9 Zi'da 723
The Trial of Ten sounded a lot better before you began than it did immediately after starting. Azrael was in a bar in the Earth Quarter trying to impress a woman he was talking to when she'd become distracted by the men brawling. Feeling cheated of her attention, he made a bold claim about his own skills and was now being forced to back it up. He had no interest in joining the Lightning Knights- none at all. He just had a big mouth and few too many drinks at the right time on the wrong night.
He didn't know what he was signing up for but he refused to admit defeat. His right arm was bound with a thin metal shackle and he was exiled from the city. That part hadn't been made entirely clear to him until he'd already signed up and he was fairly certain that the man who tricked him into the Trial of Ten had done that intentionally to get Azrael to go away. How he had to figure out how to get some of the strange tavern tokens that were littered around the quarters. He couldn't go back into the Earth Quarter without two tokens from the Dust Quarter. Then it was four from the Earth Quarter to get into the Glass Quarter? Or was it three? Maybe get four to be safe. He knew it would be four from the Glass Quarter to get into the Sky Quarter but by then he wasn't sure he'd still be interested in finishing the Trial.
That was because he hadn't had his first fight yet.
It was a little bit past mid-trial when Azrael was almost lit on fire. He was at The Copper Prince in the midst of a brawl with an equally inexperienced but unfortunately larger contender. He'd chosen The Copper Prince because it sounded like a nice place but he forgot- copper was the cheapest nel. Even with the recent improvements in the Dust Quarter it seemed like the owner didn't care to make repairs. Maybe it was just they style that Walsh was going for. It wasn't relevant to how Azrael nearly ended up replacing a cauldron of soup over the fire. Azrael signed up for the tournament for that night and in his first match he was thrown a little more aggressively than he was ready for and the hearth was just right there- but not close enough, hence, almost.
He managed to slow down and regain his balance before going too far but he didn't think about his opponent behind him. The fire in front of him was an alarming distraction until suddenly a large hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around. He instinctively dropped.
Wack!
He shouldn't have left his back to his opponent. His opponent shouldn't have swung so recklessly. Azrael crawled away and got back up onto his feet while the balding, green eyed lug that was fighting him began shouting obscene things and squeezing his hand in pain. He'd hit the wall as hard as he meant to hit Azrael who was now standing behind his opponent. It really was a bad idea to leave your back exposed- but adrenaline stole focus and Azrael attacked in a very unrefined way. He kicked the back of the big man's knee and suddenly the man wasn't so tall. Azrael punched the man in the back of the head but he had a thick skull and it hurt.
He recoiled slightly and shook his hand. It couldn't have been anything like what the big man felt. Azrael had to push through it. He shifted to the side a little more where it looked like the big man's disoriented face and more specifically his chubby cheeks would soften the impact against Azrael's knuckles. He punched again with the same hand but the disoriented brawler managed to lift a stubby arm and block the punch. Azrael stumbled backwards slightly to figure out what to do next when he should have kept attacking.
The big man got up to his feet and lumbered towards the mortalborn who had no advantage but his smaller size and athletic prowess- meaning he could run in circles pretty well. Azrael kept retreating in a circle and the big man kept trying to get closer. At one point they both had stopped and were taking false steps to each direction to try and fool the other, but Azrael won that exchange and slipped away from another big swing.
"You know I can keep this up." Azrael taunted after ducking under the green eyed giant's attempt to grab him again.
"Shut up." He charged at the mortalborn and Azrael bounced to the right before suddenly moving to the left and dodging the giant again.
"Getting tired?" Azrael asked, "You sound tired. No shame in it. I'm tired." It took less energy to move quickly in small bursts than it did to run away and certainly less than it did to give chase but Azrael wasn't really sure if the giant was getting tired. The big man breathing heavily seemed to imply as much.
His next charge was slower but not because he was being methodical. He was drained. His arms went out wide in an attempt to catch the mortalborn on either side he ran for but something else happened. Azrael bounced to the left, then to the right, and then he socked the giant in the jaw. It seemed like it didn't register for a minute. Azrael swung again with the same hand and the giant caught Azrael's arm. Oh no... Azrael quickly swung with his other hand and cracked the giant across the head but the man didn't let go. He began to pull Azrael in- his meaty hands grabbing and pulling in Edasha's son.
A large arm wrapped around Azrael's neck and began to constrict. He quickly found himself short of breath. Without air he began to panic. His vision grew hazy and a strange ringing filled his ears. He made a strange noise like trying to call out but he couldn't speak. He began to feel weak. He pushed to focus. He drove his elbow back into the giants abdomen once. Twice. Three times. The giants wasn't letting up.
The giant leaned back and lifted a struggling Azrael into the air. He closed his eyes to try and ignore his failing vision and light head. He reached inwards and his eyes began to glow a fiery orange. He couldn't do this alone. He needed to get angry. He needed to get mean. He churned the emotions and forced them upon himselfThespian - While some other gods would demand their followers master their emotions, Syroa favors a more elusive approach to the solution of the human heart.With this blessing, the bearer is able to adopt and discard feelings and emotions as he or she sees fit, turning the human heart from a liability into one of its greatest, most controlled assets. This ability is even somewhat effective against Empathy, although experts and masters can overtax a Sesser just as fast as they discard. At the end of the trial, however, the bearer has to feel again; everything 'real' comes rushing back in their sleep as a jumbled mess. Syroa's chosen don't have nightmares; they simply face the ugly reality of their mindscape in their dreams. in overwhelming quantity.
All he saw was red.
His elbow swung back violently and seemed to hit a softer spot than it had before. The giant's arm grew loose and Azrael dropped onto his bottom to escape the grip- but the rage was still driving him. He turned like a mad animal and pounce at his prey while it gasped for air. His hands hammer left and right and left and right against the man's chest and back and sides. Azrael beat the massive man for what felt like breaks but it was only a few trills and his hits weren't really doing much damage despite the fury they were thrown with. It was the culmination of them that hurt.
Azrael backed up from his massive opponent who seemed flustered by the sudden shift and then charged at him- jumping and slamming the full weight of his body into the big man who was not prepared to catch him. They crashed into the floor, Azrael on top of the bigger man, and Azrael rolled off of him. He got back onto his feet more quickly than the giant who had hit his head when he hit the ground. That took him out of the tournament.
When Azrael realized he'd won there was a sudden rush of pride and entertainment. He wanted to fight again! He was excited to fight again. Then he realized he actually had to fight again and the next fight was going to be against someone who'd won their fight in the tournament too. Excitement turned to measured dread and Azrael ended up at the bar to find new courage while he waited for his next fight.
