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 Posted: Mon Aug 06, 2007 8:23 pm
Character: Kayce Wyrm: Ylva Physical Strength Quest The Brawlers
"Come one, come all! Ya think ya can take us, eh? You think you can best us? You think you're so tough? Well, laddie, let's see what you're made of..."
A band of rugged-looking cut-throats has set up camp near guild headquarters. They're a seedy bunch, and throughout the night their coarse, drunken voices can be heard slogging through the dark air. They call themselves "The Brawlers," and that's exactly what they do: fight. They challenge the passerby to hand-to-hand combat, promising a great reward to the strongest man that can battle his way to the top.
Deeming this challenge a convenient opportunity to test your mettle and sharpen your combat skills, the guild has given you orders to compete in this bloody tournament. It should be easy pickings for the most part, besides that rather large and angry gypsy with a club made for hurting. . . And you haven't even seen the champion yet.
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Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2007 11:23 pm
Twilight had come and gone, leaving nighttime in its wake.The sun had just set, leaving streaks of orange through the sky, bits of light that were fading all too slowly for Kayce’s liking. The heliophobe lounged on a tree branch overhanging the river, watching with delight as the creatures of the night began to come to life. A few strange rodents skittered beneath the tree, obviously after the bugs that had just emerged with the setting of the sun.
The scene was blessedly peaceful, if one could block out the sounds of drunken caroling, fists connecting with faces, and yelled oaths that would make any army’s drill sergeant sit up and take notes.
Kayce uttered a growl and pulled her dark cloak closer about herself, attempting to block out the last rays of light that threatened to singe her sensitively pale skin. Of all the places she wanted to be tonight, this was definitely rated the last on her list. She had no desire to be near the drunken band of gods-forsaken beasts. She, had passed by the Brawler’s camp the past evening. Unlike the male mercenaries who passed by the camp on their way to headquarters, she was the recipient of catcalls, whistles, and no few bits of innuendo, the terminology of a few being new to her. Dear gods, men were creative in their suggestions.
No, not men. Males. She forced herself to make that distinction. There had been a few members of that fifty-odd crowd of pigs that were not fully human.
//Three of them, actually. All three are therians.// came Ylva’s voice into the back of her mind. For a female, and a water wyrm, the crocodilian beast had a surprisingly deep voice. It had surprised Kayce the first time Ylva spoke to her, but once the mercenary got a good grasp of the wyrm’s temperament, it didn’t take her long to find the voice oddly suiting to Ylva’s territorialistic, aggressive nature.
It also hadn’t taken her long to figure out that the water wyrm was quite handy in times like these.
Are you sure they’re therians? Kayce inquired, narrowing her eyes as true darkness set in. Her pupils expanded to account for the difference in light, and then she began to make out the shape of people in the camp some fifty yards away. Gods, she didn’t want to be here. She was a freelancer, for the gods’ sake! Taking on this band of… miscreants… was a job for a local captain, not an unbonded, Company-less merc.
She really had no choice in the matter, though. To continue to operate under the guild’s protection, she was forced to humor them on occasion. She could get contracts without the guild, if she truly wanted. There were many nobles who were willing to hire a merc outside of the guild for security, for warfare, for counsel, or for more nefarious plots. But guilded mercs were paid better and always had the option of calling for assistance from the guild should a job turn interesting. There was, of course, the matter that the guild tended to work against all mercs who went outside the power of the guild, which rather boxed Kayce into a corner. It was why she grudgingly paid her dues and got some fairly nice—and fat—contracts, though the guild often asked for a bit much in return.
A deep chuckle echoing through her mind told her that Ylva had been listening in, and the water wyrm surfaced just beneath Kayce’s tree branch. Although much smaller than the males of her kind, Ylva was a creature not to be trifled with. She had an unfortunate habit of ripping things apart. //Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. Personally, I don’t see the problem with this. You could take half of these morons in your sleep. I, however, could take them all whilst unconscious.//
Kayce had the good grace to not glare down at the egotistical beast. You also have the advantage of size, jaws, and claws. And are they therians? she pressed, not wanting to enter the camp until she had a good idea of what she was up against.
Since the band of fighting drunkards had set up camp near guild headquarters, the commanders had been figuring out a way to subdue and possibly oust the troupe without falling on them in force, which would’ve been very unwise. The nearby villages were nervous with the mercenaries so close as it was. A full-scale attack on a group of fifty drunk fighters was not a way to get in the locals’ good graces. Thus, Kayce, returning to headquarters for a new contract after her last one’s satisfactory completion, had been persuaded—or rather, roped—into taking on the Brawlers. It seemed the drunkards had a bit of a fighting tournament going on, and they wanted to get a good merc in the mix to stir things up. Well…. If that was the way they wanted it, then the commanders were bound and determined to give them a good fight.
Unfortunately for Kayce, that meant her neck had to be risked in the process.
//Yes. Three therians. Two are ailurans, specifically. Lynx, I think. I eat lynx. I’ll have the scraps when you’re done.// Ylva fairly purred, her yellowed eyes gleaming up at Kayce through the darkness.
Kayce looked down at the wyrm, snorting derisively. “We’re supposed to subdue them. Not devour,” she said aloud, her voice quiet and even.
Her companion gave a mild hiss of annoyance but settled restlessly back into the water. //Fine. The last one is… not one I know. I only got a whiff of his scent, and I couldn’t identify it. He is alpha, though. You’ll have to fight him to win.//
Of course. Nothing was ever easy, was it? Well, with new guild leaders in place, ones who were a bit more nervous about Kayce’s specific abilities, it seemed this would be the only way to appease them for the time. With that in mind, the young woman moved toward the trunk of the tree and then swung down to the river bank, tossing back her hood to reveal ghostly-pale skin that almost shone in the moonlight.
Watch my back, will you? It was worded as a question, but there was no question about it, and the way Ylva sank underwater to hover just beneath the surface was answer enough. The wyrm always had her back, even when they were fighting like the two pigheaded alphas that they were.
With shoulders squared and a determined set to her chin, Kayce prowled through the trees and walked straight into the heart of the camp, bypassing their ‘sentries’ without batting an eye.
“Oy! What the hell are ye doin’ here, lassie?!”
The startled shout from the sentry brought all of the drunken tomfoolery to an abrupt halt, and Kayce suddenly found herself in the middle of a group of very large men, all dressed to fight and eyeing her with a predatory leer that set her spine like steel. While all were carrying weapons of some sort, few wore them properly or carried them in an experienced hand. One dark, swarthy man hefted a club with an ease that made her cautious. A gypsy, by the look of him, and he was obviously not a weakling. The club looked to be made of solid oak.
She scented out the two werelynx in an instance. The way they stood gave them away, and they wore beltknives. Both were among those who knew how to fight for sure. Three out of fifty… perhaps her odds were good.
A parting of the ranks and the approach of the third therian of the group essentially dashed her hopes of an easy win in this tournament. This therian was bear, and he was a monster of a man, easily topping her out by two feet in height and probably close to triple her weight.
Yes, Kayce was officially in deep wyrm dung.
//I heard that. I will have you know that our leavings are far less disgusting than yours. We don’t eat vegetation.// Ylva replied rather primly to that thought. //Bear? I eat bear too. Do leave me a few scraps, won’t you?//
Shut the frick up, Ylva, unless you have something useful to include!
//Fiiiiiiine. I’ll just lie out here beside the tents to watch…// the wyrm drawled. //They’re too focused on you to see me anyway.//
While Kayce was grateful that the wyrm had decided to close in, she was surprised by Ylva’s actions. Normally, each let the other fight their own fights. It seems Ylva was looking to back her up in this one.
Good. She could use the extra pair of eyes with this lot of backstabbers.
“Don’t ya have a man t’ be goin’ home t’, lassie? This is man’s fight. S’not for little girls,” the leader rumbled, his gaze roaming over Kayce’s cloaked body. “Though if’n ya be wantin’ comp’ny-“
“I accept the challenge,” Kayce interrupted, which brought all of the men up short and sobered them up faster than a dunk in a cold spring. She had their attention now, and she efficiently flicked her cloak fastening to drop the heavy garment to the ground, revealing the twin swords across her back and the dagger strapped around her thigh. “Weapons allowed?”
The men stared at her for a moment, and then low, suggestive laughter began on all sides. “No blades,” the leader said, his dark eyes fixed on her weapons. “Yer weapons can be ye entry fee. Ya lose… we keep the weapons and let ya go if’n we want. Ya win… ya get yer weapons back, and ya get… summin’ good.”
Kayce raised an eyebrow. “That hardly seems reasonable,” she said, her voice not straying from its normally even tone. She didn’t want to tell the cutthroats just how valuable her weapons were. No, best to not give that information.
The leader chuckled wickedly. “Take it or leave it, lassie.”
Though it went against her every instinct, she undid the belts and passed the three blades, sheaths and all, over to one of the men who stepped forward to take them. He was the smallest of the bunch and was obviously not meant for combat. He smelled of fear.
Straightening, she looked coolly at the leader. “And?”
A dangerous gleam came to the man’s eye. “Fight!”
~~~
Bloody bunch of hamfisted cows! I’ve killed things with more skill than these idiots! Kayce thought furiously as she laid a solid right hook to the jaw of another man-mountain. The fighters seemed to have a few main things in common: they were all either quick and stupid or large and stupid, stupid being the unifying factor amongst them all. Only a few had an appreciable amount of skill, and most of those didn’t have much experience with fighting a warrior. Fighting in bars was probably their specialty. With the ‘no blades’ rule, they were obviously at a disadvantage.
As she ducked to avoid the current opponent’s giant fist and lifted a foot to deliver a sharp kick to his oversized gut, she had to wonder why they’d ordered the no-blades rule in the first place. Obviously, it was meant to put off those who challenged the Brawlers, but why not let the Brawler themselves use weapons? It would certainly come in handy for some of these oafs.
Her opponent stumbled and doubled over, and a sharp blow from her first to the back of his neck knocked him out like a light. He was down and out, and she was the clear victor… again.
By now, she was drenched in sweat and starting to get a little winded, as well as a little annoyed. At least three quarters of the idiots had taken a swing at her, and all of them were nursing hurts or regaining consciousness along the sidelines. As soon as one would drop at her feet and be dragged away, another would charge in from the sidelines to take his place. Curiously, the gypsy and the therians had stayed out of the fights thus far, though Kayce had a sinking feeling that one of them was up next. It was a typical pirating maneuver. Send in the weak ones to exhaust the opponent, and then send in the strong ones to finish him—or in this case, her—off.
Ylva, keep an eye out, will you? I have a feeling that things are about to get bloody.
A surge of mental strength was the only response, but it was heartening nonetheless. She couldn’t see the water wyrm, but instinct told her that the crocodilian female was lying in the mud somewhere just beyond the ring of tents, watching the fight with sharp eyes. Ylva was likely not just looking out for Kayce, though. She probably wanted to get in on the action too.
Kayce’s concern was realized as the two werelynx stepped forward into the circle, their movements becoming increasingly more predatory and feline. They weren’t shifting, but they were definitely going to fight in a more ferocious manner than the rest of the idiots. The beltknives were gone, but each of them held a wooden stave, long and thick enough to put a sizeable dent in Kayce’s skull.
Frick.
“I thought you said no weapons,” she challenged the leader, her eye on the two approaching challengers, belatedly realizing that they were twins.
The leader snickered. “I said no blades. Tha’s the rules, righ’, boys? No blades at all!” he said all too gleefully.
That was about all the warning Kayce got before a stave came swinging down toward her with tremendous force. She barely managed to dodge the blow before a well-aimed blow grazed her left arm. It numbed her arm for a moment, and she managed to scoot backward out of whacking range for the moment.
Unfortunately, both of them were far too quick, and she soon found herself ducking a gauntlet of blows. As soon as she would elude one twin, the other would thwack her on the leg, arm, stomach. It soon became obvious that they were toying with her, and Kayce felt her blood begin to boil. They liked it. They liked torturing her, and it enraged her to no end.
Ylva picked up on her rage, and a sudden growl echoed throughout the entire camp, halting both of the twins in their tracks. Kayce seized the moment to stand and strike one of the werelynx in the jugular with the side of her hand, using a short chopping motion to maximize impact.
It worked. The male immediately dropped the stave and dropped the ground, clutching his throat and gasping fruitlessly for air through a crushed larynx. His brother snarled in rage and then found himself in a similar position, Kayce having landed a wickedly strong stave blow to the same spot on his neck. Luckily for him, his neck didn’t break.
Now armed and thoroughly dangerous, Kayce feigned ease, despite a few aching muscles. “All right,” she panted. “Who’s next?”
//Behind you!// came Ylva’s mental growl, and the young woman ducked just in time to avoid the connection of the gypsy’s oak club to her head. Her hair was ruffled in the breeze from the club’s passing, and she scuttled sideways out of range before standing to face her new opponent.
//Coward!// Kayce heard Ylva hiss angrily into her head, and suddenly the cutthroats began to scream and scatter as the fully-grown water wyrm charged into their midst, snapping her jaws in more than a warning at a few.
The only thing registering in Ylva’s mind was to protect her bonded, and protect Kayce, she would. She lashed out at a nearby man with her tail, sending him flying across the fight circle and scattering the remaining men nearby. “Let me maul them. You have defeated them. Let me…” the wyrm rasped, her voice contributing to her already-frightening appearance.
In a minute, Ylva! I’m busy! Kayce growled as she ducked another club blow. Unlike the werelynxes, both of whom had been quite quick, the gypsy was rather slow, though the club he swung could crush her with one solid blow. She got in close and then ducked, using the stave to smack the back of one of his knees.
It only made him howl with rage and swing the club again. It smashed against her left arm on the backswing, and there was the audible sound of a breaking bone. Kayce screeched in agony. “b*****d!” She swung sharply upward with the stave and caught the unfortunate idiot between the legs. As he doubled over, she fought to her feet and laid one hard blow across the back of his neck, and he was down. Dead or unconscious, she didn’t care. Only two things registered in her mind. First, left arm was essentially useless and painful, and, secondly, she had only one opponent left.
And that opponent was charging at her, full-speed, his fingernails lengthening to claws and his canine teeth growing out to a length that made her blood run cold.
Now she was in deep wyrm dung.
She jumped out of the way, but he was unbelievably fast for his size, turning with her to lash out at her with one clawed hand. It scored her chest and opened up five bleeding wounds. They stung like hell itself but weren’t deep enough to cause her much concern. They only served to tick Kayce off more and make her want to sink one of her swords into his heart.
Since the swords weren’t an option, as they were still in the clutches of the cowering greaseball over by one of the tents, she was going to have to make do with the stave in her hand. That, and a great deal of creativity.
//His arm!//
Kayce jerked in surprise at Ylva’s outburst and barely had time to dodge the bear-man’s next charge. “What?!” she yelled at the water wyrm, keeping both eyes on the therian looking to charge her.
Before Ylva could respond, those man that hadn’t scattered at Ylva’s arrival began to regroup and charge at Kayce with a motley variety of weapons at hand.
It figures. First sign of a problem, and they turn an organized sort of tournament into a melee. Bastards. The young woman turned, stave in her only good hand, to face the new opponents when a green and brown blur bowled over two of the men in the blink of an eye.
Her adrenaline up and ready for a fight, Ylva wanted a whack at the gathered men. With her wide tail swinging back and forth with bone-breaking force, the once-brave men were scattering to the winds and fleeing the camp. A few made futile attempts to kill the wyrm, mostly through stabbing her. A few hits landed, though the damage was negligible enough that the wyrm simply swatted the offending stabbers with a powerful forefoot and watched them soar.
Kayce, meanwhile, was still locked in a losing battle with the therian, who was beyond enraged by the way the ‘lassie’ had destroyed his band of miscreants and his tournament. It was all Kayce could do to dodge the strikes, and she was getting tired, very tired. She couldn’t land a blow, and he was barely missing her with claws and fists. Something had to give.
//His arm! His left arm! He can’t cross it over!// Ylva called to her, her mental voice strained as she busily thrashed one particularly difficult man who insisted on trying to smash her leg with a club.
Tired and bemused, Kayce kept a weary eye on the bear-man as he charged again, her mind beginning to tick as she realized that Ylva was right. The man couldn’t cross his left arm over to his right side, for whatever reason. That meant that if she got behind him…
Decided, she stood her ground as he charged again, sidestepping his forceful charge at the last minute. In the brief instant when his back was to her, she lifted the stave and jabbed the end of it, hard, at the lower right side of his back, the one spot he couldn’t reach to protect.
The man grunted and stumbled, and she hit him again with every ounce of strength she could muster. When he went down on one knee, she laid a blow straight across his back, effectively knocking the wind out of him. While he gasped for air, she shoved him onto his back with a foot, making sure he could see her face.
“You lose,” she panted.
The leader finally managed to take in a breath. “Unfair!” he growled breathlessly.
Kayce hissed and laid another thwack down with the stave, this one right between his legs. “What was that?!”
“You… lo-“
Thwack!
“Youwinyouwin!” His voice was about an octave higher now, and while he acquiesced, the look in his eyes was no less subdued.
Smirking anyway, Kayce straightened, fighting back a wince as pain lanced through her left arm. “Good. Now… what was it I win?”
The leader fought to sit up and made a gesture with his head, both hands still firmly clutching his much-wounded groin.
An instant later, the greasy-haired little man appeared at her side, handing over her swords and dagger. “Yer weapons…” he said before swiftly backing away, obviously not prone to shows of bravery.
“That’s it?” Well, that was infuriating. She hissed angrily and was gratified when the little man and his boss edged away, the bear-man still standing rather awkwardly. “Fighting you to gain what?”
The bear-man growled back. “You’re alive!”
An instant later, Kayce’s dagger was pressed against his throat. “Not good enough,” she said, pressing down harder as he twitched, making as if to move for one of his own weapons. “You’re going to leave.”
The leader looked like he very much wanted to protest when an unholy screeching from behind Kayce erupted. Whatever it was, she didn’t know, but the therian and his little sidekick suddenly turned tail and ran without another word. When Kayce turned, in pain and not looking forward to laying low another opponent, she was surprised to find that the camp was largely deserted. In fact, the only man left was currently screeching his head off as Ylva mouthed at him and shook him around like a rag doll in her strong jaws.
“Ylva, let him down!”
The wyrm gave her an incredulous look and then dropped the shaken, but otherwise unharmed, bandit. She gave his backside a longing look as he ran headlong from the clearing. “Couldn’t you have waited?! I was just getting through all of that smelly clothing and down to the good stuff…” the wyrm moaned before turning to lick at a few of her wounds.
“Oh, stop! Just be grateful we’re still in one piece!” Kayce fumed as she limped back toward headquarters, Ylva plodding along next to her, the wyrm’s jaw roughly level with her head. “That was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever do-“ She halted, catching sight of something in the wyrm’s jaw. “Ylva?”
The wyrm gave her a look of feigned bemusement. “What? I’m not licking my rear, am I?” she asked, “Or did I forgot to wash again?”
Ignoring the wyrm’s sarcasm, Kayce reached in between Ylva’s teeth and plucked out the jewel-encrusted ring. “Looks like… ruby. Or maybe that’s blood. Can’t tell,” she mused, pain momentarily forgotten as she eyed the ring. “Looks valuable.”
“Excellent!” Ylva said, her eyes gleaming as she envisioned a nice, juicy, fresh cow for a future meal. “We don’t have to report that, do we?”
Kayce pocketed their well-earned prize before limping on toward the lights of guild headquarters, wrapping her wounded arm up in a sling fashioned from her cloak. “Hell no, Ylva. Hell no.”END
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Posted: Fri Aug 10, 2007 7:56 am
The Grade
Creativity: 6
Syntax: 2
Style: 2
Overall: 10 out of 10
Points: 10
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![[Llew]'s avatar](https://a1cdn.gaiaonline.com/dress-up/avatar/ava/73/a3/3089cc43fa373_flip.png?t=1261599538_6.00_11)