the ground below, but she held her position while everyone watching caught up to the sudden move. Surprisingly, the giant of a man had a small, approving smile for the girl, and said simply, "Well done, little one. This is my loss."

Without any further words, the man turned and went back into the tunnels. Wincing at her injury, she could only wait for her final opponent. She was prepare for an even harder fight, but something even better was in store. "Now, introducing, the Noon Seagull!"

Mira's face went flat for a second, then cracked into a wide smile.

Five seconds later, she walked off the field with a 25 win streak and an invitation to the tournament, not to mention a hefty sum of cash.

It was later on in the night that Mira returned to the room in the in the group had rented out. She was absolutely exhausted, both from the fighting and from what happened after.

The crowds had been fierce around her as she tried to leave the arena. Everyone and their mother were out there to try and catch a glimpse of the new fighter. There were cheers for her victories, but even more jeers and heckling at her, whether for her gender or just the fact she ruined so many peoples bets, she wasn't sure. All told, it took her the greater part of an hour to slip away from the crowd, and even longer to lose the more persistent mockers in the streets of the city.

She did, however, find time to grab a map while she was avoiding the masses. Considering what she just won from doing the colosseum run, it wasn't really too much of a chore. She figured that the map would at least help her and her fellow Tyvernians plan out where they were going to go next.

She spread out the map on the sole desk in their room. While the desk wasn't small, the map filled the whole of its surface. In the dimming candle lights, Miralda traced a finger over where they were currently, and started tapping the map in thought.

Currently, they were in the small country of Haarpa. Quite honestly, there was no reason to stay here, if fact she would rather leave sooner than later. The country didn't have much to it outside of the city they were currently in and the capital. And even if she did stay, Haarpan policy is very very hard on Tyvern exiles from what she had heard back home and from what she had picked up around town.

To the south was the sea, where it was possible to take boats to one of the many small island countries. To the north was Jinera, a country that was known in Tyvern as being a barbarous nation, filled with savages who cared only about strength. But, their society was entirely based around strength, and with what Miralda had been taught by her Master, she was sure she could fight to carve out a place for herself. And the east had only mountains, the Labecks, which were infamously difficult to traverse. So, really, the only options where north or south. The only question was... which was better.

The door squeaked open as Saerin eased into the room. Sweeping his cloak across the bed, he deposited three modest bundles. He sat, not feeling entirely at ease in the small, simple wooden chairs, and unfolded the cloth around his own. Within sat three steaming bowls containing rice, spiced beef, and steamed vegetables. Two small metal sticks flashed into his hands as he began to pick at his meal, holding each bowl as he alternated between them. His eyes moved towards the boy.

"Many people are gifted with simple lives- farmers, smiths, warriors... fortune tellers." He once again focused on his meal. "It would appear that neither of your companions are so lucky." He picked an unwieldy piece of meat apart and placed it in his mouth, then passed bundles to his two compatriots.

This meal was arranged specifically to the needs of the trio- the rice would provide a boost of energy, the meat would help Mira recover from any soreness of the match, and the vegetables would help fine-tune the party's senses. If anything were to happen tonight or in the morning, as was prone to happen in a town where newcomers swooped in and earned a substantial amount of gold, they needed to be as fit as possible to run. There was a certain sense of unrest among the spirits that told him that it was better to be on the safe side tonight.

Mira nodded at Zhyle as he came in, but for the most part was to focused on the map to hear what he said. She really was only broken out of her contemplation when a bowl of food was placed under her nose by Saerin. She blinked momentarily, then smiled slightly and thanked Saerin before she started to dig in.

While the group was eating, she figured now was as good a time as any to ask what they thought they should do. After eating about half her meal, she started, "Zhyle, Saerin... Perhaps it is presumptuous on my part, but I was assuming that we could continue to travel together, at least for a little while longer. If you two are okay with this, then I would ask; where do you think we should go next?

"Personally, I think we should head north, to Jinera. It should be much easier to carve out a place there, and we wouldn't have to deal with much anti-Tyvern sentiment since they are so focused inward. What do you all think? The only other real option we have is to try our luck in some of the archipelagos to the south."

Zhyle frowned slightly as he was frankly ignored by Miralda. Aww, she's no fun. He however graciously accepted the meal that Saerin had brought to the group, as his stomach reminded him that he had eaten very little since leaving Tyvern, and a nice hot meal was greatly appreciated. He nodded his thanks to the older gentleman as he moved across the room and sat down at one of the beds and listened to Miralda begin to speak. After gulping down a couple of bites Zhyle answered to the lady.

"Hell, why not. I don't see any reason we should split up here. Frankly I don't wanna stick around this hellhole longer than I have to. Doesn't seem like a great place to just stop down and settle roots to me. Too much blood and sand for me."

He paused for a moment before continuing though.

"Though you really sure about Jinera. I mean... It's Jinera. The people are bloody savages there, yeah? At least that is what I have heard, country bumpkin like me." He joked, smiling between bites of food. "But what I mean is, yeah, they won't care that we're Tyvern in all probability, but does that really increase our chances of survival?"

He thought to himself for a moment, setting down his now empty bowl on a stand next to the bed he was sitting on. Jinera, huh? He never dreamed he would be considering going there. Place was crazy, power was everything there from what he had heard. Granted he had never met anyone from there but to be frank he never really wanted to. Nobody from the countryside really wanted to. Needless to say they were kind of boogeymen to farmers, people who would come and pillage your farms at night because it was within the right of the strong to take from the weak. And now he was seriously considering going there.

Well, it would be an adventure to say the least. How long it would last was a different question though.

"Well, I'm in." He said collapsing backwards on the bed. "Isn't likely we would be going anywhere else anyway. Catching a boat from Haarpa would probably be hard anyway if we get revealed as Tyvernian, so that kinda takes out the possibility of long travel, or at least make it unreasonably hard. It will probably be easiest to cross into Jinera anyway. Doubt too many people wanna stay around that border."

Miralda nodded slowly after hearing her companions' thoughts. "So, Jinera then? Very well. However, I think we should take the next few days to gather supplies before we head out. I would like to at least wait for a few more runs in the arena before we leave, so if only so we can collect more prize money."

The next three days were a blur of motion for Mira. The majority of her time was spent in the arena, either watching fights or fighting herself for prizes. When not at the arena, she wandered the shopping district looking for better armor than simple leather and a more general purpose shield than a buckler. While she found some chain mail that she took to wearing under regular clothes, she didn't find a shield she liked. To go with the new chain mail, she also found a leather and metal pair of gauntlets to guard her hands so she could use her sword in more esoteric ways, or act as a makeshift way to guard against an attack.

Beyond this, she tried to learn as much as she could about Jinera. She had found the massive man from before, who she found was named Draos, was a native from Jinera and more than happy to answer any questions she might have of the place. She learned that there were many different tribes, all independent from the rest. While people may call the area a country called Jinera, it was really a bunch of warring states. Each tribe's leader was determined by right of combat, but under this leader there would be a council of elected and appointed officials. It was surprisingly similar the Tyvern style, especially for a land that was known as a barbarous land. Who would have guessed they had anything in common at all?

In any event, the weekend soon arrived, and with it, the tournament. It seemed the whole town had shown up to this event, along with every man, woman, and child who had ever won anything in this arena in the past ten years. Still, with her new equipment and her hard-earned skills, Miralda had faith she would make a good showing. Considering the odds against her, she didn't need to win all that much for the small amount of money she had given to Saerin to bet to turn into a sizable amount.

"Greetings all, to this weekends Tournament of Champions!"

The crowds roared in response to this bombastic announcement, perhaps a tad louder than Miralda would have liked. He tried to hold her focus while the crowed cheered, doing some last minute image training for possible scenarios she could run into. At this point, there wasn't anything else she could do. She had sharped her sword, polished her armor, and inspected her shield long before she had left this morning. Indeed, her sword had been sharped and polished almost daily since they had reached civilization outside of Tyvern. As the crowd quieted, the announcer continued.

"To kick off today, we begin with a massive melee! This scrum is meant to separate the wheat from the chaff, and will continue until there are only eight men left standing. While killing is strictly prohibited, everything else is fair game! All weapons and armor are allowed! AND NOW, THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! 3, 2, 1, MELEE!"

With that, the arena burst into action. The sounds of battle erupted on all sides, and Miralda herself had to quickly block and dodge so as not to knocked out of contention early. She executed a fighting retreat toward an area near the wall where the melee thinned, and in the process noticed something peculiar. There were a group of people, seemingly 4 men, who seemed to be going the same exact way as her. They were fighting others in their paths, but found quick ways to disengage and continued to move in the same direction she was. When two of them bumped into each other, they didn't start fighting, but rather steadied each other than split apart slightly.

Miralda cursed under her breath. She might not know exactly why they were doing this, but she had a few ideas. More importantly, she had a good idea of what they were doing. They intended to take her out as a group, and she was not at all confident in her ability to take all of them at once. She needed a plan.

"-ri! Center----! Lose 'em!"

While most of Zhyle's comment was lost to the crowd, Miralda understood his intent. Unfortunately, she was still moving towards that open space by the wall, and the only way to turn would be through her... followers.

She slowed her movement down as much as she could, and was pleased to see that the others were content to slow with her. It gave her time to make a plan. She would hit one of the two outer men if they hit a rough patch of fighting or slipped up in any way, then work her way around the arena and look for another opportunity to strike. Still, she doubted this plan would last too long as it was counting on her current luck of not getting caught up with other fights. Well, that was something to deal with as it arose, she had a plan to implement.

Right as she hit a clearing, the leftmost man stumbled. With a burst of speed, she was on him with a vicious overhand strike. The man was quick enough to throw himself to the side, but she followed with a strong kick that caught him behind his knee. Before he even had time to grab his leg in pain, she fell onto his face with her shield, and he was out. She rolled herself off the insensate man and to her feet before any of the fighters around her could capitalize, and started working her way in the circle she had planned. One was down, but she doubted the other three would let her take them down quite as easily.

The roar of the crowd had only gotten loader since the melee had started, rising to levels which almost drowned out the sounds of the fighting itself. Indeed, down of the field, it was impossible to hear anything over the din of cheers and clashing metal. On the plus side, this meant that Miralda’s would-be assailants could very well regroup after losing one of their number. Unfortunately, this didn’t mean they would stop.

Glancing around, she could only see two of the men she had noted earlier, the third having been lost in the throng of fighters in the ring. It was possible, Miralda mused, that the third had been taken out by an uninvolved fight, but she wouldn’t believe that until she saw the man on the ground. Still, while she had the chance, the dashed toward the closest man through a slight opening in the brawl.

The man obviously saw her coming, and readied himself. He wielded a trident and net, not a weapon combo she had ever seen used before. The net, at this point, looked like it had been through a thresher, and as he threw it got caught on the other fighters in the area and tangled them up while going nowhere. Scowling, the man took his trident in a two-handed grip and stabbed at his prey. She dodged to the left, but the man quickly swept his polearm to match and she was forced to bring her sword to block. The sword caught the trident between two of its prongs, and while it was a heavy blow, Mira brought the spear to a stop before a bladed barb could cut her side. Her adversary, however, smirked nastily and twisted, ripping the sword out of her hands.

Her eyes widened, but she rushed forward as the man turned to recover his stance. She pushed away the haft of the trident with her buckler as she lunged in and struck out with a fist to his throat, crushing his larynx and sending him to the ground coughing. She followed this with a booted kick to his side, and was rewarded with a snap from the man’s arm. She picked up the now user-less trident and spun quickly to face another assailant, who was clearly none too pleased with the state of his compatriot. He moved forward with a vicious diagonal swipe from his battle-axe, which she caught with her buckler, barely. The small shield, however, was not designed to take such a hit, and dented in heavily. She jumped back as far as she could, then in a surprisingly clean motion, she spun in place, throwing ruined shield at her opponent like a discus. This move clearly took him off guard and his surprise got him beaned in the forehead with a hard metal projectile. If that wasn’t enough to knock him out, a spinning hit with the haft of Mira’s current weapon to his temple was.

Mira took a moment to admire her handiwork, then quickly dodged away as a nearby combatant took a swing. Now all she had to do was make it through the rest of this melee, with a weapon she didn’t really know how to use, against the best fighters in the area, while making sure not to be taken off-guard buy the enemy that may or may not still be around. Well, it’s not like her master hadn’t put her through worse.

At this point the arena had started to finally clear. While many men continued to fight it out across the field, far lest were present than had been there at the start. Some littered the floor, either dead or just knocked out, but many had left under their own power, figuring that the jackpot couldn't be worth the pain they had been going through. For Miralda, the thinning crowds were both a blessing and a curse. While it made actual combat easier, it also meant she could no longer hide herself in the throng. Which meant she was now facing down her final assailant head on with a weapon she didn't use.

The man before her sported a gladius and a legionnaire's shield. While such weapons were phased out of most armies around the world long ago, that did not make the weapons themselves any less deadly. And seeing as she was stuck wielding a glorified pitchfork she didn't really know how to use... She could certainly feel a certain sense of pressure.

She feinted a stab to grab the innitiative, and was rewarded with a momentary twitch of the shield to block a blow that would never come. She again feinted, this time to the outside of her enemies left, and he again bit, this time moving his shield a bit more wildly to try and recover in time. As the shield move, she spun right and whipped her trident at his sword hand. She slashed his wrist deeply enough to for him to drop his sword, but before she could capitalize on his lack of weapon, she felt something very solid smash into her side, sending her to the ground. She rolled to her side to recover as best she could, losing the trident. She scrambled around for a weapon then pushed herself to her feet, this time with a simple dagger. At least she knew how to use this one.

Across from her, the man had recovered his gladius, although he was wincing at trying to use his damaged wrist. While her side was aching in pain as well, she charged. Her opponent readied himself and, for the first time this melee, she found herself in a true clash of blades. Every attack she tried was deflected by either his sword or shield, and whenever he was ready to strike out himself, she was already gone, moving to attack at his side. The exchange when on for thirty full seconds, with him blocking and her dodging, until one of them finally made a mistake.

Perhaps calling it a mistake was a bit much, really. The legionnaire, just once, made a wince harder than normal, and Mira pounced. Not literally, of course, but she dropped down for a low kick the second the man's eyes closed, and before he could even begin to open them, he was already on the ground. Mira's dagger quickly made its way into his heart, and she pulled it out just as fast before jumping back, just in case the man had any last resorts.

She needn't have worried. The man clutched to his chest as his breathing got steadily worse, in too much pain to do anything but grasp at his last few moments of life. Miralda sighed heavily, relieved she no longer had to deal with people after her neck, then dodged away as soon as she heard a woosh of air from her side. If she were anywhere else, she would have started berating herself for her own air-headedness. Sure, no one was specifically after her any more, but this was still a fight to the finish with many other people. She readied her weapon once more, her fight was not over just yet.

The melee was starting to wind down, but that didn’t really mean too much for Miralda. After all, she was still in the fight, and a dagger is not a weapon one uses for a fight like this. While there were only four fighters left outside of herself, they were all the best (or at least the luckiest) the arena had to offer.

She herself was certainly lucky that three of them were embroiled in their own fight on one half of the arena, while she only had to deal with one opponent. Unfortunately, she was facing the massive man from her penultimate bought from yesterday, this time effectively armed with a toothpick. The man nodded to her and called out, “Shall this be to first blood then, little lady?” While she scowled at the appellation, she nodded herself in agreement, saluted with her dagger, then charged.

Her opponent quickly cut off her route with a swing of his axe, which made her scramble backward to not get hit. She feinted a move in momentarily then moved to go in from an angle, but the axe-wielder didn’t bite on her fake and she was again forced back after a close shave. With her small weapon, she couldn’t hope to block, and even trying to deflect a blow wouldn’t work well without either a metal shield or a much larger blade. To get in to attack, she would have to get creative.

Her opponent didn’t give her much time to think however. The second she stopped trying to move in, he started moving towards her with little movements of his axe that he could easily turn into fill swings. As she backpedaled, she spotted a longsword to her back and left. As she was forced back, she changed her direction slightly so that she would end up right over it in a few more backsteps. The instant she was driven back far enough the sword was halfway between herself and her opponent, she struck.
The dagger came out of her hand spinning, on a collision course with the behemoth of the man across from her. He brought the flat of his axe head around to block the improvised projectile, but Miralda was already off, running straight at him while she bent to collect the longsword mid-stride. The axeman wasn’t distracted for long, however, as a slash came out targeting her mid-section. Using her momentum, she went all the way down to slide on her back under the strike. It was close; so close, in fact, she could feel hair being clipped from her bangs. Still, she got under it successfully, and spun quickly to nick the leg of her target before she lost momentum a few feet past. While her backside was rather soar now (she would make sure she was wearing at least some kind of armor there before she attempted that stunt again), she rose to her feet feeling triumphant. She had won!
Her adversary shouldered his axe, shaking his head amusement as he walked toward her, and chuckled, “Well, I see that you have quite the create mind there, little one. It was a good bout once again, and I would love to do this once again. First, however…” Suddenly his axe was no longer on his shoulder, and she dropped to the ground to avoid the blow. However, the blow didn’t come, at least not at her.

“It would appear that someone here meant to finish you while we talked.” She turned to see a man shouted in pain and clutch at his now missing hand. On the ground was a sword, along with the hand that still held it. She let out a breath in relief, both for the attack that she had though was at her and for the one that she had never seen coming. Although, now that she listened, the sounds of combat were gone. The large man laid down his weapon and held his hands up in the surrender gesture. After a moment of pause, the announcer went, “A-a-a-ASTOUNDING! The new-comer Miralda has won the melee within the VERY week she qualified! Everyone, give her a round of applause!”

The crowd erupted into loud cheers (and jeers) as Miralda shakily got back to her feet. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, all she wanted to do was go back to the inn and sleep. Still, she trudged up to the arena managers who had come down on the field to accept her prize, a not-so-insignificant amount of coin and some good chainmail. The chainmail was too large for her (they had probably expected male with a much larger fame than she had), but she figured she could give it to one of her companions when she saw them again.

After what felt like an eternity of being paraded about in the arena, she made her way back to the inn and collapsed onto the bed face-first without changing into anything more comfortable or even washing the dust and blood off herself. She would take care of that soon, she just wanted to take a little break…

It took all of Saerin's focus to drown out the voices of the spirits as they pounded against his consciousness. The adrenaline brought from running helped only slightly as he made his way through the streets, dimly aware of the people he passed. Eventually his flagging stamina became an advantage as he reached a steady rhythm in his gait, his mind focusing on only one thing: escape. He locked his gaze on that singular thought and allowed it to drift only to the movement of his feet as he dodged through foot traffic. As long as he kept moving, that would be his armor.

He reached the inn, ignoring the concerned look of the innkeeper as he pushed through towards their room. He swiftly pulled out his room key, and after a few moments of difficulty locating the keyhole he threw the door open and moved in. His mind barely touched on the two figures in the room as he, catching himself, managed to not slam but firmly close the door. He then slid to the ground, back against the rough wood of the door, as the exertion caught up to him. The mental claws of his spiritual associates, by now, had retreated a distance, circling with hackles raised like a wolf ready to pounce. They knew that he was weaker than normal, and if they struck again while he wasn't on guard he may not be able to stop their advances. His right hand raised to his temple to steady his mind, he took a moment to examine his surroundings.

Mira appeared to be alright, probably about exhausted as he was from the way she had fallen on her bed. Well, perhaps not as much... while he kept up his training, it had been some time since he had run quite that much. Her breathing was heavy, but his own was very labored and rasped deeply with each inhale. Appearance wise she was dirty, but about as much as one could expect from a tournament champion. Given a brief time to recover she would likely be back to "normal."

Zhyle, though, seemed another story. He had watched over the boy before to make sure he didn't die, but he hadn't gotten a close look at his injuries. A few sword pricks at his shoulders, arms, legs... spots commonly left exposed by novice sword wielders. Whoever had dealt those blows seemed to have been wanting to play with him before finishing him off. That gouge on the left arm, on the other hand... maybe not inherently lethal, but definitely the first stroke of the attack meant to finish him off. Assuming it was the same person who had dealt the other wounds, they likely meant to disarm him and close in as Zhyle's desperation and fear rose. They had underestimated him, though, and his cleverness allowed him to escape with his life.

Saerin himself was not looking much better. While there most of the blood on his robes were those of others, he had sustained several lesser wounds (as well as a light cut on his neck) that would take time to heal. His powers had taken the brunt of the attack, though... if he allowed himself to use any of the abilities that might help them, he would be opening himself up to the spirits and allowing them a point to attack. Until his mind had time to settle from his earlier possession that was something he could not allow.

He brought his legs in to a folded position, despite their protests. He didn't get this far to be stopped by something like fatigue. He held them there for a moment before rising. "I will ask the innkeeper for a wash basin and some clean cloth. After we've all cleaned up, we need to talk."