"Hey, Athemar, you coming?" a young voice called out. A man turned slightly.
"I'll be a minute. Go without me." He was tinkering with a gauntlet, adjusting various screws and tiny cogs. The other one was already on his arm, having finished it already. If he remembered rightly, a smith had made this gauntlet for him in less than an hour, but even just checking the tightness took him more than three each time. It was worth the trouble though, having the finest Chronosteel shields on his side helped a lot with his career. Finishing the final touches, Athemar slipped his hand into the second gauntlet and clenched his fists. A small heater shield, just larger than a buckler, expanded out of the top of each gauntlet. A couple of cogs span freely for a moment, then clicked into place and locked the shield in above the glove. He examined them, taking in the gold and red designs.
"Okay, good to go." He turned sharply to walk away, and encountered another of his friends. "Sylvia! I would've thought Nathan brought you all with him."
"He tried. It's not my turn yet and I was worried you'd get lost again." She smirked.
"That was only the first time!" Athemar protested.
"Yes, but it was also the last time we let you go on your own." Sylvia slapped him on the back playfully. "Let's go." They made their way to the stands of a gigantic arena, and found their remaining friend: a man sitting with two longswords resting on his lap.
"Hey Gawain." The man looked up at Athemar.
"Oh, hey. You made it then?" He winked at Sylvia.
"Yes, I don't know if it was lucky I found him in time, but it's fortunate all the same." The two sat next to Gawain and looked down into the arena. Nathan was inside, dancing around his opponent in a duel for life. Technically you weren't supposed to kill your opponent, but Nathan usually ended up doing just that. His weapon was what's known as a skrath. It consists of an arm guard connected perpendicular to the handle, with a spiked bar protruding from the end, winging off in a hook and curved blade near the top. The arm guard was a Chronosteel cage that showed red velvet padding underneath, attached to the arm via leather straps inside. If you were to attribute an RPG class to Nathan, it'd be berserker. He enjoys the fight to its fullest extent, and his weapon assists him in that goal. Every defensive move he makes creates room for a devastating attack, and he is able to control his opponent any way he wishes.
He deflected his opponent's sword with one swift movement, then hooked the blade of his skrath over her shoulder. From there, he pulled her face into his fist for a crushing blow. He let her escape and dropped back into a stance, asking her to give up.
"No, the way you fight is too fun to give up now." She replied. Nathan nodded, stepped off to the side and plunged the spike into her stomach. Knowing it wasn't over, he removed it and stepped behind her. Using his free hand, he restrained her sword arm and placed his blade on her throat, then pulled. The crowd gasped, then cheered hesitantly. Nathan's face twisted in rage.
"What's with that half-hearted applause!? Don't you think she deserves more? She fought well and refused to give up! Far better than any of you weaklings!" Gawain smiled brightly as the audience responded with thunderous applause.
"People always misjudge him, no matter how many times they see him."
"To be fair, his sense of justice isn't the same as any of ours. Most of us find death ugly, but he finds the beauty in everything and judges it accordingly." Athemar chuckled. "I think, in terms of chivalry and honour, he's second only to you, Gawain." Gawain's face went red.
"I don't think that's an appropriate comparison. I'm nowhere near as quick or just as he is."
"And that's where your strength lies, Gawain. No matter how glorious you are, you always see the glory others possess. You're the strongest among us, and the most chivalrous, noble, humble and unflinching man alive." Sylvia chipped in. Gawain stuttered.
"W-well, it's my turn now, don't be surprised if I fall." With that, he walked off, his two friends smiling at his back. Nathan passed on his way to the seating area and shook him to his senses. Athemar laughed heartily.
"He's more likely to trip and fall on the way than to fall in battle." The other two joined him in a raucous cascade of mirth.