[Tournament] Riparian Annual Fight Tournament

[BlueberryKitty]

Near the midst of the Merchant Road, an old abandoned building exhibited the signs of renovation. The outside was washed and freshly painted, a large banner hung from the front over the doors. In red and black paint the banner proclaimed:

TOURNAMENT!

The first cycle of Aperitus will see Riparia host the first annual Riparian Fight Tournament.
Champions from all Alleria will come to compete in an old-style hand to hand fight with the winner taking all!
Tickets for viewing available at the door, one crown, two candlemarks preceeding the beginning of each round.
Interested Competitors must speak with Maeta Shensall inside.

The interior was cool and darkened. In the middle of the roof, a hole had been cut out to provide lighting for a sanded arena in the middle of the building, the light spilling down in a dramatic pool. Wooden seats rose, staggered on three sides of the sanded pit to provide spectators with a place to sit. Toward the front, beside the doors, a bar ran for twenty feet where refreshments and snacks would be offered along with souvenirs to this event.

For now, the building was still and silent. A single man sat at a makeshift table, with papers sprawled before him. Somewhere in the distance a scratching was heard; his assistant. Who knew what that one was up to for the moment, probably inspecting the modifications to the building for this annual event. Maeta Shensall was calmly awaiting the first sixteen fighters to step through the door with fifty crowns to spend on entering his tournament.

OOC-
Based upon the old AFCL, created and executed by GM Mike and staff.
50 crown entrance fee for participants.
1 crown fee for spectators
Refreshments and souvenirs will be available for purchase during the events.
Tournament is Round Robin Style.
Sixteen competitors will be accepted
eight beginning rounds down to the final round will be single elimination.
Referee's calls are final.
No Weapons.
Participants are not allowed to kill their opponent. Deaths will be investigated and punished to the full extent of Imperial and Riparian Law. (but may occur anyway, you are warned.)

[Jha'rach D'Rinishad]

Falling of Dusk
Last Cycle of
The Month of Cryxatum
The Season of Summer
Era II of the Celestine Mandate
Era XI Post Fractum
Age of the Darkening
Paradigm: Schism in the Church of the Faith!

The falling of dusk brought the realm of the vysstichi and Jha'rach emerged into his playground. He'd slept most of the day, but took a brief interlude in his slumber to examine the lightskins 'Herald'. He found great pleasure in exploring the trials of the surface dwellers and equal amounts of pleasure in spiting their accomplishments. Infrequently he read the print of the lightskins, and so when he was amongst them, which was also infrequent, he took advantage of his environment and learnt what he could of the happenings on the surface.

He had found that there was a tournament amongst the lightskins, and admittedly his initial dismissal of the tournament, slowly crept back to him. His curiosity and sadistic pleasure drew him back to it, what an opportunity. He would so enjoy pursuing the pain of the ones he fought. He likely would have over a hundred years of more experience with his body, and he was no stranger to battle. Though untrained in unarmed combat, his senses and body had been honed to a weapon and he felt he stood to only gain from the opportunity.

He crept into the newly painted structure and was pleased to find it cool and dark. How he hated the inherent lack of darkness on the surface. It appeared as though the structure was already prepared for the tournament, and Jha'rach gazed around the stadium cooly. Yes this would do... The distant scratching of pen to parchment drew the princes attention.

A man approached him. He had no doubt as to who he was. Another lightskin wanting gold...

OOC: This should be fun .

[BlueberryKitty]

Dusk of the first brightening of the signup for the Tournament. As Maeta had suspected, no lines had formed. The first brightening usually didn't see many people coming, after all not everyone might have had the time to travel to Riparia just yet. He still had high hopes for a full card of competitors, though. Just at dusk, he was beginning to pack up his papers to head for his home when prickling at the back of his neck alerted him to the presence of someone else. A Vysstichi- yes. That made sense. There would probably be several of the night loving breed come to compete, which would be great for ticket sales. If this one didn't put a knife in his ribs before hand..

"Serale to you Sir. Come to sign up for the Tournament?" He tried to smile, but the expression probably came off as more nervous than anything else.

I'm hoping it's quite a lot of fun for everyone involved

[Jha'rach D'Rinishad]

Jha'rach noted the man had picked up his things, likely to go home. He forgot that the surface dwellers had an odd sense of time to do business. It seemed so absolutely normal to do his business in the darkest hours of every darkening.

The prince simply nodded to the man who'd come to collect his participation fee. His impenetrable gaze did little justice to the turmoil of emotion which festered in him continuously. Jha'rach simply pulled out a small pouch of fifty crowns and tossed them to the man before he approached too closely. He disliked having people in his face.

The dark elf flashed the man a set of perfectly ivory teeth. Perhaps he would do well to show this man some gesture of good faith. Though undoubtably his smile came off as more the jaws of a wolf about to clamp themselves around the man's throat.

Jha'rach just wanted to sign up and leave.

[BlueberryKitty]

Reaching his hand down, Maeta felt a little better at the sight of the pouch with gold crowns. It didn't necessarily guarantee his safety, but even the Vysstichi should realise that the brightening had been slow and there were no other pouches of crowns to be had just yet. Hopefully though, hopefully- there would be many more. Come first light Maeta was going to deposit this little fee into a special account in the Riparian Imperial Bank to be held for the winner of the Tournament.

The human set the leather purse down again, and pulled a sheet of parchment from the stack he'd just gathered. A quill was found, and then there was just the last question he needed from this dark elf, who stood smiling at him like Jorel himself. Maeta shivered, insisting to himself that it was the cooler air of the night fallen that made his skin cold; not fear that sent ice into his blood.

"I'll need your name, if you don't mind... and that's all that's left. " Patiently he awaited the name, ready to scribble it down for the manufacturing of the opening bracket.

[Xanta'Kun]

5th Ioannolia of Cryxatum, Summer of Era XI in the Age of the Darkening

Xanta was his way back to the Inn on Merchant's Road. Passing by a previously unoccupied building, he saw a banner in bold black and red that proclaimed a fighting tournament. He was keen on fighting, and his training was coming along well with the katana. While he figured they wouldn't allow swords, the physical training alone would be helpful.

Upon entering the shack, Xanta saw the man he presumed was Maeta, the one he must register with.

"Serale, I'd like to inquire about the tournament. What can you tell me?"

[Quix]

Summer of Era XI
In the Age of the
Darkening



Upon reading 'The Hearld', Quix's only chore, he came upon a Tournament that Riparia was holding. He figured he hadn't seen much of any sort of adventure in the previous eras so he figured that a Tournament would be to his liking.

Quix opened the door to the old taterd building and stepped inside to what seemed to be a basic arena unlike the ones he heard of in Arakmat and Narim.

Quix scanned the room with his eyes until they fell upon a man siting at a table. The man seemed to be speaking to a Vyssticci. A kindred Quix despised most of all. Puting his differences aside he walked over to the man. A cautiosly walked over to the two and waited until he was spoken to. A tournament of fiighters from around the Empire....this was certainly something to be part of.

[Jha'rach D'Rinishad]

The man's discomfort was certainly palpable. Jha'rach found a slight amount of hilarity in the cringing man.

No matter, the prince simply responded in his dead rasping tone, "Jha'rach Fai'de." And lifted a questioning eyebrow at the man.

If the man had no more business with the drow, his nights deeds were over and he would exit in search of relief in the brief interlude between the sun's births and their falling.

[BlueberryKitty]

Xanta'Kun
Maeta glanced up at the elf that entered the building, and gave him a welcoming sort of half smile. He laid his quill down, where he was painstakingly drawing up the beginning bracket for the participants, though there were few names listed as of yet. "I can tell you anything you want to know about the tournament. I'm Maeta Shensall and I'm in charge. Beginning the first Srennia of Aperitus, the tournament will be held. The first sixteen competitors to pay the entrance fee of fifty crowns will be randomly inserted into the bracket, and then in single elimination fights, will move forward toward the final round. No weapons, just hands and feet are allowed. Killing isn't allowed, of course. The winner will recieve eight hundred crowns as his prize, and of course the prestige of Tournament winner. The Tournament will last four brightenings with the first Lunaria having the single, final round. Did I miss anything you wanted to know?"

Quix
Once the Vysstichi had finished his brief business with Maeta, the human glanced up to see yet another elf standing in line. Something was familiar about this one, but he couldn't quite put his finger upon it. He'd had no idea that twilight was going to be the most popular time for people to show up to register. To think he'd wasted his full brightening sitting around, waiting. With the relief that the Vyssi had gone showing plainly in his smile, the human nodded to Quix and motioned him forward. "Come to register for the Tournament?"

Jha'rach
Quickly Maeta scribbled down the name 'Jha'rach Fai'de' to the parchment where he was listing the names. They'd be randomly selected later to be placed on the bracket. The crowns were paid, the name given. There was nothing else to do. The Vyssi left as quietly and suddenly as he'd come, leaving another elf standing in his wake. Maeta smiled at the Thelyri with relief.

[Xanta'Kun]

"No, sir," Xanta said as he counted out fifty crowns. "Assuming you still have room for me, I'll enter." He laid the crowns out on the table.

[Ogrim]

After his business was concluded in the Merchant district, Ogrim was slowly making his back to his existing lodgings. The district was, as usual, a mass of activity as vendors fenced their wares and purchasers attempted to haggle for the best price available. Often the barter was friendly and without malice but on the odd occasion a disgruntled patron would voice his opinion loudly so that others would be wary as to the avaricious nature of this shoppe or stall owner. Needless to say, in a city such as Riparia, this type of person was not tolerated for long and they soon moved on.

The Uruk moved through the bustle of people slowly, taking time to observe the coming and goings. Valuable information could often be gleaned in such places. People often took the crowded nature of a market place as a safe area to discuss profitable, and often illicit, ventures. Perhaps this was because many sentient creatures, most notably the bipedal and domesticated varieties, adopt the policy of safety in numbers. But, how can one be safe when others in the group are not of the same persuasion that they are not working towards the same ultimate goal? It mattered little because universally, people always talk, it’s in their nature. However, on this particular brightening Ogrim did not need to overhear anything to pique his interest, he merely read it.

Further up the street, towards the center of the Merchant district proper hung a sign. The sign was new, that much was obvious but that in itself would not have attracted the green-skin alone. What the sign advertised was a neither a shoppe nor a service, it promoted a competition of the martial order; a tournament to distinguish the finest unarmed combatant from in and around Riparia. Slowly, a sadistic grin crept across the Orc’s scarred face as he made directly for the building on which the sign hung.

The dilapidated structure was showing some signs of restoration as the Uruk neared it. The notice was an obvious addition as it was recently erected, but also the outside had been washed and painted to bring the façade of the building up to a presentable level with the rest of the generally well maintained area. Pausing just long enough to locate the door, Ogrim manipulated the locking mechanism sufficiently to gain entry before closing the door behind him. The interior was mercifully gloomy and Ogrim could open his eye up from his normal squint. Casting his gaze around as he adjusted from the bright to the dark, he could make out a few other figures, no one of note or interest was present, save the registration desk and clerk which he walked too briskly. Stopping a good foot from the desk, the Uruk bent at his waist, placed balled hands on the wood and asked in his customary low growl.

”Where is Maeta Shensall?”

[Bahama Turner]

“Brilliant!” It had been Bahama’s initial reaction when he heard the news. Riparia was going to be hosting a unarmed tournament, something that hadn’t been legally seen since the passing of the AFCL. The style of competition was going to far different; limited contestants, round robin with a prize only going to the victor standing at the end of the bouts. But everything else would be the same, a chance to jump into the ring and put his physical abilities to the test.

It didn’t take long for the young dracon to discover the rest of the details, one of the posters had made its way into the green goblin, where he had a chance to discover most of the information he required, which only happened to be the location of the warehouse where the event would be taking place.

Entering the what would be advertised as a ‘renovators dream’ the place was still looking rough around the edges, but getting a glimpse on the inside as his eyes adjusted to the change in light that renovations had been going on a plenty; an arena had been trenched with the stands surrounding it nearing completion, just as importantly a bar had been erected, looking around at the rest of the works in progress it was good to see that the organisers realised what the important ingredients to a successful fight were.

The single extra feature that made itself apparent was the lone figure sitting behind a desk, apart from the documents the man was attempting to absorb himself, the whole arrangement suggested that this was the enquiries office, with the belief in mind he approached the desk and began to speak, “Serale, I have come to compete in the Tournament.” if the man was indeed the one to see about such things Bahama expected the man had his own neat little speech set-up, as Bahama could only imagine how many times he had already been asked the question Bahama had just issued, not expecting a long wait for a reply he kept his stance in front of the desk, attention remaining focused on who he had just addressed.

[Quix]

Quix nodded. "Yes, I have come to compete in the Tournament. What is it that I have to do to register; also what are the rules of the Tournament?" Quix asked preparing himself to listen

[BlueberryKitty]

Xanta'Kun
Maeta watched as the elf counted out fifty crowns, and when they were all down he swept them off the counter and into his pouch. The crowns were going to be deposited into the Riparian Imperial Bank at the end of the brightening to await presentation to the winner of the Tournament in Aperitus. The human wore a wide grin, glad that people were signing up. "We've got the room, absolutely. All I need is your name for the bracket, and then we'll see you bright and early on the first Srennia."

The Tournament manager took up his quill and dipped it into his ink well. When Xanta presumably spoke his name, he entered it on the roster. "Good luck to you Sir!"

Ogrim
The human glanced up from his parchment, that was finally becoming suitably filled out instead of pristinely blank, and his eyebrows arched at the sight of the monocular, large orc. Why couldn't these people just act polite? Half of the applicants, he swore, had been threatening, and this huge green monster wasn't much different. Maeta shivered. This was probably considered congenial behaviour from where-ever he came from; different customs. That was what Riparia was all about, right?

So far the Tournament had drawn the attention of elves. Vysstichi, and Thelyri. The thought of throwing an orc into the mix sent a different kind of shiver down his back. "That depends, does he owe you money?" A weak joke, and an attempt to rid himself of his growing nerves. "I'm Maeta, and my guess is you want to enroll in the Fight Tournament."

Bahama Turner
For once, Maeta Shensall saw someone before he approached the desk. The afternoon had been slow, and the documents before him had been poured over many times. The human thought he might be able to recite them word for word, and the darkening of a shape at the front door meant someone else was coming. He'd gotten into a pattern, at least; no more being snuck up upon.

"Serale to you, Sir." A dracon! This was great. Maeta wanted to get a representative of every race in the Tournament; which would make a great selling point for next Era. "The enrollment fee is fifty crowns, payable now. Aside from that you only have to give your name but if you have any questions now is the time to ask them. The rules will be listed the morning of the fights; of course, but best you know what it is you're getting into before hand.

"The fight is hand to hand only. No weapons are allowed; such means instant disqualification. The Tournament is in the interest of fun and skill, any deaths that may occur accidentally or otherwise will be investigated by the Guards. We are looking for a total of sixteen fighters who will compete against each other in a single elimination bracket, combatants will be chosen completely randomly and then put into the bracket and displayed the brightening before the fights begin. There will be eight fights on the first brightening, the winners will proceed to fight again the next brightening, and the next, til the fourth brightening sees the two final competitors in a single match for the purse of eight hundred crowns." Maeta smiled.

"And your name?"

Quix
'Wonderful!' Shensall was far too happy to take the names of anyone who walked through those doors- it was up to them to decide if they were fit to compete or not. Well, had a small child walked in he would have sent them back out to their mother; but anyone he judged an adult was fair game, if they had fifty crowns. "The enrollment fee is fifty crowns, payable now. Aside from that you only have to give your name but if you have any questions now is the time to ask them. The rules will be listed the morning of the fights; of course, but best you know what it is you're getting into before hand.

"The fight is hand to hand only. No weapons are allowed; such means instant disqualification. The Tournament is in the interest of fun and skill, any deaths that may occur accidentally or otherwise will be investigated by the Guards. We are looking for a total of sixteen fighters who will compete against each other in a single elimination bracket, combatants will be chosen completely randomly and then put into the bracket and displayed the brightening before the fights begin. There will be eight fights on the first brightening, the winners will proceed to fight again the next brightening, and the next, til the fourth brightening sees the two final competitors in a single match for the purse of eight hundred crowns." Maeta smiled, and waited to see if the familiar Thelyri had any further questions.

[Bahama Turner]

Bahama had expected a rehearsed spill on the topic, however he received a torrent, all the information was relevant and the young dracon absorbed as much as possible, while there was a lot of information most of it was logical, and was similar enough to previous tournaments to get the idea of it either way, though there were some certain question he would like cleared up

“Bahama is my name,” pausing to let the man take his name he continued. “The AFCL use to provide people able to detect magic being used, will this tournament provide the same? And if successful fighters are to preform 4 times in as many brightenings will people be provided to have the means to have those fighters ready in a brightening?” four fights in as many brightenings would be straining work on anybody, considering it was rare you came out of a fight unscathed, he wouldn’t be surprised if in the final round the two finalists would be fighting each other with crutches, then he wondered if they would get disqualified for using weapons…

…Realising he had sunk into totally pointless (while personally amusing) thought he refocused of the man in front of him waiting for his reply.