The Vagrant Hero

The Old Flame Returns

Wrynn seemed mildly upset about his whereabouts. "Cyrus, you missed a couple of fights since you went to get a drink. They weren't that great, but we both know my dad could use your help on picking troops." She would feel a sting on her forearm from where Sybil gave her a snapping strike. "Sorry, Sybil... I worry you know? We both know my dad could use the help, and Cyrus doesn't have the best history in Fairemoore."

A small chuckle and kind eye met with Wrynn's wild nature. "My own daughter knows I'll be fine, no need for such fuss. Especially if I didn't miss anything noteworthy." Cyrus would turn his attention to Zell. "Before you even ask, no, no, and more no from our large combatant over there. The only thing that would remotely change his mind in serving in a group would be me to go into combat." Bringing a hand up to stroke his beard. "I do so long for a good duel, I think perhaps it could do some good should I fight." His confident tone made him stand upright and look out amongst the people he once defended.

All three of his close companions looked at him with wide eyes. They all seemed to be screaming the same thing. Zell would break the silence on this one. "You can't be serious? It's been ages since you had a real fight. The ale must have gotten the better of you." Zell's shoulder grasp would be shrugged off. Those blue eyes of Cyrus burning with a fire the young captain hadn't seen in some time.

"You think me, the man that taught you how to fight." Cyrus's finger would jab deep into Zell's center chest. The girls stood in awe of the whole display. "Is weak and forgotten the means of combat? I will open myself for the grounds right now!" This bold display he put on brought quite the crowd within earshot. However, all he cared about was showing Orson he meant his word by getting into the arena grounds. Parting under the rope Cyrus found himself standing upon the moist dirt. It was a familiar sensation that grew over him. "Who here wishes to face the old captain of the Crimson Pheonix?" He would remove some silver from a pouch and throw it to the ground on the fight pits edge. "Fifty silver to anyone who challenges, win or lose the money is yours." Peering out into the crowd he looked for a worthy adversary that would step forth. "Perhaps a northerner could use it for some drink?! We know that's all you're good for around here."

"You old fool, I'll fight you!" A man of youthful years quickly stepped up to honor his northern heritage. "I don't need the silver, I fight you for my people." Stepping past the rope to meet Cyrus, ax in hand he announced himself. "I am Righar, of the northern tribes. I will see you fall to my ax." He swung the ax about with rage-induced strikes, warming his muscles up for the bout between the two.

A sneer appeared on Cyrus's face as he looked upon the young man. "Really, Righar I have forgotten more in my moons of practice." Clasping his belt, he would relieve his buckle and let them fall to the ground. "Than you are moons alive." He would look down to his sword that fell to the ground, remembering he had a bow and quiver he would remove those items and cast them outside the rope boundary. "To make this fair, I will face you with my potential weapon upon the ground. I may be old and perhaps a fool, but I know I can handle you with ease boy." The crowd was a roar at his boast, people were slinging bets and wagers left and right on whom would be the victor. Some of the crowd cheered him on while a few mocked his would be insanity. "You do your best the moment you hear that fanfare blow Righar, but remember I'll be doing my best as well." Cyrus planted his feet and brought his hands up fingers opened wide, arms stretched out before himself.

The northerner clenched up his muscles tight. His mouth was practically watering with anticipation for the fight to begin. The insults he endured clouded his mind with hatred, it plotted how best to murder his adversary. White knuckles clenched his weapons leather grip, his mouth agape with heavy breaths. The bugle players hit their notes, and with them, the crowd uproared as the fight commenced. Righar brought his ax up over his head intending to swing down to cleave Cyrus in half in one fell swoop. His rage-filled thoughts were quickly destroyed as the veteran leaned forward, dropping to a knee and fiercely punched Righar in the groin. The barbarian dropped his weapon behind himself, his body bent forward hands coming down to instinctively grab his aching testicles. This exposed himself to a headbutt to the nose as Cyrus stood straight up bashing his skull hard into Righar's nose, caving it into his face. The headbutt did not drop the barbarian but sent him staggering backward, eyes watering to the point of blindness he would trip over the ax and fall to his backside. His mind was dumbfounded as to what to even do at this point in the fight.

Rubbing the top of his head, Cyrus felt a headache creeping up shortly. He'd forgotten how hard that could be on the giving end of the exchange. His blood seemed as though it was boiling in his veins. He took a moment to remember when his heartbeat with such anticipation and thrill. "Call it Righar, you're done." The crowd grew silent at his words, all eyes glued to the fight and what would happen next.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, squinting at his adversary Righar would yell and charge like an enraged bull. Tackling Cyrus to the ground in fevered rage, he would come up and mount him trying to punch the veteran in the face but to no avail as his hands were all but blocked and deflected. A few choice rib shots found their mark on Righars behalf. However, a swift punch to the throat made Righar slip off to the side, gasping deeply for air through a choked windpipe. He found himself grasping at his throat, freehand clenching the dirt as he struggled to rise from all fours.

Ribs stinging with pain from the blows that met their mark, Cyrus quickly rolled up to his feet with a hefty groan. Seeing that Righar was attempting to his feet once more, he knew he had to act. Cryus felt he couldn't chance to underestimate Righar's youthful unpredictability, with sharp execution he kicked the barbarian aside his face, sending him tumbling over onto his stomach. Cyrus would mount his back, sitting firmly on the lower end of Righar he would grasp his chin and start wrenching back. "Give up you fool, I've bested you." Leaning back and placing tremendous leverage on the neck and spine of Righar, Cyrus hoped he would tap out and call it a day.

Judgment mistaken as so many times it was in the past, Cyrus didn't realize what straw he had grasped when he chose to fight this northerner. Gathering a brief second wind, Righar screamed in a blood rage finding his hands buried in the dirt lifting his upper body from the ground. Legs bending to find a proper knee to fully sit up with. Cyrus raised and sat back down firmly in an attempt to put the savage belly back on the ground. Triumphant Righar finally flipped the veteran over his head after getting to his knees. Cyrus landing on the ground meeting gazes. Righars savagery turned the course as his mouth opened wide reached down and locked down on to Cyrus's cheek. Tugging and pulling away at the meat and flesh that was his opponent's face, Righar snarled and growled as if he were an animal.

The crowd retorted with the same reaction that Cyrus gave as his flesh was being torn at, surprise and awe. The sheer shock of his face being bitten into left him stunned for a brief moment, then the pain set in. Quickly thinking he forgone punching knowing that would only implicate further pain. Fist clenched with thumb exposed he did the one thing he thought right to release the grip, prodding around vigorously with his thumb Cyrus gouged out Righars eye. In a gasp of pain, the barbarian let go allowing Cyrus a moment to break free and roll to the side away. Looking over at his challenger as he held his bloody eye socket in agony, Cyrus felt this the time to use all the adrenaline flowing through his bones to rise up and gather the ax his foe intended to use on him at the very start. He gave little to no thought to those around him at this point and time, Cyrus saw a threat to him. Axe firmly in hand, with a roaring cry he would bring the ax down just to the side of his foes head. The large ax head grazing deep into the shoulder as proof things could have gone much worse.

Even though the northerners best efforts in the dog eat dog fight, he knew he was bested by the venerable warrior. Righar paused only for the moment to absorb at the pain his body had suffered during the brief fight. Dense in a breath, Righar would bring up a palm to the sky, meaning he submitted and the bout was over. "You have bested me, former captain. I yield to you... for now." Righar would bring his face up to meet Cyrus's. "I do hope we fight again though, and soon." Dragging himself from the ground, the barbaric northerner would reach a handout, a smile upon his face the whole while. "I underestimated you as a foe, it won't happen again."

Meeting his hand with Righar's own, matching the smile. "You fought well young man, we are both on account of belittling one another's strength. I will face you again someday." With a firm grasp, Cyrus drew him in deep ear to ear. "Next time will be on your home turf I bet, please tell Orson I meant what I said to him earlier this day." Pulling away Cyrus would force up his hand, dragging upwards Righars in victory. Both men yelled along with the crowd on such a momentous fight. The two men left the circle with mutual respect and bond that few had ever developed before with such haste. Cyrus was amazed and wished to learn the strength the north needed to fend off the Subterraneans, he felt he had found it with Righar and Orson's performances on this day. Cyrus began his walkout in an attempt to meet his friends and daughter, only to be ceased by the medical staff. Disagreements and slight strife for their over-exaggeration were attended by the wide cold eyes of his daughter Sybil. Upon seeing her face, the exclamations from Wrynn were drowned out in silence. He wouldn't hear were words for there were none to fall upon the ears, reading her face though he knew he needed to be restored. His adrenaline had all but come to an end, the pain of his cheek prodded his brain in heavy sharp waves. His stomach churned with a queezy sensation, he hadn't realized how much blood he swallowed from the wound.

Sybil couldn't remember the last time she had seen her father injured due to fighting. Instinctively her mind thought back on those faded days when her father would be gone for several days and nights. Faintly she remembered times he came home covered in filth from being on the road without a bath in weeks. The armor he wore having kinks and dings, when removed underneath would be bruises, scratches, and on rare sightings, blood-soaked bandages. The scene before her shocked her as to the fact that all those years he had been a knight, she never really once realized his mortality. As is with all children of young age, she never fully grasped the dangers he put himself in while he was away. This revelation sent her heart into what felt to be a standstill. This epiphany of hers was finally broken as her friends repeated shaking of her shoulder snapped her back to reality.

"Sybil, you alright? You look as though you have seen death itself?" Wrynn's words finally reached through, Sybil's response was a slow nod up and down as the two met eyes. "Everything will be fine, he's in good hands. Do you want to go get a drink?" Firmly grasping Sybil's wrist, Wrynn took it upon herself to provide the answer of yes. She looked back over as they were walking Cyrus over to a white tent, her father Zell was quick upon their heels. "My father will make sure he gets only the best, I can't believe Cyrus!" Her concerning nature seemed to push aside to return to her astonished demeanor. "He's still got it! I mean, his face was half bitten off and he still won! I heard so many stories about his iron will, but to actually see it was beyond incredible."

Her complements were met with random people giving similar comments. Whether they were intended for Sybil to hear or not was unknown to her. "Yeah, that was certainly a spectacle to see. I have never seen him actually fight before." Her mind wandered off as she remembered seeing him training on practice dummies. Thinking back hard enough, she recalled him sparring with initiates, but it was never as deadly as the fight with him and Righar. She took it upon herself to ease her mind and enjoy a drink with her friend. She knew despite her brazen actions, Wrynn always meant well with her intentions. Sybil gave watch as Wrynn reenacted the events of the fight with huge exaggerations. The two rejoiced together, the city's torches and lamps began to light up marking the near end to the eve's events for the day.