Side Progression: Duel The Iron Duke

“Needlessly opulent”, were the only words running circles in Vicelin’s head as he awaited the signal to be called forth. He ran his fingers along the curls of the armrest of the bench, each finely sanded groove more intricate than the next, and the faint reflective glow of the candles in the gold leaf patterning in the inside. You couldn’t even see the gold leaf while you were sitting. Who was it for? The rest of the room was equally gilded with marble and gold, which was all the more maddening because this seemed more like a side corridor that the Imperial Family wouldn’t be found dead in. An entry place for duelists at the Imperial Arena at the Palace, rather than a place where the Emperor would ever receive guests. Or maybe Vicelin was just keeping his mind busy, not to consider the implications of what he had done, or had requested. The gravity of the boldness to challenge a Duke, one of the most politically powerful in the Empire, who didn’t exactly have a history of taking it easy or leaving his opponents alive at all, to a personal duel. Oh Fuck. Back to reality.

Vicelin stood up to walk over to the gate, landing one hand on the lattices to lean in to look out to the ring. It still looked strange to see his hand covered in skin-tight black fabric. The dress code in the Imperial ring had always been bare-chested with gladiatorial boots and waist-belt and skirt. Vicelin had however vehemently resisted being exposed like that in front of a crowd for the things he hid on his arms, and so the Iron Duke had consented to Vicelin wearing a form-fitting Elastaan suit that covered his hands, his arms, and his torso up to his chin. He wriggled his fingers as his attention was drawn to the fabric, seeing it stretch along but taking no effort at all, meaning it did feel like a second skin, and would not get in the way of the fight. When he was done playing around with the webbing appearance of the fabric between his fingers, his gaze shifted to the Arena.

The arena was filled with sand, and the spectators were arraigned in a half-circle around the arena, facing the south wall of the Imperial Palace. The seating area was filled with wealthy citizens, Vicelin could not really make out the identity of anyone there, except for of course, Fiorenza, because how could anyone miss that presence in among the crowd, no doubt bragging about how Vicelin was her retinue or something to that effect. The wind looked like it was roaring beyond the arena, as the imperial banners were dancing in the wind, but the arena was built in such a way that the wind curved around and over it, rather than being sucked into it. All those high hair pieces and fancy hats were going nowhere, so at least the wind would not affect the fight. The Iron Duke was already in the ring, though it was hard to make out exactly what the proportions were between them, as he was far away, and Vicelin’s sight was affected by the reflections of light on the sand, and the dark chamber he was in. The gate started raising then, and he was called forth by a paige of the Palace, pacing with the appearance of being confident into the ring then.

The first steps were blinding as Vicelin’s eyes adjusted to the light, and then the sound, the sound of the crowd cheering? Gossiping? Generally being distracted? It was unclear. He looked around, and could not tell if the crowd was actually reacting to his entry, or just having a social while treating him and the Iron Duke as a background spectacle. He eventually landed somewhere next to the Iron Duke, where that ‘Oh Fuck’ settled back in. The Iron Duke was at least a foot taller than him, and by the width of his shoulders, two Vicelin’s probably fit inside his frame. His only familiarity with the Iron Duke was in a seated lounge, covered in loose fabrics and pelts to hide what was beneath, which Vicelin could only describe as ‘The most Eronidas of half-Eronidas he had ever seen’.

The Iron Duke did not seem to pay him much heed, he had clearly not been hyping himself as much up for the fight as Vicelin had. The proposition was still an exciting one, but the reality of the fight here had mostly settled in. If he was to win, that would paint a massive target on his back, because the Iron Duke had a reputation of being unbeaten, and needed the support of the Blackmark, who only valued strength and power. If he lost, nobody would remember him enough to be embarrassed about it. But no. Losing would be humiliating, to himself, especially if by the line of this thinking, he intended to lose on purpose so as not to upset the political stage. He didn’t owe the Iron Duke anything, and the Iron Duke sure wouldn’t go easy on him. He didn’t owe the Iron Duke anything. Right?

The fight was called to start, with both contestants turning to face each other and stand ready. Vicelin tried to maintain his demeanor, only the slightest of lower lip tremble could betray that this fight was very different from most other duels or friendly matches he had done. It was easy to enjoy a fight, or even hype one’s self up to win, if the adrenaline was allowed to take over. But the adrenaline just wouldn’t come here. It was the theatrics of it all, the fact that it took almost a week to plot out, the fact that there were political implications involved, the fact that Vicelin could either stand to be remembered her, or fade into obscurity, or even die. There were so many thoughts swimming around in Vicelin’s head that the usual things he could rely on, weren’t clicking. It didn’t feel right.

The bell rang, and the fight started. The Iron Duke barreled forward and strew a right hook to Vicelin’s jaw, which Vicelin weaved out of the way of with a quick set of agile moves. He was attempting to measure the Iron Duke’s style. Hard and heavy? Slow for sure. Vicelin cracked a quick jab at the Iron Duke’s side, where his fist felt like it punched rock, with the Duke barely responding. “More power was needed for those punches”, Vicelin thought to himself as he tried to psych himself up while continuing to side-step the Iron Duke’s attacks. The fight still felt off, something that was felt very immediately when Vicelin was so busy thinking about how to best approach it, that he took a swift knee to the stomach and recoiled backwards to recover. With the first blow landing, thoughts went to zero however, and the fight commenced exactly as Vicelin had hoped, the two of them dancing across the sand and exchanging a flurry of punches and kicks and grapples, whatever they could to get the other to lay on their back, or tap out.

The crowd had meanwhile gone silent, save for the muttered conversations here and there between the Ithanian tea ladies. There was certainly a mixed crowd of spectators, the Imperial Palace had opened the viewing stands for anyone who was willing to come, and even permitted the Occult to enter (provided, they were not criminals, of course). While most of the audience was aristocrats, there had been a sprinkling of commoners, Lothar, and Crookbackers present to watch from the shadows or the corners. It was deemed rude to speak loudly or scream or cheer, perhaps an unusual rule set for many of the spectators, some forced into silence by the Imperial Stewards who were serving refreshments to the ladies in the front.

((You may self-insert your character as spectating the fight in the replies following this post on the thread. This is meant to be all-inclusive, have people react to the fight, the audience, the situation, etc. Anyone can self-insert to watch, so long as they aren’t monstrous or some kind of thing/person that the Imperial Guard would instantly roflstomp into the afterlife))

The Iron Duke lunged forward, grabbing Vicelin by the waist and charging with him held high towards the wall. Vicelin had seconds to react, first attempting to elbow the Iron Duke in the neck and shoulders, which seemingly had no effect. He then in an act of desperation yanked his own upper body backwards so the Duke’s charge would become unstable, using their combined weight to topple themforward, allowing Vicelin to do a backwards handstand out of the Iron Duke’s grasp while kicking him in the face on the way out, while he landed face forward in the sand. Both taking time to recover, Vicelin dusted the sand off his now patchy black Elastaan coverings, while the Iron Duke smeared blood away from his mouth and spat on the sand.

The tension between them built once more as they resumed their fighting positions, Vicelin this time first to try a thunderous uppercut, while this time it was the Iron Duke who avoided Vicelin’s strike and jabbed him in the ribs. Something had changed, the Iron Duke was suddenly much faster and coordinated. But he had assured Vicelin and Fiorenza that he was not a Mage, was that a lie? Vicelin’s head raced over the possibilities here, though instead of distract him, the frustration rather just made him angry. With that building rage, he unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, and while they seemed to work at first, with each successive attack, the Iron Duke seemed to react more steadily, like the more Vicelin attacked, the more the Iron Duke was able to recognize his movements and actions, anticipate them, and perfectly counter them.

By the end of this rage-filled flurry, Vicelin was getting so exasperated and frustrated that the Iron Duke was now deflecting nearly every attack, that he flung out one strong kick straight for the Iron Duke’s groin, which clearly had not been anticipated, as the Iron Duke immediately slumped to cup himself in pain, before keeling over and expelling the contents of his stomach onto the sand. The crowd finally reacted in shock, some perhaps even with delight? While Vicelin’s rage suddenly cooled down, unsure what to do in this situation. Kick him in the face? Finish him off? But he didn’t want to win like this. His mind was again pre-occupied to not notice the Iron Duke’s fists balling so hard his knuckles drew white, a building growl coming from him that was more bestial than humanoid.

By the time Vicelin finally noticed, it was way too late. The Iron Duke looked up with blood-shot eyes, which was more than remarkable because of his dark sclera. He snatched Vicelin’s ankle with such ferocity that it took him completely unprepared, the Iron Duke flailing Vicelin’s body overhead before slamming him into the ground like a wet towel. Before giving Vicelin any time to recover, he was grabbed again, this time by the arm, while the Iron Duke put his foot down on Vicelin’s chest. Before Vicelin could even register what was happening, the Iron Duke twisted his arm to such a degree his elbow popped out of its socket, then yanked with such force that his arm came clean off, ripping the fabric and his skin along the way. The mixture of Vicelin’s blood-curdling cry and the shouting and terrified screams in the audience mixed together as the Iron Duke grabbed him by the leg again and flung him against the wall in the far end of the arena, giving both a crack in the stonework behind Vicelin, and inside his body, while he left behin a trail of blood in the sand.

Vicelin tried to crawl away, but try as he might, his legs wouldn’t move. He was unable to feel his legs, and with only one arm and the loose sand, he couldn’t move away before the Iron Duke caught up, enclosed his hands around Vicelin’s head and started pushing them together as if intending to crush Vicelin’s head like a grape. The last thing Vicelin remembered here was his eyesight going red from the blood pooling in his eyes, and the Iron Duke’s snarling rage-filled face bearing down him worthy of any Furyborn he had ever seen.

From here, Vicelin went into shock and could no longer perceive events, though several attendants had rushed onto the arena, the first two of which had dared to try and pull the Iron Duke away from Vicelin’s mangled body, who were instead now the target of his rage. A few Viridian Knights jumped into the arena, locking shields together to try and hem in the Iron Duke so that he could only punch and kick and scream against the shields, until he calmed down, while the audience was ushered out of the arena and into the adjacent gardens.

Vicelin (and his disconnected arm) were quickly put on a stretcher and ran back into the palace, to receive immediate life-saving medical attention. ((From here, in what measure Vicelin recovers, is up to Fantuinn. If you want to have your medical character be involved, or if Fantuinn wants to roleplay out his arm being put back together/his spine being fixed/bones being mended or whatever, that is up to him, and you should communicate with him. Last everyone heard is that the Iron Duke eventually came to his senses, and departed the arena in an orderly fashion. There is no expectation on Fantuinn to have permanent maims to Vicelin from this occasion, this was all written with the knowledge that Magic healing allows the arm to be re-connected, and that other bodily damage can be reverted with Magic and Alchemy)).