All characters involved are 18+.
- - -
6.
The duels continued on in high spirits.
Adam and Jen looked on as hardy and vigorous young men tested their strength and valor against each other. So too did the cheering crowd delight in their skill and tenacity, roaring as sword clashed against sword and as mace splintered shield. But none cheered as loud as Jen, the she-orc nearly spilling her mug of honeybeer every time she jumped from her seat.
Her enthusiasm was a sight to see, enough to draw the eyes of more than a few men - from spectators in the stands to other swordsmen waiting on ringside benches. Adam couldn't blame them for their wandering eyes. He had become well aware of an orcish woman's...
unique
appeal. Nor did the young noble feel jealous. He figured they could look on for as long as they pleased. Jen wouldn't be leaving the arena with any of
them
, Adam noted with a smug grin.
Jen came to this tourney in the company of a fourth son... And she will leave in the company of her champion.
Then there was the sound of splintering wood. Adam watched as a man garbed in dark armor and a gray cloak swung his mace into his opponent's round shield, shredding the top edge into a ruined mess of bits. The other duelist, a shorter man in dented plate and a purple surcoat, stumbled from the sheer force of the blow. He lost his balance and fell back on his rump... just outside the painted white circle.
Some in the crowd cheered. Others groaned, either in disappointment of the match's end or in sympathy to the losing party. There were few who found it sporting to lose a match in such a pitiful fashion. Adam merely frowned. Briefly, he had the frightful thought of such a thing happening to himself. And it unnerved him greatly. The indignity of it, to lose like that - Right in front of his lady love, no less!
Adam shook his head and banished the thought from his mind. That would
not
happen to him. Not today.
The official returned to the ring and made his proclamations to the crowd. The two opponents removed their helms and gave each other a respectful bow. Adam could see then just how young the losing swordsman was - a fresh-faced teen. It was likely his first college match, Adam guessed. And so the young Casterman's sympathy grew stronger.
The two duelists departed from the ring and Adam saw that the younger sportsman was heading his way. The lad was clearly upset, his cheeks reddened with humiliation. But they locked eyes for a moment and Adam gave the younger man a short nod.
This is just the beginning, lad. You'll get better.
The lad seemed to understand. Or perhaps he was just relieved that someone in the crowd was on his side, even if he lost. The young sportsman gave a small nod in turn and continued on to the locker rooms.
And that match concluded, it was once again Adam's turn to take the field.
The youngest of the Castermans took a deep breath, calming his nerves. He pulled his gauntlets back on first, opening and closing his fist to get a feel for the grip. He stood from the bench then, his helm tucked under his arm. Jen rose with him, helping him adjust the surcoat over his breastplate.
While Jen fiddled with his colors, Adam cast a glance across the arena and spotted the man he would be facing off against. On the other side of the ring, his opponent stood tall, cutting a formidable figure. Though young like Adam, it was clear that the other man was the elder of the two, likely in his final year at university.
Over silver armor, Adam's opponent wore a dark blue surcoat emblazoned with a quartered shield of black and white. Adam may not have been familiar with the sigil, but those colors... In Stakaria, black and white stood for magic.
That one is a wizard-knight
, Adam realized.
Of course, magic was barred from throwback tourneys. Competitions like the one today were meant to be a test of a man's physical skill and martial ability. So Adam had no reason to fear getting fireballed in the middle of his bout. But arcane schools were known to be prestigious - and
very
discerning about those they allowed to enroll at their institutions. Adam's opponent might not be able to use spells during their fight, but he could still very well be a ferocious swordsman.
Adam took another deep breath, inhaling through his nose. Before him, Jen offered a sweet, warm smiling. And Adam realized he had all the strength he needed.
Well, almost...
"Would the lovely lady honor me with her favor?" Adam asked of the she-orc beauty. He took her hand in his and gave a bow of his head. He grinned as he heard Jen give a gasp of feigned shock. Though he couldn't see her face, he imagined she was using her free hand to cover her gaping mouth.
"I don't have any silk to spare, sweet knight." Jen cooed, her voice suddenly so sweet and musical like an elf maiden's. Though it was clear that she was playing into his little game, Adam felt a soft fluttering in his chest. Somehow, the young Casterman knew that Jen was speaking only half in jest. Her voice dipped lower then, and the fluttering in Adam's chest turned into a stirring somewhere else. "How about a kiss for luck, instead?"
Adam raised his head and found Jen's eyes glittering with decidedly
impish
love.
"Even better." He said, grinning.
And so while they stood before the ring, Jen leaned forward and caught Adam's lips in a soft kiss. It was much,
much
more gentle and chaste than their normal affections, yet it was deep enough to draw enthusiastic cheers from the people in the stands above.
Adam felt his cheeks darken and a lovely shiver roll across his skin. But it was not from embarrassment or discomfort under the crowd's gaze.
Only a fool would be embarrassed to have a woman like Jenakka G'Kalis...
Enjoying the softness of Jen's lips, the sweetness of her touch, even the way her tusks brushed against his mouth... Adam didn't want the kiss to end. But he pulled back all the same.
Doubtless, he was wearing a dumb, lovestruck smile. He donned his helm then, and for a moment he was no longer the son of Casterman. He was just Adam, the bloke who wanted to impress his green girlfriend.
He stepped into the ring, where his opponent and the official awaited him. Adam spared one more glance at Jen and she gave him a brilliant smile. The tiredness he had felt, the aching in his muscles and bones, it all spilled from his body, washed away by Jen's warmth. Adam felt his heart pounding. Not from fear or tension, but from his soaring spirits. He was going to win. And he would do it for Jen.
"FOR THIS NEXT BOUT, ADAM CASTERMAN OF TREVELYAN INSTITUTE RETURNS TO THE FIELD!" The official thundered, his arms spread wide. With each hand, he presented the two swordsmen as they stepped before each other. He raised his scepter into the air, the colored bands twirling from one end. "HE FACES KALLON ROSBY OF MERRIAN COLLEGE OF THE ARCANE ARTS! MAY YOU BOTH PERFORM WITH HONOR!"
As the official departed from the ring, the crowd resumed its cheering. Adam gave a bow and the Rosby bloke gave one in turn. And as Adam tightened his grip on his sword and shield, his opponent did the same.
The wizard-knight was taller than Adam, broader in the chest and shoulders and thicker in the arms and legs. Certainly older too, now that Adam had a closer look at him. Cold blue eyes he had, and a full, dark beard. A year ago, Adam would have been wary of facing a man like this Kallon Rosby, perhaps even feared him. But no longer.
Through his helm, Adam stared the other man down.
Sorry, mate. My lady love is in need of a champion... And you're in my way.
Adam rapped the flat of his tourney blade against his shield, earning a raucous cheer from some of the rowdier attendees in the stands. It was chest-thumping, essentially. A show of confidence - though some called it arrogance. So unlike the usual behavior of the studious Adam Casterman. Yet for Adam, it felt right. Natural. His blood was seething hot, boiling in his veins. There was a fire in his heart and it was burning brighter and hotter with each passing second.
The Rosby fellow gave a small frown under his helmet. Then he moved upon Adam, his sword at the ready. He strode forward with clear intent, iron resolve in his eyes.
In those fleeting seconds, Adam prepared himself for what would be a difficult, taxing fight...
Right up until Kallon Rosby was shoved to the side. A dark blur had slammed into the taller man's flank, knocking him off-balance and sending him stumbling out of the ring and falling to the ground. The crowd's cheers gave way to shocked gasps and murmurs as the intruder stood at the center of the ring, wearing a dark, hooded coat.
The intruder reached into the coat and produced two daggers, one in each hand. Quickly, the murmurs in the crowd turned to cries of fear. The daggers gleamed as they caught the light and Adam could see how sharp they were. They weren't dull, blunted tourney weapons. Those daggers were
real,
Adam realized. And
very
deadly.
"Are you Adam Casterman?" The intruder spoke in a hard yet smooth voice. A
woman's
voice. Adam blinked, the situation so baffling that it almost didn't register that this mystery woman was addressing
him.
"
What is the meaning of this?
" The official demanded as he returned to the ring, red-faced and
furious.
"You cannot interrupt a scheduled match! Such behavior will not be tolerated in this arena-"
The intruder paid the official no heed and threw off her dark coat. Adam felt his eyes grow wide as saucers. This stranger wasn't simply a woman. She was an
orc
woman!
The intruder stood before Adam, her skin a pale gray, her body toned and muscled, and she was wearing considerably
less
than the armored plate contestants normally wore. Another round of gasps came from the crowd. Adam couldn't blame them. Indeed, the sight of a
very
fit she-orc in sweatpants and a sports bra was a striking one.
Striking and
beautiful
, Adam noted.
As he had seen Jen's appeal, so too did Adam find his eyes drawn to this new orc woman. Her gray skin may have been pale, but it looked not at all sickly. There was a liveliness to her complexion, her skin smooth and possessing few - if any - blemishes. Her arms and shoulders were firm with muscle, but not so much that she appeared brutish or masculine.
Even with her black hair cut short, her womanhood and femininity was as clear and obvious as the sun in the summer sky. Her sweatpants were decidedly
tight
upon her wide hips, and her sports bra was quite snug over what was undoubtedly a proud bust. And the swath of toned belly that she had left bare was joy to the eyes. To cap off her unique appearance, the she-orc had tattoos of black, orcish script circling up the length of both of her arms. Striking she was indeed.
The gray she-orc shot Adam a piercing look, her red eyes tearing into his. She spun the two daggers in her hands before gripping them both tightly by the hilt. It was clear that she was no novice with the blade. So Adam held up his shield, readying himself for whatever move she would make. An instant later, she advanced on him.
