EFate: An MMO Story Chapter 82: Round Three

Activating Charged Shot, Eric loosed a third arrow, the shaft buzzing through the air to strike his already injured foe in the shoulder. Stumbling slightly, his opponent continued to close in, her spear raised high to skewer the pesky archer who'd already embedded multiple shafts in her. With a frustrated cry, she leapt forward, her spear darting towards Eric like a viper.
Dodging to the side, Eric slammed his fist into the woman's jaw, stunning her briefly and halting her offensive. Taking advantage of the stunned state, Eric drove his leg into her side, sending her flying through the air as he lined up another arrow.
Loosing the arrow, he watched as the familiar blue light enveloped his opponent, transporting her offstage as he held his bow high in triumph.
"And Erick Kystfyr advances to the next round! Tiera Bluegra.s.s is eliminated," Halfthur announced, pointing to the victorious half-elf as the crowd cheered.
Even though he had called it a minor tournament, technically if you included the NPC viewers, this was the biggest tournament he'd ever been a part of, Eric thought to himself, wondering idly if NPC viewers counted as spectators or not as he waved to the crowd, descending the steps back to the arena floor where Rob was standing.
"I thought you weren't going to show off your skills?" Rob asked him as they made their way back to the rest of the group.
"I'm not showing off my magic. There's no harm in me giving others the impression I'm just a normal fighter who knows swordsmanship and archery. Plus that chick was fairly good with the spear if the last round was any indication. I wasn't sure if I could beat her with just my sword," Eric explained.
Rob laughed, "I still think you should just use magic."
"I'll use it when I have to," Eric replied.
Rob laughed again, but dropped the subject, turning back to watch the match that had just begun as they made their way to the stands.

As the tournament progressed, the strong fighters began to become more evident. Cheering wildly, the crowd watched as an adventurer wielding a pair of metal claws dispatched his opponent, the claws plunging into the hapless player's side, already awash in blood from the previous strikes.
Groaning heavily, the fighter collapsed, a light enveloping him as he was transported away from the stage.
"And Kifax Catclaw wins! Mikaer Infernalshadow is eliminated!" Halfthur announced, his voice blaring through the arena.
"Kifax is impressive, you said he was an adventurer?" Alistair asked, watching the slimly built man as he raised his arms, playing to the crowd after his victory.
"Yes. He was a former Tidescout, but quit after commander Longsail wanted him to poison a group of merfolk who'd taken refuge in a cove. He refused to use such dishonourable methods and was discharged for his disobedience," Wavesun replied.
"d.a.m.n Longsail was always too obsessed with obeying the chain of command," Alistair muttered.
"All I know is that he's making me a killin. Between him and Gorin, I chose him to advance farther, although Gorin's doing well as well," Halfthur added, pinching his fingers and rubbing them together slyly.
Wavesun shook his head, "Alas, where did the morals of our once n.o.ble tournament announcers go. Whomever could have predicted that those brave men and women, who proclaim the deeds of prize fighters and announce their b.l.o.o.d.y conquests to the world, would become corrupted by the greed and sin that surrounds them," he proclaimed mournfully.
Alistair looked at him in disgust, "You've been reading too much Stirrglobe."
"A cultured mind is a sharp mind," Wavesun replied with a laugh.
"You could be focusing on learning more about proper military tactics, or practicing your swordsmanship, but instead you waste your time going to plays and wooing various women," Alistair retorted.
"You're just jealous that I've been with more women in twenty-seven years than you have in over sixty," Wavesun replied with a smirk. "Don't act like you wouldn't enjoy it if d.u.c.h.ess Sabrepool showed up in Tonbura. What man wouldn't want that?"
"I just want this d.a.m.n tournament to be done with so I can get back to Tonbura and continue planning the a.s.sault. I still don't get why I have to be here, Wavesun," Alistair complained.
"Because you're the face of the a.s.sault. And because the a.s.sault is already planned. It's the militia, Alistair, I know that you've been doing your best to turn them into a real fighting force these past few years, but the complexity of any operation based on them is best kept to a minimum. And that's before we factor the otherworlders into it. At least by being here you can evaluate the fighters you'll be using tomorrow directly, rather than having to learn their capabilities on the fly, a much better use of your time than sitting in that dark closet you call an office and attempting to improve upon the plan. As the main strategist for this mission, that was my direct evaluation of the situation. Are you trying to say I'm wrong?" Wavesun asked, a hard edge appearing in his voice for the first time.
"Screw off, Wavesun, don't think that just because I've aged a little that I can't still put you over my knee," Alistair growled.
"I'm not a child anymore, Lord Crowsea, and I would thank you to stop acting like one yourself. You are here to show the residents of the north that you don't need to plan in the final hours before the a.s.sault, to rea.s.sure them that the situation is under control, and to learn the capabilities of those you will be commanding tomorrow. I know that, and I'm well aware that you know that as well," Wavesun replied coldly, the temperature on the dais seeming to lower as the two men glowered at each other.
Gulping softly to himself, Halfthur hardly dared to breathe, staring nervously from face to face as his hands trembled unconsciously.
Suddenly, the atmosphere seemed to lighten, fading just as quickly as it had appeared.
Alistair sighed, "Just the gripings of an old man, Wavesun. A senile old man, who's powerless to prevent the calamities befalling those he cares for."
Wavesun laughed, the dark atmosphere disappearing entirely as he looked fondly towards Alistair, "There are people you care for? And here I thought your heart had turned to stone long ago."
"Ah shove it," Alistair grumbled, turning to observe the nearby matches.
Smiling slightly, Wavesun went silent, offering no retort. As Halfthur looked between the two men, he slowly released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Noticing this, Wavesun turned to the dwarf.
"You should probably announce the winner of the match over there," Wavesun advised Halfthur, pointing to a stage where the winner had been standing with his sword held aloft for the last few seconds, peering over towards the announcer's dais in confusion.
"Uhhh. Right," Halfthur muttered absentmindedly, drawing the runes to amplify his voice as he did so.
"Alexnir Swordboard advances to the next round!" Halfthur announced.
"I'd also ask that you forget about what you just heard. It isn't healthy to internalize such things, especially for those who aren't n.o.bles," Wavesun whispered, bending over to put him at the same level as the dwarf.
Looking at Wavesun, Halfthur could see that he was smiling, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, two gray pits which seemed to promise Halfthur that if he didn't forget, he would be the one to be forgotten.