Omen: 11, 13

Mana: 8 -> 5

Enchanting

D20 + 7 = 24 (17)

Adam spent the morning enchanting Jaygak’s sword, before heading out to quickly bathe and change into the same set of fine clothing as he had done the first day of the festival.

“It’s time!” Timojin declared once Adam joined them, his eyes full of excitement.

“Time for what?” Adam asked, glancing between the pair of young men who were staring at Adam with beaming eyes.

“The last two days were for enjoying ourselves and consuming all the food,” Amokan said.

“The spars begin today!” Timojin grinned wide, leaping onto his feet, eager for a fight. “Let us spar, son of Fate!”

“I refuse,” Adam said, raising a hand. “I don’t want to. I’m just a weak little mage boy.”

“We wish to face you!” Amokan exclaimed, causing the Iyrmen nearby to glance their way. “We know you are stronger than you suggest! We’ve seen the strength of your fists, your great abilities with enchanting, and we have heard how you are brave though you pretend not to be!”

Adam glanced aside, trying to deflect the words away from him. “No, no, I’m not that…” Adam noted Sonarot staring at him, with Lanarot within her arms. The girl was playing with a ribbon, sucking on it. The ribbon was tied to Sonarot’s finger so she could pull it away from the baby, reducing the chances of choking.

‘Seriously,’ Adam thought. ‘Did you have to call me out in front of my aunt and little sister?’ Adam sighed, reaching up to rub his head. “Damn it…” He stared up at the pair. “I really don’t want to lose in front of my sister.”

“There is no dishonour in losing against an Iyrman,” Amokan said, leaping onto his feet beside Timojin. “Come, Adam! Face me!”

“Face me!” Timojin butt in, the pair pushing each other from shoulder to shoulder.

Adam sighed again. “Since it’s a spar, does that mean I have to hold back?”

“You need not hold back against me!” Timojin said.

“Nor me!” Amokan said, the pair still wrestling each other with their shoulders.

Adam tapped his knee. He could probably face them and win, but he didn’t want to fight the Iyrmen. He noted all the eyes on him from their noisiness. ‘Hey, Bell. How much is it to get the Martial options and my Archetype for it?’

[600XP total.]

‘That was much cheaper than I expected.’

[They are abilities within your preferred option.]

“Hmmm.” Adam hummed, letting the Iyrmen wait, tapping away at his knee. Even strangers were becoming invested in this fight, staring at the half elf, muttering between one another.

“Can I wear my armour and use my magical sword?” Adam asked.

“If it means you will fight!” Timojin said, far too excited now to let him run.

‘I’ll spend the XP on Onward Soar and the Archetype.’

[Which Archetype?]

A long list appeared in front of him and Adam scanned through them with his eyes, which caused the Iyrmen to stare, wondering why his eyes were twitching. For a moment they thought he had become sick.

“Adam?” Sonarot called out, wondering if the enchanting had finally gotten to him.

“I’m fine,” Adam said. “Just thinking.”

He was reading through the list, trying to find the same Archetype as last time. ‘Eastern Blade, please.’

[Which language would you like to pick?]

‘The Iyrman’s tongue.’

XP: 1300 -> 700

Gained Onward Soar!

Gained Iyrian language!

Gained Warrior Spirit!

Adam then noticed that more eyes had fallen onto him. ‘I want to win, but using all my abilities would be a little mean, right? No, no, it’s their fault for pressuring me to fight.’ Adam paused and thought for a moment. ‘Hold on. Couldn’t I use this to my advantage? I should use this opportunity to impress my little Lanarot.’

Adam inhaled deeply. “Then,” he declared, pointing towards the duo, but also passed them. “I’ll face the four of you!”

Timojin stared at him. “The four of us?”

“Amokan, Timojin, Jaygak and Kitool!” Adam wondered if he’d be able to face them at his level, but considering his spells and abilities, he’d at least make a good show of it. It didn’t matter about winning or losing, but about making a good story. Lanarot was still too young to remember, but she’d hear the story about how her elder brother went against four Iyrmen at once and fought valiantly. ‘I’ve been pretending to be a coward for too long, so I should at least begin my fighting debut with a bang.’

“Isn’t that too much?” Amokan asked. “Timojin and I are some of the best fighters of our age.”

“We will tire you out before you face Jaygak and Kitool!” Timojin roared, grinning wide. “You will regret it!”

“Who said I was facing you one by one?” Adam asked. “I’ll face the four of you together!”

The Iyrmen began to murmur between one another, hearing the nonsense the half elf was saying.

“How dare you challenge me in front of my adorable sister! I won’t let this matter rest!”

The Iyrmen continued to murmur between one another, but Adam had finally learnt their tongue.

“This son of Fate is hilarious!”

“What a fool, challenging four Iyrmen at once!”

“I like his guts!”

“Isn’t he a cook and an enchanter? What does he know about fighting?”

“I’ll bet ten gold on him!”

Sonarot cleared her throat, cutting through the murmuring. “Adam has been enchanting today, and has lost much of his strength, so he will not fight.”

Adam turned her way and smiled. ‘Well, I guess that works just fine. Now I don’t need to fight them. Sonarot, you’re the best aunt a half elf can ask for.’

“He will fight tomorrow, as he will not enchant in the morning,’ she said.

Adam’s smile dropped. ‘Sonarot, why would you do this to me?’

Jurot grinned wide and stood. “Then I will fight! I will face the four of you!”

“No thanks,” Jaygak said. “It would be embarrassing to fight with so many against one.”

“I will refuse too.” Kitool bowed her head.

“I will fight you!” Amokan and Timojin both declared, and the bets began.

“Then come at me together!” Jurot grinned wider, excited to fight. The festival’s atmosphere had filled him with adrenaline.

Amokan and Timojin both drew their greatswords, though Jurot placed down his axe. “I will not use this magical axe! I wish to face them with my strength and skill alone!”

The Iyrmen cheered at his boast, and someone from nearby tossed Jurot their axe, which he caught with ease.

“Don’t forget your shield,” Sonarot called out, tickling Lanarot’s nose with the ribbon.

Someone else tossed him their round shield, painted with their family’s symbol. Jurot donned the shield and walked forward, axe in hand.

“Ten gold on the Rot boy!”

“Five on the pair!”

Adam inhaled deeply. “I’ll bet ten on my brother! Who dares to bet against me! I’ll take all your coin!”

“Make it twenty boy!” an Iyrman called, and Adam glanced her way.

Adam narrowed his eyes. “Wujyn! Do you really think it’s wise to bet against me? You should know my luck!”

“Indeed, but I also know Jurot’s luck,” the woman said. “Do you dare to bet against me?”

“Then let’s make it a Tiger Eye,” Adam said. “Don’t cry to me when you end up losing your gem.”

“How much?” Elder Zijin asked.

“A Tiger Eye?” Sonarot asked.

“Sure,” the Elder said, nodding his head.

The trio faced off against once another, full of excitement. Jurot grinned wide, raising his shield.

“Come!” Juro roared, leaping into the fray. He wound up his blow, but waited for a moment as the other pair filled with rage, and his wild swing was barely caught by Amokan, who skid back.

Timojin brought his greatsword down and managed to deal a heavy blow onto Jurot’s shield, causing it to shake wildly.

Due to Timojin’s heavy blow, Amokan had the opportunity to slip through Jurot’s guard, and cut across his side deeply, blood splattering against the floor.

Jurot only grinned wider from feel the blood run down his thigh. “Hahaha!” Jurot laughed.

“Jurot, be careful! Sonarot called, brushing her daughter’s hair.

Lanarot could hear the sounds from afar, hearing the clashing of blades and the sound of her brother’s laughter. She didn’t know what they were, but the sounds drew her attentions.

‘I cannot embarrass mother,’ Jurot thought, gripping his axe tight within his hand and raising his shield. His strike now was more methodical than reckless, as he cut across Amokan’s chest during a large wind up, bringing his shield to Timojin’s greatsword. He caught Timojin’s blow and downed Amokan, who went down with a wild grin on his face.

“Is he okay?” Adam asked, noting just how eager the Iyrmen were for killing one another.

“He is fine,” Wujyn assured. “He will not die this day.”

Now it was Jurot and Timojin, who were both sizing one another up, circling away from Amokan’s unconscious body, which someone picked up and pulled aside to bandage.

“You have grown much stronger,” Jurot admitted, missing a swipe with his axe, whereas the greatsword managed to cut the top of his shoulder, causing the boy to grunt.

Amokan was more like a wild beast, always swinging his sword back for the heaviest of blows, even if it meant he rarely hit, but when he hit, he would strike gravely.

Timojin, on the other hand, aimed to strike true with his greatsword, clashing with Jurot’s axe and shield, whilst stepping aside to prepare for another blow.

However, Jurot was too eager to fight, and so swung wildly, striking down onto Timojin’s blade, which shuddered under the impact, the sound of steel striking steel filling the air, like music to the Iyrmen’s ears.

Even Lanarot cooed happily at the sound, smiling as she heard it.

“Your brother is winning,” Sonarot said. “Mama is going to make a Tiger Eye.”

“Don’t count my nephew out yet,” Elder Zijin said. “There’s a reason why he’s a candidate for Chief in a few decades.”

His words were like a premonition, as he managed to cut through Jurot’s side, causing blood to spray out, though Jurot managed to cut into the orcish Iyrman in return with his axe.

Timojin slid back, his vision blurry, but he charged forward. Jurot cut across the Iyrman’s side, causing him to drop to a knee. He had nearly fallen unconscious, and were he a human like Jurot, he would have dropped. However, his orcish blood gave him a second wind, and he swung his blade wildly with one arm, almost dislocating his shoulder.

Jurot managed to bring his shield up, but the blow was so heavy, that the blade’s side glanced off of Jurot’s head, causing him to drop, eyes rolled back as his mouth foamed.

“Jurot!” Adam shouted, as Timojin planted his blade into the ground and leaned against it, the victor. “Oi! Jurot! Our sister’s watching!”

Mana: 5 -> 4

Spell: Healing Word

1D3 + 3 = 6 (3)

Jurot grunted as life filled him, and he reached up to his head, which was throbbing wildly. He grinned wide, staring at the battered Timojin, who was seconds away from falling.

“That was a good fight!” Jurot declared, laughing wildly, and the Iyrmen cheered.

Amokan was eventually brought back from unconsciousness, opening his eyes to see Timojin standing. Timojin grinned down at Amokan, who laughed.

Turot walked up to Jurot. “Are you okay?” the boy asked, resting his hand on Jurot’s head where he had been hit, trying to put pressure onto it.

Jurot smiled. “I am fine,” he said, but felt something churn within his gut. He recalled the voice which had filled him with magic, bringing him back up to consciousness.

‘Our sister’s watching,’ it had said.

Jurot sighed, understanding the feeling in his gut. It was a feeling he hadn’t quite felt before. ‘I didn’t want to lose,’ he thought. There was a difference between not wanting to lose and wanting to win.

Adam puffed out his cheeks.

Currency: (19) Tiger Eye -> (18) Tiger Eye

“You can earn it back tomorrow during your fight,” Wujyn said.

Adam noted Sonarot handed over a gem to Elder Zijin too. “I will,” Adam said. “I can’t lose in front of Lanarot.”

Wujyn smiled.

Jurot remained alone to drink, and Adam didn’t bother him. Instead, he focused on how he was going to win tomorrow. There was one spell which would help him most, but he didn’t dare to take it.

When night came, Turot was fast asleep in bed. Sonarot was out, sleeping in the cabin with Lanarot, or trying to.

Jurot, Adam, and Lucy drank and stared up at the stars.

Jurot stopped at the door, blocking Adam’s way. “You must win,” he said. “Our sister will be watching.”