The Raenaku Tournament

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The Raenaku Tournament

Post by ValynDyral »

Day One

Naratha narrowed his eyes and leaned against the wall. It was dawn on the first day of the Raenaku Tournament. Raenaku, the grand combat in which every warrior of honor came to participate and fight for glory, riches, and more honor. Most died before the tournament's end. A few unfortunate souls were defeated but allowed to live - the ultimate dishonor. These outcasts left their warrior lives behind them and disappeared into obscurity. But, every 15 years, when Raenaku is held just as the moon aligns with the sun to form an eerie month-long eclipse, one warrior emerges as the champion. That warrior can have anything his heart desires.

Generally, when one becomes champion of Raenaku, they hold the title until they become too old and feeble to fight, at which point their are slain in honorable combat and someone else becomes Champion, keeping the title until they, too, become too old and decrepit to engage a foe in combat. However, for the first time in the tournament's history, the previous Champion was not alive to defend his title. Killed in the siege of a great city many hundreds of miles distant, the warrior lord Kesar carried the title of Champion with him to his grave. Tournament rules clearly stated that the title of champion would remain unclaimed until the end of the tournament, when a new champion would emerge, walking down a path stained crimson with the blood of the other combatants. The death of one of the greatest living warriors - and, subsequently, a greater chance for any one warrior to win the tournament - attracted many, many fighters to this Raenaku.

Naratha was one of these. He ran a hand through his hair, shifting in his robe and hakama pants, his hand resting lightly on the empty scabbard tied to his waist sash. He gazed at the other warriors in his classing. There had to be at least a hundred in his division alone. This was Naratha's first Raenaku. He had been only three years old when the last one had taken place. With bitter harshness he recalled the now-vague sensations and shreds of memory he associated with the last Raenaku. It was the last time he had seen his father and mother. Both had fought, both had died at the hands of the same combatant. Naratha had never learned his name, but nonetheless had sworn an oath to find and kill whoever had slain his parents.

Naratha had been raised by his brother, Soran, who was seventeen when his parents had died. Soran tought Naratha all he could of strategy, tactics, and combat, before leaving Naratha in the care of a friend and going off to find his parent's killer. That was four years ago. Naratha had never since heard from his brother. The friend who had been charged with Naratha's care was a man Chias. Though now elderly, Chias had once been a brilliant warrior and strategist, serving on the councils of kings and leading armies into battle. He had never entered Raenaku but once, and had made it to the final round, only to be disgraced by having his life spared. Chias' career as a tactician abruptly ended, and he secluded himself in an otherwise abandoned monastary. He was scorned by all but a few of his friends and relations. Despite his disgrace, Naratha's family kept him as a friend and even went so far as to offer their own home to him, although he declined. As such, he was honor-bound to raise the young Naratha after his brother left him to go on his quest for vengeance.

Chias quickly grew to like his new charge. Naratha was a fast learner, to say the least. He tought him much over the years. Never once did they speak of Soran, or Naratha's parents, and the boy was fairly happy. On his eighteenth birthday, Chias had taken him to the monastary's training area and tought him his greatest and most potent techniques. And, in the months that followed, Naratha trained, and learned of the Raenaku Tournament. He left Chias for the tournament, neither speaking as Chias watched Naratha walk off down the mountain trail.

"Wait!" Chias had called back. He threw something down to Naratha. The youth had caught it, seen that it was a simple leather sheath, suitably sized for carrying a katana. "Find a sword worthy of that sheath, Naratha." His mentor had said.

And, here he was now. Looking at all the other combatants in his division, as dawn broke. He wasn't scheduled to fight on the first day, so he would join the spectators in observing the fights. Tomorrow, he would have his first match.
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