Teltoli Riverbuck (fr) Vs Rillo Skyblade (adael), Round Two

[Creejak]

Round Information can be found Here. Good luck to both contestants.

[Zilaco Wyndshard]

Scrit, scrit, scrit

The sound of metal rubbing into stone hung in the air as the hare worked the edge of his blade. Teltoli flicked his ears back and forth as he worked in slight irritation. The weather had turned less than desirable over the course of the day. Bruised clouds gathered overhead, rumbling with impending aggression and a soon in coming watery onslaught. The ruddy beast took in a breath of damp air as he continued his work. Bright eyes shone in concentration as he ran the edge of his newest weapon down the wet stone in his right paw. Carefully the blade traveled up and down against the abrasive surface, honing it to a keen razor. The hare’s every movement showed the finesse of an experienced swordsbeast. There was certainly more to the art of sword play than waving ones weapon about in the air or sending a beast to Dark Gates in one fell blow. One had to learn their weapons, care for them, give them a personality to fit the one who wielded them.

All these thoughts and others ran through the former Gatekeeper’s head as he continued his laborious craft. Teltoli was seated in a small wooden chair on the deck of the inn at which he was bunked for the tournament. Thankfully the place carried a bit of the same rustic charm as his chambers back home which in turn, made for a good night’s rest.

“Bally good show of it yesterday Riverbuck wot! I’d say you still ‘ave some spring left in yer step. Still ol’ chap, competing with a weapon you just purchase, bad form indeed sah.”

Teltoli continued speaking to himself as he worked the blade across the stone. It had gone through quite a few changes since he had taken it from a smithy shop down the road. It was still not a match for his other blade, but it would serve him well. He had taken care to wrap the handle tightly with stripes of damp cattail bark. The fibers of the plant hardened around the handle, providing a solid grip. The guard had been polished to a slivery sheen and soon the blade would be crafted to his liking as well.

Scrit, scrit, scrit

“There now. That’s the ticket I’d say, ju-“ Teltoli placed a paw pad to the edge he had created and winced as it drew a spot of blood. “Oh aye, that’ll do rather nicely!”

The blade was sheathed at his left hip with the hare gingerly sucked at his cut paw. Tel liked his weapons to perform efficiently, an effect that could be produced with the razor keenness of a well oiled blade. The time for his next tournament round was at paw. The day before he had faced off against a certain ferretmaid. She had been wieldy with her blades for certain.

“Bet I bally bested ‘er with me banter. Right Riverbuck, let’s get this show on the road.”

He ran his paws over his jerkin to smooth the fabric and checked each of his weapons before striding off the deck and out towards the next tournament location. As he walked Tel pulled out a yellowed piece of paper and examined the script written upon it.

“Well, well, a rat eh? Havn’t fought one ‘o those blighters in a season or two. Still, rat’s a rat eh Riverbuck, we’ll show ‘er what Ruddler beasts can do with the blade!”

Tel clear tenor voice ran out as he strode onward past the outskirts of the small town.

Plip

As he walked a drop of rain fell form the heavens and landed upon the end of his muzzle. Shaking it, off he continued on in the direction written upon the paper until he crested the top of a rather steep hill. The sight before him took the hare’s breath away.

“I say, wot the bally blazes! Who would ‘ave expected something like this!”

As he looked on a huge black bird soared over his head. A condor! Tel had only ever heard tale of such creatures and now here they were.

“Looks big enough to fly off with a full grow beastie!”

Tel waggled his ears in fascination and stepped towards the gap bridging the hill he was on from the rocky surface that would serve as the fighting ring for this round. Tel swallowed audibly as he watched the rock tip back and forth slightly. It looked highly unstable which the hare imagined would give a feel similar to that of a deck in a storm. He had never been the sea going type and hoped the movement wouldn’t throw him off unduly. Still, he had an excellent sense of balance and all the lithe elasticity that came with hare kind on his side.

“Well, al there’s to do now is wait for this…Rillo.”

As he said her name the hare glanced back to direction he had come from, wondering when the copper furred beast would appear. He had not heard much about his opponent but knew at least that she had bested her last opponent to get her into the first rung bracket.

“Oh the fields are me sea n’ me feet are me boat and I’d sail half a league if not more
For the look on ‘er face, when I put on me pace
And end me trip at ‘er front door

Oh I hope she’s lookin’ for a land goin’ sailor who’s braver than most I suppose
And when I do met up and give our hellos
I do ‘ope she’ll wrinkle ‘er nose

An wish this fine sailor of land and of plains
A fine day and how do you do
For a sailors ‘as gusto and lots of good charm
But he’s no match fer me and my crew

Fur and foot fighters
Regiment of honor
Stand firm , stand proud, and nevah back down
Show valor in all that you do!”

The hare's quiet singing melted into a whistle after his rendition of an old march tune from his days of service with the regiment. Teltoli remembered singing the very same song on a different rainy evening that had ended amongst good comrades and friends. Rillo Skyblade was neither comrade or friend and Tel expected her to come with lots of fight. Until she arrived the hare opted to stand and wait on the firm side of the cliffs, his bright eyes focused towards the heavens that seemed to herald a coming storm.

[Rillo Skyblade]

The afternoon storm was getting closer. Rillo’s copper fur was pulled upright by a preceding winds, only to be laid back again at awkward angles as the breezes sought to find an easier victim to faze. In the distance, sheet lightning scraped along the undersides of the dark clouds. An occasional stray flash would strike downward every once in awhile, emitting its ominous growls. As the rat continued her journey towards the fragile cliffs, the winds became still and the air grew hot and stale.

The Master Gunner of the Red Lace was not one to shy away from storms. She had weathered too many to count on a more haphazard deck than the one she was destined to ride this day. It was the second day of the tournament, and with the coaxing taste of gin, had managed to coax the tournament information out of a preceding contestant. According to him, the layout was rough and unsteady, but flat. They were to fight upon the face of a strange formation, very much like a stone top, her informant had said. In his drunken stupor, he had managed to relate the importance of staying away from the edges of the top. A last, well-placed question had been replied with a hazy answer: black birds were to be the transport.

Rillo had taken her acquired information with a grain of salt. Everything the poor bloke had said matched up with the rest of the rumors floating around the tavern the night before. But she could not figure out what the “black birds” meant. The only logical thing to do was to assume that these birds were only part of some sort of poetic mood. It made sense that it would be the crows that would carry off those who did not make it back. While an actual death blow was prohibited in this tournament, there were accidents and if the cliff walls tended to fall, well, a beast was prone to slip, wasn’t he? Hence the crows. The only problem with the theory is that nobeast was talking about anyone having fallen to his death or having been killed by another.

As the she-rat pondered over this little enigma, her path led her out of the thin pine forest and onto the open flat of a clearing. The ground was rocky with little grasses growing between the slabs and in the shallower spots. The clearing continued to rise steadily toward the north, over the highest point, she could see the top of the free-standing mesa. To her right, however, the side of the hill dropped off, forming a jagged cliff edge. Rillo did not bother to peer over the side of the cliff what with the other tourney beast’s words still ringing in her ears. Besides, it did not take a look to know that however deep the little canyon dropped, it would be a long fall met with a rather painful death should she slip.

Minutes later and Rillo came to an abrupt stop. Higher above was the swaying formation that was to be the battleground. While it was not too high of a climb, it was incredibly steep, the rock’s face having been sheared smooth by the elements and crumbling tons of stone from the edges. She had yet to see the cliff edge tear apart, but when she did, the rat was then realized how truly perilous this little jaunt could become.

Between the periodic groanings of the sky came a much more ominous sound. Ruby eyes turned up and an orange mouth parted with a curse as large cracks ripped through the side of the stone. A large section of rock broke loose from its shoring and plummeted down to the canyon floor below. Shocked by the spectacle she had just witnessed and terribly unnerved by the thought that she would have to fight on that unpredictable mass, Rillo did not hear the muted wingbeats of the giant condor until it had landed beside her.

The bird croaked a hoarse greeting, one that nearly cost him his head. While not so quick to notice, Rillo was very quick to react. With her cutlass drawn and teeth bared in a savage snarl, the pirate nearly struck the black bird before she realized that the great bag-of-bones had meant no harm. Her sudden reaction, while mild in comparison to some, was enough to startle the bird into the air. That moment ended any kinship that the two might have had, but Rillo had never been one to make friends quite so easily.

After a minute or two, the bird at last settled back down on the ground. Rillo eyed him over critically, from his bare head and sharp, hooked beak, to his black feathers and – black feathers! Her puzzle had been answered. Black birds were not the ones to cart the dead away, but it was the vultures that were to get the contestants to the top of the cliff…. Where they might later fall, and the vultures with their crow companions could, well, eat them.

“Yer gonna give me a lift ain’tcha?” she asked the condor. The bird gave a cautious nod, suddenly unsure if he wanted to let the armed rat onto his back. “Well a’right then,” Rillo said as she climbed onto her feather mount. “Let’s get movin’.”

With a harsh croak, the condor took off. It’s huge wings spread out and beat the air to gain height. It took a great deal longer to get airborne due to his passenger, but Bugbeak managed. After the first few shaky flaps and a startling drop into the canyon, he steadied out and rose to catch the air currents. The rat-beasty’s garments fluttered about annoyingly against his back and her dirty tail scraped against his tailfeathers. If he had had the muscles to do so, Bugbeak would have grimaced. It was sickening to think that a filthy landcrawler was riding on his back, digging its bacteria-infested claws into his flesh. He would need a whole day of preening to get her greasy smell off of his body. But despite his disgust, this was a job that he had to deal with and complete in a timely fashion. There were to be no sneaky tricks to day…

Rillo on the other paw, was not thinking about how dirty she though the winged scavenger, but how stupid she had been in signing up for this tournament. Despite her bravado when the condor first appeared, she was frightened out of her whiskers at the thought of flying. If rats were meant to take to the skies, they would have grown wings themselves. Her grasp on the vulture’s back tightened. Since there was an obvious lack of wings, it was a clear reference that her kind should stay on land or the rolling deck of a ship. She should have denied the bird’s aid and climbed up on her own…

To Rillo, long hours passed from the moment she had climbed onto the condor’s back to the moment when the bird had made its awkward landing on top of the cliff. In reality, it had been only minutes, but that was beside the point. Even though the winds were against Bugbeak and his perch was anything but solid, Rillo seemed to expect a decently made stop. She was sorely disappointed. The bird's landing was anything but graceful. Instead of kicking out his feet and just stopping, he kicked out his feet, only to have them swept out from under him by a rather ill-placed rock. The result was a magnificent roll that flung Rillo off and knocked poor Bugbeak around a bit. This was not how she had wanted to start a fight.

With a groan, Rillo heaved herself up and moved to check on her cutlass. It would never do to find that her weapon had been damaged beyong use before the fight had even started. The ground rocked beneath her feet, but the pirate did not seem to notice and instead bent her knees a little and swayed with it as if she were riding the deck of a ship. She pulled the blade from its sheath at her waist and examined it carefully. The steel was unmarred, though a little dust and grime had gotten into the hilt in th fall. She would clean that later. Rillo was relieved to see that the sharpened edge was not knicked -- thank the Gates for sheaths, eh.

Her tattooed paws went over the rest of her person, carefully straightening the other three daggers under the guise of dusting off of her garments. She had to trust that the smaller weapons were fine and in good order. There was no reason to be revealing her bag of tricks just yet. As for her garb, she wore the usual jerkin and trousers combination. A baldric hung over her shoulder from which her cutlass was mounted.

With a fierce eye, Rillo looked up and examined her opponent on a closer level. Bugbeak remained ignored, left to gorggily stir himself upright and hobble towards the edge of the cliff. After that flight and fall, the rat could care less what injuries the condor might have sustained. Back to the hare. Her opponent looked to be a tough fellow, no doubt one of those older Long Patrol types (all hares were "of those Long Patrol types" in Rillo's mind, you see). She would have to work much harder than last time if she wished to best him in the fight.

Not one to partake in any pre-fight niceties, Rillo once more drew her cutlass and held it in her left paw. There would be no Arsenio to distract the hare and with her rather dramatic entrance, she had lost the element of surprise. The copper furred rat approached Teltoli at an easy lope, working up her pace as she closed the distance between them. Her ruby eyes narrowed and her jaw parted slightly in a savage snarl. No doubt she fit the idea of a vermin that every goodbeast was brought up on: vicious, dirty, and blood thirsty.

The hare would have had time to prepare for her attack by now, but that did not stop Rillo's rush at all. With each step, her ears jangled a little more from the rings and studs thrust through them and her fur gained a slightly darker tone as the rain started to fall. Her calculating eye was measuring up and her mind was deciding. A quick attack it would be. In and out; basic. Only a few yards of the rocky surface remained between the two; in that time, Rillo gave a hoarse shout and made a diagonal slash at the hare's upper chest. The stroke was long, made strong by every muscle turning into the cut.

She had failed to count the lengths between herself, the hare, and the cliff edge.

((Sorry this took so long to reply to.))

[Zilaco Wyndshard]

A crack of lighting illuminated the sky in a broad sweep as thunder rolled and echoed off the forbidding cliffs. A warm breeze ruffled the hare's head fur, warning all creatures of an oncoming storm. The clouds above bunched together as if preparing for the deluge they would soon release upon the earth. Teltoli's bright eyes roamed from the hazardous conditions of the heavens to the wide plain he had crossed to get to the cliffs. Short yellowed grass rattled and whispered as breaths of the storm passed through in warm blasts across the softly rolling hills. Truly the weather was preparing to rent fury upon the lands.

The hare however stood stoically as even. The whistling of an old march tune still lingered on his lips as he watched an enormous black bird descend a quarter of the way around the precarious rocky cliff on which the second round of the tournament was to be held. The ruddy beast knew the avian was dropping down to assist his opponent in surmounting the disk of land that teetered across the divide from where he stood. Casting a glance upwards Teltoli spotted another condor plying the winds of the storm to come towards him. An exercise that appeared to be quite arduous for the large bird. Teltoli had been many places, and seen many things, but the coming experience filled him with fascination. To fly! Never had the hare imagined such an experience. As he continued to watch the condor stooped lower, seemed the stretch himself towards the earth. Finally with one last flap of his sail-like wings the creature made a not ungainly landing.

Reeeawwwk!

The bird squawked at the hare and turned his naked head at an angle to fix Teltoli with a beady black eye. Tel looked back, determination radiating from his features.

"Well well wot! Me ship awaits I suppose? Yer 'er to take me to the dueling ground aren’t you? Well, then, not much for it but to do it eh?"

As he spoke the hare moved forward with dignity and caution, one paw resting firmly on the hilt of his rapier. Once he was within range of the condor Tel stretched out a rough black paw towards the nape of the bird's neck. The odor of the bird was less than savory, but that was to be expected by its diet and way of life. Teltoli smoothed his paw through the oily feathers, marveling at the size of the creature before him.

"Aren't you something then...why I remember whe-"

The hare's reverie was cut short as the condor swooped back his head and fixed him with another stare. Obviously the bird had no interest in the finer side of conversation.

"Alright then, no need to keep you waiting I suppose wot!"

The ruddy hare took in a deep breath, grabbed the feather tightly in his paw and hoisted himself up onto the flying creature’s broad back. There he settled himself in, his legs draped in front of the condor’s magnificently large wings.

Rrreeaccck!

The bird released a cackling call as it moved forward in a rolling waddle toward the edge of the cliff.

"I say wot! You sure you can hold me uuuuuuuup!"

Tel stifled a yell as the bird dove from the edge of the cliff, causing the hare's stomach to flip flop. Teltoli was sure he would meet his fate on the jagged cliffs below. The pair fell together towards their demise on the razor rock below. Just as Tel had bid his life farewell the condor opened his wings and caught an updraft rising from he canyon floor. In one powerful stroke the bird had propelled himself and his passenger back level with the cliff edge and then higher into the air. Teltoli tried to glimpse the earth below as he was catapulted through the air towards the tournament ground. The wind in his face whipped his ears back and filled his eyes with tears. It was all he could do to hold on, much less admire the view.

Before knew it, the dueling grounds came into view. The disk of rock balanced precariously on its perch, surrounding by nothing but open air and a dizzying drop. The condor flapped his powerful wings again and lowered himself for a landing. Huge leather talons snapped forward and grabbed at the ground as the bird came down. Tel felt the wind knocked from his lungs as the bird touched down and skidded to a halt. The hare was all too glad to slide from the avian's back even if the ground his foot paws were resting on was less than stable. He did not relish the thought of the return ride. Somehow he had imagined flying to be more, well, comfortable.

As he brushed down his leather jerkin and hock length trousers the foot fighter marveled at the condor once more as he took to the air without a backwards glance. Suddenly the ground beneath his swayed dramatically causing the hare to instinctively drop to his paws and foot paws. Looking up from his crouch Tel watched in fascination as another condor landed on the other side of the rocky ring. This bird's landing was even more ungainly than his had been. The beast surmounting the condor was flung from his feathery body as both somersaulted across the rocky ground. A flash of coppery fur told Teltoli his opponent had arrived. Tel placed a paw to each of his rapiers now, waiting to draw steel until he could clearly see the ratess he would be fighting. Rillo was vermin and in Tel's mind that was enough to switch his mind from the flight he had just endured to the fight that was to come.

"No quarter Riverbuck eh? She's vermin, that's all you need to know. Vermin."

The words grated from his muzzle with a deep rumble of determination. Rillo had risen now and was going about the same business that had only moment before, though in the rat's case there was more dirt to remove. At least his condor had managed the land without a dramatic finish, which was something Tel was exceedingly glad of. The hare watched without moving as she drew her weapon and began to lope towards him. Ah good, a quick start! Tel felt adrenaline course through his body, his well muscled legs quivered in anticipation of the first clash of blade. The hare slowly drew his rapiers as the copper furred pirate came at him. Rillo's gait increased in velocity as the she-rat moved towards him. Tel glanced heavenward once last time. The clouds lanced with lightening and thunder rumbled across the rocky terrain.

"Perfect day fer a duel I'd bally well say."

The words issued with icy calmness as Rillo came at him, a warm breeze ruffling his head fur and pulling at the ends of his head wrap. His weapons gleamed with the light of the storm above as Rillo's hoarse shout mingled with the rumbling of thunder. Tel side stepped to the right as she slashed at his chest and brought his right pawed blade up for a blocking move. At same time the hare bared his teeth in a daring grin and stabbed in viciously with his left blade, aimed rib height at the ratess' right side. It was a move violent first move than usual for the hare, but he hoped it would be effective enough to show Rillo who she was dealing with. Teltoli Rifflappin Riverbuck loved a good duel and felt this beast would bring him one.

[Rillo Skyblade]

((Ack! I thought Teltoli was already on the rock-thing. And just a side note, does the names "Fort Typhoon" or "Pirates of Cold Bay" ring a bell? Or Sydney Black, even?))

The hare's words were lost on Rillo, drowned out by the thunder. Not that she would have responded anyways -- silly things like that were not worth the breath to reply. She had never been one to bandy words during a fight. But if her opponent (again with the silly forgetfulness of opponent's names) decided to say something amusing, then she would be more than ready to say something smart back. Of course, such retort would wait until she was on the offensive.

As expected, the hare blocked her strike with a well-placed parry. Her cutlass slid along his light rapier as he turned and defended himself. In that alone he displayed that he was no ordinary country bumpkin. His quick jab with his other rapier defined the hare as no ordinary goodbeast either. It was a silly thought and one that Rillo should not have entertained. Of course, every good vermin knew that every hare was trained at that old mountain, Salamandastron. It could only be expected that he was good with his blades.

Teltoli's counterattack had caught Rillo by surprise, but she was too good to allow herself to be handicapped by it. The rat slipped her cutlass out from his block than moved it in front of the hare's rapier to keep him from putting it back on the defensive. Her smaller blade meant that she had to move closer to the hare in order for her block to be effective, drawing her into his stab but not quite. She twisted just enough to allow the thinner rapier to shoot by without catching her as Teltoli had intended.

With her left arm and cutlass stretched out at an angle to keep Teltoli's second sword in a lock, she reached out to grab his other swordpaw at the wrist. Should her claws catch his paw, she would pull him forward by using his own momentum to propel the hare towards her. It was a risky maneouver, but one that she would afford to make. Unless the hare was very clever or had some sort of clairvoyance, it was almost certain that he could not have been expecting that. Most beasts would have spun out to avoid the blade, not bring their opponents closer.

At the same time, she stepped forward with her left paw leading. She allowed the blade lock to slip slightly, but counterred it with her true attack. Her weight shifted to her left paw, allowing her to bring her right leg up, bending it at the knee. For a brief moment, Rillo allowed herself a grin. The moment was broken as she rammed her knee at the hare's gut.

It was the same style of attack that she had used on Audrey in the previous fight. Fight fast, hard, and never fair.

((The one thing I hate about writing a fight scene like this is that it is so hard to communicate the speed at which a duel occurs. Lemme know if you need me to clarify Rillo's attack.))