3. Nathen Wingates - Mystran Bard.

Nathen Wingates - Mystran Bard.


  • "Arcane Vertigo, Part I"

    Don't you give up on it,
    Another one awaits you,
    Don't you give up on it,
    Break ahead, it makes you,

    One dozen years you've trained,
    But don't give up, it takes you,

    Go into the sky, the dust, and the dark,
    Go now, there's no time, to do, or to die,

    Fight, spells acast,
    Go into the night, be ready to fight,

    Fight, fight, fight.

    x-2

    _"You better be ready for this, Nate." Zyphlin grinned across the room, arcane mist still swirling around his ever shifting armor. Nate laughed loudly, running a gloved hand through his hair leading into a shrug and friendly smile, "Oh don't worry, I'm ready when you are Zyph." His smile was a bit too friendly. Anakore was in the corner, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes at the small talk. "Hey, you two ready or what?"

    Zyphlin chuckled and nodded, "Ready when you are, Nate. I want to see the 'fighter bard' everyone's talking about." Nate glanced over, smiling still, with a nod, "Was born ready."

    "On my count then." Anakore grinned, Peltarch Fighter's academy fell silent. Sierra sat against the pillar, near Anakore, watching curiously. Chaevre was beside her as well, arms folded, watching without a word. "Five…" Anakore started the count.

    Zyphlin hopped from side to side, unsheathing his rapier and his dagger, light on his feet, his armor shifting to it's blackened cloth form. Nate was wearing his casual clothing, flexing his fingers outward, leaning down slightly to asssume a battle positon. "Four... Three..." Nate couldn't see it but he knew Zyphlin was grinning behind that black helmit of his. A confident glint flashing in his eyes. "I can win, all I need to do is figure out his battle tactic."

    "Two... One... GO!"

    ...

    "Koo vu duu perium!" Nate flexed his arms outward, shifting and wrapping himself with a cackling sphere, dissapearing. A similar hymn present the other side of the room, Anakore glanced over, Zyph was also gone. He rolled his eyes. "Typical."

    Hyms, arcane utters, sparks flaring and dissapearing in the blink an eye, the fighter's academy was dazzled in an array of lights. Both sources invisible.

    Inside the sphere, his fingers tense and his eyes determined, Nate Wingates uttered his usual series of hymns. He was strong, aye, but not strong enough. "Bull's strength" He needed to be fast, he needed help avoiding blows, "Mage armor." Along with all the others.

    Quickly, he ran into a corner of the academy, hearing Zyph casting still. He managed to tighten the straps to his armor on, adding one last layer of protection for his duel. He unbuckled and swung his mace out, brandishing his shield with his free hand. He ran back into the center of the fighting area, the invisibility sphere cackling around him. "Come on Zyph!" He called out in a friendly tone, smiling behind his invisible mask. "I thought you were faster then that!"

    He blinked, hearing the step behind him, feeling the rapier find a soft spot under a plate in his armor, "Gah!" the invisibility around Zyphlin's body swelled up and vanished. "Here I am!" He was grinning, as usual, hopping back and assuming a defensive position now.

    Nate's eye cought it, the arcane hyms and spells swirling around the two in a marvelous display of light. "As soon as I make a move, he's going to counter it..." He thought sharply to himself, circling the grinning Zyphlin, looking him in the eye. Holding his shield out towards him, gripping his mace in back, "Come on Zyphlin..," he raised his voice tauntingly, "Make a move..." he tightened his lips readily, "I dare you."

    Zyphlin's grin widened. Standing rapier high, dagger low, on his tip-toes, ready for anything as he circled Nate. "Fine, not going to give into wordplay, eh...?" Nate thought to himself, tensing every muscle in his fibre up.

    "Prepare yourself!" His tone raised, begining to become raspy, his grip on the mace tightened. "Hhhhraaaghhh!" His voice shook and twisted into a banshee-like scream, sending a shockwave towards the bard in black leather. The burning tension in his muscles eased, Nate cracked a low grin as the dark hymn he'd hummed stayed swirling around Zyphlin. "Nghh, damn that hurts!" Zyph replied, gripping his rapier tight, hopping back gracefully.

    "Lhhet's seeh hhow yhoo dhoo nhow, Zyphh!" The sharp raspiness in Nate's voice still lingering, smiling knowingly at the pain Zyphlin had just recieved. But Zyphlin wouldn't be beat so easily, he hopped back another step, avoiding the thrust of Nate's morning star, strumming a small harp attached to his belt midair.

    The fight had only just begun.

    ..._


  • Journal Entry…

    (You come across a torn page of Nate's Journal.)


  • Journal Entry…

    _…I got beat up today for trying to help a citizen who's shop was being raided by a bunch of asshole rebel defenders. They tied me up with shackles and gagged me for it, too. Then they just left with the sack of goods from the store. They're starting to get under my skin. Chaevre then said she could get the shackles off, but used a PolyMorph spell. She turned into a giant bug creature and shook me around a bit. The shackles broke, along with part of my pride.

    ...I got teased to the nine hells today at camp. Oats was pulling tons of pranks at my expense. I guess he's not such a bad guy for a druid. Witty and humerous. His jokes were pretty tastefull, though. Actually made me laugh afterward when he had painted the words "PADDLE ME" on the buttox part of my armor. Sneaky little elf he is, hehe.

    ...When I was sitting in the commons today, Eowiel and Demi started to throw rocks at me. At first I figured they were playing some sort of game or something, so I joked about it. When they didn't stop, Clandra suggested I give Eowiel a hug, which I did. Then she didn't stop so I just used invisibility sphere and got out of there.

    ...I dueled against Eo tonight. A fair match I guess. I won. Afterward she seemed upset. I guess it's because she's such a proud woman. I tagged along even though she dismissed me. When I asked what was wrong I didn't get a real straight answere, though.

    I went with her to a meeting with Rath who was already in a 'conferance' with two women in his room at the city hall. Who I suspect werent talking about city business. I wasn't too sure whether she was OK or not so I waited in the hall for about three hours, too. I ate a bunch of different fruit. A banana, an apple, and some grapes too. The grapes were good.

    When she came out she said that I was looking at the new advisor to Rath Ashald. She seemed to have cheered up, if only a bit._


  • Journal Entry…
    _…I met an Istishian today. I can't believe it, I havent seen one in ages! My old chum from waterdeep was Istishian, but the idiot never told me much about his god - which I thought was a goddess. Anyway, her Name's Yarian Roth. Roth, as in captain Anakore's last name. When I asked her about it she said her parents died. Strange, I doubt it's just a coincidence but I suppose it's possible. Nice girl, too, if not a bit wierd.

    ...Cotts was acting wierd today. She kept making strange comments and asking me to rub her back. It made me real uneasy, though, and I had to run off when she started talking all slow and sensual like. I think she was toying with me but I'm not too sure. I can't believe I ran off. Gods.

    ...Bah, my assignement was flawed. When I presented it to Eowiel it must have been off-topic. Which sort of bites my chops and busts my earlobes because I was sure it was dead-on. Maybe I'm not the great performer I thought I was. Next time I'll make it nice and precise.

    ...Oh gods those eastlanders are asking for it now. They're threatening the camp! They want to kidnap cotts, too, which really ticks me off. What if they go after Kaona too? I never did trust those heretic purple-armored mauraders._


  • Journal Entry…

    _…So many great things happened today. Well, great, is a loosely used term. I was accepted into the cerulean knights, for one. Clandra's my trainer, which is sort of awkward. She's a sharessian and she keeps trying to take my belt off or something like that. Important part is that I'm an apprentice and done with squire-hood. One thing, though, is the uniforms. The pants sort of ride up my rear and I have to keep tugging at them or else it becomes very uncomfortable.

    But this little tidbit is easily overshadowed because Divinus came back. She brought our little girl from Damara, too. Krystal's looking great, she's so cute. She even said her first words to me today, "Mommy loves Daddy". Terribly adorable.

    I just don't know how I'm going to break this to Shemaright._


  • Journal Entry…

    _…Lilly and her dark haired lady friend were talking in the commons today. I was sitting with Eowien along with Anakore. We ended up having a sparring match below the Ferret, me and Lilly. We agreed to allow magics and such to be used, so I used them. Her dark haired friend kept spluttering some nonsense about cheating, but we had agreed to the rules before-hand. Honestly now, what's a bard without a bunch of tricks?

    I won, it wasn't that hard. She couldn't hit me for one, even though I wasn't wearing my armor. I think she hit me once, but my barrier absorbed it. Anyway, I healed her and was very polite afterwards. She didn't smile, I think she felt a bit bad for losing. Guess I feel a bit guilty myself, I don't know why though.

    Anyway, soon after Eowiel and Clandra wanted to have a staff-fight. That's when Senator Rath wandered in with his usual body guards. He was looking for exitement, I guess. He sat down and watched Eowiel fight Clandra. As usual, he kept mispronouncing my name. "Nest" isn't even similar to "Nate". I don't know how he can possibly mistake them. Oh well.

    Eowiel won that match. Senator Rath said he was growing bored, so I offered Lilly a rematch. He gained interest this time, he even placed 500 golds on me as a bet. Even though he's a crude individual, he did place a large sum of money on my victory. That felt good, someone believed in a bard for once. I asked Lilly if I could cast a spell for this match, she told me to ask the Senator. He told me to go right ahead. So I did, I think I upset Lilly's friend, though.

    I saw this and figured that if she thought I was cheating by using one spell. I walked up to Lilly before the match and tapped the weave to enhance her strength. If that didn't make things even, I don't know what did. Before the fight begun she started growling and snarling for some reason. She was quite angry, don't ask me why. I took advantage of this, given that 500 golds were on the line, I used the usual stream of comments and taunts to catch her off balance. It worked.

    I won that match too, just not as easily. I think she was a bit angry afterward, though. I healed her and asked her if she was alright. Senator Rath was happy with his 500 coins. I'm glad, he did root for me after all.

    I hope I can organise my cast for his play soon._


  • ((Thankyou for the compliment 🙂 ))

    Journal Entry…

    _…I trained against a preistess of the Red Knight today. She was with Mariston in the commons, and she seemed interested after I mentioned the Iron Blade contest to him. I offered her a sparring match, fair and square. I lost. I don't feel bad about it though, she used some crazy rod to help her win. The spell was magic missle, and that rod seemed to have an endless supply of it. I suppose I should have mentioned that no items would be allowed, but whatever.

    I did well, I had her right where I wanted her a few times. But she kept asking her god for assistance. Every time I came close to knocking her out, she suddenly burst out and lashed back at me. Two or three times even. A good match, though. Tought me a lesson about knowing when to let your guard down and when to keep fighting. Never get over-confident, even when your oponent is right where you want them.

    ...The strangest thing happened today. I couldn't believe it but, we were simply sitting down and having a chat in the commons when it happened. This paladin named Alexander and his brother ran up to magistrate Barrim. Clandra was there, along with Daria and Devath. Alexander said he had followed two 'suspicious' looking mages with blue robes. I didn't think they looked that suspicious, it's not like they were dark skinned with red robes like those dirty thayvians.

    He reported to Barrim that they were talking about what sounded like an attack to the college. That's when I took interest. We went to the house that Alexander said they walked in, turns out it was only a senile old man who was hard of hearing. After that we decided to check out the college itself. Some poor frightened man ran up to me screaming, he clung to my feet sobbing and muttering about some ghost. I calmed him down.

    That's when the strange things started happening. We saw a burst of light coming from the left. When I examined the weave strings used to create it, it turned out to be a teleportation spell. Between you and me, that is a VERY strong spell. Then another strange thing happened, I heard the most carchy song. From nowhere. I figured it was Clandra playing a trick on me, since she likes to abuse her invisibility spell. But when I asked, she didn't know what I was talking about.

    We found some strange papers that the mage dropped and Clandra is researching them now.

    A strange day. I wonder if anyone else heard the music.

    It was beautifull._


  • Journal Entry…
    _I went on quite the adventure today. Some white armored men walked by as me, Anakore, Kalina, Demi, Mister Black and some smelly fellow named Dang were sitting in the commons. Demi spoke to them and found out that they saw a guard chasing a red-robed man into the sewers earlier. I'm telling you, those sewers stank more then that bulk of sweat and muscle, Dang. We decided to go check it out. As we ventured deeper into the sewers Demi suggested that the man in red robes could be one of the skinner's lackeys.

    ~The Skinner: I hate this guy. He's a seriously sick and twisted freak. He creates deadly machines by using the flesh and bones of dead creatures. Last time we squared off against him was some time ago in the kobold caves. He had massacred the lizards and had been putting there bodyparts together. Like I stated, he is nothing but a perverted, sick and twisted man.

    We continued deeper into the sewers until we ran into a HORDE of rats. I'm talking over two hundred or so. My cursed lyrics battle hymn worked well against them. It's good for battle but not much else. But I think I'm begining to master it.

    After the horde of rats we ran into a dark armored man. I asked him his name, as he took off his helmit I realised it was HeadMaster Zyphlin. He had heard what was going on and decided to take a peek for himself. He joined with us.

    We opened a strange looking door, finding a room full of explosives and spotting the mad-mage. Zyphlin tripped a trap before we could sneak up on the red-robed man. He was manipulating vials and bottles on top of some sort of alchemy table. After he spotted us, the lunatic cast the one spell perfect for our situation. And I use the word 'Perfect' with much sarcasm. He cast fireball and set the whole place shaking with a burning hot fury. We had to literally run for our lives with the spreading fire right behind us. Senator Black nearly got burned to death, but somehow he managed to avoid most of the rampaging flames. Zyphlin, at one point, started running VERY fast for some reason beyond me. Maybe a spell, maybe not. I decided it wasn't the best place to open a spell-book and browse through for speed spells.

    We made it out okay, but barely. I managed to swipe a raggedy dark red piece of robe from the debree afterwards. I handed it over to Kalina for research.

    Quite the adventure indeed._


  • ((::applauds:: Very nice! 😄 He won't be so lucky next time, though. :twisted: :elol: :fork: ))


  • Journal Entry…
    _–
    ...I faced off against Kalina today. I won. She was tough to beat, but I won. I'm so proud. Anakore says I'm going to be graduating soon. He made some joke about having to slaughter innocent people in order to be accepted. After I shuddered at the whole statement, Eowiel suggested I walk on burning lava coals or something. Sort of wierd if you ask me. I just shrugged it off, she seems to be a distant person anyway.

    ...I finished the last script of Rath's play. It was hard, but I did it. Gods I felt so tired afterwards. I could barely keep myself awake in the commons. Worse yet, some shadey looking characters were acting tough in the commons and refusing to lower there weapons. Talking back to a Senator, can you believe it? And when I asked a group of defenders for help, they refused. What kind of people is Peltarch recruiting? They wouldn't help there own senator. Some people are just jerks naturally I suppose. The shadey characters finally listened and sheathed there weapons after mister Evendur put up quite a fuss._
    –

    "Training - Arcane duel."

    -Fancy a spar?
    _Nate loosened the plates from his armor, looking over to Kalina with a polite smile. "Remember, fair and square." She smirked and nodded. Anakore folded his arms, standing next to Demi. The peltarch fighter's academy was the perfect place for there little arcane duel, Nate thought.

    "I'll use magic if you will." Kalina called over, closing her spell book and setting it aside with her pack. Nate shrugged and rolled his shoulder. "Fine by me, Kal." He had the perfect strategy in store for her. She was good at fighting, that much he knew. And she had just told him that she reached second circle. "Perfect." He figured, "She must not have broken her spells in yet." His eyes flickered over every one of her spells as he looked over, he was humming spells of his own.

    She was looking back at him, studying his mouth, the shape of his mouth as he hummed each note. "Hrmph, probobly identifying my magic." He thought, chuckling to himself on the inside. "That's alright" he thought, humming still, wrapping himself with the comforting embrace of the weave, "I can see each string she pulls, hear every arcane lyric she mutters." As always, to him, drawing energy from the weave was not only a privelage but an art, a gift. Music to his ears and paintings to his eyes.

    Mage armor, Cat's Grace, Bull's Strength, each one he identified with ease. Vice versa, he figured he would go with his usual combination of protective magics followed by the single offensive enhancement. He finished his last hymn and retightening his armor. He made sure he had a balanced footing before gripping his club tight and adjusting his shield.

    -Clever clever.

    "You ready?" Kalina called over, she wasn't wearing her usual splint armor. She stayed in the cerulean knights cloth uniform. "Why isn't she armored? What's she thinking?" He pondered to himself for a moment. "Yeah!" He called over from across the room, Anakore keeping his eyes peeled with interest.

    Kalina started murmuring and muttering, her fingers moving rythmicly and sparkling with a small light. "Here we go!" Nate thought, he pushed his weight forward and charged. Holding his shield forward, his club low and to the right. "True Strike!" The reason she chose not to wear her armor hit him as she murmured a certain word, "True Strike, That's why!"

    "Hitting me no matter what, Clever-clever…" He kept thinking to himself as he charged for the first hit, trying to cut off her spell. True strike was one of the more abusable spells in the first circle, especially for someone who uses the tactics of the cerulean knights and combines arcane with fighting. He swung his club downward, she hopped back lightly with unnatural grace. She grinned after murmuring the last word, clutching her axe from her belt, her spell being cast.

    She dodged his next attack before hopping up and turning her axe sideways, hitting him in the chest with one strong swing, knocking Nate down to the ground with a cough and sputter. He choked a moment from the axe swing, "Damn it, Wingates" he thought, rolling to his side to avoid her next attack. With a glint in his eye he saw the arcane mist surrounding her axe fade as he rolled, "Don't give up yet you bastard." His thoughts blurred out that moment, he pulled himself to his feat and dodged another attack, hopping lightly to the left.

    "She pierced my barrier" he coughed, thinking. "Ghostly visage never let me down like that before." He hopped back and began humming a lingering and depriving song. He saw her lose focus, just the slightest bit. She shook it off and saw he had hopped back a safe distance. "COME ON THEN!" He shouted from across the room, taunting her into charging. She smirked and begun to mutter the same series of words as she did before.

    His blurred thoughts once again became less liquid and audiable. "True strikes, she's casting true strikes and relying on the cat's grace to avoid my hits." He scowled on the inside, his eyes flinching. It had been too long since he'd felt pain like this before. He was so used to Mystra's comforting magics protecting him, yet she had managed to peirce through it, how? He shook these thoughts off.

    "That's it" He thought sharply "Enough playing around, I've got to stop her from casting that spell a second time!" He dug his metalic heel into the cement floor of the fighter's academy, zoning Anakore and Demi out, his eyes widened, focusing on Kalina.

    She moved her right arm outward a moment to create the proper movement for the spell. There, that was it. As he finally reached striking position, Nate's iron greaves scratched against the floor as he skidded to a stop. His club was lowered to his right, he moved his shield to the left and gave his arm an upward thrust, aiming for her hand.

    He grinned on the inside as he saw the arcane mist evaporate from her hand, her spell interrupted. "Now it's even" he thought.

    -Talking gets you everywhere.

    Wordplay is just as important as swordpaly, he remembered Khalomey's comment. "Come on then, Kal! Let's see what you've got!" He taunted, hopping to the left. Now he had her, he saw her lose focus and stagger with her next attack. "Now I've got you" he thought to himself as he hopped back.

    "You can't hit me without your little true strike spells now can you, Kalina?" he kept thinking to himself as he saw her get more and more frustrated. "I say I say! A nice try!" He taunted out loud, evading another attack.

    She stopped her attacks and he gripped his club. His eyes narrow and focused despite the serious axe wound in his chest from what seemed to be an eternity ago. "…She's going to cast again!" The grip on his club tightened as he saw her lips move, muttering the necessary incantations for yet another True-Strike spell. "Can't let her do that!" His thoughts blurred and turned to liquid once again as he crouched, lept a step forward and struck his club into her gut.

    "YES!" He thought. He felt the weave-strings twist and get tangled around her body, her spell had failed. "One more should-" His thoughts raced, once again losing it's liquid sound. He took the opertunity to land another clean blow, this time swinging his club down onto her lower back as she gripped her stomach blow. "Do it!" He finished his earlier thought.

    -"Changed."

    Kalina fell to the ground. Nate staggered back, breathing heavily but still standing. He loosened the plates to his armor and let them fall to the ground, along with his club and shield. "Damn…" He murmured, breathing heavily. "Good match." He staggered over, shaking a daze off and murmuring a hymn.

    "Dammit..." She scowled, getting up. "I don't need your help." He finished his hymn, waving his fingers in Kalina's general direction. Her wounds lit up a moment before sealing shut. He then murmured a similar hymn, only this time applying his hands to his chest wound.

    "Stop refusing help." Anakore chuckled from the corner next to Demi. "He talks too much." Demi stated. Nate shrugged at her comment, knowing that his wordplay is what snatched him the victory. He picked his armor and weapons up. "My my..." She said, watching him gather his equipment. She buckled her axe back to her belt and set her shield aside. "You've certainly changed."_


  • "The lady and the Brat."

    _"I've become so strong." His words simply lingered around his mind as he thought to himself. He was leaning against the ledge of a window, looking down at the passing commoners from the second floor of the theatre. "I'm not that little runt who hung around Kaona in camp five years ago. Not anymore. I'm strong, able…" He opened his eyes, paused a moment before sighing. "Gods I miss camp... Sis and Ringleader... And ... Everyone."

    He shook it off, murmuring and turning. He walked down the stairs, his feet rising and falling quickly with every step, his metalic heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "Screw it. I need to visit. I owe sis that much." It had been over half a year now he hadn't slept in camp, he'd been too busy with his assignements with the college, and his training for the cerulean knights. The theatre door opened slowly, he glanced around, letting his eyes narrow and focus at the sunlight a moment. Closing the door and adjusting his cloak, he made his way into the commons, towards the city entrance.

    He brushed past the commoners with a polite smile and absent minded nod. He turned the corner, pulling his blood-red cloak tighter around his neck and buckling it.

    ...

    As he stepped into the Gyspie pass, he heard the familiar, friendly laughter. This was not the town of stone he was living in for so long, this was a haven of nature, a valley of trees, leaves. Along with the organised huts and bonfires. He looked at the two rom children playing tag and ruffling around in the leaves. A small smile spread across his lips, he continued forward. He stopped a moment, pressing the tips of his boots into the ground, lifting himself up and looking towards the fires. The smile widened slightly, he continued.

    Haulting before the dark haired woman sitting alone at the fires. It was Kaona, she was holding her katana out and examining it casually, leaning against the tree. His boot heel dug into the dirt with his last step, creating a small ruffle in the leaves, she looked up.

    His face remained impassive for a moment, he lowered the hood from his cloak revealing his blood-red hair, resting his gauntletted hand on his leather belt, which was supporting his mace over his set of dark plated armor. His darkred cloak tied neatly at his neck. She smiled wide, eyes sparkling with joy. "BRAT!" She exclaimed, setting her katana down at her side. He seemingly inherited her smile, taking his hand from his belt and losing all formalities, flopping himself down beside her comfortably. "Hey there... Ol' lady..." He smiled warmly despite his words, his tone idle, friendly and somewhat relieved.

    ...

    "What'v you been up to for so long, brat?" She smiled sideways to him, hunched next to her younger brother, both sitting down in the grass at the bonfires, leaning against a tree. "Well, I've been training..." He hesitated, smiling. He hadn't seen his sister in so long, talking to her brought the cheer back to his face, he had gotten lost in his books, poetry and fighting. "And writing poetry... Completing assignements for college." She just smiled, listening.

    "I missed you, Brat. Look at you. Your all grown up now, eh?" She leaned over and ruffled his hair, he just smirked sarcasticly and let her. "Uh-huh."_


  • "Ironblade Contest."

    -Round one.

    _"Next up, in the red corner, Nate the conqurer!" He was sitting next to Demi when they called his name underneath the Lucky Ferret. Dozens and dozens of people had come to watch the 'Iron Blade' gladiator contest. No one expected a bard to enter, like Nate cared anyway. He grinned slightly and gave Demi a sideways confident grin before getting up and slowly making his way into the ring. "Go get'em Nate." Daria smiled wide watching him as he rolled his shoulder, he smiled back. "Kick some rear, man…" Gabriel grinned slightly. "Tae show's on yae, Nate." Mirkali was also grinning, sitting next to Daria, looking towards him.

    "And in the blue corner, Yevath the brave!" Nate stood in his corner, loosening the straps of his plates and watching his oponent walk calmly into the ring. Probobly confident at the fact he was facing just a bard. Nate smirked and begun to hum his series of hymns, feeling his chest expand and breathing accelerate as he expected. The roar of the cheering crowd seemed to invigorate him, the cheers that echoed around the underground arena through the bars seperating the contestants and the spectators made him feel right at home. He grinned wide, satisfied with his protection spells. Breathing heavily and glaring over to his oponent. An elf with dark hair, no real muscles or endurance.

    Piece of cake, he thought. He retightened the straps to his armor and adding metal to the arcane layers around him. "Conestants! READY?" Nate strapped his shield to his right and gripped his club to his left. The elf drew his bow, arching it straight up and knocking an arrow, pointing it towards Nate. The only thing the young red-head could do was smirk at the thought, he remembered dozens of orc bolts falling prey to his magical protection, giving him absolutely no damage or pain at all.

    "FIGHT!" Nate pressed his iron heel into the stone floor and charged, the roar of the crowd swirling around him as his feet brought him closer and closer to his oponent. The elf spread his fingers, letting the arrow fly straight towards him. "Idiot." He thought as he simply let the arrow hit the magic and riciche to the side. As Nate drew closer to him the elf quickly tossed his bow aside, drawing to shortblades and hopping back. "Is that it!? Come on then!" Nate grinned, taunting the elf. His oponent gritted his teeth and lunged a blade forward, Nate easily dodged the side and countered with a club in the gut. "Let's go then, come on!" Nate kept taunting and musing, watching the elf get angry and lose focus. Watching him swing more and more angrily, getting off balance and finding opening.

    Another - The elf slipped and staggered forward slightly, Nate danced to the side, hopping from one foot to the other and slamming his club into the elf's neck with a half-sillouette. The elf stumbled and gritted his teeth, arching his back and slashing his sword through the arcane barrier into Nate's neck. The crowd cheered and hollared.

    He didn't feel a thing, his eyes widened as his reflexes took over. He quickly pressed his shoulder against the backside of his shield and rushed into the elf, knocking him down and unconcious. He quickly dropped his club and grasped his neck with his free hand. Nothing. No blood, his arcane protected him. His breathing was heavy, underneath his magical layers of armor he was sweating bullets. The announcer spoke up. "And the winner - NATE THE CONQURER!" He grinned a victorious grin and walked out of the ring. "Wow… Din' expect da bard ta win..." He heard the Paladin, Samson, comment on his victory. "Just a bard." Nate blurted out, chuckling lightly, finding his place beside the pink haired Demi, smiling triumphantly. Everyone's jaw dropped in awe, eyes wide with surprise. No one expected him to win. No one and he knew it.

    Not Garreth or Sam. Not Demi or Uthgor. Not Dawn or that stuck-up captain, Rando. He just smirked and settled down. "Nice job, Nate." Said Demi. The crowd slowly managed to settle down and wait for the next match.

    ...

    -Round two.

    Nate watched the next few rounds, he saw nothing but preists abusing the power granted to them by there gods. Tormites, Tyrians, Lathanderites. All using there gift of divinity, there privelege vested into them from the immortals. Using it for petty games and amusement. "Am I any better?" He thought, remembering the numerous arcane vestements he wrapped himself within in the first around. "Okay folks! Next up, we have once again NATE THE CONQURER in the blue corner!"

    Nate once again got up, patted himself off and rolled his shoulder. Perfectly ready for his next round, perfectly ready to prove himself to the crowd that there was no such thing as "just a bard." He made his way to the corner after recieving the usual cheers from his friends. "And in the red corner… Mariston the strong!" Nate smirked and walked up to the blond haired holy warrior as he knelt and begun to pray to his god. He stood above him, looking down and gripping his club loosely at his side.

    "Who do you worship?" He asked, the crowd settled and remained silent to await his answere. The holy warrior placed his helmit on and inclined his head upward, his eyes focused on Nate. "Torm." Nate chuckled and turned around, shaking his head slightly. "And now Nate fights against torm." He smirked to himself as he loosened the straps to his plate and began to hum his usual series of hymns. Relishing the emotions and strength they brought to him.

    His chest expanded, his adrenaline rushed, he felt the magic swirling and lingering around him. He smiled content and retightened the straps to his armor, patting his shield with his club and getting into his combat stance, hopping lightly from one foot to the other a moment. The paladin Mariston rose slowly, gripping his bastard sword tightly.

    "Fighters, are you ready!?" The anouncer's voice boomed through the arena, the rush of cheers overcame the crowd. "FIGHT!" Nate hoped back a few steps, letting the paladin charge him. The holy warrior rushed, his iron heels clanking against the floor as he swung the first attack with his giant bastard sword. Nate hopped back gracefully and begun his usual carefully planned series of taunts to distract and anger his oponent. "Oh wow! Is that all you've got!?" The paladin swung again, this time singing Nate's right shoulder.

    "Nghmph." His magics took most of the attack, but unlike before he felt a small stinging sensation. Enough fooling around, he thought, time to go on the offensive. "Wow I'm starting to think this is too easy chum!" He stumbled on his next attack, giving the bard an opening for an attack. He pulled his elbow back, smacking the paladin clean across the neck, watching him stagger a moment. "That's it - did that hurt? Huh!? Did it?" He kept taunting and keeping his eyes peeled, flickering them over his oponent's every action, scanning for an opening.

    "No, no it didn't!" The paladin lunged towards the young bard with an upward swing of his mighty bastard sword. Once again he felt the distant sensation of cold steel pressing against his skin, piercing through his magical vestements and hitting him clean, but at a reduced rate. Nate grit his teeth and gathered his footing, gripping his club tight and deflecting another blow loosely with his shield. "Well, come on then!" The young bard shouted, watching the paladin loose his footing as well as his focus, giving into Nate's wordplay. With one final strike of his club, Nate hit the back of his oponent's head, watching him fall to the floor unconcious.

    There he stood, in the middle of the cheering crowd, over the paladin he'd just bested. Breathing heavily, once again covered in a fine layer of sweat underneath the swirling magics around him.

    He made his way out of the ring, once again hearing the paladin, Samson comment on his victory. "Tha's gutta be the furst time Sam sees a bard win twice in a row..." He smirked and rolled his eyes, murmuring a healing hymn for both him and the paladin Mariston. "Good match." Nate grinned, extending his hand outward to the holy warrior. "Aye, likewise." He shook his hand firmly, grinning.

    -Round Three.

    Nate had made it to the semi-finals. He once again found himself sitting next to Demi and watching the matches. "ALRIGHT!" He heared the accouncer raise her voice once more. "Next up, Semi-finals! Nate against … Rando!" Nate chuckled, getting up slowly. "Hand him his arse, Nate..." Demi murmured, Nate grinned faintly. "That man has a phobia of bards."

    Nate walked into the ring and went with his usual routine of loosening his plate and humming his arcane hymns. When he was ready he glanced over to the other side of the ring, watching Rando quaff potion after potion. Watching Rando's skin get covered in bark and other magicly vested enhancements. "Oh just farking great..." He thought to himself.

    "FIGHTERS! Are you READY!?" Nate gripped his club and took up his fighting stance, placing his shield in front ready to defend against the expected charge. "FIGHT!" Rando's facial expression was hidden from underneath the bark and other magical effects the potions he drank gave him, he whipped out a scroll and begun to read it quickly. "What the..." Nate shook his head and lost the stance. "Can't let him use that!" He thought as he charged, club gripped firmly in hand.

    Too late.

    Rando finished reading. Nate blacked out. Next thing he knew he was pulling himself to his feet with a splitting headache. "Ugh... What the..." Then it dawned down on him, the scroll must had been a mind spell. He murmured a curse at his rotten luck, as well as a healing hymn. Rando raised his sword out to the cheering crowd. Nate sealed his wounds with magic and extended a hand out towards the captain. "...Good match." Rando grinned and shook it firmly. "You too."

    Nate went back to sit next to Demi and sighed, disapointed. Rando went to the finals against the lathanderite, Dawn. Winning the 8000 gold prize._


  • "Cerulean Knight Training."

    _The light-red haired young man stood tall, his chest slowly expanding and retracting with every slow breath. His neck arched upward and his eyes were closed. He felt and relished the small snowflakes that glided and danced through the night air only to land on his hot skin and melt in a split second, giving his weary and warm face a sense of cold relief.

    He held his club loosely at his side, oposite of his shield which he also felt slipping slightly. Despite the cold and thanks to his extra padding beneath his armor, he was covered in a fine layer of sweat, most of which hidden underneath his plated armor.

    In his mind he imagined every single aspect of mixing the weave with his weapon. He knew all he had to do was peel off the cumberson plates to his armor to feel the drastic change around him, to feel his lady's grace envelope him and hold him, a different kind of protection then metal or leather. A sense of well-being and calmness.

    He loosened the straps to his plates, just a bit. He felt the slight comforting pressure against his body. He kept his eyes closed and begun to hum a hymn, his breathing began to excelerate, his chest expanding and retracting fast as he felt the weave wrap and embrace him, giving him newfound strength as well as an adrenaline rush. The faintest of smiles spead across his face, he refastened and tightened the straps to his armor.

    He slowly inclined his head forward, opening his dark green eyes and focusing them on the enemy which he could not see - yet. He gripped the leather straps of his club as well as adjusting his shield, his eyes now more calm and focused then they'd ever been. He remembered the Norwick militia calling him just a bard.

    He was an arcanist and expert weave-stringer. He was able to imbue his song, able to make an army's heart burn like fire, able to make the frailest elf withstand the mightiest of storms. He grinned faintly at the thought as he lifted his boot, the small amount of snow which had gathered as he lost himself in his thoughts now slipped off and back unto the ground with the rest. He begun his way into the orc lands to prove to himself once and for all that he was not just a bard.

    As he trudged through the snow, seeing the horde of orcs ahead, standing brave and unphased as he dug the heel of his boot into the ground with his last step. An orc grunted and turned it's head his way, it's breath creating a faint smoke as it exhaled. It dug it's large boots into the ground and arched it's back, howling and getting the attention of the rest.

    The red-head tilted his head forward, narrowing his eyes, keeping a firm grip on his club. Feeling comfortable and confident with the magics surrounding his armored body. The howl had the rest of the orc's gaze focused on the young human. They charged.

    He stood still yet, waiting. For once he felt true purpose, he wasn't just singing for an audiance that wouldn't tip, or painting someone for gold he never recieved. As the first orc ran within range he stepped back, avoiding it's swing. He slammed the backside of his club against it's head with a mighty swing granted by his newfound hymn of strength. He jerked his arm backward, bringing his shield to block the second orc's attack and deflecting it.

    The first orc fell to the ground after recieving just one hit, the determined and focused young man dug his foot into the ground and pressed his shoulder against the backside of his shield, shoving the second orc backward.

    The third and forth orcs had circled around to his back, and had already hit him a good deal of times, only to be denied any real damage by his magical vestements granted by one of his many protection hymns. He didn't feel a thing and kept his focus on the second orc, he gripped his club, bringing his shield back from the shove and swinging his weapon forth across the second's face.

    The second orc fell, two more arrived from his right while he turned to the left face the third and forth, who were now growling with anger at there vain attacks. He tightened his grip and charged, gritting his teeth and swinging his club feverishly. By some fluke of luck the third orc managed to block the first attack, only to get pummeled across the chest and stagger back, falling to the ground by the second.

    The fifth and sixth orcs stopped in there tracks, just for a moment, before starting towards the now battle-frenzied bard. The fourth just swung away in vain before getting the young man's shield in the cut and club to the face, falling beside the third.

    He turned to face the fifth and sixth, unscaved and untouched since the begining. His back lowered as he turned, his club low to the ground just for a moment before pulling his elbow back and hitting the sixth across the face, pushing it backward. The fifth swung at the bard, once again in vain and only hitting his magical barrier. He kicked the ground, hurling his shoulder into the sixth orc and thrusting his shield into it's gut.

    It fell.

    Just like the others it fell, without touching him or scarring his skin, or even hitting his armor. It only hit the magic, as he expected. Standing with his back arched forward, his chest always expanding and retracting with his now somewhat heavy breathing.

    He felt the magic slowly dissipitating as he made his way back to Jiyyd, his club tied to the belt around his waist, his shield lowered and at his side, a triumpent, faint grin spread his lips. He chuckled lightly at the thought. "Just a bard…"_