Welcome, to the Arena! (D4 - MA)(Expecting)

[Cyprian Kircheis]

Cyprian thinks on that for a spell. "Yeah Midgard is pretty chaotic as well. After the convent that cared for me was butchered I had to scrape by until I was picked up by these Goat in the Woods cultists." He laughed, "You want to talk about chaos! Those crazy bastards actually summoned a giant walker! They used to brag about it all the time. It completely destabilized these two kingdoms and... well last I checked it still hasn't been destroyed."

He smiled and shook his head.

"My world has always been chaotic. My life there was equally so. Life was a struggle and my story wasn't even remotely uncommon. A dhampir orphan, refugee of the vampire kingdom. Mother died at birth and no doubt my father was a whoreson." He thinks on it some more. "Oh! I can say that drow are rare on my world. Most of them were killed long ago. Being here, seeing all these drow it's, well quite lovely really. I've only known a handful of drow and..."

He thinks back on Jhaamdath, Hannibal, and a few others.

"... yeah, you are quite atypical from them to say the least. Jhaam was a stick in the mud follower of Thor. Hannibal was a pompous megalomaniac," he thinks back, "and possibly a plane-walker now that I think about it. He insisted he wasn't from Midgard. Something about calculations..."

[Illiam'iira]

"... yeah, you are quite atypical from them to say the least. Jhaam was a stick in the mud follower of Thor. Hannibal was a pompous megalomaniac," he thinks back, "and possibly a plane-walker now that I think about it. He insisted he wasn't from Midgard. Something about calculations..."

The drow girl listens intently, head tilted. He's offering a lot more than she expected. Illia perks up a bit at the mention of drow -- how strange and wonderful and tragic they exist so far across creation -- and then half-smiles.

"Yeah, I've never met anybody like me."

Well. Except maybe her mother, if what she's been told is true. She's never seen much resemblance. Her mother, tall, cold, unafraid of pain or dealing it upon others. Her mother whose sword she carries. Her mother's sword wept blood the first time she cleaned it. She hopes not. She doesn't want to be like her mother.

"I, uh... hm." A hand goes up to fiddle with her brooch. "I'm really lucky. I don't know how it was in Midgard, but where I'm from, most drow -- well -- I prefer ilythiiri if uhm, I'm being honest -- most of us are born, we live, and we die in exile. In this place called the Underdark. It's -- it's like a prison and a tomb and a slaughterhouse combined." She can't help but shudder. "But I wasn't born there. I've never been." Hopefully I never will. "My mother wasn't born there, either. She, uh -- my mama's --"

How the hell does she explain her mother?

"My mother spent most of her life building a safe place for me and my siblings to live. Someplace we could grow up happy. It didn't always work out that way, but I've had a life better than most, and I'm grateful to her for that."

"My, uh, my papa --" But then she perks up. "I think they just called my name?"

They did!

"Okay! Cheer for me! When I get back, have a drink ready!" She'll need it!

Illiam'iira trots off. As she makes her way to the arena she undoes the bow keeping her sword in its sheath, tying the ribbons around her arm so she can't accidentally lose it. She's got enough training and enough sense to do that at least...

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Okay! Cheer for me! When I get back, have a drink ready!" She'll need it!

Before she runs off he grabs her hand and pulls her towards him. Then he plants a kiss on her forehead. "You're going to do great." He smiles gently.

_____________

Gives back inspiration.

[Illiam'iira]

Before she runs off he grabs her hand and pulls her towards him. Then he plants a kiss on her forehead. "You're going to do great." He smiles gently.

Her giggle is light and airy as she skips off -- it leaves her bright and sparkling. She's gonna do her best, and hopefully win some coin!

Illi's skip turns to a smooth gait as she enters the field. Remember what your uncle taught you, Illiam. Cradle the pommel. Fool's guard. Illiam'iira waits. Lets her opponent think she doesn't know what she's doing. Her father's advice -- to take advantage of other people's perceptions to gain the upper hand -- echoes in her head.

[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 1: Acrobatics DC 17: 1d20+5 24 PASS
[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 1: Attack: 1d20+8 22 HIT
[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 1: Damage: 1d8+1 4 damage to Arava

As the dragonborn barrels towards her she parries Arava's sword back, twirling around to slice her arm. Clean cut. Blood. It doesn't feel good to see what she's done, but Illi can't think on that --

[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 2: Insight DC 14: 1d20+9 12 FAIL

Unfortunately for her... Illia doesn't notice someone from the crowd gear up to throw a rotten tomato at her. Suddenly she's seeing red, blinking back tears as she wipes her eyes clean --

[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 3: Sleight of Hand DC 18: 1d20+5 8 FAIL
[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 3: Arava's attack: 1d20+5 20 HIT
[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 3: Arava's damage: 2d8+4 12 damage to Illi

And Arava gets her chance, slicing hard into one of Illiam'iira's thighs, the girl stumbling back with a pained cry as she tries finding her balance again.

[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 4: Acrobetics DC 16: 1d20+5 8 FAIL
[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 4: Arava's attack: 1d20+5 11 FAIL

Still caught off-guard, Illi retreats, trying to put some distance between herself and her opponent.

[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 5: Insight DC 20 w Inspiration: 1d20+9+1d8 27 PASS
[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 5: Attack: 1d20+8 22 HIT
[D4 MA] Welcome, to the Arena! - ROUND 5: Damage: 1d8+1 6 damage to Arava

As Arava barrels forward, sword raised, Illiam'iira takes on the Unicorn guard, parrying each strike before finally making her own, again drawing blood.

Unfortunately it's not enough. The match is called and Illia limps out of the ring the loser.

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Woooo!" Cyprian cheered at the beginning of the match. Then the tomato was thrown and everything just kind of went down hill from there. Poor Illi.

When she emerges in the pit he's there with a drink and reassuring smile. "There's always next time Illi. At least you're still on your feet." He'll offer her a hand if she needs it.

[Illiam'iira]

"There's always next time Illi. At least you're still on your feet."

As she prestidigitates her face and hair clean, Cyprian gets a slightly pained smile... probably because of the huge gash in her thigh. "Yep! Coulda went a lot worse." Illia hauls her leg up to rest against the stool beside him, healing herself before taking his offered hand to get up beside him. "I think I'll try again tomorrow, if I can manage it. Thanks, Cypri." She grins before taking a big gulp of her drink.

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"I'll always be in your corner." He raised his beer to hers in a salute. "In spirit if not in person. But it might be a good idea that you have your friend tag along with you if you do. That way you might find that little shit that keeps throwing things."

He takes a sip from his beer.

"Oh well, tell me some more about yourself miss Illi. I believe we last left off with you telling me about your family?" He chuckled, "Though I'm really curious about how you came to Sigil? I know myself, I've found myself here through the nature of a churlish god's prank."

[Illiam'iira]

"Though I'm really curious about how you came to Sigil? I know myself, I've found myself here through the nature of a churlish god's prank."

Yeah, next time Quev's comin' with.

"A god's prank..?" She tilts her head, curious to hear more. "Me, well, I was just -- well. I was considering going to the Feywild, but decided against it, then my mama's familiar scratched me and I tumbled through anyway..." By the gods, Faeriira's a menace. "...and I wound up here instead of where I meant to go." Illi shrugs her shoulders before taking another sip. "Y'know how life is. You plan one thing, another thing happens instead."

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Gods isn't that the truth!" Another sip. "I was minding my own business, about to perform at one of my usual haunts when suddenly I'm kicked forward in time to Sigil. Never even saw the sigils above the door way, nor the sign of that damned trickster deity Loki." He grits his teeth. "My entire fortune is lost now. All of my treasures, scores of song drafts, originals. All of my journals, weapons, armors, instruments."

His head slouched as he listed off everything lost. Eventually it was everything he could do to hold himself upright.

"All of it lost. My life's work." At least he still had Akh. That thought perked him up again. "Well, it was only about fifty odd years worth of work I guess. No sense in pouting about it. I've probably got several hundreds to go."

[Illiam'iira]

"Well, it was only about fifty odd years worth of work I guess. No sense in pouting about it. I've probably got several hundreds to go."

Cyprian gets a gentle pat on the shoulder as he explains his own tragic stumble into Sigil. As he grits his teeth Illi scoots her stool closer so she can give him a side-hug, gently tapping her mug to Cyprian's.

"So you're gonna stay here?" There's a small hesitation in her voice as she asks that.