With a mighty, beastly roar, Mikaus Ramsey heaved his opponent over his brawny shoulder, smashing them into the earthen ground before him. The rocks beneath the man fractured and spat up a plume of dirt from the impact as Mikaus stood his full, 6'10" height.
"That's 10 throw downs, good effort." Mikaus' gruff, husky tenor voice broke the serenity of the mountain side.
"N-no," the man on the ground scrambled to his feet, panting, "I'm not finished yet! Lets go to 15, I need more training!"
"Hmph," Mikaus scoffed, pressing a towel over his forehead and took a swig from a flask he produced from a coat he had left hanging in a tree branch. "We're done here. I've got a dinner to attend."
The Champions, known and glorified for their skill, talent and power among their homelands, met every other month at the capital of the Thotvyle continent for dinner, widely known to all as the Championship Feast. There were eight as of the moment, others frequently came and went as they pleased.
There was Mikaus Ramsey, known as the Goat Lord of Ironhilt. He was a mountain of a man with with mind and heart of a scholar, his iconic twin, twisting horns protruding from his forehead and curled maliciously back and spiraled out at the tips, giving a manacing sort of appearance. He was dressed in garments of sturdy, black armor with golden rims over his burly body with a magnificent cape draped over his shoulders. Often times he wore a chalk-white goat skull helm, but for tonight, he simply slicked his hair back.
Jae Lockheart, the Glory of Melgrove was of attendance.
"Ah, the Goat Lord himself! Or should I say 'Gra-a-a-andma!'" She coed, imitating a sheep.
She had an ecstatic, friendly nature who many adored opposed to a particularly violent aura she carried when her mood was disturbed. That fury brought her into championship along with her shapeshifting and exalted taming talents. Jae was dressed in a deep blue silk dress wrapped by a thin, dark vine with vibrant leaves and flowers sprouting from it, her brown hair tied into a tight bun and as always, her tiny drake she found the pleasure in naming Cake, after her obsession.
"You seem chipper as always." Mikaus nodded, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip from his flask.
"Yesss, I'm excited for dessert."
"Of course you are."
"Have you seen Nix and Tam yet??
And speaking of the devil, the winged duo pushed into the palace doors, both laughing heartily.
Tamra Tiim had the appearance of a demon, her light grey skin and golden, sharp eyes striking fear into those she despised. She was the champion of Stormshale, a quiet and deadly part of the continent. Her meticulous eyes flared upon setting them on Jae and Mikaus, a sharp, toothy grin spreading over her lips.
"Do you like it?" She said with her rich, seductive voice. She turned as she pulled a thin, leather cape away to show her purple leather leggings. A sort of obsidian carved into various points and curves rested on her chest and her hips, glowing with a magenta amber. A single lavander crystal rested on a gold crown over her blonde hair, emitting a very dim light.
"Its cute, right? She looks like a servant at the House of Pleasure!" Nix joked and dodged a swipe from Tam.
Nix of Ayrendale, the nationally renowned performer and also the champion of her homeland beamed as she saw the others, tackling them in a tight embrace. She had wings and legs of a fowl, its plumage colorful and soft and skin pale as snow. She had painted her face in the traditional pattern she used to perform; bright red lipstick, a red dot under each sky blue eye and black paint tracing her jaw. She wore a dark blue silk robe with silver fur at the collar and trim.
"Rest of them are late, lets just start!" Nix twittered.
"NO!" The palace doors burst open, this time staying open as two more figures walked in-- JD and Kris.
JD was a long time friend but a recent victor as a champion in Yune. Her notorious martial arts proudly deemed her as the strongest Monk of the land, easily combating her foes with nothing but her bare hands. Her long, straight black hair was tied into twin buns on either side of her head, tied with ribbons that flowed down like her tight, red and white gown, matching her sparrow earrings.
Kristel Wicks, otherwise known as Tuna by the group, was champion of the underwater city of Umada. She was the youngest among the champions and used her age to justify her aggressive and playful nature. She was half oceanic, half human, which gave her the appearance of a person but with webbed fingers, longer, pink tint ears, gills on her neck and very blue, scaly skin that reflected a light green and orange in the light. Her attire was an emerald green dress with gold beads sewn onto the fabric, the pattern imitating a sea itself with more fabric overlapping the first, lile a series of gold frilled waves.
"Now we may begin." Said Tuna.
A massive table was filled with assortments of food, all fresh and aromatic. As everyone marveled over the food, Mikaus plucked a few standing bottles and slid them under his coat, agreeing with Nix as she reported the news that Lady Gracie was running in her country for championship while Tam and Tuna hid the cake from Jae.
The white and hold doors were pushed open again and three figures strode in, which was typical since their provinces were close together and their roads met on the path to the capital.
Jester from Meriseal, a great desert, didn't seem to have changed for the dinner, just as he hadn't last year. He wore his casual black and crimson checkered slacks with a white, blossom collar lined with tiny, silver and bronze bells. His leather belt was stacked and filled each loop with a dagger, but none of which compared to his face. Chalky white powder plastered his face, deep black rings around his unblinking eyes and a drawn, red smile over his lips. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it was was always in rhyme. Nobody knew where he came from, but nonetheless he earned his place among the champions and was treated like one.
Roark Shire was from Blume, a small country with a severe division between the wealthy and rich. He was a lean, lanky man that wore a dark grey cloak with long collars over a black leather hide, tightly strapped over his thin body and high black boots fastened by a series of belts. Two sheathed long daggers jutted from under his cloak along with a line of small glass viles on the side of his belt. Like Jester, not formal at the slightest.
Sarfia the II was a respected figure from Guilshold and was voted to be their champion rather than fight and comepete, but that didn't make this cleric an amateur. Sarfia weilds powerful magic that was infamous throughout Thotvyle, passed down from successor to successor and ptacticed only among the strong willed. She was dressed tonight in a long, black robe with a navy blue trim, embroidered with her family's heirloom.
"Sorry we're late." Sarfia fixed her spectacles over the bridge of her sharp nose. "There was traffic."
"Ice cream isn't traffic." Roark sighed and took a seat at the grand table choked with foods.
"Seem's we're all here."
"Seems like so," Mikaus nodded, and everyone stood at their respective spot at the large round table. "Tonight we gather as friends, not Champions."
"Here, here!" Jae blurted, licking icing off her finger tips.
"To the Heroes today, tomorrow and yesterday, to The Heroes Of Thotvyle!"
Nix snickered and whispered into Tam's long, draconic ear.
"It's acronym is thot."
--
This is just a draft. Names and stuff can be changed, and plus there needs to be a conflict.
Anyways, but its a dumb party and I like it. What I'd really like is for you guys to dictate how your character would react to stuff going on and I'll thread the story through. Kind of like real D&D, so yeah.
Also, classes can be changed (anything can be changed) so just hmu my toe suckers. Stay frosty
