Jump to content

MT3:1 - Valk vs Arnau Dermont

Recommended Posts


The area around them began to slowly shift and morph until their arena finally became completed. A lonesome and dusty breeze formed and swept through and along the battered and war-torn platform before dispersing in the same fashion as it is been created. In the far distance a red blooded sun shined down on the two combatants. You could almost hear its yearning for their vicious duel to commence. Whatever the long forgotten purpose of this tall and ancient tower had been, it stood clear to them that they were not the first ones to battle upon its barren and cold surface. A steep and shrouded void encompassed the plateau that had been conjured for them.

Fighting in such an arena, one would do well to watch their step, lest you'd find yourself falling endlessly into the nothingness that surrounded them. 




The stage had been set and soon their fight would begin. Walking up the steps, Arnau watched quietly for any signs of his fated opponent. The fine polished and exquisitely forged surface of his father's regalia gleamed slightly in reaction to the faint caress of what little sun that managed to reach the ground at his feet. Taking position a small distance from the edge in front of the stairs that had brought him to the top of the tower, his gaze swept the area taking mental notes of the area around him. When he had achieved a adequate grasp of the the structure his attention turned towards the opposite end of the platform. He was sure that it was from there his opponent would emerge.

Then their deadly clash would finally be at hand.

He took a few additional steps towards the center of the large circular platform. The long tuft made of rugged red cloth on his helmet danced wildly in the passing winds as he walked. His heavy armor clanked against his body in his advance. He stopped as he began to notice a shadow at the other end, a shadowy figure had begun to arrive before him. Arnau turned his shoulder forwards to release the strong leather strap that had kept his blade hanging from his shoulder. Grabbing its decorated hilt he moved it from his back to his side. He saluted his opponent with a elegant bow while keeping his blade at his side.

"It's my solemn honor to salute you and welcome you to our field of battle. However I'm sorry to inform you, that this is the end of the line for you." With those words he raised his blade and with a single sweep he firmly gripped the hilt of his father's renown blade and withdrew it from its containment. The flat sides of the blade rattled as it was dragged against the metallic parts of the sheath. He extended the edge to his side before turning it towards his opponent and allowing his other hand to grip its handle, carefully aligned next to his other hand that already held the sword. 

"Let's begin." He instructed. While other might have entered the competition for fame or glory, Arnau sought neither. He was merely after the prize money, for he would use it to restore the tarnished name of his family. And he would crush anyone who dared to attempt to deny him of his ambition.


Edited by Moon Owl

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

They stood there patiently as the world loaded its details little by little until eventually a stone platform with stairs leading to a larger arena was formed. It seemed this hologram was meant to simulate an area that has seen many battles while in all earnestness it was just now formed and only one fight would take place before it all disappeared after serving the purpose of being a place for a blood sport.

If only the spirit in the armor could relate to being able to disappear after achieving its purpose. Their life is like that of a holographic arena that just stays there after the battle is complete, never to be fought on again. Honestly even participation in this tournament seems pointless to something that has seen so many lifetimes go by; however, it would all be worth it if they could find a challenging opponent to fight, for that is the only purpose they can see for their existence in this world.

Thus they began to ascend the steps toward the giant platform after slinging their mace over the shoulder. Their metal mostly hollow body made loud echoing sounds while they walked. The blood moon made the bronze shell illuminate bright gold. Eventually they reached the top of the arena and came face to face with their adversary.

He was donned in shiny armor and seemed rather articulate. He spoke as if he was confident that the outcome of the battle would be in his favor. Purpose filled the man's eyes as he drew his sword and muttered the words "let's begin".

Without a word the wandering spirit swung the mace off of their shoulder downard toward the opponent's head. The force of the swing being almost as strong as their killing intent. After initiating the strike in the second before it could land they thought of what the man would do to avoid having their holographic head being made mush. They considered that if he dodged in any direction he would probably follow up with a counter attack and if he managed to somehow block it he would try something to distance himself.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

His opponent did not hesitate to accept his invitation for their battle to initiate. The figure lunged at him with a ferocious swing of his blunt instrument, as if possessed by a sudden urge of blood-lust. While he might almost consider to commend his adversary on for the display of determination and boldness, the reckless brute would be a sorely mistaken if he thought such crude tactics would grant his any real advantage.

Like a cunning viper, retreating back one second only to then proceed to strike back at an over-committed foe, Arnau dashed back just far enough that he could almost sense the wind pressure that the attack would have generated. He followed up his evasion by stepping to the side and positioning himself towards the outside of his opponent's swing, placing himself out of immediate path of the heavy mace. While removing one of his hands from the hilt of his blade and carefully placed in towards the middle of the sharp blade in an attempt to set up a quick flurry of quick and precise half-swording thrusts.

Putting pressure with his fingers while keeping his palm away from the sharp edge of the blade, his ability to perform precision strikes had become much improved while sacrificing some of his reach. Given his attacker’s armor, it was a necessary compromise in order to not risk the condition of his blade needlessly with strikes against the metal plates.

Taking careful aim at apparent gaps his armor, Arnau would proceed to retaliate with several thrusts with the tip his blade before retreating back again to examine the results of his counterattack and watch for the fearless Berserker's next move. Whatever the outcome would be, he was sure that his opponent would not take kindly to his reprisal.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

It seemed like his attack had briefly stunned his opponent, allowing him time to move out and around in order perform a flaking strike. However it was uncertain for how long the window would remain open and as such he made haste to make his move. Following his previous flurry he decided to begin to around his target and examined the man for a spot of weakness. Finding himself at the back of his adversary he decided it was the best opportunity to strike a critical blow, designed to either maim or ideally kill its target.  

He moved his blade to a high guard before he would swing the blade downwards towards the head of his enemy with a vicious roar.

“Argh!” He exclaimed while further cementing his grip of the blade in order to compensate to the impending impact. He hoped that the attack would have generated enough force that it would have either crack his brass helmet or otherwise remove it, allowing for a follow-up strike to take him out for good. He would then move back again in order to witness the outcome and thereafter decide upon his next move. For even though he felt like he had the upper hand at the moment, he know how fast tides could turn on the battlefield. Overconfidence is a good way to get yourself killed, he remember his instructor always repeating. 

Edited by Moon Owl

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.


  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

  • Create New...