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Tales of blood and bone from Matadero to the Grove, and all the places in Between.

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Delahada
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Post by Delahada »

September 28, 2009.

There was a notice posted outside the Red Dragon Inn. This very same notice was posted in duplicate on the bulletin board in the Arena below. If he hadn't seen it upstairs, he was likely to see it downstairs as well. Of course, it was a notice more likely to catch his attention in the basement, where he actually looked from time to time, than it was on the wall of the Red Dragon. Wherever he saw it, this one caught his attention.

The tournament to find my squire will be held on Saturday, October 10th at 10pm.

I invite the following to attend:


Among a short list of eight, there was his name. Well, he was pretty sure it was his name at any rate. He didn't know any other Sal. He signed his own name that way himself, shortened, a nickname. The first time he dueled, that was the name he'd given when asked by his opponent and the official. That's how his name was listed on the standings. It was the name he was known by, and it was only expected that it was the name some baron he didn't even know would refer to him as.

The notice was signed, after some little addendum about what to do if he didn't want to attend.

Jaycy Ashleana
Baroness of Seaside


"Seaside, huh?" Salvador snorted while his fingers contemplated ripping the notice off the wall. What a convenient opportunity. After all, he lived right down the road from that particular baronial manor. Or down the beach, to be more specific.

He must have passed it by thousands of times, only he couldn't remember precisely what it looked like. The Seaside baronial manor was just another one out of hundreds of thousands that he hadn't spared a second, let alone likely even a first, glance toward. Too many ghosts and memories choked the air, even close to the ocean, and he preferred to avoid touching any of them. Still...

"Why the hell's she inviting me to her tournament?" he grumbled in wonder. He had no idea who this Baroness was, nor did he particularly care. None of the current barons were of much interest to him at all. He thought on that a moment.

Old Temple is what Anubis had, the one he tried to take from him even though Salvador didn't want the barony anyway. Then some guy named Max finally wrested the ring from the Egyptian's hands. How many had gone into that queue after he had tried himself? Four? Five? He'd missed most of them, and go figure the one he had shown up to watch, the Egyptian lost. What a shame.

Nobody else had really been worth his interest. Well, except perhaps for Tormay. He had won New Haven from some chick he didn't know. Then he had thrown his own tournament, and now Neo was his squire. That made one. This made two. So the duels were starting to see an increase in political activity, eh? And this baroness wanted him to test him? Pit him against seven other people to see who was worthy of being her squire? He considered the names on the list.

Matt Simon. That was Rhy'Din's current governor. First time he tried Fists, as he recalled, Matt had been the official on duty. Fists. He hadn't had much time to spare to indulge himself in a little good old fashioned weaponless brawling. Nor had he really given it much thought until just now.

Koy VanDuran-Simon. That was the governor's wife. A sly grin curled up his mouth recalling her. Yeah, that's right. Chick sure liked to beat on people, and get beat on in return. He could admire her. Helped a little that she was drop dead gorgeous. Of course, in his opinion, any woman as blood thirsty as Koy was smoking hot. Hardly had anything to do with her looks at all, but they certainly helped.

Michiko. That name was familiar. If he remembered right, she was the first person who ever sparred off against him and brought him to a draw. The grin stuck, just as sly. She'd be worth going up against again.

Anya. The only Anya he knew was his doctor. The only doctor he trusted. Doctor Maranya Valkonan. He'd beaten her so many times it wasn't even funny. This baroness actually wanted to test her for a squire? Trust the doctor he did, sure, but consider her a worthy opponent? Not really. Seeing that name on the list made him snort.

Aja. Had to be that friend of the doctor's. The one who had that kid. That kid... Something about that kid he couldn't quite remember, and it made the back of his brain squirm trying to figure out what it was. Oh well. What was currently important was that he didn't really think much of her, Aja, as an opponent either. Though he couldn't recall actually having ever sparred off against her.

Wyh. He had no idea who that was. The next name on the list, however, made him stare in vaguely horrified disbelief for a long, blank moment.

Rhi Harker. Well now. That one, at least, would certainly make it worth his while.

"All right, Jaycy Ashleana," he drawled to the notice before his eyes. "Why not? Though if I win this thing, you're probably going to be sorely disappointed." In any case, it would be good practice, which is what he thought of the sport overall. It was all just good practice.
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Post by Delahada »

October 10, 2009

October was a really bad time of year for him to be deciding to indulge a woman in her curiosities. Not just any woman, mind you, but the Baroness of Seaside. She had to have picked October to run her little tournament to find a squire, didn't she?

Salvador arrived early, as he almost always did. Even for the tournaments in which he wasn't a participant in, he showed up early. The same was true of challenge matches. Even the one he had been a part of himself, against Anubis, he had arrived early. He was always anxious for bloodshed, be it his own or someone else's, but October was not a good time for other people to bleed in his presence. Especially not people of the human persuasion. And unfortunately many of the people who had gathered for this chance tonight happened to be human.

The crowd shuffled in, and he could taste the sweat of them. Rhiannon and her husband Joker. He hadn't seen them together in a long time. To top it all off, they brought their daughter with them. Salvador loathed children, openly. The truth of the matter was that they made him entirely uncomfortable, and perhaps a little jealous. He had never really had a true childhood of his own. He never could relate to something so innocent. So he avoided them like the plague.

The line-up changed from what he had been expecting. Maranya had become the winner of the previous Talon of Redwin tournament, which he had lost. So she had been replaced in the roster with someone he had least likely expected to participate in a duel with swords: Rekah. When the Baroness announced who would be facing who in the first round, he approached the challenge with equal parts glee and trepidation.

Matt Simon. The very same man who had knocked him out of the first round of the previous tournament. A human man. Like their last match, the governor put him to the test. For all his obvious fatigue, and for all the blood spilled between them, Matt had made it worth his while. Though Salvador pulled his punches and refused to make the man bleed, the governor was not quite so merciful. That was all right. So long as he didn't taste the scent of human blood in the air, Salvador was okay. He could resist the temptation to act on his darker fae instincts.

They fought a combination of sword cuts and brawling. Matt used a dagger against Salvador's tanto, trading cuts and punches. He loved a good fight. He lived for it. Fighting and killing were in his blood. It was what he lived for. It was what he thrived on. Sweat and blood and tears. This match was his revenge. It took him the complete fifteen rounds to earn it, just as long as their last fight against each other in the rings.

Then there were four. Panting already, he took some relief in the fact that Rekah had been knocked out of the first round as well. He had a certain kind of fondness for that girl and thought he wouldn't have been able to face her sincerely in a fight. He likely would have forfeited to her on general principle. But he was not relieved to hear who next the Baroness had put him against.

Wyheree. A freaking fairy, or fae of some sort. All that mattered was that she had fae in her. All that mattered was that she too was just as much a temptation to him as the governor had been. Her blood was just as sweet to his senses, if not moreso. But he was going to be damned if he showed mercy to another fae, and in that match he made her bleed. It was only fair. She didn't hold back for him either.

Every cut she landed on him unleashed his hungry blood. The toxicity of it burned through cotton and denim alike, through his clothes. Beneath his attire, threads of carapace slithered over to bind the wounds and keep him from bleeding profusely so that he could concentrate on other matters. So he could concentrate on resisting the urge to sink his teeth into her and lap up every drop of blood she had to give.

It took him only ten rounds to cut her down, but she kept him on his toes just as well. Ten rounds of grueling trade off after trade off, blood for blood. Six full points to her four and a half. Her blood was all over him, all over his blade. The only thing that kept him from licking the steel clean was a capsule full of Skid's blood. The scent of it cleared his senses the way smelling salts would to a man who had fainted.

Then there were two. The only two left were himself and Aja. He had never fought her before. She hadn't even been on Jaycy's original list, though she had stated it would be subject to change at her own discretion. He never even thought to wonder who it was she had replaced in the original roster. His first two matches had already done a number on him. The fatigue was talking its toll, and it didn't help much that the Baroness had decided the final outcome would be dependent on a best two out of three format, between himself and Aja Bird.

Aja was a tricky one, he discovered. She was no less a challenge to him than Matt and Wyheree had been. Though unlike the others, she didn't use a real blade. Instead, the silly woman opted to use a foam bat, a toy. To her this tournament was all fun and games. To Salvador it was a test, to himself if no one else. Though it was also obviously a test from Baroness Ashleana, to discover who was worthy of becoming her squire. That didn't matter to him much at all.

Winning or losing wasn't the issue for him. How long he could last, how much stamina he had, and winning something for once in his career in the rings. The adrenaline was the only thing that kept him going. The thrill of the fight. But he'd be damned if he was going to lose to a woman who treated the sport like a childish game.

The went all three matches, he and Aja. He beat her in the first match, taking back a lead with furious hack and slash style. It took him ten rounds to accomplish. She was forced to get a new toy bat for their second match. Though she used foam instead of steel, she took her own win in twelve rounds the second time around, but by the third match he was finally onto her.

It all started by slashing through her defense, which she had stuck two the previous two matches. He took a gamble and cut her third bat in half on the very first strike. Though he didn't manage to completely shut her out, in eight rounds he was done. In eight rounds he had tested his own mettle completely and accomplished a goal he wasn't even sure he had wanted to achieve in the first place.

There was cheering. There was applause. Though he never imagined himself in a position to be the center of attention, the star of the show, the person that everybody was applauding for, he had to secretly admit to himself that it felt good. Skid and Rekah, two who mattered more than any others present. Even Aja, though losing, cheerfully congratulated him. "You'll honor Seaside well. I'm sure of that," she told him, taking his hand.

Salvador, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. He was coated in sweat, but that didn't stop his grip and handshake from being firm. Quick shake and release. "Gracias, hermosa. You're one hell of an opponent, you know?" Panting, he turned his head to look over the crowd. During all this he'd hardly been aware of them, to be honest. He took a gamble and stepped in to kiss Aja on the cheek. She deserved it for the beating he gave her. Steel versus foam and all.

She smiled for the kiss, and said, "Thanks, Sweets. Had a lot of fun tonight."

Dipping a nod, he stepped back. He couldn't help himself. He was ... smiling. Panting to death, sweating like a sow, but smiling. He stepped over to his coat on the ropes and slipped the tanto into its interior sheath.

All that was left, then, was to claim his prize. "Sal," said the Baroness, from the bar, "when you're ready, I have something for you."

Swallowing down nothing but air, he nodded to Jaycy. "I hope it's a big ass glass of water," he quipped with a grin.

She chuckled, retorting with, "No. It's a heavy stick."

"Oh, just what I've always wanted," he drawled. Cheerful sarcasm. He climbed out of the ring, dragging his coat along with him on his way over to Jaycy and the heavy stick.

Carefully, the Baroness lifted the lid on the eight foot long box. Within was the prized weapon of Seaside, a glaive that glowed with power. Taller than he was himself, the weapon shimmered and shined at him from the confines of its container. "Congratulations, Squire of Seaside," she said to him.

Tossing his coat onto the bar next to the box, with a thunk, he paused there and tilted his head to look the boxed weapon over, squinting. He smirked at Jaycy. "I think you may regret saying that." Then he raised a brow and eyed the glaive again. "How much does it weigh?"

"Ten to twenty pounds, give or take. There's rumors that the weapons can do things. I'm not sure what this one particularly can do."

"Well..." There was of course only one way to find out. He took a deep breath, held it, and reached out cautiously to touch the pole. This one apparently sparked angrily at him the moment his fingers connected. "Ow!" He jerked back his hand and sucked on his fingers, muttering a few choice obscenities at the glaive under his breath. Though he reached for it again, after a frowning thoughtful moment, the weapon had only the same reaction.

When he took it home with him, he kept it in its box. A weapon that reacted to his touch like that most assuredly meant it was magical in some way. Magic had always had an adverse effect on him. It was in his blood... His blood... There was only one way he was going to be able to wield that weapon, to honor Seaside at all with it if he gave enough of a damn, and long hours into the nights and weeks that followed he contemplated whether or not he wanted to experiment to discover if he was wrong or right.
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