Lion Heart [M]

[Anti-Hero]

All credits of this video go to a personal friend of mine Daisuke Aurora

Dearest Son,

I guess I should begin my explanation here, odd that this will be my final entry in this journal. I've kept it ever since I was a kid, but the odd thing was this journal was never just mine. Before my father left, he wrote here too and before him his father, and I really don't feel like pushing that any further, but I'm sure you'll get the idea. I plead with you, more than any other book, read this one and take it to heart, because unless something has changed, this too will be your path. That's why this journal is what it is, a record of those who came before you, for those who will come after. There are details here that may one day help you put an end to all this, but for now, we have no idea. My name is Seigilius Vireliusteus autem Giredania, but really my name is Seig Virelius, I'm not sure why, but our royal family has always found it more fit to drastically over complicate names. More to the point, because knowing this is my last message to you, I feel like I could go on for hours, days, months, I'd be exaggerating at years. There is still so much I want to teach you, but I'll have to leave that to your mother. Poor girl, she was actually fit to be queen, however, you'll come to learn that kings don't have the luxury of wives. It will make your old man sound like a young fool, but I wish I could have married, sex was a lot of fun. More so, I wish I could have known you for a while longer. Today is the day before my twenty-third birthday and you are but a mere five years. You resemble your mother more than me, but you'll grow and no doubt like me, have a magnificent beard.

See? Side-tracked.

As you get older I would like to leave you with a few last lessons that I will never be able to teach you. One, be happy, you will train hard, be pushed harder and sometimes that will boil over into rage and sadness, but you need to stay happy. The time you have isn't much and no grudge is worth losing what little time you have. Two, don't fear love. While we may not be allowed to marry, grow up as you would, love who you would, and understand that everything we do is for the love of the people. Three, be strong. Be immovable, be the wall at which your kingdom can hide behind, be the sword that thrusts against our enemies, be the light that will one day burn away the darkness. These people, they know of our destiny and of theirs and while they do not show it they are afraid. As my final act as your king and your father I give you a small but important gift, with your mother's aid, give yourself a name. In our kingdom it is tradition that this be your first act as the new king. Let no man, no demon, angel, or God, take that from you and if they so try, stand against them with everything you are. You are my son, my father's grandson, and our world's king. I am proud of you in whatever way you choose to live and know that your decisions belong to all kings.

I love you my son,
Seig Virelius.

His hand lingered for a moment with the signing of his signature, clearly, he'd left far to much unsaid. But, he knew that, even as a King separated from his family the majority of the time the bond between them was unmistakable and it wasn't easy letting go. He laid his pen down on the table and with a quiet heaving sigh close the book, dust particles shown in the light when they were blasted from its pages, they floated for a moment before settling to their new home on dark mahogany wood. The legs of the chair scrapped against the floor as he stood and across the room a young maid and butler snapped from a relax attention to a more sharp one, he smiled and shook his head.

"There's no need from either of you, this just was harder than I expected." He pursed his lips into a half grin and let his weight rest on one leg while he peered out the window, slowly but surely composing himself for the events coming.
"If I may, sire..." A small voice from the maidservant crept up out of the silence in a commanding but comforting tone, "You're human, this was never meant to be easy for anyone, least of all you, you needn't justify yourself to us." She stepped forward during her snippet and then back again, the instincts of a mother were all to apparent, she had wanted to show comfort to someone in pain but recalled her place and thought it inappropriate.


IF I can at all help it, we'll make it back alive. All of us.

He blinked away a swelling of tears in his eyes and turned away from the warmth of the sun at the very least he'd see the boy one more time at the naming coronation at that was something, plus who could say no to the sheer amounts of food that the city would be presenting for the festival.

"Alright, I suppose its time to get ready." He stepped into a stride and made his away to different corners of the room, properly dressing himself, grooming, etc. The things he outright wouldn't allow his servants to do, The preparation would take some time but the Festival was one that pushed well on into the next day, but its beginning came tonight.

Just outside his bedroom window stalls had been erected and banners were slung from building to building welcoming all travelers, whether they had come to have their mettle tested, to cook amongst the greatest chefs, or just to enjoy and celebrate the High King and the Royal Family. Even the streets were already packed with merchants looking to sale their wares and the people were scuffling about trying to make sure everything was ready for all the attendees. This festival was easily their most important holiday, some even considering it sacred, although the King scoffed at the idea. The Young Prince was even found walking the streets with his mother and several guardians armed to the teeth. This day was special and there wasn't a soul who didn't treat it as such.

Finally, at the city gates that had been left ajar, albeit heavily guarded, for the incoming line of attendees and warriors, some had made their appearance even the oddly place centaur form outside the barrier, that one was going to a special attraction considering how rare it was to see them. For those who already arrived many of the homes and businesses had opened their doors free of charge, as was tradition.

[Pheasant]

Doctor Lumen Laelius Lucianus was no stranger to excess.
He’d grown up in the mountains city of Opalli, amongst warriors from every corner of the Empire who drank as fiercely as they fought.

He’d also survived eight years of his own study in the Military Academy of Sira-Se, in Medicine no less.
But the pomp and reverie he’d already witnessed, even before the official ceremony surprised him.

Twice already he had been propositioned by already drunken revelers.
They sized up his snappy Parade Uniform, indicating his schooling.
Eyes lingered over the Asklepios, a staff with a snake coiled around it, sewn into the arm of his jacket.
Then, their eager gaze and mischievous grin rose to his face, locking onto long vertical slits flanked by grainy blue and patches of blue-white scales that curled around the side of his head, up to his scalp.
Two invitations were hastily retracted.

Doctor Lumen tried not to let it bother him. He’d had twenty five years of practice.
Just not quite enough practice.

The Half-Human, Half-Something-Scaly decided to take out his annoyed disappointment on food, grabbing a breaded and fried sausage on a stick from one of the stalls.
It was a bit too much like dinner, he admitted, but the more doughy and chewy confections were hard on his first and second molar and premolars, not as sharp as his canines and central/lateral incisor but still much sharper than a normal human.
The meat was well cooked, and certainly delicious but something was off about it.
Overcooked? No, as far as festival food went it was nearly perfect.

He’d finished it before he had time to form a further hypothesis, leaving the food stalls towards the center of the festivities. If Lumen didn’t arrive early, he was sure to be stuck in line behind a crowd of children eager to serve in the Lion Heart, the High King’s hand selected unit.
Lumen sighed.
He wished he could steal some of that eagerness.
He wished he could pretend that it wasn’t just another death march of a long line of them.

For a brief moment the Doctor considered what it would be like if he were selected. Barely keeping up with the greatest warriors of his generation.
Patching them up, sending them back into danger. With each return, a little bit more of them missing until they didn’t return at all.
Lumen wasn’t fool enough to think he could avoid that fate either, after long enough.
His talent was in saving lives, not in swinging a sword.
His responsibility was here. Even a lesser Calamity would claim a number of lives he dared not fathom.
The lives of the High King and his warriors would be a drop in the bucket by comparison.

Lumen took a breath, and found a seat.

He just had to make it through the Selection. Then, he could relax and actually enjoy himself.

[StormyNyte]

The streets were already much too crowded for Namida’s liking. She much preferred the rolling forests and grasslands of The Fringe, at least out there the only ones under-hoof were those you saw fit to put there yourself. She was right where she meant to be though, it was to be one of the biggest festivities in over a score and big festivities meant money to be won. The sound of her heavy hooves rang out against the cobblestone street with each progressive step accentuated by the soft creaking groan of her leather girdle belts and saddlebags, drawing surprised glances from any that weren’t already openly gawking.

She ignored the shocked stares for the most part, mildly pleased that the milling throng seemed to part itself before her with minimal effort, aside from the occasional drunken fool that staggered blindly into her path. One such spirited individual had been attempting to garner the attention of a group of women with acts of bravado. As she started past, the man staggered backward and nearly lost his footing when he stumbled into her. On blind impulse, he spun and landed a solid fist to her humanoid stomach, but it was obvious by the widening of his eyes that he had fully expected to connect with someone’s jaw. In a flash of movement, Namida’s hand shot out and caught the man by the collar of his tunic, pulling him off his feet with ease.

The anger that smoldered behind her hazel eyes was enough to make the man visibly pale, but a quick flurry of motion from the corner of her eye drew her attention. The scene had sent some passersby scurrying and now a small group of city guards were rounding the corner, alerted to the cries of alarm, with hands at the ready on their sword hilts. She eyed them as the most high ranking of the group stepped closer, speaking with a tone of military authority. “Is there a problem here, Beast-kin?” She snorted, lowering the drunken man back to his feet without releasing him. “No problem here, Sir. I’m merely helping this gent’ remember why he should better monitor his ale consumption.”

The guard’s face remained hard and impassive. “Then release him and be on your way before we are forced to remind you why you should monitor your own behavior within the Capital.” She regarded the lot of them coolly before forcing a grimace of a smile and nod of acknowledgement. She could take on this group easy enough, but there would be no way she would make it to the gates of the city alive with the whole of the royal guard bearing down on her. Leaning down, she spoke in a hushed tone through clenched teeth. “Consider yourself lucky I have somewhere important to be.” With that, she released the man and nodded again to the guards before pushing past the drunkard and continuing on her path.

She wasn’t here for the all the pomp and circumstance, to blazes with it and to blazes with this changing of kings that had the lands in such upheaval. Let the old dogs sod off and die, she didn’t care as long as life got back to some semblance of normalcy. Her destination was the arena. Grand festivals often hosted organized fights for the amusement of the masses and the winner’s purse served as a potent lure for a wide host of fighters vying for the chance at claiming it. Pushing her way through to the registry booth, she stooped the slap the necessary four coin entry fee onto the counter as the registrar dipped his quill back into the inkpot, looking up over the rim of his glasses.

“Name?”

“Namida Thunderhoof.” With a grunt of acknowledgement, he scribbled her name onto the registry below nearly thirty others.

Looking up again, he motioned to her weapons and bags. “No body armor and arena-provided weapons only.” She huffed at that, “Very well.”

The registrar then withdrew a contract from somewhere behind the counter. “The aim in this arena is to be the last fighter standing, but you are not to kill your opponent, the fighters may still end up being selected for the King’s Lion Guard. But these fights are still very real and accidents do sometimes happen. This contract absolves the Crown from any financial responsibility in the unlikely event of your death. Read it over and make your mark.”

Looking it over for a short span, she took up the quill and signed her name. As soon as the quill lifted from the parchment, the man snatched the contract up and ushered her to the gates with a sweeping motion of his free hand. “Welcome to the Arena. May fortune be with you, Namida Thunderhoof.” Standing tall, she stepped her way through the gate and made her way to the arming room to prepare.

[StormWolf]

Kaia Vandrachen took in a deep breath of the festival filled air. Preparations were well on their way and would be finished well before the King was ever to arrive. The hustle and bustle of many feet and hands working to prepare, the unity of everyone's movement as they worked together to make sure everything was perfect. This was a celebration of both joy... and sorrow. She looked up to the direction of the castle, well visible now on her perch on the rooftops. Weaving through such a bustling crowed on this occasion was not ideal nor quick for the place she had to be. She stood up and moved along the rooftop keeping her wings slightly ajar as she leaped from one roof to another, light footsteps taking her farther then she could have gone down there.

The crowds didn't end right up until the walls surrounding the castle itself, Heavily guarded gates. Her father would be somewhere here with in the castle doing his duty as ever the loyal man she knew him to be. Her smile widened as she looked at the old familier walls, walls she'd once climbed just to follow her father to work, to get a glimps of the prince born just a year prior to herself. A prince who had turned into a King and a King they would be sending off very soon. "Things haven't changed much since I've been gone. But have I changed?" she asked the wall before she dropped off the roof and glided down to land gently on the ground. There were ways to the top of the walls, could her fingers remember the old grips? would they even fit? Well she supposed there was only one way to find out.

* * *

Outside the High King's chamber, Brennus stood like a gargoyle by the ornate threshold in his parade best. Dressed head to toe in deep blue, embroidered with martial scarlet braiding. Black leather boots polished to a shine, his armor and parade lance glittering with bright gold scrollwork. Only the mighty tiger pelt draped across his shoulders moved, luridly shifting in the dainty sighs of wind that carried through open windows. Serfs in livery scuttled about on soft-slippered feet, hauling trays of mulled wine and sweetmeats that tugged at Brennus, making his mouth water.

Nobles in their silks and velvets passed by - some more than once - in hopes to catch the King as he departed his quarters, and were sent on their way by little more than a terse leer from the aging bodyguard. Rare was the guard dog that did not need to growl, or even bark. A young court lady plucked up her skirts to shuffle by, tittering indignantly. Brennus' lip quirked in a faint sardonic smile beneath his beard. Gods help him if his Kaia had ended up like that. Not that he found a properly regal bearing distasteful, but it was a matter of personal pride that in a room full of soldiers, the toughest man in the room was his daughter. Logic told him that he would never need to worry about her, being more than able to care for herself, and then some, but he could not shrug off the mantle of a father's instinct.

* * *

Kaia pulled herself up onto the edge of the wall and perched preciously along the edge. The air was rich and full down here compared to the cloud city and the climb that would have winded and tired her as a child seemed so simple now. She peered down into the court yard below there was hustle and bustle here but not nearly as crowed as the city outside was. Nobles strutted around Like many colorful peacocks, maids and and servants scurried here and there all in preparation. Her brown eyes searched the courtyard but in vain. Of coarse he wouldn't be out here.

She pushed herself from the wall and allowed herself to gently glide down into the flowerbeds bellow. Folding her wings tightly against her back she stepped out into the paths. She'd have to be careful about who she bumped into, some of these nobles would sneer are her obvious half blood statues, and if anyone recognized her before she found her father they would likely make an announcement of it to him which would ruin her surprise visit, which is why she had avoided the main gate. She wadded past Serf going the opposite direction skirted around lords and ladies and ignored inquisitive glances. He'd be with the king, or near enough to protect the man. She climbed steps and roamed down halls, peering through windows and casting wondering gazes upon the Muriels and tapestries on the stone walls.

Eventually She came to a small balcony that over looked a hall below it guards posted at either end watching the movement from above. Stepping up to the rail between a pair of ladies and peered down into the space below her eyes trailing down the hall until she saw him. Her smile grew, Gripping the rail in one hand she leaped over deftly hanging into the rail as her feet touched the absolute edge. It take to long to find her way down through the halls, this was the quickest way. She waited for a lul in the movement below before pushing off the edge and with a gasp from the two ladies behind her her gray specked wings opened up to gently glide her down towards the man she'd been looking for. "Father!"

The shadow of her descent hit him before the sound of her rustling feathers ever did. In truth, most men-at-arms, monstrosity, or elsewise unsuspecting pizzle would have been taken unawares. Yet, Brennnus lifted his winged helm with an ivory smile beneath the nasal, mostly out of greeting for his daughter, but there was a sprinkle of sardonic sadism for the ladies aghast.

"Hello, Owlet," He mused and threw his off-hand wide in a welcome to embrace. She could have a family all her own, but he would never let her outgrow her childhood nickname. "Is the celebration so drab you've come to keep company with this old oak?"

A gleeful chuckle left her lips as she glided into his embrace. It been to long since she'd heard the childish name her father had adorned her. Quite fitting it was. She laughed quietly as he spoke. "I've seen it along the way, I'll have plenty of time to bump along in the crowds and drink and eat till my Stomachs content. I wanted to surprise my old Oak of a father before his undivided attention would be on the king and his keeping." she said bemusedly. "Besides, I can't in good conscious tell mother of my arrival and leave you out."

"Ah, most generous of you to keep me in your thoughts, daughter-mine," he said with a throaty chuckle. She was in fine spirits, which served to soften the jagged edges of Brennus' naturally pensive demeanor. "While you eat and drink yourself sick, set a cup or four of mulled wine aside for your old man. When his grace releases me from my duties, I'll have some catching up to do."

Kaia's feathers ruffled in amusement. "Certainly, I'll be sure to claim a bottle for our own." She assured him. "Maybe two, I'm sure there is a lot to be said." She smiled more softly at her father. It had been a long time since they had set down and talked and she couldn't wait to do so now, but she could wait a little longer to share longer words. "I've missed you, father." she said more quietly just for his ears as she gave him another warm embrace and gentle kiss on the cheek before stepping away. "I'll see you soon with that mulled wine." She grinned. "Try not to have to much fun before then?" she called over her shoulder as she started down the hall.

[Tune]

All the flamboyant pageantry, loud crowds and even louder voices made Devrin wonder why people flocked to such events in general. Everyone knew the symbolic nature of the Festival, but why celebrate sending an enite line of Kings' to their death? Immensely strong as this generation's King may be, living within the boundaries of Giredania and the Barrier, what good would he do in the Fringes?

"Unlucky fool," Devrin scoffed, scowling at a woman who stared with confusion.

He was on edge. Obvious as the sun glared down upon the world, he was out of his element, and the cautious glances of onlookers as he fingered the hilt of his blades, made it more so. The gleaming streets of Opalli could not prepare himself for the sheer size and grandeur of Giredania, no matter how many times he had visited. How long had it been since he wandered these streets? he wondered. Months, most likely, before the incident.

Minerva, the glowing ball of goodness and sunshine, would've loved the festivities. They had made plans to attend the Selection the last time their group travelled through the capitol. The others weren't interested; they were compelled to spend their remaining days travelling Crassia and the Fringes. No, it was Minerva who put the foolish thought of becoming a Lion Heart into his head. It was her dream to become a member of the Lion Heart, and he would've followed her to the ends of eternity to make her wish come true. Instead, he lead her and the others to an early grave. There was no amount of booze that could wash away the memory.

Bloodshed and the sound of battle, on the other hand, always did the trick. The sudden flurry of armed guards drew his attention, and before his conscience could protest, he caught sight of the commotion in a matter of moments. His eyes were met with a glimpse of the beast-kin - a woman? - before falling to the man in her clutches. She was a centaur! For the first time in years, he was caught completely off guard. He had heard stories, from a nomadic Orc, of a centaur clan once dwelling in the Fringes, but he had never had the luck to see one in person.

He hid an amused grin behind a gloved hand, eavesdropping from behind a throng of onlookers. Whatever the man had done, he had kicked a hornets nest and the guards were his saving grace. From her armor to her musclular stature, Devrin knew she was a fierce warrior. There was no doubt about her presence; the centaur female was here for the Selection, and she was competition, md Devrin thrived on the thrill of it.

If the centaur was here, would any other beast-kin oddities be found in the crowd? Lumen perhaps? His mother, Laureate, mentioned the lad studying in the capitol. What of the odds, to be reunited after a long absence? After the centaur female tossed the drunken fool, Devrin pursued the woman, whose mere presence parted the crowd like a knife through butter. His assumptions were confirmed when the centaur-female strode up to the Registration booth.

"Figures she would," muttered Devrin, shuffling into line behind some generic looking welp. The boy couldn't have been more than a teenager, with a mop full of messy blond hair. Leaning down to peer over the boy's shoulder, Devrin couldn't help but snicker at the sight of the kid's shiny swords strapped at the waist.

"Aye, boy. Trying out for the Lion Hearts, are you?" asked Devrin, over the sounds of the crowd. His attention was split between harassing the poor lad, and learning more about the centaur just ahead.

Was the name "Namida" or something else? He couldn't quite catch the last bit, but he'd refer to her as Nami, which would most certainly irk such a dignified woman.

"- registering. What of it?"

"Huh?"

Oh, right. Forgot I asked the brat a question, he thought. Feigning innocence, Devrin replied, "Ah, sorry lad. Couldn't hesr ya well. You're registering?"

The boy nodded. "Ah, good good! Just a bit of warning to ya," he said, gesturing to the centaur, 'Nami' ahead. "Have you ever seen a centaur before? They're powerful beast-kin. Ever been kicked in the face by a horse?"

"- well, no, I - "

Devrin interrupted, "Getting kicked with a single hoof from her, would be like comparing a pebble to a boulder. And she's the boulder."

Just a while longer, and he'd be one step closer to making Minerva and his shared dream, a reality. Or give it one helluva fighting chance.

[AliceMalice15]

Theorynn’s breath quickened as she ran through the city dodging past citizens and celebrators alike. Her boots pounding hard against the solid stones beneath her feet served as her cadence to push her along to her destination. Hastily dodging a cart rolled in to her path by an unsuspecting vendor she cursed quietly and waved apologetically to the flustered man.

“Sorry,” she called over her shoulder, “I’m really sorry!”

Pressing onward she shook her head and sped up her pace. She was going to be soooo late. They were only accepting entrants for so long before they’d have to begin the selection. The selection of Lion Hearts. The best of the best all in one place vying for a chance to live and die for king and country. She had lived for this chance for years. Even Sir Cian had seen the fire to follow her father had been in her all along. She was always bound and determined to become a Lion Heart and prove she was worth something. Thud!

“Oof,” Theorynn groaned as she ran smack dab in to a rather heavily armored gentleman knocking her to the ground.

“Hey watch it kid,” he growled grabbing and lifting her by the shirt front, “ you shouldn’t be running around with warriors like me hanging about. You might get bruised.”

“I-I’m sorry what,” she said in disbelief, “exCUSE ME!?!?!?!”

Wrenching down on the man’s arm she forced him to drop her which bent him down a little closer to her height and more in to her area of reach. Crouching down a little lower Theorynn quickly angled the crown of her head at the man’s jaw and put all of her might in to a powerful forward leap. Ramming her head directly in to his jaw may not have been the best plan, but Theorynn had never been one to shy away from a terrible, yet effective, idea. Waltzing up to the arena gates she smiled at the gate attendant who was giving her a not so amused expression.

“Well I take from your expression,” she said with no small amount of attempted swagger, “you saw that and know why I’m here.”

Rolling his eyes the man placed the waiver on the counter for her to sign. Quickly signing her life away she sauntered in to the arming room and began grabbing what she’d require.

[Anti-Hero]

The door was pulled open not long enough after words had ended to see a set of wings bouncing up and down the hall. The King half-smiled and placed his hand upon a sturdy shoulder held by, whom he considered, his most loyal. To be entirely honest, Seig had been ready some minutes ago but felt it improper to interrupt a man and his daughter in their reunion. He leaned on his knight for a moment to attempt some show of affection, that was about all Seig ever seemed to amount to, a small passing here, a nod there, it was awkward to say the least, but his words saved him.

"Brennus, if I didn't know better I'd say you actively choose not to recall I can hear 'everything'." Seig smiled and motioned his hand up the hall. "What kind of lord would I be if I kept a man from his daughter? Be off with you, I'll survive the one day more, atleast." The smile turned into a sort of sly-grin as he strode passed him and made his own route down the hallway. He wasn't much for fans and even though Brennus had been there since the crack of dawn, people were still gleefully roaming the castle halls trying to get some variation of acknowledgment from him. He nodded, he smiled, he attempted so very hard to ignore the patrons he loved and despised like family. Today was to be a busy one, people would throw themselves at his feet and weep, as if this wasn't an occurrence that took place every so often, the warriors coming from afar might scoff at him upon glance, the volunteers would fight in the arena in hopes that might affect his choices, blah, blah, blah, none of this was new. What no one knew was that Seig had made his choice already, he knew who the Lion Heart would be it was just a matter of making it to the end of the festival.

"This title be damned..." He mumbled to himself and began to whisper back and forth as if he spoke to another, thought it was quiet an unnoticeable unless certain individuals had made arrangements to get within inches of his face, he certainly hoped to avoid those today, though it was unlikely. The hallways that he took lead into a large open courtyard that had been special sectioned off to begin the arena festivities that traditionally, began the true celebrations. The arena was essentially one giant free-for-all were any warrior who'd signed their name had their personal weapons and armor stripped and been assigned pieces brandished with a color and a number. This served to signify 'who' they were, it held no actual value it was just a way for the fans to easily cheer for their favorite contestant. The rules were always fairly simply, no killing, it was immediate expulsion and it carried a criminal penalty of execution. The arena was meant to simply test skills and mettle in combat, there would be no single winner just those who would last the allotted time of three hours, those who stood amongst the last were rewarded with cheers and free everything until the festival ended. Food, drink, sleep, all needs were met.

He looked out over his balcony and sat upon his chair, his hand grasped the rope tightly and pulled once, twice, a third time, these bells indicated a half hour before the arena would begin, time to get ready was now. A guard behind stood quietly at attention, Seig sighed a bit and motioned to him.
"This isn't a day in which I need a guard, go home, and tell the others too, enjoy yourself, there's no sense in all of you working when there is time to play. Be off with you." He slumped down a bit, propped his foot upon one knee and waited, soon, the prince and the prince's mother would join and they would discuss the naming ceremony. As they would arrived, contestants would trickle into the arena and once all were present, the bell would be rung to begin.

A loud smash of hammer to bell as well as gates slamming shut to the area exits signified the fighting had begun.

[Pheasant]

With a loud clamor of noise and shouts, the mock battle had begun.
Lumen clenched a long thick wooden pole, a few inches taller than himself as combatants threw themselves at one another, and all at once the different fighting styles and fighting mentalities that permeated the kingdom converged in a cacophony of war cries and challenges.
Although he stood within the bowl of chaotic fighting, Lumen's reasons for being here today were very different from the rest.

A bright yellow tabard with a large white medical cross sat above a solid iron breastplate, and above even that was an enclosed helmet, the front visor perforated to allow him to see.
The job of being a medic within a live arena was unenviable, but Lumen had insisted upon it today against his better judgement.
The arena medics were little more than glorified morticians who often caused as much damage as they'd fix. It was very nearly as hazardous as actually fighting as well, a warrior surrounded by opponents had little time or care to be selective about their targets.
The generous amount of armor he wore, as well as the long defensive staff reflected this.
Just as important, the staff would allow him to separate wrestling or injured combatants who were so hopped up and deaf on adrenaline that a yell would not reach them, and separating them by hand was too risky.

There was a loud thunk as the first fighter hit the ground, and Lumen felt a bit bad for the young man. It was hard to say whether he was trained or not, he'd been wedged between two larger fighters and caught out of position.
Lumen followed along the wall of the arena towards the man, already sizing up his injury. He'd deflected the first strike of his opponent, armed with a short blade and a cestus, but was so concerned about the opponent behind him that his attacker drove a sharp fist into his stomach.

Lumen came to a sharp stop as another pair of fighters slammed into the wall ten meters ahead. A shield and swordsman had managed to pin a spear fighters weapon across his chest, and now they were both locked in an erratic grapple.
The doctor backed up to a safe distance, sparing a glance at the frenzied melee in the center of the ring. Some had already been knocked over, and Lumen was concerned that even if their weapons were blunted someone would be trampled to death.

The two fighters in his way had fallen backwards, in favor of the spearmen. The blunt point of Lumen's staff shoved the spearmen off and he shouted, loud and crisp and well practiced from his formal training, "BREAK UP!", he ordered.
The two somewhat surprised fighters obeyed, breathing heavily as they stumbled away from each other. Ensuring fights were clean and entertaining was secondary to his duties, but still important. Punching each other to death on the ground was neither clean nor entertaining.
"BEGIN!"
The two continued their bout, but separated as the main melee was being pushed in their direction.
Lumen hastily shifted as well, to a more open area of the arena.

A fighter was wailing on the ground, and despite Lumens insistence he couldn't get a word of sense out of him. The injured mans arm had been bent at an odd angle, and the Doctor had to pin him down with his body weight to keep the man from struggling.
Two hands gripped his arm tightly by the wrist and elbow, and with a loud pop and minimal beside manner, Lumen had popped his dislocated shoulder back into place, careful to avoid pinching the nerves underneath the bone.
He suspected that this was going to be one of the lighter injuries of the day.

[StormyNyte]

Once inside the arming room, Namida eyed those already there as they returned her scrutinizing gaze, some even exchanging hushed whispers when she passed. She could easily venture a guess as to what they were plotting, but if it phased her in the slightest it certainly didn't show. Clopping her way to a vacant area of the large room, she began the task of unbuckling and removing her myriad of belts, saddle bags, armor, and weapons.

With the task of signing up for the Selection done and over, Devrin surveyed the groups of challengers making way to the Arena's armory. All eyes were on the elephant - er, centaur - in the room. For such a large space, Devrin could tell the woman was out of her elements indoors. On the battlefield would be a different story. When was the last time he was kicked by a horse? he wondered, beginning to unbuckle the straps of his cuirass. He found a spot near 'Nami' the Centaur, and cast a glance in her direction.

The rules and limitations of this particular arena irked her, she was a living weapon who seldom had to practice restraint in battle, but she would manage. The lack of guards within the arming room also unsettled her like a biting fly refusing to be shaken off. Piling her belongings in a careful heap, she straightened and stamped a heavy hoof twice, eyeing the rest within the room and snorting.

"Rules be damned. Any of this goes missing, I'm cracking skulls until it's back."

"Talking about cracking skulls already, are we, miss?" he jested amid the task of unbuckling his cuirass. He'd miss the weight and protection around his abdomen, should be end up on the wrong side of a provoked centaurian female.

If he recalled correctly, the rules were pretty basic and made to limit life threatening injuries. An ‘eye for an eye’ mentality, Devrin was used to. Holding back and not killing his opponent was another.

"Execution is a hefty price to pay for casualties," he said, suppressing a grin, "but punishment for thievery might be waived." Pure speculation, of course, but only a fool would steal from other warriors if they stood a chance at becoming a Lion Heart.

Namida gave the man a sideways glance and huffed, seeming to barely take heed of his presence. Small talk and sudden attempts at thin comradery were rather foreign social constructs to her. For a span, it didn't seem that she would respond at all as she let her eyes wander the weapons rack. Lifting a broad sword from it, she fingered the edge to test its bite. Dull. Returning it, she spoke. "Hard times make for bigger risks taken. People are desperate and this festival is nothing but an eye-wash."

Finally settling on her choice, she took up a large steel war hammer and tested its weight and balance before nodding to herself. If she were prevented from cutting her opponents in half, she'd settle for knocking the sense out of them.

The Centaur was a tough character, that's certain. Removing his sheathed swords from his belt, he paused, almost contemplating their absence. The battles they had saw him through were each more daunting than the last. The sheathes themselves had seen better days, often used as blunt objects. He gave a quick once-over at the weapons racks, scoffing at the selection.

"Nothing in life is guaranteed," remarked Devrin, storing his swords and last of his gear. He wasn't a man of modesty, but being gearless and weaponless... He felt nude. Their generation's King had damn well be worth the embarrassment.

Devrin strode toward the weapons rack, his dull eyes surveying his choices. Nothing that would keep him alive long outside the Barrier, but killing an opponent in this tournament was akin to digging his own grave. Fate be damned, Devrin had already chosen his own graveyard. No need for burials or an audience. He chose a short sword, testing its weight distribution. Ambidexterity was a bonus, but nothing felt more comfortable than a hilt held firmly in his right hand.

Unsheathing the sword, he held it in the air, judging its edge. Good quality, but the edge had been dull for the occasion. He couldn't help but laugh. "I'd be dead before this," he gestured toward the weapon, attempting to gauge the centaur's reaction, "could cleave a hand from a hobgoblin."

That statement did manage to tease a chuckle from her. "Well, you could at least slice it off a bit of bread first" Her long tail gave a lazy swish as she shouldered her weapon and turned her attention full to him.

Namida knew a survivor when she saw one. Due to a lifetime in the far reaches of The Fringe, the telltale traits were unmistakable. With a lowered voice, she continued. "I have a feeling you've made due with worse. Stay out of my way and you should be fine."

With that, she strode past him through the central gates and into the arena. The sudden bright glare of sunlight washed over her, accompanied by the rumbling cheers of the crowd. Her scarred hide gleamed harshly under its light as she and the other fighters moved into position.

Pawing the ground in anticipation, she pushed the war hammer from her shoulder and readied her grip as she eyed the other contestants, sparing only a split-second gaze at the wall of watchers in the stands.

Her eyes then fell to the few gleaming men in armor suits and she snorted. Medics, by the look of their designated markings. They would certainly have their hands full today.

The roar of the crowd thundered back to life as the starting bell tolled. With flashing steel and battle cries, the three hour fight was on. Namida watched as a large group of fighters eight strong broke off from the main group and rush toward her, which came as little surprise to the Centaur warrior. She knew how rare her kind was and how much prestige would be won by besting her in battle. If they were as trained as they looked, they had her beat with their number, but as long as she kept them scattered and unable to surround her she still stood a good fighting chance. Scowling, she reared and thrust her war hammer skyward as she bellowed a wordless battle cry, lashing at the air with her front hooves before dropping into a full charge.

[AliceMalice15]

Theorynn had spent most of her time before the mock battle chatting and testing out her temporary arms and armor. Being as she knew most of the local folks, guards and knights from around Giredania as well as a few from Opalli, she had an easy time avoiding staring over long at the centaur across the room, though she still stole a few glances here and there. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by someone who’s legs alone could take out most of the people here? Soon enough, sooner than some might hope when surrounded by friends and comrades at arms, these thoughts were shoved aside and Theorynn’s expression became one forged in stone. If nothing else could be said about the young knight it was that when in practice or any sort of mock battle her focus was sharp and unbreakable. She could always be counted on to have someone else’s back in combat practice and she had always been the quickest study when it came to weapons play.

The walk to the courtyard was short and familiar. The guards would often train here and Theorynn along with them. Though she was not a guard they seemed to enjoy having her along to spar with. She proved a good challenge and mentor for the younger recruits, and the older guardsmen especially enjoyed watching her trounce some of the younger more hot headed recruits when challenged on her abilities due to her gender or stature. But this was different this time. This time she was going to make something of herself. She was going to show her king that she could provide the intellect and strategic prowess to protect him and their country. She had to. She couldn’t fail her father. Not again. She would do this no matter the cost and she would follow in his footsteps. No matter the personal cost. This is what would prove her worth in this world.

As the clash of weapon against shields and armor alike reached her ears Theorynn dropped down in to a battle ready stance squaring her shoulders, grounding her feet, and placing her own regulation shield in front of her with enough clearance to see over. She may not require the shield throughout the battle, but it would be good for protection until she could get a good read on the battle styles of those around her. Charging in to the fray she picked a target she knew would be out within the first few bouts anyway. A young guardsman who she recognized as one of the weaker yet still very determined recruits. It would be good to get as many people out of the fray as possible before picking any real targets. Then she could focus on the few who would actually pose her any challenge. Knocking the guardsman to the ground was easy and she quickly disarmed the boy and smacked him on the wrist with her blunted weapon just hard enough to cause minor injury that would knock him out of contention.

“Ah damn,” the boy cried out as her blade smashed against bone with a harsh crack, “come on Theory! Damn, I think you may have broken it!”

“Get out while you still can,” Theorynn barked over the loud clashing and clanging of battle, “you’re not ready for this and luckily I caught you first. These people are here for real battle. They won’t spare your life and limb like I will.”

Deflecting several in coming blows from eager participants Theorynn backed in closer to her fallen comrade and kept them at a distance. Helping the guardsman up with her sword hand she bashed another incoming opponent with her shield and pulled her friend to his feet aiming to get him to a medic quickly before one of the more zealous combatants decided to make his injuries worse. These mock battles could get nasty as far as injuries went. Spotting a somewhat familiar medic pinned between the main brawl and a couple of combatants who had moved out of the main fray and were headed his direction Theorynn decided to head his way and provide aid. Backing herself and the guardsman toward the courtyard wall where the medic was pinned she fended off a few glancing blows from the combatants as they passed and moved to place herself between the medic and what was nearly a wall of flailing weapons and limbs. As they neared the medic who was tending to yet another injured fighter she nodded to him over her shoulder.

“I have another injured here,” she called over the clamor, “minor injury to his wrist, but he should be alright otherwise. He just won’t be picking up a weapon for a day or two. Can I provide any assistance or protection.....um....Lumen, isn’t it?”