Re: The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Four: New Battleopolis!]
11-13-2011, 05:02 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
She was not pleased. Still, she supposed it was to be expected; Konka Rar was a dangerous figure, or at the very least a disruptive one, and one that Packston's band would not want to walk around unexpectedly.
She should have gathered allies first, she thought. Stealthy ones. It would make her look more like Konka Rar if she could defeat four foes in front of an audience.
But instead, she was facing a muscular old man swinging a hammer at her, and a young woman with a bladed trombone. Along with Packston and a boy with floating gloves.
She had speed, but they had numbers. And she was too focused on avoiding them to mount an effective telekinetic offensive.
"Accelerando Slash!" Elimine shouted, and charged at her.
She stepped out of the way, only to find a pillar rising from the ground as she did. Packston!
The shift in terrain caught her by surprise. For a moment, she was disoriented. A moment long enough for Arkal's hammer to strike.
She was knocked to the ground. Steven's gloves quickly crafted a chain and bound her with it. She tried to toss it off her, but Arkal had already grabbed her before she could.
"Now then," Packston asked, "who exactly are you? I doubt this is how Konka Rar fights."
And then a man appeared behind Arkal. He was holding a crowbar, and struck the smith in the head with it. The crowbar bent, but the old man still fell to the ground.
"Sorry for the disturbance!" he said calmly as Arkal's grip loosened and "Konka Rar" freed herself from the chain. "But this is someone I'd very much like to talk to."
Elimine came closer. Then three more people appeared, these ones holding guns and pointing them at Packston's group. A fourth appeared at Arkal's unconscious body, holding a sword to his throat.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said the man with the crowbar. "We weren't planning on ending the round just yet, but it's not out of the question. Don't give us a reason to, hmm?"
Packston sighed.
"Stand down," he told the others.
Emily and Cole arrived soon after. The strangers, and whoever had been in the black cloak, were gone.
"Arkal's hurt," Packston said. "We need to take him back to base. And we need to discuss matters further."
***
"Why can't see the Hand of Silver?"
"As I have said," Reinhardt sighed, "the Hand of Silver is preoccupied with our struggle against the monsters which plague New Battleopolis. He would love to meet with you, but we need to eliminate the threat of the nonhumans first."
The knight looked over the assembled crowd of newcomers.
"But if you would like to assist us in our battle, you would of course be more than welcome. That would speed matters up considerably, and then of course the Hand of Silver would be free to discuss any matters you wish."
There was a low murmur among the strangers as they discussed Reinhardt's offer.
Behind his mask, Reinhardt smiled. He was certain they would accept.
***
"What do you want?" she snapped. Pleased as she was to have escaped, she didn't like being indebted to these strangers.
Crowbar, as she'd mentally named her rescuer, simply smiled.
"We'd like to talk to your brother before we leave. Unfortunately, Mr. Reinhardt hasn't been cooperative in this respect; he's made an offer, but he wants a favor from us first. We thought that perhaps you could help us sooner."
"And why should I?" she asked.
"Aside from the fact that we just rescued you? Well, as it turns out, I have another very good reason why you should help us."
He paused, and said one word.
She sighed. That was reason enough.
"Very well," she agreed, reluctantly. "But you must speak that name to no one else."
"Of course, of course. Our lips are sealed. As long as you cooperate, naturally."
A few meters away, John Smith tried to stifle his laughter at what he had just overheard. It was always nice to have a little extra leverage.
***
"A smithing contest against the King of the Dwarves?" Arkal asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That's right," the young nobleman said. "My father has been engaged in a land dispute with the dwarves for some time now. But both sides are stubborn. Finally, I convinced my father to challenge them to a contest, and the Dwarf King insisted on smithery."
"And so you want me to be your smith?"
"The King specifically said 'if you can find me a human, any human, who can best me in smithery, I'll give you that land.' And then I heard you were passing by."
Arkal considered it.
"And as payment?"
"Five thousand coin in advance. And, should you win, any material you wish on the new land. My father is primarily interested in mining the gold and silver, and has little interest in any other minerals. I know you, on the other hand, may be interested in some for your crafting projects."
"It's a deal," Arkal replied. The five thousand coin alone was a worthwile offer; indeed, it was enough that he'd have to return home for a proper celebration. And the prospect of new materials was always exciting.
One week later, the contest was arranged. Arkal sat in the Grand Hall, and lay down his anvil and forge. He bowed to the King of the Dwarves.
"I am Arkal the Smith," he said simply. "On behalf of Sir Norbert of Candrus, I have come to challenge you to a smithing contest."
The King sized him up, and spoke. He clapped his hands, and three dwarves carried a silver anvil into the room. A fourth handed the king a small hammer. Six carried in a forge, twice the size of Arkal's.
"Greetings, Arkal the Smith. I am King Lanath of the Silver Anvil. I accept your challenge."
That was it. There were no more words between them; both simply went to work, crafting the finest weapons they could, with materials provided by the dwarves at either contestant's request.
They worked for three hours, and a gong sounded. Time was up, and both had finished.
King Lanath had made a battleaxe. Its handle was long, longer even than a standard spear, but the dwarf had balanced it excellently. He handed it to Arkal for inspection. The smith gave it a few practice swings, smiled, and handed it back. Truly the king was a skilled smith.
But Arkal still had his own weapon to present. It was a large gauntlet, so large that it could fit over his entire arm. He handed it to the king.
Despite the gauntlet evidently being designed for a human-sized arm, Lanath found he could put it on comfortably. There were mechanisms inside allowing him to control it. He charged towards Arkal and threw a punch.
The smith was out cold.
When he came to, he found the young nobleman and the Dwarf King standing over him.
"Congratulations," Lanath said, smiling. "You have bested me. Apologies for the blow there."
"It's nothing," Arkal grumbled. "And thank you."
"Ah, but this weapon is amazing! I never thought anyone could craft a gauntlet which could be wielded effectively by a human or a dwarf! This is a masterpiece! In fact, I shall grant you an additional prize."
He pointed to his anvil.
"This is now yours, Arkal of the Silver Anvil."
Arkal picked up his forge and chained it up. Then he removed the chain from his own anvil and attached them to the silver one.
"I thank you. I shall craft on this with pride, and I shall think of your people when I do."
And so he left, pleased.
The next morning, he returned to pay his respects to the dwarves, and to look for materials to claim as payment.
What he found were a hundred dwarven bodies. He recognized King Lanath's among them.
He stormed towards his patron's manor, enraged. He didn't expect to run into the man well before then.
"You've seen it then," the young man sighed. "I swear to all the Gods, I never wanted this. I wanted a peaceful resolution! But my father... I never realized how much he despised the dwarves. Once that land was his, he ordered his men in to slaughter them before they left."
The young man was in tears.
"The law of this land does not protect the dwarves. What my father did was completely legal."
Arkal's fury grew.
"You mean to tell me that I've been used, hundreds have died because of me, and the law says there's nothing I can do about it?" he screamed, shaking the young man.
"I'm afraid so."
Arkal growled.
"We'll see about that." He put on his gauntlet, and carried Lanath's battleaxe. "We're going to have a talk with the King, and there's going to be a new law tomorrow. It may be too late to punish your father, but I'll be damned if I let anyone like him commit a crime like this again."
He stared the young nobleman in the eye.
"I am Arkal of the Silver Anvil, and I swear that from this day on, I will never allow humans to slaughter and abuse non-humans with impunity!"
***
Arkal woke up.
"Urgh. What happened?" he groaned.
"Someone appeared out of nowhere and hit you with a crowbar," Packston replied. "Konka Rar, or rather the impostor, escaped. We've regrouped back here."
"And I've been telling him he shouldn't have interfered like that," Emily said with a scowl. "While also treating your head wound. You've got a hard head, but it's not invincible."
Arkal then realized something was missing.
"My anvil. Where's my anvil? And my forge?"
"Calm down. Your gear is in the back room. It was too heavy for us to carry along with you," Emily said. "But we managed to salvage it. Packston insisted."
Arkal breathed a sigh of relief, and ran back to claim his anvil and forge.
"Thank you. These are both very important to me."
He noticed that Packston and Emily seemed to have resumed their argument quickly in his absence. Nonetheless, they stopped again when the doors swung open.
"Hey! You guys!" Holly shouted, annoyed. "I've got something you might be interested in."
She held up the silver orb.
"This needs a human. You've got some. Give me some shelter and it's yours, no fuss."
She was not pleased. Still, she supposed it was to be expected; Konka Rar was a dangerous figure, or at the very least a disruptive one, and one that Packston's band would not want to walk around unexpectedly.
She should have gathered allies first, she thought. Stealthy ones. It would make her look more like Konka Rar if she could defeat four foes in front of an audience.
But instead, she was facing a muscular old man swinging a hammer at her, and a young woman with a bladed trombone. Along with Packston and a boy with floating gloves.
She had speed, but they had numbers. And she was too focused on avoiding them to mount an effective telekinetic offensive.
"Accelerando Slash!" Elimine shouted, and charged at her.
She stepped out of the way, only to find a pillar rising from the ground as she did. Packston!
The shift in terrain caught her by surprise. For a moment, she was disoriented. A moment long enough for Arkal's hammer to strike.
She was knocked to the ground. Steven's gloves quickly crafted a chain and bound her with it. She tried to toss it off her, but Arkal had already grabbed her before she could.
"Now then," Packston asked, "who exactly are you? I doubt this is how Konka Rar fights."
And then a man appeared behind Arkal. He was holding a crowbar, and struck the smith in the head with it. The crowbar bent, but the old man still fell to the ground.
"Sorry for the disturbance!" he said calmly as Arkal's grip loosened and "Konka Rar" freed herself from the chain. "But this is someone I'd very much like to talk to."
Elimine came closer. Then three more people appeared, these ones holding guns and pointing them at Packston's group. A fourth appeared at Arkal's unconscious body, holding a sword to his throat.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said the man with the crowbar. "We weren't planning on ending the round just yet, but it's not out of the question. Don't give us a reason to, hmm?"
Packston sighed.
"Stand down," he told the others.
Emily and Cole arrived soon after. The strangers, and whoever had been in the black cloak, were gone.
"Arkal's hurt," Packston said. "We need to take him back to base. And we need to discuss matters further."
***
"Why can't see the Hand of Silver?"
"As I have said," Reinhardt sighed, "the Hand of Silver is preoccupied with our struggle against the monsters which plague New Battleopolis. He would love to meet with you, but we need to eliminate the threat of the nonhumans first."
The knight looked over the assembled crowd of newcomers.
"But if you would like to assist us in our battle, you would of course be more than welcome. That would speed matters up considerably, and then of course the Hand of Silver would be free to discuss any matters you wish."
There was a low murmur among the strangers as they discussed Reinhardt's offer.
Behind his mask, Reinhardt smiled. He was certain they would accept.
***
"What do you want?" she snapped. Pleased as she was to have escaped, she didn't like being indebted to these strangers.
Crowbar, as she'd mentally named her rescuer, simply smiled.
"We'd like to talk to your brother before we leave. Unfortunately, Mr. Reinhardt hasn't been cooperative in this respect; he's made an offer, but he wants a favor from us first. We thought that perhaps you could help us sooner."
"And why should I?" she asked.
"Aside from the fact that we just rescued you? Well, as it turns out, I have another very good reason why you should help us."
He paused, and said one word.
She sighed. That was reason enough.
"Very well," she agreed, reluctantly. "But you must speak that name to no one else."
"Of course, of course. Our lips are sealed. As long as you cooperate, naturally."
A few meters away, John Smith tried to stifle his laughter at what he had just overheard. It was always nice to have a little extra leverage.
***
"A smithing contest against the King of the Dwarves?" Arkal asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That's right," the young nobleman said. "My father has been engaged in a land dispute with the dwarves for some time now. But both sides are stubborn. Finally, I convinced my father to challenge them to a contest, and the Dwarf King insisted on smithery."
"And so you want me to be your smith?"
"The King specifically said 'if you can find me a human, any human, who can best me in smithery, I'll give you that land.' And then I heard you were passing by."
Arkal considered it.
"And as payment?"
"Five thousand coin in advance. And, should you win, any material you wish on the new land. My father is primarily interested in mining the gold and silver, and has little interest in any other minerals. I know you, on the other hand, may be interested in some for your crafting projects."
"It's a deal," Arkal replied. The five thousand coin alone was a worthwile offer; indeed, it was enough that he'd have to return home for a proper celebration. And the prospect of new materials was always exciting.
One week later, the contest was arranged. Arkal sat in the Grand Hall, and lay down his anvil and forge. He bowed to the King of the Dwarves.
"I am Arkal the Smith," he said simply. "On behalf of Sir Norbert of Candrus, I have come to challenge you to a smithing contest."
The King sized him up, and spoke. He clapped his hands, and three dwarves carried a silver anvil into the room. A fourth handed the king a small hammer. Six carried in a forge, twice the size of Arkal's.
"Greetings, Arkal the Smith. I am King Lanath of the Silver Anvil. I accept your challenge."
That was it. There were no more words between them; both simply went to work, crafting the finest weapons they could, with materials provided by the dwarves at either contestant's request.
They worked for three hours, and a gong sounded. Time was up, and both had finished.
King Lanath had made a battleaxe. Its handle was long, longer even than a standard spear, but the dwarf had balanced it excellently. He handed it to Arkal for inspection. The smith gave it a few practice swings, smiled, and handed it back. Truly the king was a skilled smith.
But Arkal still had his own weapon to present. It was a large gauntlet, so large that it could fit over his entire arm. He handed it to the king.
Despite the gauntlet evidently being designed for a human-sized arm, Lanath found he could put it on comfortably. There were mechanisms inside allowing him to control it. He charged towards Arkal and threw a punch.
The smith was out cold.
When he came to, he found the young nobleman and the Dwarf King standing over him.
"Congratulations," Lanath said, smiling. "You have bested me. Apologies for the blow there."
"It's nothing," Arkal grumbled. "And thank you."
"Ah, but this weapon is amazing! I never thought anyone could craft a gauntlet which could be wielded effectively by a human or a dwarf! This is a masterpiece! In fact, I shall grant you an additional prize."
He pointed to his anvil.
"This is now yours, Arkal of the Silver Anvil."
Arkal picked up his forge and chained it up. Then he removed the chain from his own anvil and attached them to the silver one.
"I thank you. I shall craft on this with pride, and I shall think of your people when I do."
And so he left, pleased.
The next morning, he returned to pay his respects to the dwarves, and to look for materials to claim as payment.
What he found were a hundred dwarven bodies. He recognized King Lanath's among them.
He stormed towards his patron's manor, enraged. He didn't expect to run into the man well before then.
"You've seen it then," the young man sighed. "I swear to all the Gods, I never wanted this. I wanted a peaceful resolution! But my father... I never realized how much he despised the dwarves. Once that land was his, he ordered his men in to slaughter them before they left."
The young man was in tears.
"The law of this land does not protect the dwarves. What my father did was completely legal."
Arkal's fury grew.
"You mean to tell me that I've been used, hundreds have died because of me, and the law says there's nothing I can do about it?" he screamed, shaking the young man.
"I'm afraid so."
Arkal growled.
"We'll see about that." He put on his gauntlet, and carried Lanath's battleaxe. "We're going to have a talk with the King, and there's going to be a new law tomorrow. It may be too late to punish your father, but I'll be damned if I let anyone like him commit a crime like this again."
He stared the young nobleman in the eye.
"I am Arkal of the Silver Anvil, and I swear that from this day on, I will never allow humans to slaughter and abuse non-humans with impunity!"
***
Arkal woke up.
"Urgh. What happened?" he groaned.
"Someone appeared out of nowhere and hit you with a crowbar," Packston replied. "Konka Rar, or rather the impostor, escaped. We've regrouped back here."
"And I've been telling him he shouldn't have interfered like that," Emily said with a scowl. "While also treating your head wound. You've got a hard head, but it's not invincible."
Arkal then realized something was missing.
"My anvil. Where's my anvil? And my forge?"
"Calm down. Your gear is in the back room. It was too heavy for us to carry along with you," Emily said. "But we managed to salvage it. Packston insisted."
Arkal breathed a sigh of relief, and ran back to claim his anvil and forge.
"Thank you. These are both very important to me."
He noticed that Packston and Emily seemed to have resumed their argument quickly in his absence. Nonetheless, they stopped again when the doors swung open.
"Hey! You guys!" Holly shouted, annoyed. "I've got something you might be interested in."
She held up the silver orb.
"This needs a human. You've got some. Give me some shelter and it's yours, no fuss."
There's no reason for this | Or this | Death is inevitable | You can't challenge fate | The smallest change | I'm overwhelmed
I'm serious | It makes perfect sense | Easy as ABC! | I can't even explain it | Cleaning up someone else's mess
I suck | I rule | I've got it made | Really, I'm serious | This bugs me | It's all lies | I want to believe | Beauty is a curse
I'm serious | It makes perfect sense | Easy as ABC! | I can't even explain it | Cleaning up someone else's mess
I suck | I rule | I've got it made | Really, I'm serious | This bugs me | It's all lies | I want to believe | Beauty is a curse