Chapter 49: Combat

November 30, 2017, Thursday

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The final day of the games arrived where the top fighters among the competing clans would put forth their best efforts to defeat their rivals and assert themselves as the most skilled and enduring warrior. As on the previous days, the spectators thronged to the arena ruins to watch. Unlike the previous events, this one was strictly among the Sylvans and to be judged by the Sylvans.

The grounds had been divided into four parts so that all eight contestants could be present for the first round. The warriors arrived on the field one at a time to be greeted by the cheer of the clan they represented. Waiting for them at the center was an elder from both the Feral and Imperial tribes and a lidded basket beside each. The warriors stood patiently before the two elders and awaited instructions. Without speaking, the elders simultaneously reached into the basked and withdrew one stone. The warriors whose names matched the stones were then directed to one of the four divisions that had been made where two more elders waited for them and to judge their fight.

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After which the rules were explained. This was to be a ground fight. No flying off or aerial dogfights. Maiming and killing would be in poor taste. The first one to be knocked past the shallow trench that had been dug around their circle would be counted out.

The signal to start was made by a lad with a horn, and the battles began.

In one ring was Gadon of the Scissortail against Cary of the Falnor. Cary made the first move, launching a quick flurry of blows. Gadon was lighter than his more thickly built opponent, and chose to sidestep and deflect the onslaught.

"Hold still!" Cary growled as he became frustrated with chasing the older kurach around the circle.

Gadon merely raised an eyebrow in reply. After having studied the Falnor warrior for a few swings, he coiled, and sprang, delivering a few sharp blows to Cary's ribs before jumping back again. Cary grimaced, but seemed otherwise unaffected.

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So, they danced. Cary rained down punch after punch, relying on sheer brute force, and connecting a few painful blows, while Gadon continued to dodge and dart in for precise hits to Cary's ribs, shoulders, and forearms. When Cary would start connecting too many punches, Gadon would give a sharp knuckle to Cary's thighs. The repeated attacks to the same areas soon weakened the Falnor warrior. After Gadon had carefully lead him toward the edge of the circle, he lunged forward with a powerful kick and knocked Cary out of bounds. Surprised, Cary righted himself, and looked around a bit confused. As he realized what had happened, he nodded his head to the older kurach, and went to sit by the wall as he waited for the others to finish. Gadon sat down to rest in the center of the circle as the other three matches continued nearby.

Aeronwy of the Weolcen was matched with Grimm of Waebre. She was all over him like a crazed squirrel on a tree full of ripe acorns, and about as quick as the fuzzy-tailed rodent too. Grimm felt like he was going to go insane as the pesky and plucky fighter darted around and over him landing punches, kicks, elbows, and knees to nearly every imaginable place she could reach. With a lucky grab, he got hold of an arm. He nearly let go as she set into him with her teeth and went to chewing him up, but he maintained his grip, grabbed her with his other arm, and with a mighty toss he flung her clear out of the ring.

"Lass, have ye gone rabid?" he demanded as he held his bleeding hand, partially aware of his busted lip and other scratches and bites he had gotten.

"Shoot, no," Aeronwy laughed as she sprang back to her feet. "I'll have ya know I'm the nicest of my flock too!"

Grimm stared at her in horror and took note of the faint, scraggly scars visible on her bare shoulders. "A little nip here or there is all that is sufficient in a match."

"Aye, but if this had been a true fight, I wouldn't have held back and had your throat many times over," Aeronwy replied with a dark grin. "Remember that, should the lot o' you ever step foot in Weolcen lands uninvited."

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Grimm nodded slowly as he watched her from the corner of his eye. He stepped out of the ring as a healer came toward him to tend to his injuries.

"Cut it a bit close to the 'no maiming' rule there, Winny," muttered a clanmate.

"Close, but not beyond," Aeronwy replied back quietly. "I could have won, but I needed to send a message."

"What if those devils win now since there is one of them out there instead of one of us?" he asked.

"With that busted hand? Unlikely," Aeronwy chuckled. "That's the hand he clearly favored through training. His others are not as well developed. It's a sure win for his next opponent."

The third match in progress was Aodhan of the Blade clan against Kimball of the Sushaw clan. Their build and skills were more comparable than the two matches that had completed, and was proving to be an exciting round for their cheering fans. Rather than swapping licks, they decided to test each other through traditional wrestling and grappling. One would dig his claws into the ground to secure his footing and push forward, the other would deflect a grasping hand and grab for a shoulder just to be countered and kept back at the stalemate. Aodhan and Kimball kept their eyes locked and rarely blinked, trying to scare the other into submission through the sheer force of their gaze.

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Aodhan carefully shifted his feet to have one extended out further forward while the other began to slip back. Assuming that he meant to launch a knee to his ribs, Kimball went to yank Aodhan off balance. Aodhan did not resist, and instead threw his weight into it to bring them both crashing to the ground, where the Blade warrior quickly took the upper hand. In a matter of moments, he had the Weoclen pinned and unable to continue without risking serious injury. Kimball conceded and Aodhan let him get up.

The Weolcen warrior turned to face his opponent, smiled, and bowed before stepping out of the ring. Aodhan breathed a sigh of relief and held a fist up in the air as he received the praise of those watching.

The last fight still going on was Donnally and Ryce of the divided Fernwick clan. As with the other competitions, they were at each other's throats with an unmatched ferocity displayed from the other clans and even the match between Aeronwy and Grimm. The turf below their feet was getting torn up nearly as much as each other from the force they were putting into their attacks.

Ryce gained a brief moment to land a succession of a kick, knee, and elbow to put Donnally on the ground, only for Donallay to jot a hand up and slice his claws through Ryce's outer thigh clear to his ankle. The rebel Fernwick fell as he lost his balance and the loyal one was on him in an instant, landing one palm strike after another to his head and shoulders, and Donally pulled his forearms up to protect himself. One of Ryce's knees came precariously close to Donnally's head, and he didn't waste an opportunity to sink his teeth into it.

This served to enrage Ryce further and he ended up shifting to the feral form. Donnally had no desire to be torn to shreds and shifted as well, and with the new strength that came with the form, he bucked his rival off him. Blood and fur was flying amid the flash of fangs and claws as the fight descended into a primal dog fight. Guttaral snarls and the click of teeth snapping shut could be heard as each sought to finish the match.

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As a referree stepped in to separate them before they could break the rules by maiming or killing each other, Donally bit him in a fit of passion before he realized who it was. Automatically disqualified, Ryce was announced the winner. Donnally was embarrassed for having attacked the wrong person and kept his eyes averted as he left the ring.

"You've become just as barbaric as these Ferals we've been forced to share the Nyre with," Ryce growled at him.

"And you're just as deluded and uppity as those who invaded our forest," Donnally snarled back. "You're the fiend that shifted first!"

The referrees were quick to lead them to separate rooms to have their injuries tended to before they tried to kill each other.

When the fighters of the first round had been seen after, they were gathered once more to the center to have the stones drawn to see who would be matched to whom. It was to be Gadon with Ryce and Aodhan with Grimm. They went to their respective rings and began.

"Are you sure you're alright to continue?" Gadon asked as he assumed a ready stance.

"So long as you don't bite," Ryce laughed.

"Of course not," Gadon said. "You may have first move."

Despite the numbing plants rubbed into his gashes, Ryce was still sore and moving gingerly, which made it even easier for Gadon to dodge and parry Ryce's attacks. He was at a bit of a dilemma in attacking his injured opponent. There weren't many places left on Ryce that hadn't been torn or badly bruised. His victory would be sure if he could figure out how to obtain it without causing the Fernwick excessive damage.

Gadon began to inch his way to the edge of the circle once again, calculating how to get him beyond bounds. A kick would not work like it did on Cary unless he wanted to make the gashes in Ryce's side tear much deeper. Gadon and Ryce swapped a few more blows before Gadon caught a strike, stepped in close with a foot beside Ryce's ankle that was bearing the brunt of his weight, and used his hip as a fulcrum to help sling Ryce to the ground as he knocked his foot out from under him.

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Ryce hit the ground with a hard thud and was stunned for a moment as the shock went through his injuries. After a nod from the referree, Gadon stepped outside the circle and knelt beside his opponent.

"Are you alright, lad?"

"I'll live," Ryce groaned. Gadon extended a hand and helped haul Ryce to his feet.

"You fought well. Go rest," Gadon instructed. Ryce felt no desire to argue and left the field.

"What happened to you? Did you pick a fight with a blackberry bush?" Aodhan chuckled as he prepared to square off with Grimm.

"Nothing quite so sweet," Grimm grumbled. "So, you're the grappler?"

"I'm capable of more than that," Aodhan grinned. "But I do prefer something more blunt to claws."

"Good," Grimm nodded. "I'm in no mood for more scratching." Without another word, he began the fight. Aeronwy's furious frenzy hadn't given Grimm much chance to display his skills and he tried to remedy that in his match with Aodhan.

Aodhan was thoroughly enjoying himself as the Waebre warrior tested his limits. Grimm never stayed in one spot for long, bobbing and weaving as he looked for a way to overpower the Blade warrior. As Aodhan fell into a rhythm of blocking jabs and punches, Grimm began to change his angle of attack to a more circular motion, and Aodhan of course continued to face him.

Slowly Grimm began to speed up both his attacks and the circling. After a few moments, his plan paid off, and Aodhan lost balance from trying to keep up. Grimm pounced, knocked Aodhan to the ground, and quickly confined him in a lock.

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"Do you concede?" Grimm demanded.

Aodhan wriggled for a bit, but found himself fairly well immobilized. "Begrudgingly."

Grimm was declared the winner and he released his opponent. Aodhan bowed his head to the victor and exited the ring.

Aeronwy whistled, visibly impressed with Grimm's victory.

"A 'sure win for his next opponent', eh, Winny?"

"He's a bit tougher than I gave him credit for," Aeronwy replied with a strange grin.

After a brief intermission, the final match was ready to begin. Gadon of the Scissortails strode out to a ring as Grimm of Waebre entered from the other side.

"I'm starting to think I was the only of the Nyre to leave my opponent intact," Gadon remarked with a furrowed brow.

"I don't recommend trespassing in Weolcen territory," Grimm said.

"Duly noted," Gadon replied. "Shall we begin?"

The spectators were more animated and vocal during the last match as the end of the games came down to the best of Nyre versus the best of the Eor. Those with cubs became antsy and restless as they started watching their neighbors more closely should a fight break out in the stands. A few skirmishes had already happened.

Gadon and Grimm had been the most strategic of the warriors, and kept testing each other with quick jabs. Gadon could not corner Grimm near the edge, nor could Grimm trap Gadon in the center. It became a match of endurance. Which one could withstand the longest? The sun was sinking low and they remained at an impasse. Both were covered in sweat and breathing hard, and Grimm's bandages had become a deeper crimson, but neither showed any signs of stopping. With a silent agreement, they gathered themselves one last time, and gave it their all in a final burst of strength. Grimm's injuries got the best of him, and he fell after receiving several kicks from the Scissortail fighter. Gadon simply folded his hands behind his back and stood back respectfully from his foe resting on the ground.

"You are quite a formidable opponent," Gadon said quietly. "I should like to meet you in the ring again someday, when you're at your full health."

"Likewise," Grimm groaned as he laid a hand across his chest. "Not sure I'll tangle with a Weolcen again anytime soon, though. Those short little claws went straight to the bone."

"They are quite a vicious bunch, to be sure," Gadon chuckled. "They are called the cloud clan because they can easily send your spirit to the heavens."

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The referee arrived beside the two warriors, quickly inspected Grimm, and then Gadon was announced the winner. A cheer erupted from half the stands. The other half were shocked and mostly silent at first, before voicing their displeasure. An elder from either side walked out into the field and raised their hands above Gadon to show they agreed he had won fairly. The two warriors were excused from the field to rest and tend to their wounds.

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The points were tallied and then announced the following morning. It had been a very close contest, but the Ferals and rebellious Fernwick clans had scored ninety-seven points, whereas the Imperials and fundamental Fernwick clan had scored ninety-six points. Just one point less, but a significant point all the same.

The Nyre residents were ecstatic, cheering and hugging one another as word spread quickly they had proved themselves worthy to remain masters of the forest. The visitors from the Eor forest were much less cheerful, and whispers of concern flew between them over the fate of the Fernwick loyalists, as well as the demands they would have to meet. The most important of which was that they had to stop attacking nearby settlements, and that was going to prove a harsh blow to their supplies. Would the Nyre help support them? Were they to starve? Surely they would not have to leave the Eor forest forever! Whispers and worries flew quickly among the visiting Sylvans.

There were complaints among some of the Eor kurach that they had more right to be pronounced the winners since their competitors had placed in the top four of each contest more than the Nyre kurach had, to which the Nyre kurach reminded them that the quality of their victories surpassed the quantity.

"That is enough," declared a Falnor captain. "Our opponents have won fairly based on the rules. We will be honorable and concede to them. Not another word from you otherwise. Let's prepare the victory feast, and end this amicably."

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Begrudgingly, the more disgruntled ones complied, and all began to prepare for the celebrations to come the following day.

The chefs pulled out their best ingredients and recipes for the celebration feast on the final day of the festivities. Good wine was served with good food, and the jollier of the relaxed attendants made toasts in praise of the good show and good sporting nature of those who had competed over the past week.

Tempers were much lower on full bellies, and as the minstrels and bards lead the slightly more sober ones to dance, the Sylvans came together again to enjoy each other's company.

All was looking well for the Sylvan kurach despite the coming changes.

We won! The Scissortails won the tournament! The Nyre won in the end too. And everybody is being so nice now. There was a little bit of protesting at the beginning, but I think it's all finally over and we can get on with our lives now. Thank goodness for that, because I don't wanna get skinned alive by a grumpy Arctic priestess! I wonder what all there is for me to do now?

~ Shanku Ravenwing


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