Tournament of Champions 3 (The game has begun!)

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  • (This takes place before the events of Medirna's invasion.)


    W̴̤̻̭̅̈́̑̓̓̈́̋̎̓͆̚̕͠e̶̢͔̦̻͖̻̩̓͒̎̈́̅̈͠l̷̡̦̭͔̙͓͉̟̦͈̈́͛̊̆͌̅͝͝ͅl̶̨̛̗͎̝̝͓͚̣̠̫̟̈́̀̾̈́͌͛̑̍͌̍͑̀ ̴̧̝̥̞͉͎̜̜͈͔̫̅d̸̡̮͈̥̼͇̰͗̀̈́̿̀̉o̷͖̤͎̩̳̭͂̃̈́̓̿̓͘͜ͅn̶̮̭̓́̎̐͋͊̐̏̓́̏͐e̸͂̆͂̔̆̈́̍̚͜͠͝͝.̷̯̠̬̳̝̪̖̱̖̺̒͑͐̔̎̈́͑̈́̿

    ̴̡̼̬̞̲͖̗̩͆̆͗͒̔̏͗ͅỴ̶̢̧̛̛͙̘͖͓̮͖̙͕̖̻̬̳̔̍̓͐́̈́͒̋̄͠ơ̵̖̥̟͇̗̠͖̼̦͓͖̬̿̿̑̐̎̽̆̋̕̕ų̶̡̢̛͇͙̮͍̝̘͓͂͋̀̈́͒́͋͜ ̷̧̤͖̜̱͓̓̇̏͒̑̈̀̓̒̀̎̚͝h̵̨̛͉̪͇̱͈͓͕̗͆͛̏̽ͅa̵̠̪̱̥͎̰̫̱͓̩̥̜̺̓̈́͌͌̓v̷͈̳͈̞͓͕̞͍͕̐̅̿̃̈́̃͌̇̿͑̄̚͘e̴͚̣̔̀͑̅͑̌̈́̏̂͌̅̚͝ ̶̥̠͐̍̀̓̀̍̒̐̈́̾̐̀͘͝c̸̡̡̬͍͈͙̩̩̯̆̓̉͒̈͌l̶̙̤̱̣̯͇͎͌̆̿̑̇̊̈͊̉̌̾͐̇a̶̫̮̥̗̤̤̬̜̤̤̞͐̉͛̀̕͜į̴̢̝̱͇̯̥̘̱̪̰̱̮̃͊̋̐͜ṃ̴̛̛̮̼͉̪̹͚͉̉͊̋̈͗͂̓̊̎̌̅̍͜ḛ̶̡̨̡̫̯̗͎͙̖̯͈̟̦͂̿ͅḑ̸̨̧̟̖͐̌̓̽̐̾͆͆ ̶͖̘̙̩̤̆̉̄̆̍̉̑̂a̶̡̧̭̭͉̗̅͌̂̌͂͛͝ ̵̻͍̼̜͚̞̉͐̉͋̋̓̇̕͝͝p̷̨̹͖̥̟͙̲̪̠͔͓̦̟͐̀̎́̍̕a̶̖̪̗͇̅͗̆͝ȓ̷̯̇̃̈́̑͛̊̀̚t̵̠̳̳̙̜̲̰̩̮̺̣͎͉̰͍͑͒͐͂̋̐̌̂͆̆͊̆ ̶͔̓̈́͠ǒ̵̧̧̡͍̜̥̲͖̯̘̘̝̯̔͑̇̈̆͠f̶̢̛̖̠̖̘̬͙͋͛̔̏̕͘̚ ̷͙̰̫̈́̑̿̓̂́̑̈́̚͝ͅͅw̶̜͎̦̮̼͖̽͌̋̽́̑̃̊̕͠͠h̷͉͔͙͌̂͗́͒́̐̉a̸̡͔̫̜̗̒͊̆̿̚t̶̛̖͙̊̌̑̅̅͋͂̐̑́̏͋͝ ̸̮̱̦̒̎́́̒͐̇͝i̴̹̣̝͍͒̏͋͐̎̍͋̂̈́͘͠s̴̢̯͙̻̣̲̘̪̼͉̺̹͍̮͙̆̊̑̂̀́̓̎̆̍̐́̾ ̷͇̝̲̰̯̲̼͍̘͐̑̅̊͐̓́͐͝͝͠r̵̢̡͉̩͍̮̤̾͂͂į̶̫͈̫̪̲͕̈́̀͂̿̇̈̈́̇̚͝ǧ̷͔̺̦̘́͆͆̀̌̄̾̊̈́̒͐͘͠͝h̵̺̲͍̙́͂̈́́͝͠ṱ̸̩͂̓͊̈́f̷͍͖̋̊͊̾̅̉͛͂͗̕̚̚͝ư̸̡̮̝̟̜̞̩̞̮͙̩̊̉̍͐̾̋͊̌̄͐̍͆͜͝ͅḽ̵̢̘͇̪͚͈̖̩͉͓͍́͜ͅl̵̝̙̹̓̐̆̔̿̓̈́͛̍̕y̷̞̙̋͌̽̈́ ̴̖͙̭͙͍̞̮͙͋͌̏̌̾̍̈́̓̑̐̒̚͝͝y̵̛͍̪̣̦̓̀͒̒͝ͅõ̶̮͓̺̝̣̚ủ̴̥͍̥̮̹̜̩̜̈̈́̉r̶̝̈́̉͋̍̓̂̒̾͗͝s̸̻͖̮̩̼̲̗̙̎̔̌͂̃̍̌̓͘̚͜.̷̧͇̳̗̮̭͚́̔

    ̶͔͇̹̈́̃̈́̿͗̂̀̀̈̐̚͝I̷̝̺̥̹̱̪̺̗͉̞̬͛̽͜͜͠s̷͕̳͂̀̈́͌̄́͂̆n̶͕̭͈̫̟̝̼͚͔̹͇͉̟̈͊͊̀͋’̷̢̯͈͙̭̳͓̤̤̭͐̀́̈̋̒̾ť̷͍̼̟̓̓͂͆̈́̆̌̑̂́̾̑̕ ̵͕̥͚̩̂̌̈̄͋ẗ̴̗̲̲͓̼̣͇́̀̽́̓̉̚̚͠ͅh̸̨̟͚͙͙̫̺͛̈́͜ę̴͈̲̱͉͖̟̼̳̲̩͇́́̓́̄́͐̆̌͠ ̴̛͈̰̞̣̩͖̄͊́͂͛̽̒͂́̀̍̽͝p̴̰͓̤̭̱̞̝̥̽̀̈́̇̍̊̐̈̊̋̓͝o̷̧̧̙͉͖̯̤̗̣̻͛w̵̞̯̖̻̼̜̻̲̝̆̒̈́̂́̋̏͆̾̃͗͘̕͜e̷̼̘̗͎͈̣̟͖͍͖̦͇͛̊̀̂͜ȑ̷̩̟̭ ̴̧̣̰̣̋̆͋̄̊͌̿͛͛̈́͌͛͑͘͘s̵͔̼͎͔͐̌ͅơ̷̥̮͖̮̬̯͉̹̂͑̅̒̀̀͌̈́́̉̉̋…̴̛̛̹̼̮̰͇̗̳͚̭̫̲̫̮̀̉̇̀͌̈́̈́̎̌̓̄͘ ̸̨̨̧̢͙̥̖̼̼͙͈̥̊̈́̐́̆̎̊̍́́̓̐̆͘͝ḡ̸̥̹̮̌r̵̝̝̜͙͍̙͙̜͋ą̷̛̤͓̣͈̜̞͐͑́̋̅̊̏ţ̸̧̝̣̰̼̖̣͆͠i̷̡̨̛̮̯̯̥̽̀̑̀́͆f̴̢̧̝̻̝̞͎̩̻͓͍̮͙̭̥̂̊̂͒̆̐͑̚̕͝͝͝ÿ̵̨̡̨̠̱̱̭͖̝͓͙̣́̽̿̌̓̐̀͝͝ͅĭ̷̜̉̈́͆́̐̐̊͐̂͝͝ͅn̸̗̩̞̜̦̲͓̂͆͗̋̿̊̚ģ̴̰̻̜̜̩̙̽͊̎?̴͈̝̯̩̍̉͋͊̑͐̒̅͋̽̑̂̚̕͝ͅ

    ̷̃͂̔̒͝͝ͅY̴̡̨̻̪͔̮̪̭̟͖͔̥̗͈͊̍̀͑̄̈̂̄̿͑̕͝͝͝ǫ̴͖̟̱̖̹̻̺̬̘̘̗̒̀̔̿͋̽́͒͜͝ṵ̴̢̡̬̱͇̞̟̞̤̩̈́͑̈́̓̈̿͐͜͝ ̵͚̳͓̳̜̙̯͚̞̩̆a̵̧̙̝̤͔̝͌́̈́̎̑̾͛͠r̶͙̤̰̺̪̳͔͕̀̽̒̀͜e̴͍̳͍̜̗̠̣̞̎͜͠ ̶̖͖̩͎̺̠̫̋͌̓ū̴̮̭͎̺̍n̷̦̻̉̉̄̏͗̀͌͐̅̽̀̈́̂s̵̼̬̰͍̖͖̝̼͉͕̈́̾͝h̸̢̙͙̱̻̭̪̹͆̈ȁ̵̧̝̓͑͝c̵͇̝̝͖̈̽̈́̍́͜͜͝k̷̝̦̗̘͈̦̾̐̓̂̄̋̓́̽̾̿̒̽͘l̶̼̻͕̹̻͎̟̲̟̺̭͙̃̊̉͊͂̅̊̽͂̎͋͑͛̀͘ͅe̸͙̜͙̥̠͈͔̯̅͗͜d̶̞͙̭̼̥̙̯̻͕͔̱͓̭͍͊̌̎̉̔̌̄̂̄̒͘͜͝ ̶̡̡̢̢̱͓͙̭̔̆̒̔̐̑̿̈̍̊̚͘̚f̸̛͙̳͚͚̰̯̭̞̻͕͖̀ŗ̴̖̣̪̭̦͔͍͈͖̬̅o̸̪̾̊͑m̷̡͇̼̤̮͈̤̳͖͍͓̓͗̾͐̉̑̓͝ ̶̧̩͖͍̞͈͔͔̪̙͓͖́̈́͐̊̍͐̓͛̋̎̚ť̵̪͙̞͙̆̒̍͠h̴̟͇̳̜̘̥̖̲͓̭͗̌̾́̿ę̴̨̪͎͚͇͔͂͗́̃͊ ̶̡̢̥̘̼̣͎̤̱̳͎͈̆̓̌͒̆̊̈́̄̃̏̽̓̚r̷̛͍̟͕̹̘̟̻͎̮͔̘̻͐̅̎̽̿̋͠e̵̡̢̮͙̫̤͉̩̒͋̾̀̓̈́͒̆͑̀̀͜͜s̸̜͙͙̣̯͈̭̒͂̏̉̓̑t̷͖̭̰͕͉̖̱̪͕̝̹̙͗̀̃͑͂̔̎̕͘͝͝ŗ̸̡͇͈̹̟͚̲̗̫̎͆͜ả̵͚̟̗̩͔̘̳ͅi̸̛̟̯̦̬̻̫͔̬̬̮̭̱̤̿̇͐̈́́̒̽̌̑͜͠ͅn̵̡̤͉̱̮̈́̎̿̎͋͝t̷̩̙̗̹̄͆̊̐̾̉̈́͂͠ͅs̴̝̺̣͇̆͜ ̷̞̘̩̊̌ō̷̺̤̠͉͚̥̫̳̻͙̥̰͉͛͆̆̓͛͘͝f̷̧̨̛̪̝̲̲̝̰͖̻̦̼̤̫̈́̇ ̴̧̧̨̝̲̬͕̤̦̮̞̥̜̜̒̅̈́̃̽͂̆ͅm̴̨̧̼̣͔̑͐̓̓̌̇̌͘͝͝ͅo̷̡̡̤͓͖̘̜͆̆̔̆͠r̷͉̻̤̘͔͚͈͎̄̎̎̊̆͆͒̒͑̕͘t̸͓͓̰͋͌̏̌̅͐̈͘ạ̴̟̫̟̔̆͠l̸̛͓͓̰̺̼͎̼̺̓͆̔͗̃̿͆̍̂͒͂̔̈́͝s̴̫̟̺͎̏͆̈́̀̈͠.̷̨̡͓̘͚̲̍̀̓́

    ̸̢̣̳̘̦̬̹̥̲̘͕͉̮̞̏̉̉͐͋͐͊̚͝Ņ̶̭̲̬͙͕̟͖͖̖͈̅͒͛͋̏̈́̑̏̈́̋̏̊͆͜ờ̵̟̭̪͔̪͓̿̄̍̋̅̈́͊͝ ̸̧̡̢̰̪̩̂̀̈͐̎̍͆̈́̑ô̷͙͆͒̾̈́̈̆͋̃̄̿̂̄̕n̶̡̗̹͓̱̳̪̲̭̗̬͈̦͋̒̅̍̅̌̏̆̇̕ͅé̸͈͙̗̗̥͔̯̝̮̄̽͒͑͌̑͘͘͝ ̴͉̫͎͎͉͇̮̠͗͆̉͆ͅç̸̡͖͓͇̠̱̮̙̫̬̣͐ą̸̧̣̹̹̰̗͔͙̺̞̪͖̤̩̐ṉ̵̄͆̽͌̉͗̈́̿͌͘ ̴͍͇͉̗̥̖͙͍̮̼͍̰̲͋̆̔͂̇͛̊̇̈͠š̸̨̢̨̢̭̠̙͕͖͍͋͋́̊͛̕̕ͅḭ̷̯̀́͋̆͑̓̌̂̓̆͝ļ̴̨̖̪̳̤̬̬̣̬̻̐̈́͗̓̓̀̊̃̓̈͋͛̕͜͝͝ͅë̶̱́͗͑̿͌̂̅́̔͠͝͝n̴͇̻̬̯̮͙̰͕̘̂̏͋͆͆̽͛̄͋̆̔̕͝ç̶̧̖̦̭̻̼͔̰̎̀̐̔̈́̌̾̉̾͘͘͠͝͝ͅͅę̵̛̜͓̘̬̱͙̪͔̼̊͋͆̂͋̉͗͛̒̀̽̚ ̶̧̧̳̯͙̖̖̪͎̇̾̏͊͋̕̕ͅỹ̸͖͚̝͕̝̭̟̃ͅo̵̥̥͎̠̼͉̞͈̗̝̳͎͌ų̴͕̬͎͔̮̞͚̤̼̻͕̐̉͛ ̷̡̡̢̲̖͚̙̳̬̱͇͕̮̝͛ņ̷̧̭͓̦̹͚̞̠̮̑̉͛̊͒̐o̶̡͙̭̹̹̱̹̲͉̣̾̍̈̈̚̚͠͠ẅ̶̡̹̳̪̼̟̭͔͎́̈́͑̆̑͊̃́̒.̸̫̠̐͝

    ̶̧͙̳͖̞̣̭̠̝̤̗̖̤͕͒͑͗͐̓̿̅͑̿̍̾

  • ̵̣͛̀͠͠B̴̧̼̻̩͎̗̥͓̰͚̼̮́͑̓́́̉̏͠ṳ̴̧͇̥̈́͑̃̈́̑̈́͘̕͝t̴̛̼̤̙͚̟̉̔̈́̏̓̇͜͝͝ ̴̰͍̲͓̓͒̒͒͆̋̌͘t̷̼̺̳͓͓̦̼̃̋͐͊͐͆̊̓̋̎̉̊͠h̶͖͎̮̙̲̒̀̐̐͌̄̍̊͐̃̄͛͛̍e̵̛͎̣͈͎͓̩͔̖̻̓̄̎͐̂̕͠r̷̨̢̛̮̩̱̼͇͙͙̓͋͑̅̽͑̐͑̍̅̈́̋͂͘ȩ̵͉̦̪͚̎͗̍̒̈́̈́̄̋͑͋̐̈̕͘͝ͅ ̶̧̛̞͍̹̫̦̗̺͖͐́̅͗́̈́̀͜͝i̸͎̲̞̤̯̞̥̦̖̋͋̓͌̂̎̈́̀͛̊̋͘͜͠͝͝ͅs̷̥̠̦͇̓̎̉̐̇̀̈́̿̿͂̔̂̐̚ͅ ̷̼̱̪̖̮̱̱͑̅̊͆̌̿̓a̷̧̞̣̱͇͗̒͛̒ ̷̡̢̢̝̜̙̤͙̰̰̎̇͑̂̉̈́̿̈́͂̇̊̿̒̚h̵̯͌̆͛͐̄́̕͘͠͝͝ơ̷͍̌͌̅l̷͕̝͈̳͚̹̝̫̻͚̹̹̫̭̔̽̏͊̒̔̈̀̅̊͂̆̚͝͝é̸̼̦̟̺̟̮̯͙͜ ̸̧̡͈͈̥̬̻͙̰̬̬̹͛̿̍̾͐̍͠i̴̧̛̮̮͖̖̹̭͙͜͜ͅn̵̰̭̫̒̈̿̍̔͊̒͆̈͘s̶̘̞̗̮͉̘͇̹̭̑̎̍̈́ͅi̷̧̺̜̟̯̻̼͕̙͓͚͎̍̉͌͗̚͘ḑ̸̡̛̺̥̺̞̪̠̣̫͛̽̃̏̈͆͑̌̇̈̊̓̚͘͜e̶̡̺̺͍̟̲̫͈̰̹̖̮̩̱̖̒̾̿ ̸̛̰͕͎͈̬̱̞̭̝̿̍̄̿͒̾̏͛́͛́̚y̷̞̳͋͌̀́̽̈́͆̇̀͐̈́̉̀o̵̧̢̼͚̟̳̱͇̯͈̤̩͑̉̽̊͆̓̊̀̒̈́̏͆̈́ư̷̡̗̻̘͒̒́̈́͆͆͜ͅ.̵̛̲͚̮̺̫̻̏̋́̊̉̎̔̇̀͂̇̈́

    ̵̗̮͍͚̘̓̈̑́͊͂̉͋̉͠I̶̢̧̮̥̫̝͕͙̯̭͎̪̠̐̏̏ͅt̸͎͕̻͇̬̭͉̲͖̘̟̂̈́́͒̃͂́̊̈́̓̚̚͠ ̶̡̢̹͚̫̱̪̩̠̑̄́̀̇͐̈́̅́̄͜͝c̴͕̖̜͎̥̈́̓̒̏r̷̛͕̠̯̐̂̽̓͐̈́͜ą̸̡̝̰̙̮̬̞̳͙͋̆̉̽̌̑̈́̓̉̒̚̚͘͝v̸̨̜̗̱̥̪̖͙̖̎̍̇̽̐ẹ̵̡̛͇̭̀̀͑͆̌̊́́̋̊̉͋͒͝s̵̺̾͛̅̄͗̍ ̸͇̣͓̏͑̒̽́͌͌̃͒̌̈́ặ̷͈̘̲͉̥͙͇̓̂n̸̻̗̩̠̖͎͋̎͐͌̿̇̊̒́́̋̔̒̚d̵̡̡̗̘̦͔̽͒ ̸̛̝̳̘͙̖̣͕͆̈́̄̀͗͒̓̌̕͝b̷̼̬̣͕̐̂̎̒̃̽͊̈̒͒͠ę̶̨̦͍̙͙̫̮̫̔͛̍̃̇̏̔̔́̆̕͝ģ̴̹͍̺͚̣̤̐̑̾͋͊͝s̶̢̖͖͈̼͓̫̓͗̄̐̉͗̈́̕͘ ̷̱̣̻̗͚͛́̊̓̐͝ā̴̯̤̼͊͒̄̌͂̀͆̌͂̕̕͠n̴̖̈́̊̄d̸̢̮͇̞͖̞̹̜̜̥͉̣̙̱͍̐ ̷̠̔̿̅̍̽̔͌̕ǵ̸̝͌̂̃͆̈̔̈̚̕͝͠ȑ̶̢̧̠͉̃́̄͘͘o̴̢̡̳͕͓̩͎̣̺̜̱̅͐͝v̵̩̤̟͕͒̄̋̍͑̄͌͌̊̍̋͗͝ḛ̴̢̭̫͈̭̠̥̃̓͒l̵̨͙͉̗̖͇̗̣̪̺̭̻̯̒̒͌̑͂̎̈́͆̇̓̓͋͌s̸̥͚̙̲̞͙̖̼̗̬̠̞̔̅̀̅́̎́̉̊̔̉̿̈́̈́̈ ̶͕̭͆̔̒́͌̾̋̚a̸̧̤͈̝̅̈́̑̈́̐̀͋̽̉̈́̓̍̿͆̚͜͜ṇ̴͚͇͐́͝d̶̤͝ ̸̜̆̏͌͌́̓̉͒̕͝ṣ̸̥͎̰͕̙̀̽̅̏̎͗̄̾͂̈́̚͘͝c̷̨̢̫͎̮͙̣͇̲̙̫͕̓̋̽̌͆̕r̷̢̨̤̘̋͊͌̍̏͂̆͒͊̀͠e̴̢̨̟̮̙͚̾̈̾ͅͅą̸͇̜͕̠̯̂̈͛̿̔͛̌͊̆̚̚͜m̴͓̻̼̪̘̼̥̌́͛́͗̈̋͆̕̕s̴͈̱̜͙̻̻͚̠̱͎̞͚̞̻̑̍̑́ ̶̞̈̂͊̆̃́̆͜͝f̷̙͉̿̈́͑͠o̷̧̡͈̰̙̺̩̞͑̿͑͑̈̉̉̈́̎̈́̈͐͘͘͜r̸̝̘̜̗̲̝̦̝̝͔̞̞͚̦͗͜ ̷̨̲̩͚̂̒̊͊̽̈́̃̆͐̊̄͝m̸͖̪̪͓̤̼͉̿͂̑̈͋͐͘o̷̮̣͋͌ř̷̨͔̰̝͓̫̹̪̬͍͚̆ȩ̵͙̟̱̺̫̟̈́.̵̘͙̼̞̭̪͙̲̖͇̟̎̒́̒͛̍͋̈́̑

    ̷̺̌̎̄̈́̈́̎͗̕Y̷̯͇͓̪̞̅̽͊͑̂̃͒̌o̷̧̺̗͇̯̰̤͈̭̰͌͆́̈́̉͘̕u̵͈̽͊̇̄̂́͘ ̸̨̢͉̦͙̺̱̭͇͉̱͊̽̒͑̒͛͗̂͝͠ͅc̷̢̲̦̥̠̞̠̦̳̰͎͓̅̏́́̔͐̋̀̈́͝å̶̦͔͖̯̘̯̥̼̤̼̱͙̬̠̫̃́͂͑͐̈́̾̀̇ṉ̷̡̥̩͉̩̭̫̗͚͇̽̑̌͋̿̃͝ ̶̢̘̼͔̰̂̆͑̀̈́̄̀̌̐̽̋̿͘͜͝r̶̨̛͖͙̲̲̤̞̹͔̜͍̹̆̐̈́͜ę̷̡̜̬͍͉͕̥̞͂̓̅́́̀͌͒̑̍̎͂̚̚̕ş̷̭͋̈́͋̃͂̅͑͝i̶̡̞̳͍̮͍̙͋͂͑͊͘ṡ̸̨͇̹̘̟͒̔̂̍͗͝t̴̨͍͇͎͓̦̼̉̏̈́ ̵̧̨̢̡̨̹̘̜̲͓͙̮̯̺͂̾̑̆̈́̀̒͂̊̀̂͆̈́̚͝į̶̯̔̑͛͐̽͂͋̕t̴̨͚̮̼̙̲̘̙̫̝̺͕͕̳̙̎́͆̊̓̀̚̚.̷̢̛͍͚̳̰͉̰͍̬̺̲͈͕̲̪͛̽̂̓͂͑̾̋̂̀̈́̅͝

    ̴̨̘̤͉̩̍͋́̐͑Ỳ̷̧̮̠̩̱̼̦̳͜o̷̡͉͓̬̼̽̾͆̽̌̔́̊͋̓͒̑͗̕ų̵̧̢̭̮͚͉̰̤̞̬́͋͆́̏̀̉̈́̊̕̚͝ͅ ̶̨͓̯͚͈̞͉̦̲͚̃̒̋͆̉͐̇͂͜͝͝c̶̡̯̝͔͙̠̥͓̃̎͌̎̈́̾͜ͅą̸̡̭͓̠̪̖͕̦̺̪͐n̷̤̻̥̙͓̹̻̬̞̯͊́͛̏͛̑̉́́̃̚ͅͅ ̶̡̮̟̬̠̮̳͈̼̟͍̾̂́̇́́̊̀̾͘͠p̴̧̗͚̣̃̆̏͒́u̶̟̺̦̯͕͌͗̊͋̋͌̏͂͛̍͒̂͘s̷̢̛͉͈̲͆̿̎̓͂̎̀̆͝h̸̡̧̖͉͚̝̣͇̖͝ ̶̧̨̼̭̤̖͎̗̺̞̝̮̪͋̑̀͛̿͑͐͂́̄̈̋̕̕i̸͈̯̭̫̠͍̜̼̖̫̻̔͆̂͋̋̂̾̿̋̒̋t̷̢̳̜̼̲̠͈̮͚͆̊̍̓̀̐̃͘̚͠ ̵̧̗̞̞͕̂̏̚͠ḑ̵̨̮̠̩͔͖̦̞͍̼͒̂͑͠o̵̳̱̫̹̲̼̲̞͕̳̼͖͐̓͂̕͠ẁ̷̰̼̘̥̺͕͖͔̱̞̻̋͆̒̌̊̏͝ņ̶̞̗͍̗̺̠̭̠̭̙͍͗͗̈͑̈́̿̽̿̆̌́̚̚͜͠ͅͅ.̶̫̰̗̜̲̱̳̂́̒͂̋̔͛̓̃͊̊̾̏̚͘

    ̶̢̜̙̟̯̭͔̝̝̩̮̤̅͐̈́͜B̴̡̗̜̗̗̲̲̦̊̌͂͊̾̒̍̀̅̈͗̋͝u̸̱̗̩̠̦̼͓̣̹̞̣̗͍͙̠͑̂t̴̢̬͕̮̼̤͉̗̅̃̕ ̵̡̗͈̯̮̪͈̙̦̲͔̙̞͋̐̆̄̋̑̈́͗͜ṫ̸̢̼̻̳̱͓̳͖̯̈́̏̇̈́̈́̊͘͝ͅh̵̨̧̢͖̱̼̫̞̠̞̮̎̈́͊̕̚̕͠ḁ̵̢̦̪͚͖̤̅̃̐͑̀̓͌̆t̵̨͈̹͍̥̤͖͒̓̋͋ ̶̨̨̟͎̙̰͍̪͌̓̋̓͗̀h̵̪̯̰̭̟͎͙̳͔̊̂͌͌̇̉̓͆̓̑̿͠͠ͅő̷̧̧̬̣̯̮̫̭͕͕̫͌̇̓̋̿ĺ̵̢̡̡̳͕͕̥͈͔͓̮̣͇͕̀̐͜ȩ̶̛̫͍̦͓̩̮̌͐̇̈́͂̚ ̴̢̛̙͍̰̦̯͕̯̝̋̀̃w̶̨̨͖̗̭̝̞͈͕̯̺͔̤̖̅͗̒́̊̅͗̿̾͐͘̕͜i̶̧̡̛̦̻̖̲̩̠͕̯̬͛̀͐̌͆l̶͇̺͙̎̈́͛ļ̵̻̺̯̘̗͗̋̒̓̄̀̋̄̃͊̊̓͐̚ ̸̡̫̹͕̬̯̙̓̎̎̆ä̶̧͉́̃̐̃ͅl̶͚̭̩̩̭̉̚͘ẅ̵̡͖͎͕͙̥̟͚̩̖̘͇̙͉́̐͆͂̈́̄͑͆̽͋͑͂̒̅͑a̶̡̭̤̯̟̯͈̯̻̜͌͐y̴̧̱̯̭͖̕͠ş̵͕̠͉͇͔̳͚͇̰̝͖̩̖̈̾͜ ̸̨͖͙̎̎̓̇̑͐̃̋͒͒̈́b̸̧͉̖̼̟̺̪̺̫̭̄͛͊̇͋͊̿̉̏͐̃ȇ̶̢͉̦̳͚͍̰̆͂̏͐̔̕ ̴̢̛̩̬̤͔͈̆͐̇͊̃̂̎̌͝ṭ̶̢͍̤̠̗̬͖̲̘̂͌͛̌̾͛̃̈́̆͒͆̃̇̕͘͜h̸͎̳̜̼̺̪̄͂̓̅́͆̇̎̉̌͑͝é̴̺̻̥̓͑̅̂͌r̸͙̯̂̔̽̎̀̐̊̚͘è̷̡̖̯̹̳̩̫̻̭̘̘̳̅̑͋̎̂͂̈́̇̐͒̒́.̶̢̱̯͚͖̥̦͔̼̖̘̔̍̆̃̆̓̃͐͘̕̚͠

    ̷̙͚̹͔̘͖̻̌͛̌̌̚P̴̡͙͍̱̰̩̣͔̯̙̜̲̪͇̀̈́́̊̀̎̊̿̏͛͠į̷͔̓̃͆͂̿̾͜t̸̩͓͍̖̉̕ͅț̶̗̳̹̻̭̩̓̊̇̈́̈͌̓͂̎́̋̄͠͝ḯ̶̪̓̉̉͛̈́͝n̷̡̫̺̣̟͖͍͎̘̱̽̍́̐̎̄̾̆̒̌̾̎g̷̡̟͓̩͖̦͖͎͍̥͔̰̎̆͌̄̕ ̷̨̨̫̹̯̯̬͕͉͖̱̺̫́̆͑ͅy̵̡̥̖̞̺͙͉̬̥̯̰̠͈̲͂̄̓́̉̍̉͗̾̀͘̚͘͜o̸̧̖̭͈̲̳̻͙̲̥͚͌̊̔̑̃͗͜͜ư̷̢͕̫͖̪̫̦̅̓͗̈́̉͐͐̒͛̅̕͝ ̸͚͙͂̍́̅̈́̑̏̀̌̊̂̓d̷̮̪̬͉͖̜͚̲̯̣̺̗̼͋̔̀̌͑̓͌͘͘̕͝͝ͅė̶͖̥̰̩̪̈́̎̕͝e̶̢̨͎̺͚̳̜͖͈̗̅̊p̴̗̻̠̦̩̠͐͊̓̚͝͠ë̴̡̡̺̖̜̰͐͛͂̈́̀̅͝r̶̡͔̹̯͎̝͚͖͇̦̲̗͎̽̓͐ ̶̡̛̫͖̯̩̣̗͚̲͚͙̱̝̳̃͊̋̍̈́̽́̇̀̐͝i̵̧̬͈̫̦̙̽̀͆̎̊͛̐̚n̶̟̘̻̘͋͗̑͒͛̆̓̈́̈̕͝t̴͔̤̙̬͈̣̹͉̬͓̳͋̏̾̔̆̀̀̾̚ơ̵̧̞̘̼͔͌͗̋̊̀͊̓̍̓͆́̈́͝ ̷̰̹̻̥͈̲̣̣̱͕͇̀̆̽́̇̑̊̒͘͝͝͝͝a̶̭̜̩̣͎̼̫̙̬̯͈̥̬͉͑g̶͍̠͎͙͎̣̼̩͉̬̉͒̃̽̈́̔̔̀̅͜͝͠ò̴̯̠͈̞̺͍̤̤͐̏͐̋̓̑̀̑̔͊̌̌ņ̵̛̻̻̫̩̩̂̽̈́̊̈͝ÿ̶̮͚̘̝̲̬͝.̷̛̰̫͕̳̈

    ̶̥̹̮̭͔̮͚̫͙̗̻͈̹̄͌͆̀̔̎̂̐̓͌̕͝͝Á̷̪̍͂͌̀͊́̚̚ň̵̩̣̮̭̻̦̔͋̊̈͗̂͆ḏ̴̛̭̅̉͆̀̊̓̈́̈̅̅́͝ ̵̢͚̳̙͉̹̱̹̘̖̦̮̮̃͗͋͌̔̈́̇̓̆͌̀͒͑û̸̡̟̪͈̲͎͍̝̭̪͜͝n̷̡̺̰͕̪̹͈̰̘̱̫͆̑̉̋́̔̔̀̚͠͠ț̴̢̨̰̮̩̗̻͕̝̯̤̺̲̈į̴̧̰̪̳̠̰͛̐͂̏̕͘̕l̸̡̛̻̮̖͈̐̔̆̋̂̒̑̏͐̄͝ͅ ̷͚̣͆̽̀̆͌̓̊̋̌͜͝ý̶̱̭̞̲̔̕o̸̧͓̣͎̥͍͍̰̽̀̎̅͌̕̕͝ú̴̼͇̭̙͍̭͉̫͕́̈̒̏̇̌̇͊̚͜͠ ̶̡̧͓͎̝̯͔̥̌̈́̉̌͌̑͋̄̊͌̚̚͘ͅg̶̮̲̰̫̩͋̐̃̇̌̐̊̃́͐̚̕̚͜͠ḯ̶̲͌̓͊̆̀̂̈͋͊̽͋v̴͍̺̩̓̿̾̕͘͠ȩ̵̞͍̰̗̫͍̪͙͙͉̎͠ ̶͉͔͓͋̈́̋i̷̡͓͍̟͗̿͘n̸̡̺͈̩̝̥̗̫̗̞̱̥̳̑̌̏͛.̸̡̨̢̢̢̞͚̖̼̜̥͖͖͙̹̌̏̔́̀͗̐͊͗̽̇̄

    ̶̛͕̪̘͖̖̎̑̿͑͒̈́͆͌̎Ą̵̨̲̮̞̟͓̦̼͒͗̅̄͑̀͜n̵̛͍̮̥̲̂͑́͋̓̋̀̿͛͛͗̚͘͝d̸̜͑̔͆́̾͗̋̑̉͐̆̀ ̴̧̘̮̺̜͈̼̜̦̻̜̮̤̠́̍͒̈́̓͘͘ͅǔ̵̲̱̳̞̗̣̠̺̝̖̥̈́̀̀n̸̙̹̣̱̫͕̯̠̽́̓͆̈͐͂̚͜͝t̶̨̢̹̲̼͙͔̉i̶̗̊̇͋̀̋̀͒͌̏͋͘l̸͚̞̠̼̖͚̣̭̫͉͋͒͜͝ ̷̧̬̖̰̯̞̹͍̐̋͌̀́̄̀̃͊̚͝ͅy̶̨̧̛̮̭̪̮̦̤̝̤͚̮̼̙͙̐̒̍̒̒͛̍͐͝͠o̶̡̬̘̣̺͖͙̝͍̭̞͐͛ů̵̝̩̖̝̫͈̙̣̘̮͚̩̼͔̀̐͆̇͋͒͒͑̓̊́́̀͘ ̸̳̮͚̳̫͇̜̀̄̽̔̑̑͆̈́͆̕͘͜͝ͅf̶̣̻̫͍̝͓̿̒̆̐͐̋͝é̴̩͇͒̈͋͊̍͊̌̈́͌̋̓̍̚è̷̢͛̈͒̊͐̈̀̉͐̈̍̕͝d̸̨̡̘̘͖̆͑̂̐̿̌͘͝ ̷̧̫͎̻̻̬̺͋̿͛͋͂̈́̀̅̐̈́̑͆̃̈́̏y̴̺̠̅͂̑͐͑ǒ̶͔̫̫̲͍̌́̀̋̈́̀̋̆͊̿͒̚ų̸̣͕̬̱͎̥͙͈͇̮̺̩̻̃̋̀̓̈́͜ṟ̶͍͍̝͈̘͍̓̈́̋̑͛̍̽̿̂̾̕͠͠ ̸̛̬̗̻̝̳͇̯͕̻̫̤̔̀͒͋́̄͌̾̀͜͜ͅh̸̛̟̭̤̜̝͓͇̺̦̉̀͑͛͝ọ̵̢̨̢̬̼̱̪̹̦̘͈͎̟̅̋̀̀͛̾͆l̸̢̻̦̯̱̮̺̉ͅę̴̟̱͚̥̼̭̿̅͐̀͒̾͑.̸̥̟͌̈̋̈́̓̒͊̚

    ̶̜̠̥̯̊̕I̶̙̩͔͛̔̌͜ ̶̧̞̮͌̈̕w̴͖͙̫͙̦̪͔̫̤̬̪̘̿͆̋̑̋̚͜͝͝ì̴̳̃͗̑͐̓̑̇̎̆̕l̶̥̮̣͚̻̼͙͓̝͖̳̲̫̺̮̃͗̕l̴͈͙̤̩͕̖̱̟̈́̅̆͊ͅ ̷̨̛͉̜̟͔̹͓̟͉͎̲̦̫̳̈́͐̀̓͌͒́̈́̈́͝ͅb̷̗͇̏́e̴͕̞͇͔̍̃̃̅̈̈̾͗̉—̶̟͙̦̿̀̈́̓̎̚

    ̸̧̢͙̭͉͎͇͓̘̻̫̍̊̃͌̈́̔̓̃̉̍͑̀͘͘̕Ņ̴͖̲̯͔͍̱͗̂͗͗̅ö̵͙̼͈́̿,̸̬̬̫̱̼̠̖̻͋͐͝ ̶̡̦̭̭̺͉͈̗͎̬̋̈́̅́͑̃̅̑̇͝Ẁ̷̢̭̻̮͆̅̽́̎͠Ȩ̸̛̰̺̐̑̀͑̅̋̐̿̔͗̉͆!̸̛̪̱̞̑̽̌̍̉̀̐̄̈̄͝ ̶̦̪̙͋͊̾̓͂͋͒͝W̶̏̈́́̌̏͆́͂̿͜͝͝į̸̛͓̙̹͍͎͎̪̯̅͆͑̐͊̓̉̐̏͐̓̏͘̚͜l̵̛̜̏͒l̷̢̖̖̬͈̲̙͉͚͔͓̈͌̾̈́̽͑̽͜ ̶͍̼̯͕̩̼̦̙̯̬̥͙͓̯͇̈́͋̉͒̓̇͠͝b̴̰͋̉̀̀̄̏̾̔͠é̷͕͖̼͖̟͈̮̻͓͕͖̔̏̈́̌̊̊͂͆̽̐͠ͅ ̵̨͉̖̄͋͋̈̀̃̿͋̾͘w̴̧̥̞͔̪̦̠͗͆̆͌̂̽̍̾̑̍̒͑ḁ̷̮̗͈͇͎̲͛̈̂̉̚i̷̘͑̿ţ̶̳͉̪̯͓͓̯͉̫͚̲͍̟̇̾̆͂̐͗̓͘͠͝i̴̩̫̞̮̣̺̣̲̔͝n̵̡̦͙͉̖̪͉͉̟͇͆̂̅͛̉̈͊͘ġ̶̩̳̣̗͍̬̪̜̰̣̩̜ͅ.̵̡̨̻̦̣̠̣͔̖̘̤͎̲̺͕̑̌̕

    ̸̛̫͔̲̇͂͗̈́͊̈͝͝Hẻ̴̡̈̿̏͝e̷̢̨̢̪͓͖̪̩̐̌͂̉͐̂̓̓̋̕̚ͅḩ̸̧͕̻̜̰͇̮͈͕͎̔̀̓̔̃͛̉̊̈́͂̈͋͆͝ͅę̴͔̝͓̩͕͕̩̻͓̮̟̣̐̊͂͐͋̐̂̽ͅͅȩ̵̳͔͎̮̦͙̘̦̲̑͌hee!̴̮̺̘̝̈́̃̍̐̅

  • A ray of light, gray from the ashen sky, landed on Niran’s face, stirring her to consciousness. Groggily, she rose from her sleep, giving way to a familiar sight. Her entire body ached as though a thousand weights were pressing down into her skin, but she forced her body to look around. Tattered clothing and trinkets strewn randomly about gave Niran all the recognition she needed.

    Home.

    The burrow was seemingly untouched by whatever destruction occurred in the connecting street. Peering into the alleyway, Niran’s senses were bombarded with a chaotic scene; the smell of burnt flesh; the sight of soot everywhere; the sounds of screaming in the distance; it was the aftermath of a battle of some sort. Niran looked away from the devastation and saw Bernadette in the corner, her face distant and forlorn. An aura of enigma pervaded her, giving a sense of unease to Niran. However, upon looking up from her dreary trance, Bernadette’s face beamed with joy once more as she leaped toward Niran, all traces of enigma gone.

    “Niran! I’m so glad you’re back! I thought I lost you…” Bernadette exclaimed.

    “But… It was only a moment ago, when we were back at the…” The realization dawned on Niran. “How… how long was I out?”

    “You were unconscious for six days,” Bernadette replied. “It’s a good thing you woke up now. Kiserova’s getting more and more dangerous to stay in each day, and pretty recently a fight broke out in our alleyway. We gotta get out of here before it’s too late!”

    “Wait, that chaos happened in six days? Yeah, leaving this place is a good idea. But first, I need food.” Niran’s stomach grumbled in agreement.

    “Oh, damn, I forgot you’d need food once you woke up! I spent so much time all of my waiting keeping an eye on you that I didn’t remember that.”

    Niran gave a confused look. “You didn’t even take care of yourself at any point?”

    “That’s beside the point,” Bernadette dodged her question. “I am such a terrible friend. I could’ve prevented this from happening in the first place, had I… had I…”

    “Had you what?”

    “Had I prevented you from making a choice that you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

    “...WHAT?!” Any semblance of exhaustion present in Niran was pushed down in favor of a swelling fury towards her friend.

    “It’s true! That seed you consumed has irreversibly changed your inner core! You’ll never be the same ever again!”

    “You PROMISED me you would never push me around! That I would be the one that decided what I did! But here you are, saying that if you had BROKEN that promise, things would have gone better for the both of us.”

    “Yes, but—”

    “I chose to eat the seed because I was tired of being the scared little girl who always needed someone else’s help. If I have to live with that choice for the rest of my life, then so be it.”

    Bernadette’s eyes fell, filled with ink black tears of woe as her friend’s words pierced her heart, but was quickly replaced with shock as Niran collapsed, reeling from pain.


    F̴̦̣̲͕̝̹̦͎̺̄̇̆̈́̈́̔͌̌͗̓̀̄̚̕ͅè̴̢̠̖͓̯̦̗͍̲̭͚̮̩̼̫̌̄̇̋̃͠ę̴̨̭͇͚̲̲̱͎̖̱̜̹̕ͅe̷̯͗̒̽͋̍͒̐͒͠͝ͅe̴̢͚̞̩͚̪̓́́́̓̆̋̐̀̿̋̕ḑ̶̢͇̖̳̞̲̗̈́ ̸̢͙̣̀ͅm̸̡̪̱̲̖̠͊̀̕͝ȅ̶̳͙͎̘.̷͉̙̱̟̫͊͛̃͐̒̕͝.̸̧̢̡̱̩͎͓̠̮̤͈̟̟͍̒̌̊͗͑̀̾̓̆̀͐͘.̸̢̱͙̤̘͔̹̦͚̤̑̈̈̽̑͛̉͗͂̾̇͋͘͘͠ͅ ̷̡̛̛̟̤̻̞̰͆̈́̂͛͊͑͛̓̐̎̕͠f̸̨̧̘̮̮͔̙̤̻̮̮͔̈̎̇̈́̽͂ë̶̡̛͇͎͔̲̗͍̙̳̟̤̝͔͙́̿̇͋̃͊̈́̌̎͗ȩ̵̼̗͉̞͓̹̼͍̂͊̒̎͆͐̑̈́̈̿͊̓̾̂̚ę̸̛̙̙̤͕̯̞̣̗̯͚̒́̃̒͜ę̶̙̹̰̰͖̮͙͚̣̥̯̦͒͋ͅͅd̸͖̎̓͒̂̉̓͘̕͘͜ ̶̩͕̜͚͇̖̬̟̆͛̓͘m̸̡̯̼͚̘̼͓̱̘͍̼̭̈̈͋̎͋̑̍̔͝ȅ̷̛̝̗̣̌̍̓̾͂̈́͠͝͝!̵̰̹͔̠͓͍͙̮̩̘̝̲̜͙͋̂̍̓́͘͝

    ̸̛̩͖̰͖͍̙̈̂̃́̀̇͛͝Į̴̧̨͉̟̣́̀̑͌̒̇͑͠'̶̯͌̆̌̕m̶͖͇͍̻̞̜͉̩̞̰̬̪̌̔͐̃̈́̓̌́͒͜͠ͅ ̸̧͙̱͍̺̥̟̞͇̗͌͛̿̀̓h̵̛̜̺̹͎͙̥̦̤͈̽͑̈́̄̀̏́͜͝ù̸̥̠̟͇͖̀̀̃̑̅͒̂̑͋̑̓͛͜u̴̮̮̯̯̞̪͗̆̿̐̿̇̓̂̍̈́̚̚͘͝ͅu̸̯̖͖̰͉̬͚̳͍̗̪̞͓̱͇͆̈̈́u̶̠̞͇̯̱̦̖̟̓̓͋͆̆͐͛͌̈́̕n̴̢̢̢̟̫̺̤͂͗͐g̷̜͖̤̯̠͒̍̀͑̓̃̇̕r̸̨͍̙̞̃̀̑̀ͅẏ̵̛̗̂̓͑̽̚͘,̸̛͚̖͉̓͊͑̊̆̏̃ ̷̨͚͉͓͕̻̳̠̤͚̮̿͂̈̀̔̍̑̄̕̚̚N̵̺̙̞̖̖̙̮͖̦̞͂̽͛́͊̆̄̏̌̚͜͝͝į̴̥̜̺͖͓͔͓̣̦͎͠ͅŗ̴̖̻̣̠̞͙͖̈́̒͌́ǎ̴͙͆̓͌̿̀̎̄̆͛̆ņ̶̡̺̱͖̙̣̱̣̠̑̀̇̀̓̇͆͌͜͜͠ͅ!̴̡̠̜̂̋̈͑̒̕͝

    ̶̡͔̃̋W̴̗̺̠͎͎͇̹̲̊̑̍̔̎͌̃̌̌̀͗͗ͅḥ̷͓̣͍͖̠̰̰̮̖̟̩̫̬̑̒̐̈͐́̍̄̾͊̓̅͝y̵̯̟̥̣̞̣̺͂͝ ̴̟͗̈́́w̸̗̝̪̦͇̫̺̬̮̆̒̀̍̑̊̌̃̇̾͛͂͑͆̕ͅo̴̢̧͖̺̠͕̖̙͈͒̏͌̏̇̃̄͌͊̐̚͝n̵̢̛̘͓̰̹̲͖͓̖̪̅͆́̅͆̋̓̅̒͑̑̕̕͝ͅͅ'̸̛̱̗̜̼̘͓̘̹̘̫͖̠̦͈͐̓̓̒͒̀͂̀̈́͌̔͝ț̵̢̢̡͎͖͖̭̱̺͚̻̽ͅ ̵̨̡̯̰͕̟͔̥̩̤̪̝̭̙̀̿̍̋͐͆y̷̧͍͕̬̟̯̬͉͈̐͒̃͋̓̈́o̵̳̳̮̓̌͂̓̐͛ų̶̛̦̬͕͉̳̥͇̩̪̘͚̺̐̉̐̋̋̅͂͘͜͝͝ͅ ̵̢̭̙̖͌͑̌͂̍̀͆f̷̬̱̭̫͕̻͈̣̳̼̭̼̝͑̃̇̈́͛̾̎̒͑͂̾̕͜ę̴̼̯͑̈̈́͛̒̾͂͊̕ę̵̜̺͙̗̮͚̙̗͇̟̀̉̍̒͑̍̊̿̈́̓͋ͅd̵̛̲̟͙̿̄͋̿́̔̓͐̏ ̴̢̡̲̯͉̰͖̳͚̈́͂̂̓̂̔̓̌̅̂̾͐͠m̶͍͍̥̞͇̥̯̾̍̓̏́̐͂̑̇̆͘͘͜͝͠e̷̟̙͗̅̏̈́͆͂͠?̷̖̘̘̻̖̩̳̠̟̜̠̘͐̀̈́̃̀̑̏̐̉̿̋̉̒̒ͅ



    It was not only her stomach that ached of hunger; Niran’s soul quaked at the shrill voice, then began to devour itself whole very slowly. She could feel herself growing colder on the inside as the flames of her soul gradually grew dimmer. Niran knew she had very little time before she would die of this hunger, and that she needed to act fast. She used what little willpower she had left to stifle the overwhelming hunger and focus on the task at hand.

    The sound of a carriage passing by Niran’s burrow snapped her out of the pain she experienced and brought her attention outside her home. She took a quick peek at the traveling carriage and: Jackpot. Near the back of the carriage was an open basket filled with various foods, ripe for the taking. It was clear to Niran the riders were mere travelers foolishly cutting through Kiserova, although if her mind was not so clouded by an all-consuming hunger, she would’ve taken note of the unusual calm the horses portrayed in spite of the chaos. She tuck her head back inside the burrow and turned around to make eye contact with Bernadette, confidently stating a single remark.

    “Looks like we’ve found our next source of food.”

    (To be continued)

    (Don't worry, there'll be more breaking promises as the story progresses : D) 

  • Home - last frontier

    "Kiserova has fallen, Minova has fallen, Kasto has fallen, Vova has fallen, Ektanova has fallen and soon Sjo ovan will fall. We are losing this war and we'll face slaughter. We only have one option left, we must reveal Cralmarov's hiding location. About him, where is he?" 

    Fifteen of Vosanova's most important people had gathered in Vallerielle's estate in Ovan Astova. Valierielle herself, general Arheksie of the Rahandi, general fedjir of the eastern Vosanova army, general Rohstam of the western Vosanova army, commander Timar of Ovan Nova's defense forces, Commander Maksym of Ovan Astova's forces, high priestess Taiysia, Ellisimo, cousin to the king and lord of Minova, and many others. 
    The king and his family had still not showed up.

    Valierielle put a silver coin with a hand made print, on the table. 
    "It would be unwise to stab Cralmarov in the back, he most certainly have strings further and deeper than we could foresee. Even if we wanted to, Cralmarov has left and no one seems to know where he has headed. 
    It matters not, we will soon find the silver steed and with it we will practically have trapped the Medirna armies in Vosanova to be destroyed. Southern Medirna will be left undefended and we will force a treaty with king Zallados Beldanov. We will gain back the land that should belong to Ovan."

    "You are putting all faith on some god forsaken myth, risking all of Vosanova?"

    "It is not a myth, it is real. This is our chance to be free, our chance to be whole.  

    "And when that titan of their arrives, what then? Can the silver steed, if it really exists, actually fight that thing?"

    "The titan is a puppet. It only follows its riders commands. If the rider is brought down, the titan will retreat."

    "How can you be so sure?" 

    "We are not."

    "So about the army? Commander Ferrun has finally chosen side and will arrive from the west in a few days. Can we actually deal with her?" 

    One of the generals slammed the table lightly. "Leave the war to us warriors. The Medirnians will soon realize why Nova has never fallen." said general Arheksie, captain of the Rahandi.    

    "-And the dragon?" 

    A cleric of some sort, leaned forward. "Just like Arheksie said, leave the war to those of us with experience in its craft. A single dragon won't be a problem. There are other secrets that has been found in the halls beneath Ovan Nova that has come to great use for us." 


    The meeting continued for hours into the day after. The silver steed had yet not been found so Arheksie rode out south with half his force. Ferrun would not even be allowed to set up camp. 

  • Sally out

    Himestov was just a small village of farmers and woodcutters, in the southern Nova field. Far from nearest neighbor settlement and located on a hill, it was a good place for the Medirnian brigades under Ferrun's command to set up camp. There they would break any western supply-lines from and to Ovan Nova while they waited for reinforcements to arrive from the north, west and east. Ovan Nova would be surrounded and forced to surrender.   


    (Art by senfeng chen)

    Commander Ferrun, nor anyone else in the Medirnian army, knew that Cralmarov had left Ovan Nova some time earlier. In her mind, this was the last chance for the Ovan to surrender Pontiff. Ferrun sent a captain and some soldiers to negotiate with the Ovan in Ovan Hem. Death of anyone would not be necessary, except for Pontiff.



    One day had passed since she sent out the captain to negotiate. Ferrun leaned over the table with a map over the area, in her tent. Around her stood her officers and commanding captains. 

    "Why are they taking so long?" said a man. 

    "It is as I said, they have been killed or imprisoned. Those Ovan cannot be trusted even to negotiate." said a second man.

    "They must be forced by Cralmarov. He probably holds Valierielle hostage to ensure his own cowardly safety. I suggest we send a small force that will sneak into the city and find Cralmarov where he is hiding" said a third man. 

    "That would take too long. We cannot wait for a few men to search a needle in a haystack." said the second man.

    "We cannot wait? We are already waiting for reinforcements. We have nothing to lose but much to win." said the third man. 

    "We should just storm the city. It is poorly fortified so we should be able to take it within two or three days." said a fourth man

    "We will not storm the city. The Rahandi is guarding the Ovan fields so if we would go on the offensive, we would be surrounded. We will wait for the reinforcements. Though I don't think there is a high risk to send a couple of men to search for Cralmarov while we wait. It would reduce the bloodshed." said commander Ferrun. 

    "Sir, if that is your order then -...." 
    "They are coming!"  a soldier shouted as he ran into the tent. "An army from Ovan Nova just left Ovan Hem. They are heading straight towards us."

    "How many, soldier?" Ferrun stood up and gave sign to some of her officers who nodded and went out of the tent.

    "About four thousand infantry and at least a thousand horses, m'lady" 

    "Four thousand! That can't -..." The officer got interrupted.
    "They must be militia or armed peasants, there's no possibility that they are all man-at-arms." Said an old officer. "When the dragon flies towards them half should run immediately, half of the rest when the flames descends. The Rahandi would be the problem. Those horses are trained well."  

    "Sir Kevolski, You will deal with the Rahandi's northern wing. Sir Akomio, you will deal with the southern. Don't let them flank our troops. You are all dismissed " The officers and the soldier gave salute, and walked out of the tent leaving Ferrun alone. 
    She looked at the map over Ovan Nova before she went and picked up her sword, her shield and her helm, then she went out of the tent. 

  • edited September 2020
    Charge of the Rahandi

    "To your positions, men! The enemy want to test your guts and blades, so lets give them what they want!"

    Soldier and horsemen were running from their camps to take their positions east of the village. Four thousand infantrymen position on a rectangle formation with three hundred horsemen in the north and one hundred in the south. 

    Commander Ferrun walked far behind her soldiers, inspecting the formation, the landscape of the upcoming battlefield and the approaching army in the distant east. Flocks of black birds, crows, were flying over the forest to the south and to the east. Something about them worried Ferrun, they looked strange as the sun's rays was reflected on their black feathers. The sun was shining not far above the horizon in the west, casting long narrow shadows from the tents. 

    "Captain Erkagov, have the scout to the west and south returned yet?" She said to a man that approached her. 
    "No they have not, my lady. Should I send out a few to search for them?"
    "Yes, captain, do that. I want a report before the dawn." 
    "It shall be done." the captain said with a quick bow before he ran off. 

    "Your horse, commander." a soldier leading an armored horse came walking. 
    Ferrun climbed up the horse and sat down in the saddle. "Men, we are moving out!" She shouted as she moved towards the men. 
    "Men, march forward!" the officers yelled to their men who in turn began to walk forward. 
    The dragon stretched its wings and neck as the rider mounted him. Soon it began to move forward while still remaining on the ground.  

    Ferrun was joined by her personal mounted guards as she followed behind the infantry. 
    "Narrow out the formation" she said. "Narrow the formation!" A bodyguard shouted. The officers gave their respective orders and the formation began to stretch out. 
    "Halt!" Ferrun shouted followed by the bodyguard and the officers. 
    The formation stopped. Some of the officers approached her. "Are we not going to take the opportunity and crush them?" 
    "Let's wait for them to come to us. It might not be a battle they are after, after all.  
    Their cavalry is superior to ours both in numbers and quality but their infantry consists of militia or less. They would lose their front line before they even got the chance to flank us." Ferrun looked at the crows that were circulating the battlefield. She then looked towards the approaching army. The Rahandi horsemen had stopped far behind the infantry. After a few minutes the infantry stopped as well, almost a kilometre from the Medirnian force. 

    Ferrun prepared to ride out and meet their commander, but no commander rode out to meet her. "Are they really suspecting you to ride out first? By the old law of battle, they must initiate the negotiations as they initiated the eventual battle." An officer said. 
    "They have the sun in their eyes, they are obviously waiting for the sun to fall beneath the horizon." said another officer. 
    "Then we should attack while they have the sun in their eyes." 
    "Let's wait a little while, see if they do something. Where are those damn scout!?" 

    They waited and waited. Minutes passed and nothing happened. No commander came to negotiate with them nor did any soldier or horseman move a meter. They all waited. 
    When the sun was only about twenty minutes from disappearing beneath the horizon, Ferrun said. "Forward." "Forward!" the guards yelled and soon also the officers. 
    The army began to move forward and the dragon took flight. 

    The Ovan cavalry now moved forward, the south one in one unified group and the northern separated into two. The infantry stood still for a few more minutes before they marched forward. The distance between the front-lines shrank down to only a few hundred meters. 

    Someone was shouting far behind Ferrun. "Commander, a scout is arriving." a bodyguard said. She looked back, squinting to see through the sunlight, and indeed there came a scout galloping. He was bleeding from his head and his clothes had been ripped and scratched. "Commander! They are coming! They are coming from the west!" 
    Ferrun quickly looked towards the western horizon where the sun was descending. Within the sun she saw a shadow of a horse. From the horizon, yellow banners rose up followed by the shadows of hundreds of horsemen, Rahandi. 

    Dust flew into the air as the thousand Rahandi horsemen charged down the hill. 
    "Retake formation! Front-rear formation!" Ferrun yelled. The officers yelled the order and the rear half of the infantry moved back to face the approaching Rahandi. Ferrun drew her sword and moved into the opening between the infantry lines. "The dragon will have to deal with the Rahandi from the rear. Men! This will be the fight of our life, so time to prove your valor and strength!" She yelled. Someone was playing music on a flute in the forest nearby, a cold and dark melody. 

    The ground began to shake as the Rahandi approached in high speed. A shadow was cast over over Ferrun and soon she heard the painful scream of a man, and a dragon.
    She looked up to her side and saw the flock of crows attack the dragon's eyes and the rider. The crows were wet of black liquid and beneath their wings, black smoke sipped out. Ferrun felt her heart grew cold as she watched the dragon bleed from its eyes while the sound of the approaching Rahandi grew louder. 

    From the front came four thousand infantry of peasants and militia, from the sides came a mix of Rahandi and common horsemen, and from the rear came a thousand Rahandi,
    from the sky came the corrupted crows. Ferrun looked around at the approaching forces and her men that braced for the oncoming charge.

    A tear fell down her cheek. 

                        
  • (Am I the only one in Ovan Nova? Where are the other contestants? (Laughing). I don't know what to write in that part of the story anymore. Help meeeee.)
  • @CassZero Nilani is in Ovan Nova too! If you want to use Nilani in a story segment, I can tell you about her character and you can use her. If you want me to use Aeryn in one, I could do that too!
  • Niran's technically in Ovan Nova but I haven't written it yet because of school among other things. 
  • @UsaernameCassZeroshadow123MonkeyPirate2002

    I think we all are growing tired or have too little time to spend on this contest with work and school.
    It won't last too long though. The matches will be held this coming week (deadline on Wednesday) and the story is almost over. 

    The general story won't advance any further before the matches. 
    The matches does not have to take place in or around Ovan Nova. 
    They can take place pretty much anywhere, within Vosanova, where it would make sense for the characters to be. 
    The people fled to Ovan Nova but your characters are not forced to have gone there. 


    So, why would your character fight?
    Well Vosanova is being split twice over, one because of the war and once because of the leaking corruption from the usage of abyssal energy. 

    Vosanova consists of innocent people but also people that are willing to risk all of Vosanova by using the abyssal energy causing a severe unbalance that won't leave Vosanova unharmed. The corruption must be stopped to protect the people. The abyss must be set loose because it belongs to the world. It was part of the world before it was trapped away, causing a dangerous imbalance and thus the corruption. 

    It has become difficult to stay neutral to both conflicts and it will turn out to be difficult to stay neutral to the war as well, specially when Medirna founds out that Vosanova have been using abyssal energy against them. Maybe they will believe it to be Nilani or Niran?
    Aeryn and Akuma has already gotten touched by the abyss and are thus more receptive for the corruption if they don't make it a purpose to oppose the abyss completely. The abyssal energy has begun to sip out from the halls beneath Ovan Nova, making it a dangerous place to be for those once touched by it. 

    It is no longer a question of want, it is a question of need and survival of once's soul and being. 


    (This is taken a little to the extreme regarding the actual lore, but it has to be so for the sake of this tournament ending before too long)

    I hope this is of some help for you. 
  • edited September 2020
    Continuation of Final route - Ovan Nova

    ...
    A few days later they finally arrived at the final border of Ovan Nova.
    Looking from a distance, Aeryn and Miljivan recognized the Renain tournament guide. He was dejected and thinner. He looked in surprise when he saw the caravan bringing in refugees. He ran over to them.
    "How nice to see you ... Milady," said Renain, bowing gently to Miljivan. "Welcome to Ovan Nova."

    (Just to finish the last part. The caravan arrived in Ovan Nova)...

    Ovan Nova - A Place of Uncertainties

    After Renain found the caravan at the edges of Ovan Nova, they continued their journey through the open fields until they reached the city. It was a long two days.
    One afternoon, with the sun in the distance marking the route, Lady Miljivan rides on a Vosanovan horse without a cell. Miljivan had commented days before about them. One of the bodyguard soldiers, unaware of Miljivan's skills, was running after her asking to go down. Miljivan just laughed and continued the ride. She tried to convince Aeryn to no avail.
    On the last night, a little calmer because they had no pursuers and soldiers lurking, they built a fire to rest. One of Miljivan's soldiers was a minstrel and took an old lute and started strumming. Aeryn was surprised by Miljivan's voice in a different language.

    Traçar uma vida entre sonhos líricos
    Para marcar meu doce amor no destino
    Sobre as garras e tramas vívidas
    É difícil tentar escapar

    Sob a luz do luar o sonho vive
    Tentando tirar você do meu olhar
    Eu já tentei fugir dos ritmos
    Mas é com você que eu quero estar

    Cavalos livres me guiam nos meus sonhos
    Mostrando tudo que quero ouvir você falar
    Sem medo e tristeza cristalizadas
    Deixam os teus beijos mais doces para amar

    Sob a luz do luar o sonho vive
    Tentando tirar você do meu olhar
    Eu já tentei fugir dos ritmos
    Mas é com você que eu quero estar

    Não sei se o destino tem o amor
    Ou se é o amor um ritmo amargo
    Quando tentei sonhar sem você
    Vieste a mim com a certeza do amar

    Sob a luz do luar o sonho vive
    Tentando tirar você do meu olhar
    Eu já tentei fugir dos ritmos
    Mas é com você que eu quero estar

    (I tried to do it in Galician-Portuguese trova, but I couldn't, so it is something more medieval. - I left in Brazilian Portuguese)

    In the end, they came closer to the main city. Aeryn had come down to stay with Renain so as not to be too far from the open fields and the edges of Ovan Nova, and thus monitor the movements of the war.

    The following night, Aeryn and the astral form of Nyrea walked the streets until they saw Lady Miljivan from afar without her guards entering narrow streets towards a maze of giant marble slabs near the open fields.

    ''Lady Miljivan! '' Aeryn called out to her without an answer.

    A few more steps, she keeps sneaking out of Aeryn without answering, until she enters the maze at once.

    Aeryn came in when the signs closed her inside the maze, but changing everything around to a somber, dark tone. The moon turned golden and the Nyrea sword looked red. She felt the same sensation when she fought with Brynn. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Aeryn knew she was under the influence again of the abyssal force.

    (to be continued)
  • ( @CassZero Nicely written! I really like it.)
  • edited September 2020
    Aeryn came in when the signs closed her inside the maze, but changing everything around to a somber, dark tone. The moon turned golden and the Nyrea sword looked red. She felt the same sensation when she fought with Brynn. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Aeryn knew she was under the influence again of the abyssal force.

    Ovan Nova - A Place of Uncertainties - Shadows

    Aeryn quickly released the sword for Nyrea to summon her astral form. When looking at her, Nyrea looked different with a gray dress and very red eyes all the way. Again Aeryn took a deep breath. She had to know that she was under the grip of the abyssal forces again. No fight this time.
    Nyrea tried to speak to Aeryn, but the sound was muffled and she didn't understand anything.
    Nyrea, for her part, saw nothing different about Aeryn, but a frightened look and irregular breathing. She knew the carrier's condition and the abyssal strength that caught her at that moment. Nyrea was not human and the white flame had already purified her to some extent, but not Aeryn, who was a human, a human with flaws.
    Through gestures they decided to separate to find Miljivan and find a way to break the influence of the abyssal force on Aeryn. Nyrea decided not to stay away to observe the carrier's footsteps. Aeryn pulled out a rune knuckle. As much as she didn't have a good hand-to-hand fight, she had to protect herself.
    The maze seemed to change by moonlight. Sounds of marble stirring made the place enigmatic. Aeryn took a deep breath and tried to remember that much of it was an illusion.
    Miljivan ran through the corridors, drawing Aeryn's attention. She followed. Her voice started to penetrate the marble.

    Sob a luz do luar o sonho vive
    Tentando tirar você do meu olhar
    Eu já tentei fugir dos ritmos
    Mas é com você que eu quero estar

    "Calm down, Aeryn!" He said to himself, putting his hand over his mouth. Blood. Something very wrong was going on. She continued to follow Miljivan's voice.

    Cavalos livres me guiam nos meus sonhos
    Mostrando tudo que quero ouvir você falar
    Sem medo e tristeza cristalizadas
    Deixam os teus beijos mais doces para amar

    Among the marbles, a strange shadow appeared with sample teeth to attack Aeryn. She punched in the middle of the shadow's face with her eyes closed. There was nothing. Again an illusion. The light turned more golden and closer to the ground. Aeryn felt her mouth bleed.
    Steps later, Aeryn was startled by pale Nyrea. Again took a deep breath.
    Miljivan passed behind them laughing. They turned and Miljivan passed the other side. Without thinking they ran in that direction until finally Miljivan stopped at the end of one of the corridors. The stones finally stopped moving.

    Não sei se o destino tem o amor
    Ou se é o amor um ritmo amargo
    Quando tentei sonhar sem você
    Vieste a mim com a certeza do amar

    Miljivan had two heads, as if something was stuck on his back. The abyssal force. But Aeryn didn't know if it was hers or Miljivan's. Aeryn ground her teeth as she went towards her.
    Nyrea tried to intervene, but could not touch Aeryn and it seemed that she did not understand her words. Nyrea tried to shine brighter, but Aeryn only saw a red and gray spectrum. She came close to Miljivan.
    One of Miljivan's heads was smiling and the other looked scared, but both were crying. Aeryn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She called to Nyrea, who disbanded and turned the sword for Aeryn to wield. The sword was between Miljivan's necks.
    Aeryn felt the white light emanating from the sword, but it didn't seem to be of much help due to the absurd amount of abyssal force present there. One more deep breath.
    Until Nyrea's light, which was gray in Aeryn's eyes, seemed to torment one of Miljivan's weeping heads.
    "Don't kill me, Aeryn," said the heads in unison.
    Aeryn closed her eye and just stuck the sword in the smiling head.
    A shout.
    A dry, dark cry.
    Aeryn had hit the force that corrupted that little place.
    The moon turned silver and the marble cleared.
    The flames of the sword were white when looking at Aeryn again.
    Crying Miljivan hugged Aeryn in thanks. Both knee, even Nyrea's most relieved astral form.
    '' Aeryn. I don't know what happened, but I don't think there's any escape from that force ... especially with the war coming and surrounding all of Vosanova.''
    Aeryn stood up, her face streaked with tears, and raised her hand to help Miljivan.
    '' I won't give up that easy now. I was supposed to get out of here when the tournament was stopped, but here I am. We will not give up now.''

      
    (The mechanics are not strong. Just to demonstrate it.)

    Edit:No forced fight

    Aeryn, Miljivan and Nyrea walked through the maze until they found the exit, leading directly into the open fields of Ovan Nova.
    The moon shone brightly over the yellowish green grass. In the distance the horses grazed. The sound of the streams was shallow and long to hear for the peace of that place. The wind was cold at the thought of midnight. Leaves surrounded the three stops outside the marble exit.
  • edited September 2020
    (@shadow123 Thanks for the idea of using the character. I believe that because we are very much on top of the fights, I would not have time to develop well. Thank you for the idea.)
  • @CassZero To be frank the deadline for the actual competition is coming up sooner than what is usually given for the Forced fights so it doesn't even matter at this point XD
  • The war had begun. Nilani was constantly paranoid of everything around her. She was scared. Most of the time during the war, Nilani would try and find a secluded place to practice. She couldn't lose control of her magic again. She did so with the Red Queen, after all. Every time Nilani failed, she found it hard to get back up.

    Nilani felt isolated. Alone. Just like she had felt when she found herself in Kiserova for the first time.

    I have so much more power! I've found my purpose! Why do I still feel alone?

    Two small golden invocations in the shape of birds flew around Nilani happily.

    Huh. Those birds seem just like Akuma and I...

    Slowly, the shiny, gold light seemed to melt off one of them into a golden trail. Nilani snapped her fingers. The birds flew towards each other and burst into flames upon collision.

    Nilani leaned against a tree trunk and cried. She couldn't go on like this anymore. Nilani needed someone that cared for her. Her parents were dead, her village was gone, and Akuma, her only friend, was far, far away. 

    Days passed and there was no sign of Akuma. Nilani had trained every day. Cried every day. Fought every day. And even suffered too. Slowly her longing for Akuma turned to bitterness.

    Why didn't Akuma come searching for me? Why haven't I heard from her at all?

    As she walked gloomily along the river to get to her training spot she overheard two women speaking.

    "Did you hear what tactics some people are using to defend Vosanova?" the first one asked.

    "No. What?" the other replied curiously.

    "They're using abyssal energy to defeat to opposing troops. The problem is, I hear, that this corrupted magic can lead to hurting the people of Vosanova too!"

    Nilani was astounded.

    They're using the abyss? Is Akuma okay? Why would I think of Akuma now? She left me.

    Nilani clutched her hair tightly out of frustration. She didn't know what to think.

     Wait! But what if something happened to her? I- What's going on with me? One part of me loves Akuma and the other part of me hates her for not coming back for me. What if she feels the same? I never returned to her from the abyss...and I promised. Maybe it would be best for me to find Akuma.

    Nilani ran back to the small abandoned home she was staying with and gathered her little possessions she had. It was time to find Akuma no matter the cost.

    Ȁ̶͕̒ ̵͓̂͝w̴͍͐ä̶͙͇́̇ŕ̴̩̘̓ ̸̰̘̊̽ȉ̷̗̼s̸͙̉̋ṋ̴̄̆'̸̯̬͊t̴̘̹͑͘ ̴͔͋̇ő̶̤̼ṋ̴̋̀l̴̛͇̹͗y̵͖̋ ̸̨̘̔ȁ̶̜͑b̴̻̊̋ō̷͚͕̕ù̷̗̾t̵͈̠͆́ ̵̜̕f̷̘͚͠i̵͓̪̎͌ḡ̵̞̤h̸̝̹͘͠t̴̢̫̄̃i̶̛̱n̶͚̜̑͐g̴̲̰̏̓,̴̭̺̄͋ ̶̨̞͌Ń̷̩̦̌i̷͓̪̅̓l̵̗̒a̴͚̦͘ň̶̻̩͐ǐ̴̺͈̇.̶̧̥͐ ̷̟̊͂Ḯ̶̳t̶̗͐͠'̷̭̏s̸̘̓ ̸̛̘̋ā̷̬͘b̷̨͌o̷̬̭̽ǔ̴̉ͅt̴̡͙̿ ̸͚̿f̶̤͉͋̌r̵̯̥͆i̶̺̒͜e̴͍̪̅n̸̩͙̈́͠ḍ̸̀s̵̡̛͈̈h̸̝͂i̶̛̮p̶̮̦̀̚s̶̘͓̒̀ ̸̳͍̄̃ẗ̶̠́̐o̴̦͉̔̕ỏ̶͉̙.̵̥͗ ̷̳̥͗T̸̻̿ẖ̸̍ͅȩ̶̾ͅ ̴̨͋p̵͖̈͛ē̴̢̞n̵̖͙͐̿d̷͎̬̏u̵̧̱͛̿l̶̠͌ü̷͉̱m̷̥̓ ̴̩̂ȏ̶̪f̶̯̣̿͝ ̸̣̾̕f̷̝̈a̵̠̒t̵̩̂̌ͅȩ̴͔̋̈́ ̷̐̍͜d̶̢̓́ō̶̙̋ë̷͓́̕s̶̖̊̾n̷̮̈͝'̶͍͓̇t̴̩̋͂ ̷̝͂s̷͕̈́̚͜p̴̥̃͗a̷͛ͅṙ̷̮͚ĕ̸͈̘ ̸̖̈a̸̘̤̎͗n̸̫̫̔͝ỵ̶̟̆ẗ̵̘̟h̴̤͕͘i̵͔͆n̶̹̣͋̍g̷͈̈́̇.̷̀̕͜͜
  • edited September 2020
    Rain lashed down in dismal sheets as Akuma walked toward Ovan Nova.

    The stark aura of death and dismay permeated the air, clawing its way into Akuma's mind, seeding brooding clouds of darkness.

    Blood and mud mixed together as Akuma trekked through a desolate field. Corpses rotted underfoot, and flies flitted around Akuma's head. Several small patches of trees still burned despite the downpour. Somewhere, a raven called. 

    Suddenly, Akuma picked up on some movement to her right. She whirled around, bringing Naku Tsuki out to half draw, and looked for the source of the movement. There! one of the corpses had twitched. Necromancy? She slowly drew closer, drawing Naku Tsuki the rest of the way. When she reached the corpse, she realized with astonishment that it wasn't a corpse at all. A young man, no older than 25, lay there, breathing raggedly, struggling to move, despite missing one of his feet and a large portion of his leg.

    Akuma's stomach sank.

    She could tell immediately.

    This man was going to die.

    As she knelt next to him, he looked up at her with pain-filled eyes. He opened his mouth, and managed to croak out

    "W-water..." Akuma propped up his head on her knee and trickled some water from a canteen into his mouth. He reached in a feeble attempt to hold it himself, but dropped his hand back into the mud.

    "I-I'm going to d-die, aren't I?" He asked. Akuma bit her lip, fighting back tears.

    "I... don't know" she lied. The man grabbed onto her arm, using all the strength he had to pull himself into a sitting position. He managed to sit briefly on his own before doubling over with pain, coughing up blood onto his uniform.

    "I-I don't want to die..." tears welled up in his eyes.

    "Is there anything I can do for you?" Akuma was looking at the man, but she was asking the question to the both of them. He scrabbled feebly in a pocket of his uniform, removing a small bundle of flowers and a small book, then to his neck, where he removed a small necklace, and finally to his finger, where he removed a simple golden ring.

    "If I don't m-make it... give these... t-to my family. My wife... Erina... daughter... loves f-flowers..." he stopped talking and coughed up more blood, his breathing ragged. 

    "Shhhh, don't talk. It'll be alright. I'll mix up some medecine, now close your eyes. It'll relieve the pain." Akuma struggled to keep her voice level. She knew what she had to do, and hated having to lie about it.

    The man closed his eyes, completely oblivious to the tip of Naku Tsuki hovering centimeters over his chest.

    "Thank you... k-kind soul" he muttered. Tears streamed down Akuma's face, and she clenched her hands to stop them from shaking.

    A quick motion

    A splash of blood

    An escaping breath

    The battefield was silent once again

    Akuma fell to her knees and sobbed, before screaming up at the sky, a vocal explosion of pain, and misery, and death. An eternal question. 

    WHY?

    Later, Akuma would carry the man's body to an undisturbed clearing near a pond, and bury him on the shore. But before she would do that, she checked the stitching on his uniform. Percy Beaucrest. She swore it would be a name she'd never forget.

    Akuma waited for a full day next to the simple grave, keeping a silent vigil, an acknowledgment of respect for the second human life she had taken. She might not have been able to do it all those years ago, but she would certainly do it now.

    She told herself that from that day forward, everything she'd do until the war was over would be for him. Not him in particular, but those like him. Innocent souls, swept up into something much larger than them, forced into service or tricked through dreams of glory, given a weapon and told to kill. All for what? Their country, who tricked them into it in the first place? Robbed of their lives and their families, their well-being tossed aside and discarded. She'd fight for them. She wouldn't give up until this was was over.

    The next day, Akuma set out with a new fire burning within. A renewed strength, that of the fiercest conviction. Something she had fought so long to supress she now allowed once more to well up inside her. Rage.

    She was prepared to go to war.
  • Haha yeah I'm probably not gonna get the second part done till the early morning of the 23rd so I'll be posting it at that time. Hopefully that's okay with y'all.
  • @MonkeyPirate2002 How dare you!?

    Jk. I'm excited to read your next part!
  • Niran was far more reckless in her movements than usual, her hunger depriving any sense of awareness of her surroundings. She clumsily leapt from shadow to shadow, much unlike the elegant grace Bernadette displayed. With each jump, the cart grew closer and closer in view. A bright red apple could be seen peeking out of the basket, its supple skin shining warmly in spite of the ashen sky. As Niran gazed upon the apple, an overwhelming urge of hunger compelled her to run straight for it. Bernadette realized the gluttonous look in Niran’s face, her eyes growing wide with fear.

    “Niran, wait! You’ll be seen if you go for it now! It’s too risky!” She exclaimed.

    Niran ignored her. Throwing caution to the wind, Niran lunged for the cart, a sudden rush of adrenaline pushing her all the way. She leaped onto the edge of the cart and nabbed the fresh apple straight from the basket. Niran tried to jump off and slip back into the shadows; she knew she didn’t have much time before the cart goers noticed her; but her legs wouldn’t budge. The apple in her hand became even more tantalizing as Niran kept her gaze on it. She could feel her mouth salivating, the feeling of hunger consuming her. No longer could she keep it at bay. Niran took a large bite out of the apple, then another bite, and another bite, until all that remained was the core. But her hunger was not quite satiated, so she delved deeper into the basket, pulling whatever came out and stuffing it into her mouth. Yet no matter how much food she ate, she still needed more. She devoured everything she grabbed until she felt as though she could burst, but the empty feeling in her core remained all the same. 


    F̵̨̢̡̹̜͚͚͓͉̺̱̟̲̏͒͛ͅë̴͖͖̤̠͛̈́͋̋̔̀̒̔̀͘͠è̸̡̢̼̜̙̳̰̞͙͈́́̍̾͗̂ͅè̷̘̭̂̉͌ę̷͓̯̤̜̝̱̏ę̷̡̜͚̣̙͈̜̼̗̙͔͐̂̌́̊̓͛̕͜ȩ̸͉̮͉͕̝͙̪̗̏́̐̊̽̋̂̊̂͑̕͝͠d̶̼́̌̏̊̃͋̀͜͝ ̷̦̤͇̜͍͖̱̬̣̩́̃ḿ̶͈̃͑̏̈́̽͑͌̐̊͂͝͠ẹ̵͎͚̞̫̔̅̕͝͠.̸̡̣̝̘̮̜͓͔̰̭̺͕̩̅̓̂͑̄̓̂͑̃̃̾ͅ


    “Hey! What are you doing there!” A smooth voice yelled. Niran looked up from her gluttonous stupor, only to lock eyes with everyone in the cart. Niran yelped, then tried to leap out of the cart, only to notice white, ephemeral chains prevent her escape. The cart halted completely in its tracks, its passengers hopping out to inspect the caught urchin.

    “You aren’t going anywhere, miss. You’ve got some explaining to do.” The figure with the smooth voice said. Niran looked away from her captors, noticing Bernadette still hiding in the shadows. Her friend motioned Niran to stay quiet, indicating she had a plan. All Niran could do was silently comply.

    “You’ve got quite the nerve to steal from us. Don’t you know what we are?”

    “Uh, no?” Niran replied shakily. She looked to the other side, seeing her violin appear suddenly right beside her. Fortunately her interrogators didn’t notice.

    “We’re adventurers, of course! We’ve explored the far reaches of Avelaide. We’ve collected all kinds of treasure. And most important of all, we spread joy to everywhere we go!”

    “That’s not exactly a normal thing for adventurers to do and you know that Florence” A lady with her hand outstretched in holy magic remarked pointedly. Niran could tell she was the source of her arcane bindings. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bernadette comprehend that as well, seeing her slowly sneak behind the mystical woman.

    “Well, it is now,” Florence replied. “Hey Draghul! Can you check how much this fine lady went through?”

    “On it, Florence.” Draghul responded. He walked toward the open basket, forcing the approaching Bernadette to hide behind the cart. He picked up the basket and dumped its contents, revealing all that was left: A few stale rolls.

    “Hooo, you made short work of our rations! Good thing you didn’t touch the festival supplies,” Florence emphatically stated. “Now, what to do with you…” Florence eyed Niran, searching for anything valuable on her person. All the while Bernadette crept closer to the woman binding Niran, a sap ready in her hand. Time seemed to move at a crawl, as Niran readied herself to flee at any moment. That is, until Florence’s eyes fell upon Niran’s violin.

    “Ah! A fellow musician I see! Roshira, you can let her go. Looks like we’ve found someone more than just your typical riff-raff!” Florence clapped his hands once, brimming with enthusiasm. Bernadette froze mid-swing, then ducked underneath the cart right as Roshira looked behind her. Thinking nothing of it, she looked back at Florence with a suspicious look.

    “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We don’t even know her name.” 

    “Ah shoot! Forgot to ask. It’s a good thing you’re always around to bring me back to reality, huh Roshira?” Florence teased. “Anywho, what’s your name, dear?”

    “Niran?” Niran answered, unsure of herself.

    “How would you, Niran, like to be a part of the band?”

    “Are you guys staying here?”

    “Well, we’re adventurers, after all. We won’t be sticking to this place for too long. But first—”

    “Yes!” Niran stated her answer with the utmost confidence. She was eager to leave the hellhole Kiserova had become.

    But first, we’re hosting a little festival for the common folk here,” Florence restated. “I see you’re rather eager to join us. Although you’re gonna have to prove to us your worth,” Niran’s heart sank slightly, ready to face the worst possible outcome. “But that can wait for later. Cmon! We got a festival to run!” 

    Almost immediately Niran’s spirit lifted once more. “Alright!” She exclaimed. With a nod Florence signaled to Roshira, telling her to release her bindings. After being freed, Niran and the rest of the band hopped into the cart and rode off. While they chatted amongst themselves, Bernadette snuck onto the cart as well, her intrusion noticed not only by Niran, but an unnervingly silent figure as well. He was completely covered in a plain cloak, with no discernible features except for a small pendant emanating a small amount of strange magic, one that Niran had never felt before. He remained quiet, not making any attempt to alert the others to Bernadette’s presence as they made their way to the festival area.

  • edited September 2020

    What had once been a grim courtyard filled with only a few benches was now brimming with life. Portable lanterns could be seen everywhere, giving the area not only light, but a comforting warmth as well. Food was laid out across various tables, with partygoers happily conversing with others nearby. Many collected portions of food and put them into bags for future use, not that anyone cared. There was a surprising amount of nourishment to go by considering there was a war going on. A large circle was drawn in the center of the courtyard, where people danced their cares away. A makeshift stage was established, where Florence, Roshira, and Draghul each played their own instruments, providing joyous music to lift the mood. The cloaked man leaned next to the cart, his own feet tapping to the rhythm. 

    Despite the gnawing sense of hunger still pervading within her soul, Niran chose to dance among the crowds. For the first time since her escape from Cralmarov, she felt truly free spirited. No longer was she burdened by the weight of the world, now she could soar freely and let the music move her. It was an unusual experience, not being the one in control of the music, but it was an enjoyable one. Soon, the song came to a close, and Florence rose up from his stool.

    “Thank you, thank you! We’re all very grateful for your enthusiasm! Now while we’d next play our final song then call it a night, we have a new member who has a song of their own! Please welcome Niran!” Florence merrily announced.

    Well, looks like it’s time to prove my worth. Niran thought. While she normally would have been terrified at the notion, she was in such a good mood. She knew she’d ace it. After all, she didn’t get into the Tournament in the first place with choppy violin skills.

    Niran walked to the stage and set her violin on her shoulder. Yet before she could start, Florence huddled down near her ear.

    “Remember, just play what you play best. We’ll give accompaniment if it seems needed.” Florence whispered to Niran. She gave a nod of affirmation, then laid her bow on her violin. A slow melody flowed from her strings, creating a wondrous solo that stirred all sorts of emotions. Although a hint of melancholy could be heard within, it was deafened by the overwhelming feeling of joy. Meanwhile, the crowd moved much more slowly, flowing through each other like a calm river instead of the rapid movement the rest of the band previously inspired. Soon, the other players joined in, adding a chilling harmony to Niran’s eerily beautiful song. Seeing everyone dance freely to the sound of her music made Niran ecstatic. She felt like she could play like this forevermore! And maybe she could have, if only she didn’t tempt fate.


    Ẅ̴̨̘̱̺̘̯̯̯̲̦͍̠͓̠̝́̏̄͋̾̐̅̏̏͝h̸̙͓͖̺̥̘̎̈̽̃̋̐̇͝ḩ̷̘̬͓̔̽͆͗̉͊͠ͅý̴̗͍̈́̎͒́̅̃́͌̋̑̈ỳ̷̨͍̼̱̞̤̗͎̱̞̯̳͖̙̽̅͛͒̅̄y̸̱̜̲͓͋͆̅́̇͗̃̕͘ẙ̴͈̮́̃́̄̃̕̚ẙ̵̫͊́̽͋̎͒̐͊͑̕͝ẏ̷̢̝̩̲̟̣̬̝̼̖̩̞̙̥̐̋y̸̗̮̼͕͖̝̼̫͐̿̽̽̓ ̸̡͎͖̖͓̃w̴̡̛̟̻̳͖͔͚͙͍̫̎͆́̎̕͝ĩ̷̱͉̮̰̼͍̣͖̲̤͓̲̼̹̓͆̍i̵̢̳͉̬̻̭͚͍̻͎̞̽̈͌̈́̎̐į̴̳̲̲̭͇̣̼͓̖̱̺̺̂̂̍͑̒͂̇̏͠͝ï̶̧̡̞͚̱̞̣̳̜͔̥̄̐͊̐͋̊̃̌̋͗͛͝͝ḯ̸͇̙̞̻̱͈͎͓͔̙̙͔̌͑̉͐͒̉̂̄̈́̕͜͝͠i̴̥̠̞̼̗͝ͅͅi̸̧̮͇̥͚̜̦̱͇̲͌̅̀͛͆̽͐͛͋̈́͐̚͝ì̵̩͍̱͍̰̦̺̙̯̝̮̖̆̃͋͆͜͝͝͝͝l̸͙̣̯̑̋̂̇͊̀̃̍̏̕̕ļ̶̮̮̫̩͕̻͙͂̓̆͋̀͐̏̋͒͆̐̈́̕̚l̵͍̥͖̱̰̖͕͖̦̥̜̫͎͓̒̃̂̒͛̓͘ļ̷̹̣̗̜̻̤̻͗͐̌͝ͅl̴̨̡̹̱͍̒͒̀̉́͂̍͗̒̀͌͆̑̀ͅĺ̸̝̩̤͓̙͓̫͚̣̖͉̺͔̲̈́̀̅̀̈͘ͅ ̸̢̖̭̥͖͖̫̃̉͗y̸̨̺̪̹̞̰̗̏̄̈́̿̔̎̓̀͗̔̚͝͝ͅõ̷̢̢̥̇͋̍̑͊͒̽̇̒̕͝ǫ̷̨̧̥̪͚̲̙͖̲̣̫̘͉̏̐̌͋͆̈̋̈͂̑̌̏͜͝͠ó̷̡̻̤̠̜͚̠̾̃͂͒͝u̷̙̮̙̦͖̭̜̦̹̔̀̉̿̔͐̅̅͐̈͘͘̕̕͜ų̴̢̛̣̠̤̟̺̀̈̇̓̐̀͆͘͝͝ͅư̴̡̩̙̟̣̤̼͓̞̖̯͈͎͚͒̂̽̾͗̊̆̆̒͜͠͝ ̵̛̞͓̙̠̲̯̭̤͇̩̮͓̇̆ň̴̢̙̯̲̺̟̮̰͔̮̲͊̏͜ơ̵̳̩̍̎̎̈́̐͠t̶̖͚̘̮͈̻̮́̌̄̄͝͝ ̸̬̝̘̘̳̬̈͑͌̐̆̓͆̊̃͒ͅf̶̜̮͉̩̻͙͕̰̥͉͖̤̪͉̹̍̅̄̈͂e̴͔͇̭̦̟̼͛͑̽̀̅̇̕͝͝e̸̢̢̬͇͖̦̭̙̳͖͔̥̣̘̟̐͂̂̅̈́̃ȩ̶̛̳͇͔̘͚͕͖͖̒̄̆̎́̎̎̑͌̅͘͝ȩ̷̼͚̟̳̗̺͕̻͔̠̖̲̒̃̄̽̇̃̓e̴̲̻̙̞͚̪̪̼͚͈̪͓̹͇͑͋̉͘͜ě̶͎̋̏̍̊̊̒̾̓̓͗̕͘͝ḑ̴͙̬̱͚̈́̆̆̐ ̶͚̮͙͚̲͎͍͍̠͌̾̍̆̊͌͜͠͝m̴̩̼͈͉̼͓̰͍̣͎̪̝̱͂ë̴̛̙̯̼͉̰̮͇͖̤̖̖͖̖͔́̔̈́̅̎̉͆̉̎̈́̇̈́͐ę̵̛̘̭̦͎̼͔͎̤̙̭̗̹͉̙̽̄͋̒̌̄͛̽̄̿̕͝ȅ̶̱͋̾̆̇̌̊e̵̡̤̜̖̻̩̜̞̞͉͓̬̠͑͋͂̈̄͐̌̍͜ȩ̴̟̘͖̲̲͖̻̱̦̝̐͜ě̶̡̗͍͖̱͎͈̉͠e̶͈̦̬͎̤̫̳͕̥̤̮̮̱͎̽̿͂̓͋̌ė̶̢̡͇̠͖̗̦̫̟̻̼̜͚̈̉̍̋͂̈́̓̔͗͐̕̕͝?̵̡̦͎̫͖̙͓̝̪̩͔̾̇̍͊͑̂̐̐̃̋̏̏̀̌͝



    With a screeching halt, Niran stopped playing as her soul cracked even more. Everyone stopped dancing or playing and looked straight at Niran. It was as though the entire world was focused on her, no, scrutinizing her. There were so many feelings directed toward her; some concern, some disdain, and some just simple confusion. Tears began to well up in Niran’s eyes as the pressure became too much for her, and fled the stage. She ran to a secluded tree, where she saw Bernadette sitting right next to it.

    “What happened?” Bernadette asked out of concern.

    “I-I-I screwed up. I froze! I…  I couldn’t play all the way, and now they’re going to not let me in!” Niran tearfully replied.

    “Hey, it’s okay! We’ll figure out another way to get outta here somehow, let’s just sit right here and deal with what’s important right now, and that’s your—Gah! There’s someone coming, I gotta hide!” Bernadette’s tone quickly shifted from assuredness to worry as she saw Roshira making her way to the tree. She scrambled upward, taking cover within the leaves.

    “Who were you talking to?” Roshira questioned as she reached Niran.

    “N-no one…” Niran stammered.

    “So you  were talking to yourself then?” Niran gave a confused look at Roshira’s response. Did she not see Bernadette even though she was right there? She thought inquisitively.

    “I guess so. I don’t know. I’m just so upset at myself for screwing up like that…”

    “Hey. You did perfectly fine. No, you did wonderful! Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean you’re a terrible musician. Far from it. We were never looking for a quality performance, we just wanted to see if you were willing to put in the effort. And hey! You passed with flying colors,” The sound of upbeat music starting could be heard in the distance. “So, although Florence is usually the one to say it, welcome to the band. Or shall I say, the Blackbird Troupe!”

    “R-r-really?” Niran asked.

    “Of course. Now, we should get back and enjoy the rest of the festival while it lasts! What do you say about tha—”

    “ATTENTION CITIZENS OF KISEROVA!!! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR CONSPIRING WITH THE TRAITOR CRALMAROV!!!” Suddenly a troop of poorly equipped medirnan soldiers surrounded the festival area, slowly advancing into the courtyard. All festivities were immediately replaced with panic as the crowd tried to flee the soldiers. Florence and Draghul grabbed their weapons, smashing any soldiers that attempted to get in their way as they packed the cart with their essential items. The cloaked man, meanwhile, effortlessly downed any soldier that dared to challenge him. Roshira grabbed Niran’s hand and attempted to lead her to the cart, but found the violinist unwilling to budge.

    “You… You work for Cralmarov?!” Niran seethed, a familiar rage boiling once more. Roshira put her hands on Niran’s shoulders and looked at her squarely in the eyes.

    “If you go by what that Medirnan said, then that means you work for Cralmarov as well. Yet your rage says otherwise. I share the same enmity for that vile, vile man, and I can assure you that Florence, Draghul, and him, are the same as well, if not most of the civilians here. But once Medirna accuses someone of treason, especially when related to Cralmarov, they do not relent until they execute the accused, even if their evidence is not concrete. Now please, trust me, as we have put trust in you, and follow me.”

  • edited September 2020

    With a small nod, Niran followed Roshira through the anarchy. They dodged the running civilians and the charging soldiers, getting closer and closer to the cart with each stride. Yet with one unfortunate crash into the crowd, the two became separated from each other. Not long after being separated, Niran felt a hot, metal hand grasp her shoulder and pull her away. 

    “Let me go, let me go, let me go!” Niran screamed. 

    “Quiet, child. The general has shown interest in your capabilities.” The commander clad in steel said sternly.


    F̶̨͙̳̲̜̻͍̰͎͇̑͂̈͌̆̓́̾̊̕͘͠ë̷̢̛̜̣͈̪̞͉̭͈̎̄͛̈́͆̾̈́̄͂͘͜ę̴̧̼͉̬̲̯̭͕͍̫̯̗̃̐̍́̕ẽ̷̼̙͒̈́̉̈́̃ę̶̰̠̏͑̆̈́̐̌̚͝ȩ̸̦̫̤͋̎͛͊̓̎̌̽͘d̸͚͕̬̍̓̂̋́̌̇̋͑̃͂̎̊͌͝ ̴̨̗̬̜͓̖̰͖͍̼̹́͐̓̏͆́̑̇̔̄̄̓̕m̸̭̺͚̐́͋͐ë̴̡̛͚̜͈̰̣͎͉͚́̀̓̃̃͐̄̉͊̿̑̕͝ͅẽ̸̛̮͚͇̥͍̝̱͓͔̙͊̎̽͛͋̃̀̀̍̕ͅè̶̡̤̲̯̠̩̤͍̘̪͚̇̆͊̿̾̋̔̂͑͑͆̋̑̚.̵̭̞̣̠̫͌͒̾̀̓͌͒̃̇̀̕


    “I won’t be used again! Not by the likes of you!”


    Į̸̨̹̟̹̬̦̰̋̌͜͝ͅ ̷͇͖̞̻̦͕̪̤̹̇͊͝͝w̴̧͙̙̤͉͚̠̦̭̻̠͛̌̈́̑̾͋̕ͅâ̸̰̠̾̈̎̔̍̔͂͆̚̚̚ã̴̩̫̫̜͉̫̣͓̙̜͎͋̾̍͂͛͋͌̅̓͑͝͠ȧ̸̟̭͛̇͒ͅa̶̛͇̞̠̭͓͆̃̐̎̚ä̷̝̺́͜ņ̶̡͇̻̼̭͇̯̘͚̃̿̆͗ṯ̵̢͒̒̏͂̍̉ ̴̨̧̘̬͎̺͉̃̌̍͊̐̋̏̋ͅh̶̺̜̔͆̑͊̂͌̍̕į̷͖̥̮̰̣͉̦̻̤̲̫̐͗̌̒͋́̒̇m̷̡̧̙̯̹̰̤̺͈̝̓͌̈́͌͝.̷̙̗̰͍̩̲̤̳͇̪͖̥̘̰́̍̂̚


    “Don’t you want revenge on Cralmarov? Then you will come with me.”


    Ì̷̯̹̅͘ ̷̨̥̇̉́̓̎̉̕͠ņ̶̰̦͉̪̰͚̲͈̱͔̎e̸̡̯͔͇̱̠̠̠͇͕̞͈̊̀̓̃͘͠ë̵̤́̿͑̍̐͒̆̀̉̅͝é̶̥̰̫͠e̵̛͉̓̀̑̇̊̈́͆̉̈͝͝ȇ̷̢͖̐̈́͌̋̌̈́ę̶̨̧̥̻̭̭̼̰̿̋̀̋̾͋͐͒̎̀͆͘͜ͅȅ̴̡̡͉̘̱̮̭̠͕̥̘͈̗̫̃̌̏̈́̂̂͂̐͋̓̂͝͝͝d̸̜̱͚̬͚̟̑͂͒͑̂͐͗̕̚ ̶̩̪̤̥̲̮̣̈͐̾h̶͉̣̞̳̮̖̆͗͠i̴͔̭̝̪̯̘̬̭̰̇̐̂͛́͋͗̈́̕͘͝͠m̶̡̛̫̲͖̺͐͊̋̔͛̈́̀̈́͆̃̓͛̇͠.̵̖̜̹̘̘̪̱̝͕̮̓̇͌̋̂̐́̒̕͠͝ ̴͕͋̉͗


    “I WON'T COME WITH YOU!!!”


    K̴̨̗̰̪̰̜̄̔͊̔͌̐͊̊͊͜i̵̢̠̖̺̪͖̣͌̇͒̂̔̒̄̃̚͝͝į̵̡̭̬̌̊͊̋̎̌̊͆̋̈́̐̀͒ǐ̸̘̮̤͓͙͇̳̫̫̩̟͚͙̳̅̂̒͆̈́̽̉́i̸̺̬̹̖̘͓̯͕͕̺͍̮̙͖͋͛̒͆̓͘͘̚̕͠͝ị̴͍͔͇̺̘̱̎͒̊̿͋͂̇͊̽͂̋̈́̕i̸̙̩̿̉̌͘͝l̶̡̨̨̖͍͖̞̗̥̱̳̳͒̔̈l̴̡̦̩̘̼̭͇̎̄̅́̑̃̈̈̓̀͘l̵̨͈͇̮̯̪̻̼̖͙͕̣͙͐̓̑͜ḽ̶̢̡̡̠̘̞̭͕̹̰̀̓̏̋̓̄͂͌͜͝l̶̬͋̅́̈́̄̋̌̊̐̍͝l̴̡̟̘̲͓̱̆͂̏͌͊́͗̕̚̕l̸̢̧̢͕̪̗͎̣̜̜͔͓̥͇̻̀͝l̶̗̖͚̫̟̥̼̬̯̍̅̿̓̆͋̈̎͠ ̶̤̘̘̃͘h̴̛̰̞͈̘̟͔̘̒̄͊͐͘ĩ̵̡̡̛̩̦̻͎̳̻̏̃̊̉̍͛̽̈̉̾̆̆ͅm̸̡̗̥̗̟̟̫͍̪̤̊̅̾̂̃̒͐̑́̚̕.̸̛͕̗̮̳͍͂͐̄̐͑͌͐̅̀


    The commander halted in his tracks as a jetblack spear pierced his heart, coming all the way from Niran’s own core. His eyes began to fill completely black and his skin became inceasiingly dry, until it slowly fell apart like dust in the wind. Vis could be seen flowing through the spear, which had been shaped like a syringe upon closer inspection. Niran was utterly horrified by what she saw, yet whatever the syringe was doing, it felt good. The emptiness within her soul was becoming full once more. 

    No, this is wrong! I can’t let more people die by my hand! Niran panicked. Desperately, she grasped at the needle piercing the commander’s heart, but was only met with intangible mist. It was hopeless. Niran fell down in despair, only able to watch as the commander withered away.

    Out of the blue, a hand reached out to grab the black needlelike tendril. Unlike Niran, it made purchase with the magic, forcibly pulling it out of the commander’s heart. His body remained more withered than it had been previously, but at the very least his life force was no longer getting sucked dry. Niran arose from her despair, making eye contact with a familiar friend.

    “Bernadette? How did you—”

    “No time to explain. I see our ride out over there.”

    “Yeah, me too. Let’s go.”

    Together the two urchins rushed to the cart, hopping in to the back with the help of Roshira and the cloaked man. Altogether they rode away from the ensuing chaos, with Florence and Draghul at the reins.

    “Where to, Roshira?” Florence asked, his usual jovial tone lost.

    “Let me see,” Roshira concentrated on a runic crystal, casting a powerful spell of divine origin. Her eyes briefly glowed white, then returned back to normal. “Wow… Merdirna has already done so much damage to Vosanova…”

    “That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

    “I was getting there. The only safe place left is Ovan Nova.”

    “Ovan Nova it is then! Get ready, folks, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!”


    (To be continued)

    (I solemnly swear I will post the final bit later today, along with the extra card. Please don't start right as of today I beg of you ;-;)

  • edited September 2020
    Aeryn, Miljivan and Nyrea walked through the maze until they found the exit, leading directly into the open fields of Ovan Nova.
    The moon shone brightly over the yellowish green grass. In the distance the horses grazed. The sound of the streams was shallow and long to hear for the peace of that place. The wind was cold at the thought of midnight. Leaves surrounded the three stops outside the marble exit.

    Ovan Nova - Awaiting help

    The next two days of what happened in the granite maze were a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts for Aeryn. That same night she asked Renain for help in finding a messenger. She took ink and a quill to start writing. Miljivan helped to write too. Aeryn had written the same message and would like to send it to different places. Miljivan asked whom, but she refused to answer. Aeryn had a serious expression.
    The next day she asked for help for the recovered Marian, Nyrea and Renain to set up a tent outside the city in the open fields. No one understood anything. Aeryn just said that she would stay during the day to wait for the letters to return.
    '' You didn't learn that at the Knight School, '' said Marian. Aeryn just gave an unassuming smile.
    Later that afternoon, Renain arranged for a messenger friend to make some pigeons and hawks available to send the messages.
    Having resolved what Aeryn wanted, she spent the next few days sitting in front of the makeshift tent in the afternoon waiting. Nyrea didn't get a mental connection with her to find out what was going on, and Aeryn always got away from it.
    On the second day Miljivan came to talk to her.
    '' What's going on, Aeryn? You can trust me. Something wrong is happening ''
    " It's going to happen," Aeryn said dryly without getting up and looking at Nyrea stroking a horse. '' Everything got out of hand ... Maycon died and I wasn't supposed to get into a civil war or whatever you call it. This thing ... this abyssal force is in everything that is Vosanova's corner. It will explode soon. There is no escape. I helped you escape from Kiserova, but I don't see security here, other than being surrounded. ''
    Miljivan just bowed his head.
    '' I won't give up, but I can't protect everyone. This war is for the army ... I will try to stop the advance of the abyssal force now. ''
  • (I also want to write one last passage before the fight. I hope it is possible. Come out today (little written or not))
  • I won't have time to write the matches until the weekend anyway so you may take another day and a half to write your stories. 
  • (part 1/2)

    Rain pounded the blood stained ground. The sky was gloomy- gray clouds hung low in the dark sky, shunning away the golden sun. All the paths were muddy. There were bodies tossed to the side- innocent souls swept into the ferocious war. The dreary scene seemed like one of Nilani's nightmarish encounters inside the abyss.

    Nilani's robes were dripping with water. Her boots were caked with mud. Her mood was horrible. By herself, Nilani could reflect on her life. Her parents. Her powers. Her successes. Her many failures too.

    I failed to help my parents. I failed to control my powers. What did this tournament do for me? Get me caught up in a war?

    Ý̷̲͋ó̶̡̻u̴̫̽ͅ ̴̭͉̎̈́f̶͖̋͝ò̸̜̬ü̷̩̔n̷͔̈́d̸̹͇͘ ̶̪̍a̶̫̍͒ ̴͉̄͜b̶̨͍̾͂e̸̤̾̚s̶̫̖̀t̶̩͠ͅ ̵͇̬͗f̸̠̼̔͒r̸͈̯̃͘ȉ̷̢e̴̡̘͗̈ņ̴̰͆ḓ̸̒.̶̨̎

    Who left me...

    Y̷̬͝o̵͚͐ű̸̪̹͝ ̵̛̱̭̓n̶̨͐ẽ̵̗̓͜v̵͎͂̍e̵͉̊r̶̡̿ ̴̦͒͝w̵͖̒͝e̸̘͌̑n̷̠͓̔t̴̠̞̋̋ ̴̙͇̒͆b̸͉̏á̷̲͓͝c̶͎̺͌͂k̴̦̝̄ ̷͚̓t̶͓͛o̶̳̕ ̷̠̈h̵͙́e̶͖͖̽r̶͙̊̎.̸̫͗ ̷͈̈́̈́͜S̵̱̆h̴͚̄̈é̵̛ͅ ̷̜̐m̴͖̆a̷̪̦̽y̵̱͎̑͐ ̵̗̈́ḣ̶̩̈a̷̩̾̌v̴͚͍̈e̴̹̅ ̸̘̝̔b̷̺̀ẹ̶̠̒̓e̵̥͎͠ň̸̨̮ ̶̖̎̅w̸̳͕̉ǫ̵̹̔r̸͇̚͜r̷͉̀̈y̸̲͐̽i̸͙͙̋ň̴̻̃ğ̷̝͔̈́ ̵̢̅a̸̡͕̓͊b̸̯̰̒ǒ̵̗͖̕u̵̺͌͠t̵̯̀ ̷̩̈́͊ͅy̸̼͔̍̽ỏ̵̮̯̂ų̴̔!̴̪̀͑ ̸̢̗̏̓Ḧ̶̱́͂å̸̖ͅv̸͈͕̆̎é̴̤̓ ̶̦͋y̷̢͚̎͊ó̶̯̜̈́ǘ̵̞͘ ̶̘̇̌͜p̶̧̊ą̷̤͑͆ű̷͙̟͠s̷͈̅è̴͖̦͑d̷͍̏ ̷͔͗t̴͙̩̆̒o̷͖͝ͅ ̴͖̇t̵̬͇̾ĥ̷̩̦i̸̧͍͂́n̸̢͊k̵̭̒̕ ̸̪̄ă̶̖͝b̶̮́̒ͅơ̶͓̐ų̴͂t̸͕̝̏̚ ̶͓̿Á̴̟k̸̗̚u̶̟̞̒m̶̬͑a̵̼̒͂ ̷̙͕͑́f̶̞̆ŏ̶͍̐ŕ̶͔ ̴͇̐a̴̯̬͂͠ ̷̲̲̓s̸̡̰̊͐é̴̢̺c̴̼̏ọ̷̀n̶̛̟̓d̴̞̊?̵̩͔̐

    Yes, but...I haven't seen her in weeks!

    W̸̲̤͌h̶̻̪̏å̵̰͔͝t̴̚͜ ̷̱̔̍i̸͙͋̍f̷̛̮́ ̸̣̉͆s̷̙̫͗͝h̸̡̙́e̵̙͛ ̵̮̙̄̂w̴̠̃a̷̢̝͐s̴̝͛͠ ̷̨̪͐̕ḓ̵̆e̷͉̊͋a̷̛̫̤ḏ̵̛?̸̪͒͗

    Stop! This isn't real! Akuma's fine!

    S̴̯̀ȯ̴̢̯̑ ̸̰̆̋y̷̹̪̔̈́ȯ̵̥̻ų̷̦̿ ̷̮̉͒͜d̷̙̓o̶̳͐ ̴͎̽̽c̷͖̈́̅ă̷̯r̴̭̒͝e̵̖̓.̵̯͠

    She-

    i̷̡̲͆s̶̩͠ ̵̲͑y̵̝͔̓o̶̲̗̾ù̶̹͉̔r̶̦̞͑ ̵̜͚̾̈́o̴͍̦͝n̸͍̔l̶̻͝ỷ̴̝͆ ̷̩̻͂̓f̵̤̱̂r̷̲̦̕į̶̦̆̆è̶͎̖n̵͇͗̕͜d̸̳̕͝ ̶̟̝̓̉l̸͛͝ͅe̶̝̍f̷͇̀t̸̨̅̊.̵̹̅ ̴͚̚S̸̜̞̈́h̴͕̙̄̕ê̶̠͍̾ ̵̧̝̓̋ĉ̷̯̣ȃ̶̡̯̇r̷̟̓e̶̼̿̍s̶̺̎̒!̷̟͔̎́ ̴͕̹̚A̵͍̍͘r̵̭̹͊e̵̩̜̾͝ ̶̢̲̏̕y̷̰̒̽o̸͈͐͋ǘ̴̝ ̸̜͕̅͗g̴̼͌o̶͍̮̅͝į̴͒n̸̪͋ġ̷̪ ̴̟̓t̸̏͜͝o̶̭̰̍͒ ̴̞͝l̵̼̈̈́ȩ̵̓͒t̶̨͇̅̓ ̵͍́t̶̜̗͒ḧ̸̲́͜͠e̵̡͆̌ ̷̢̈́̑s̶͓̭͑̌t̸̥̩͗͝r̸̛̞͛e̶̡̫͝ş̶̽s̷̩̐͜ ̷̨̿ȍ̸͔̮̅f̵̢̱̈̚ ̴̖̞̌̕ŵ̷̖̦͌a̷̢̭͗r̸̳̾ ̵̜̤̈̂s̸̛͚̤p̸̱̜̌̽l̴̞͑͜į̸͉̃̍t̸̬̫͌ ̸̢̈̊y̷̙͋ó̶͔̏u̸̯̩͒̇ ̵͘͝ͅǟ̶͎̼ṕ̵͔̤̓a̴̛̻̔r̷̡̰͊͐t̵̬̝̒?̴̥͖͗͝

    ...

    T̴̟͛̋͜h̵̺̜͠͝a̶̗̠̽t̸͇̥̑'̶̙̲̅̕s̴͚͊ ̶̰̔͝r̸̼̈̎͜i̶̞͓̽̒g̷̢͓͋h̸̺͌̽t̷̩̪̕,̵͉̃̑ ̸̛̜͋N̴̢̒ḭ̶̓͂l̷̬͔̒̅a̷̲̾̌ͅn̷̡̓͜i̴̻͛..

    Something snapped Nilani out of her thoughts. There was a loud scraping sound of a sword cutting across metal armor.. There was an angry shout and then a loud scream of pain.


  • edited September 2020
    (part 2/2)

    Nilani looked over to the source of the sound. There were eleven people there standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking the blood-tainted river. Two knights, a man and a woman, stood on one side while nine men on horses stood on the other. There were also three people watching the fight. All of them looked hopeless. The one of the two knights was wounded badly. He was bleeding profusely from his face.

    "Let's finish them!" one of the men said. Three of them charged forward to the group.

    The woman stepped forward. She drew her own sword while the man readied himself for another attack. Blades whirled furiously. One person fell off his horse and plummeted to his death. Another man screamed loudly as the woman plunged her blade into his chest. However, they were still outnumbered.

    "For Merdina!" one of the seven remaining men cried as all of them charged forward on their horses.

    Nilani saw a look of understanding pass between the man and woman. The man stepped forward. A dark aura was glowing around him. Nilani knew what was about to happen.

    Cracks started to appear all over the ground. Tendrils of dark energy erupted from those cracks like geysers of destruction, instantly killing the seven men of Merdina.  Nilani noticed cracks forming at her feet as well. This man couldn't control his magic well. There was terror in the bystanders' eyes to. All of them were surrounded by dark energy. They had nowhere to escape.

    "Stop!" Nilani shouted. She launched a golden beam of light towards the man. He quickly deflected Nilani's magic.

    I need to do this fast! If I don't, those people will be killed!

    Nilani cast another spell as she ran forward this time. It slammed the man in the chest, throwing him violently over the cliff.

    Now!

    The spell she cast transformed into a bird of shadow. It swooped down, catching the falling man before he fell into the violent river and delivered him back to the woman. Now, the energy slowly receded back into the ground. The damage was done. Nilani hurried over to the three innocent citizens. Well, two now. One of them had been killed by the energy.

    "Are you two okay?"

    Both of them were crying next to their friend. They were clearly sad, but it seemed like the best thing to say.

    One of them looked at Nilani. "We got into a fight right before this...now she's gone. I'll never be able to make up with her."

    Akuma...

    Nilani composed herself. "Don't you worry. I'm sure she still loved you in her heart."

    The other one looked at Nilani. His eyes were filled with tears. "So, what do we do? The evil abyss destroyed her."

    "May I do something?" Nilani asked tenatively.

    Both of them nodded. Nilani put her hand on the dead girl's chest. She closed her eyes and chanted a few words. Before finishing her spell, she looked at the two friends. "Do you really think the abyss is evil? I beg you to reconsider."

    Nilani finished the spell. A shadowy aura surrounded Nilani and the dead girl.

    "That's abyssal magic! Wh- what are you doing?" the boy shrieked.

    "Freeing her from the vile clutches of this world."

    Suddenly, from the darkness of the shadows, a golden light emerged in the form of the dead girl. It soared gracefully into the air, swirling around her former companions before ascending into the sky as droplets of rain glimmered around her golden light. The shadows then disappeared into the ground, dragging the empty corpse with it. Nilani's work was complete.

    "Thank you," one of them said, "I- I didn't know that the abyss could do this."

    Nilani looked at both of them. "The abyss is a force of balance and Vosanova as decided to abuse it. So many people have. Whenever you think of the abyss remember this. Remember me. Remember your friend. Now, go on. Your friend is free. You are safe. What more can we do? This is a war after all. You lose so many people. All we need to do is keep fighting. I-we must fight against the pendulum of fate."

    Both of them smiled sadly and walked off. Then, Nilani kneeled down into the mud and cried again.

    What can I do? My opponent is not Akuma. Not Aeryn. Not Niran, the abyss, or even the Red Queen. My opponent is none other than the pendulum of fate.

    Nilani saw a temple in the distance. She recognized it. It seemed to be a place she had been to before. She had been here in Ovan Nova before. She had fought here against the unthinkable before. Against Squrturglus. Against the Red Queen. Nilani knew she wasn't here on accident. Fate had brought her here again in the midst of the war. Who was she to fight now?

    Nilani slowly walked over there. The field around it was near empty. There was no abyss. No fighting people.

    Nilani looked over at the large temple. The marble structure shined even in the darkness of the horrid clouds and rain just like golden light amidst the shadows of the abyss. There was something calming about this place. Something that made her feel powerful. Something that made Nilani feel whole. She stepped on its cold steps for the third time.

    However, she felt like she wasn't alone. Nilani looked around. There was someone leaning against the wall. She looked tired. Her hair was messed up and there was some blood on her robes.

    "Naku Tsuki" she heard the girl whisper.

    "Akuma?" Nilani asked.

    The girl looked up and gasped. Akuma tried to say something, but no words would form.

    Finally both of them mustered up the courage to say something. "You never came back," both of them said bitterly.
  • After what felt like an eternity on a cart, the Midnight Troupe finally reached the borders of Ovan Nova, supposedly the safest areas in all of Vosanova from Medirna. Finding a nice cave to take refuge in, Florence and Co, Niran, and Bernadette set up camp and rested for the night. Or at least tried to in the case of Niran, who instead gazed up at the starry night sky, her mind filled with a swirling pool of thoughts and memories.

    “Can’t sleep?” Bernadette, who also lay awake, asked.

    “Yeah. I just, I don’t know how I’m going to live with all these deaths upon my hands. Pan, Graagdord, the urchins, Relvas, Irene, Belisjian. It almost would have been that man as well had you not intervened,” Niran broke her trance from the starlit sky, turning her head to face Bernadette. “And, well, all I can say for now is thank you. Thank you for sticking by me even when I’m at my worst. You’ve meant everything to me.”

    “Aw, don’t worry about it! I’ll always be by your side no matter what, like I promised!” Bernadette replied. “Although it would be nice if you could realize when you were being mean…” She muttered under her breath, looking away from Niran sorrowfully.

    “What? I didn’t quite hear you Bernadette.” Niran asked quizzically. Bernadette buried her face into her hands, avoiding any eye contact with Niran.

    “I… don’t want to talk about it.”

    “Cmon, you can tell me whatever’s on your mind!”

    “I never should’ve said it in the first place.”

    “But I should know what’s hurting you!”

    “Niran! Please!” Bernadette jumped from her seat, staring straight at Niran. “You have your secrets, I have mine. Can we just stop talking about this?”

    Niran almost stood up in indignation. How dare she keep her problems to herself?! I’m her friend for Gods’ sake! However, upon peering into Bernadette’s eyes, Niran saw a deep tang of regret flow within. No good would come from continuing the subject.

    “Yeah, let’s. How about we change the subject?” Niran said.

    “Sounds good. Are you okay talking about the departed?” Bernadette asked carefully. Niran gave a brief thought on it, then slowly nodded. “I think your best bet is to move on. The past is in the past, and dwelling on it will only cause you more grief.”

    “I get that, and to be honest, I don’t wallow incessantly over most of the deaths I’ve caused anymore. But I can’t just seem to let go of two in particular, no matter how hard I try. Graagdord, and… Relvas.”

    “Hey, I never said it was gonna be easy, but we’ll make it through! Whatever we could do to bring them back alive, it would only bring you more turmoil. Graagdord and Relvas would never want to see you suffer more than you already have, right?”

    A deep, male voice interjected into the conversation. It was strangely familiar to Niran, yet new at the same time. “Graagdord is certainly long gone from this world, poor fellow, but what if I told you this: Relvas is still alive.” 

    Niran looked at the person joining the fray. It was the same cloaked man, his face only showing a sly grin underneath the night sky. His pendant glowed violently blue, otherworldly magic seeping into the air. Bernadette gave a look of concern, while Niran’s face only showed pure wrath.

    What.” Niran spat at the man. He looked surprised at Niran’s words, then gave a small chuckle.

    “Wooow, you don’t even have the slightest clue of who I am! And here I thought you were a perceptive one Niran,” The man smirked. Niran grabbed her violin, ready to play the man’s demise, but the man rushed to her with lightning speed, knocking the violin out of her hand. “That’s no way to treat an old friend! Maybe this will give you a better idea of who I am.”

    With a swift motion, the man tore off his necklace and pulled the hood off his face. Any sense of ambiguity was washed away, revealing the man for who he truly was.

    “Malkhan?! What are you doing here?!” Niran exclaimed in shock.

    “Quite simple, really. I’m just here to deliver a message of your fate.”

    “Whatever it is you have to say, I won’t play a part in Cralmarov’s games anymore!”

    “Ohoho, you foolish child. Not even once in my entire lifetime had I considered working for Cralmarov, and I have lived far longer than you could possibly imagine. I merely worked with him. No, my true master is to Septhis, to the Abyss. And my master wants to see you cry no longer…”

    “And how do I know you’re not lying?”

    “Suspicious as always, aren’t you? Perhaps a demonstration is at hand.” Motioning Niran and Bernadette to back away, Malkhan put his hand to his heart, then began to chant in an abyssal language. The air grew deathly cold around him.

  • edited September 2020
    “̷̡͉̞̂̃͘Ḭ̵̈́͐̒ ̷̖̦̠͊͌̀a̵̭̓̀̽m̶̹̙̓ͅ ̵̫̅͋M̷̡̠̔a̷̼͒͘ḷ̸͔̑͐k̵̝͔̑h̶͙͛͘̚͜a̷̤̜̩͗̇͠n̵̻̍̋ ̵̲͝F̷̢̠͛ơ̶͖͇̮̎̿r̸͈͐m̶͔̲͐̅ö̵̢̜́r̴̜͐̌͒ä̴̗̯́,̴͔̜͔̅ ̴͓̩͇́̉͋E̷̛̳͜m̶͎̅̓ḭ̶̬̈́ͅs̶̥͝s̵̛̼̟̐̉a̸͇̐̈́r̶̳̩͙̆̃y̵̲͌ ̴̺̍ö̴̧́͋̑f̷̨͚̹̏ ̷̯͐̓̏t̸͇̗͎̂̓h̸̢͎͕̿̆e̵͉͙͔̔͗̕ ̷̥̓̃ͅA̵̭̻̅̓̓b̶̫͓͠ͅy̷̮̆̊s̸͍͕̞͆s̵͙̿̒́ͅ,̷̠̦͛̎ ̵͇͖̈̕à̸̠ͅn̵̥͐d̶̮̎͜͝ ̵̲͖̫̌͗̋Ẅ̴̱͖̲́́͝i̴̟͑̕͜t̶̙̺̚̚͜n̵̨̲̭̓ë̸͉͖̻š̵͖̼s̶͔͑̒ ̶̠̩́̆t̸͇̰͑o̶̾̕͜ ̴̗͔̞͊t̴̨̗̎̈́͌ḧ̴̖̣̤́̂̆è̷̘̼ ̴̫̽̂͠f̸͓̳͖͐ỉ̷͍͜r̶̥̗̊́͘ͅs̴̩̗̟̃͌t̴͙͉̍̊͘ ̴̜̣̻̓M̵͖͉̳̂̂o̸̡̜͆͜͝k̴̗͉̇̔t̵̬̑̾̌a̵̪͊͆͑r̷̜̤̾a̶̭͋͋c̶̰͕̮̃̐͝t̴̞͉̅ṵ̶̾š̴͔̫͙͝.̶̯̇ ̶͓̒̕͘Ḯ̸̯̥̏ ̷͈͔̲̈́̂a̶̘͊m̷̡̪̈ ̸͚̞̻̊̂m̷̝͈͑̓y̴̨̐̀ ̵͕̈m̷͍̥͝a̶̬̦͍̍̐͘s̶̯͋̉̈́ţ̷̭̾̇̄e̷̹̹̻͂ṟ̶̹̹̊’̵̬̋̍̐ś̴̗̟̩̚ ̶̟̮͚̋̍̕m̷̯̪̭̏̊o̷͔͌s̴̹̝͠t̷̡̬̂̚ ̷̛̯͕̩̏l̶̢̦̻̃ō̵̡̺͖̎̚y̷̳̆́a̵͈͂̆l̵͓̄͆͐ ̷̧̂̾̎s̶̟̏͛̓ë̸̥̝͗r̸̼̽v̷̡͙͇̈́̃a̴̢̘͊̔͗n̷̗͖̊͜ť̵̘,̷̟͕̗͂͌ ̵͔̬̘̓̄s̸͈̩̓̍̍ē̸͕r̴̬̂̕v̶̨̛͓̊i̶̖̮͆̕n̴͔̜̣̆̓̕g̷͔̪̈́ ̷̯̎͑̑h̶̝͈̅͂į̸̦̭̀̔̑m̸̦̪̥̾̈̅ ̴̮̍f̸̬̘̼̈ỏ̸̲̔ͅŗ̴͎̲͘ ̴̟͙͋̇͊͜c̷̜̝͝e̸̠͈̺̓̿̔n̷̬̂͝t̶̟͝ṵ̵̙̜̆r̴̛̩̠ỉ̴̘̫̞ę̵̙̔̌̓s̵̬͠,̶̡͂ ̴̹͍̍̓͠i̷̧͈̅f̶̫̺̈̐͝ ̴̜̾n̶̖̖͛o̴͎͑͘ţ̷̲̫̎̏ ̶̱̝̽m̶͖̤̓͜ǐ̶͎̎̐l̸̮̅̓̒ľ̸̨͈è̵̢͍̮n̷̨͇̻͊̍ṅ̵̥̼̲̌͠i̵͍͎̿̎̈́ą̵̖̥͗.̴̺̈́͌̈ͅ ̷͖̑̈́̿I̴̗͋ ̷̱̝̀͛͋ĥ̸̗̦͚͊ả̸̰̿̃v̶̠̙̀͒e̸̬̍ ̶͕͕̰͂s̶̠̈́̊e̸̻͐̓e̸̥̥̺͛͛ǹ̷̘͉͚ ̷̹̔̏͒c̸̨̘̓̏͌ō̴̤̪u̷̠̮̥̔̀n̷̬̯̩͊͌t̸͙̰͇̾̊l̶̜̎̿̾e̸̯͐s̸̳̱̮̓͠ŝ̸͒ͅ ̸̡̨͉̈̋c̸̨̤̱̀̋i̵̺̹̍v̷͈͓͑ͅi̷̎͑͘ͅl̸̦̈i̴̧͂z̸͚͍̗̽ă̴͔̪ţ̷͖̯̉į̸̝̍o̸͙̞͠ň̷͕̱s̶̺̪̒̏̿ ̸̫̖͆̈́͊r̶͔͓͝i̷̞̗͝s̴̘̗͒ē̸̻̏ ̵̡̯͇̊͊a̵̭̝͊ņ̸̥̙̈́̇d̷̘͋͛̓ ̴̗̦͐̈́̐f̵͎͊a̵̠͖̔̅̏l̷̨̝̏ĺ̶̛͚̜̕,̵̫̜͓̋ ̵̠̖̪͑̌̽m̸̨͎̈a̵̜̅͠ņ̸̗̉y̸̱̹͉̾ ̵̤̏̽̎ő̷̻̆͜f̸͇̾͊̿͜ ̴̯͈̊́͜ẃ̴̛̯̱̋h̸̠̲͊̌ͅȉ̵̤c̶̬̾h̷̪͇̅̄̀ͅ ̶̖̐͝I̴̻͂̚͠ ̵͓̚h̴̙̽̾á̷̛̺̓v̶̢̖̓̊̄ę̶̡̡͐ ̷͙̞̠͆p̷̦̾̄̚l̷̪̼͎̽͝ą̶͇̾͋͂y̷̡̭̗͐ẽ̴͉̹͚͘ḍ̸̢͕̍̀̓ ̸̨̺͚̓̄̌å̸̬̑ ̸͈̲̀h̷̨̞̠̀̾͠a̸̩̟̒n̶̠͋̓d̵̘̫̆̈́ ̸̱͚͆i̴͍̋̉n̶̗̎ ̷͎̗̮̓ṯ̸͑͐̚h̷̜̆̑e̵̥̔ì̸̳̼r̷͎̝͗ ̴̨̱̜̄̕͝d̵͈̹̍̓e̵͕̚m̴͍̻̓̓i̸͛͜s̴̘̦̰̉͝e̶̤̺͕͐̓̋.̸͔̯̄́̈́ͅ ̷͓̯̈̔̽I̷̗̭̟̒͌̀ ̶̯͊̏h̸̢͂̾͐ą̸͍̯̓̅͗v̶͎̈́̑e̷̙̿ ̶̭̐͐͝ͅo̵͖̦̊͋̊ͅr̶̜̍͝c̶̟͕̕ḩ̶̰̖̐e̴͙͎͓̔̚s̵̟̲̃̄͝t̶̬̓r̶̥̻̯̋a̶̹͈͙͊͗́t̵̹͒̊̐e̴͙̪̔d̸͎͔̱̋̉ ̶̞̣̾̉t̴͇̹͚̓͂h̴͈̀̏̕ẹ̶̻̹̎̆̉ ̶͙͂͛͂ḋ̶̦̮̱̀̕ö̴̻͚͈́̒w̷̹͈̎̎̈́n̸͈̠̺̎f̴͔̌̚a̸̤̳͆̑l̷̦̭̾̒͐ḷ̵̜̋͛ ̸̞́͌ǒ̵̖̦̑f̶̖̣̫͌̔̃ ̷̰̞̇F̶̜̔̽͝a̶̭͕͙̐̀͑ľ̸̺̈́ǘ̸̢̦̳̊ṇ̴͌̈́͋,̸̡̦͖͊ ̸̤̝͕̈́̀ḧ̵͕̗̯́̚o̸͆̀ͅm̷̺̫̐e̴͓͚̺͋̍͘ ̵̲̮̬̎ť̵͍̄̍ö̵̡͕́́̈ ̸̮̘̓̚t̸̫͚͙̑̒h̷̯̅̑ë̸̱̩̝̈͝ ̴̼̗̆̋͜f̸̥̻̆ì̷̖̒͠r̷͓̊s̷̱̩̣̎t̷̨̏̎ͅ ̷̘̏́͝K̵̮̅e̵̝͓͗̀v̶͚̋̃̌a̶̺̤͂͌l̷̼̻͐̕͜e̶͚͔̋r̴̛͖̫̝͗͘i̵͈̦̘͘͝õ̶̡͙ǹ̴̟̒̆.̷̦͖̘͋́͂ ̶͎͎̉̌͠Ạ̷͇̯͑ņ̵͔̗͐d̶̟͊̊ ̴̗͌̍w̸̛̯͙̹̓͑i̶̧͆t̸̢̰̿ͅĥ̶̭̩ ̶̡̭̈́͋ẻ̵̖̙̽͝ͅv̷̛̀͜e̸̦̲͐r̶͍̼̘̔y̵͉̥̜̑̚ ̶̬͈̘͌͠w̸̰̖͝a̴̦̾̅͊͜ḵ̶͕̊i̴͍̠̙͑̀̆n̴̜͛g̸͈͇̱̅̌ ̵͎̎̔m̴͎͌o̶̟͌̈m̸̮̝͗̒́é̶͓͈̻͑̎n̷̡̟͋͌͐t̷̰̘͗,̷͓͖̬́͐̃ ̶͕̜̫̈́͒I̷͓̹͎̊ ̸̡̙̯́̃̕g̴̙̽̃u̵̻͕͆i̷̞̖̺͋̿d̸̼͊e̷̜͋̂̓ ̶̩͖̅t̵̥̘̂ḩ̸̛i̵̙̪̿͐͗s̴̖̣̔͗̉ ̷͙̤͐w̵͇̝̍̾͋o̷͓̜̦̒̅̇ŕ̷͎͙̀̊l̶̠̊̄͘d̵̳̀ ̵̢̧̯͋̚͘t̷̢͉͌͊͝ͅǫ̸͗͊̈ ̴͉̥̫͛̕i̸͕̇t̸̡̗́s̷͚͓̏ ̴̟͕̰̒͐̕f̶͈͖̒i̶͍̕n̴̻̯͋̏a̶̢͕͖̕l̵̠͂̍̉͜ ̴̙͚̐b̷̨͌͝l̷͇̺̐͋ị̸̚͝s̷̪̮͈͑́͝ś̶̤.̴̜̏̓ ̵͔̺̃͠T̸̹͠ò̶̰̻̈́ ̷͕̍͋̕M̶̛̳͎͋̄o̶͓̞͊̆͂ḱ̴ͅt̶̰̮̀͘͜ã̴̗͇͝ȓ̶̲͋̚à̷͎ċ̷̲̀̓t̷̮̀̓ŭ̴͎̉s̴̡̡͍̈.̴̖̮̆

    “Now, do you believe me?” The air returned to its usual warmth, if only slightly colder from the influence of the abyss.

    “...Yes…” Niran begrudgingly replied. To her it seemed as though Malkhan was telling the truth. There was no doubt about it. Bernadette, on the other hand, remained suspicious.

    “Good. When Relvas made a distraction for your escape, he had killed quite a few of Cralmarov’s followers... including a decoy of his, before he was finally restrained and taken care of. Greatly angered by Relvas’ actions, the real Cralmarov ordered him to be taken out of Cain’s custody and into his. Ever since then, Relvas has been a slave to Cralmarov’s whims, forced to endure… unspeakable things for his cruel master’s enjoyment,” A seething anger twisted inside Niran’s stomach. “Do you not want to bring Cralmarov to justice for what he has done?”

    Where is he.

    “Ah ah ah! Patience, Niran, I was about to get there. I, myself, in spite of my “infinite” wisdom, do not have any clue where Cralmarov is. But I do know someone who does,” He took a deep breath, then drew upon the abyssal forces to draw a new face. “Although Cralmarov has left Vosanova, he still has many operatives working inside its borders, each one with the knowledge of his whereabouts. One of them is under the care of Lady Miljivan, one of the former hosts of your little Tournament. In fact, Miljivan herself is not too far from here,” He twisted the abyssal energies until they formed a screen, showing the hostess upon an open field with a knight in tow. “But alas! By the time you have reached there, they will be long gone, and you will have no idea where they went! Unless, you have a little bit of help…” Malkhan looked pointedly at the small pouch Niran carried, housing two seeds of abyssal origin. She could feel the seeds shaking with power as they felt her intense rage. Slowly, Niran grabbed a seed and began to put it into her mouth, but was interrupted by Bernadette.

    “Niran, don’t eat it! There has to be another way! I know you care very much about Relvas, but this is going too far!”

    Niran stared coldly at Bernadette, any hint of compassion for her friend erased by the remark. “No. You don’t know how much I care about Relvas. You can’t even begin to comprehend how much I look up to him. How much I love him. And you never will.” 

    Niran swallowed the seed whole, absorbing the entirety of its essence. She could feel her body shifting and morphing into a form that could house its power, becoming an embodiment of the Abyss. She slowly floated into the air, abyssal tendrils wrapping itself around her and becoming like a second skin. It was painful, yes, for the same energies seared her skin and soul with a cold flame, but a far more intense feeling dulled it; that of resentment. Resentment towards the other urchins for their cruelty. Resentment towards Kiserova for pushing her to the gutters. Resentment towards fate and the unfair destiny it gave her. Yet all those combined could not even compare to the ferocity Niran felt towards the man who locked her away, who dashed all her hopes and dreams for his sadistic pleasure. None could compare her rage of the one and only.

    Cralmarov.

    (The Signature Card for Niran! She's not in a good mood right now...)


    W̶̨̝͔̺̰̞͍͔̌̓͒̀̕ͅḨ̶͉̼̲̟̯̖̜̮͂̌̀E̷̛̯̙̬̤̼̓͒͆̓Ŗ̷͍͂̎̒̆̓́̀͘͘͘E̴͎͚͑ ̵̢̢̡̖͇͔͓̈́̃̀I̸̡̛̺̲͉̤̔̎̿̑̋͘S̷̥̞̳͑̏̇͜ ̷̡͎̖̭͎̊S̸̯̳͙͎͋̃̃͛̍̾̍H̷̭̩̓͆̆́̍̇͊̐̚͜Ḝ̸̻̙̰̳̣̱̗̐͆̚͜ͅ.̵̨̪̻̜͚͇̤͓͛́̓” Niran demanded, her voice reverberating ominously throughout the cave. Her words were muddled with the taint of the Abyss, forming the same dark speech Malkhan spoke, if not even more corrupted. Her presence chilled everything around her to the bone, causing the stone in the cave to grow colder than ice. However, her gaze was anything but. It burned with a white-hot passion, maddeningly craving to seek vengeance against the man responsible for her suffering. Malkhan remained unfazed, and pointed a finger in a direction outside the cave.

    “Continue on straight until you see a marble structure. That is where your target lies.” He answered calmly. Without a word, Niran played her violin, commanding the abyssal forces to fly her through the midnight sky. She rushed by Bernadette, who watched mournfully as her friend vanished into the horizon, smoke-like tears dissipating into a shadowy like substance. A similar rage glimmered in Bernadette’s eyes, yet it was far more collected than the fury Niran expressed. She turned around to face Malkhan, the one whom she felt a seething hatred towards.

  • edited September 2020

    “What are you playing at here, Malkhan,” Bernadette spat. “You are not one to reveal themself and spout information like that, especially not when so close to someone who could genuinely hurt you.” She glanced at Roshira, who was in a fitful sleep much like the rest of the troupe. Malkhan’s eyes widened with glee, a sinister grin forming on his lips. 

    “Ah, I’m so glad you finally noticed! I may prefer to stick to the shadows unlike a certain compatriot of mine, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy people finally figuring out the schemes I laid out for them. I am not without my personal desires as well, hmm, what was it again?” Malkhan went deeply into thought. “Ah! That’s right! You go by Bernadette now. Of course, it should be obvious to anyone who has paid attention to what I had in store for your ‘friend,' but you won’t be able to stop it anyway. No amount of convincing will cause her to stray off the path she set in stone. You can try, but you will only make a fool of yourself. After all, you’re just a shadow compared to Niran.”

    Bernadette bit her lip at the remark, and looked away from Malkhan. He smirked, then summoned a black portal formed out of the Abyss.

    “Well, I quite enjoyed our talk, but I must bid thee farewell. It will be interesting to see how this all plays out in the end. For now… perhaps you should do something about Niran’s abandoned friends.” 

    Within mere moments, Malkhan vanished into the dark portal, disappearing completely from sight. All that remained of him was a mark of abyssal script magically inscribed into the stone floor. Bernadette looked away, not wanting to think anymore about that accursed man. Instead she peered outside the cave entrance, observing all the decay Niran caused to the land as she flew over it. The piercing words Niran said struck Bernadette in the core over and over, filling her with countless grief… and doubt. Doubt plagued her mind, wondering whether or not she should be friends with the girl who hurt her time and time again.

    Surely Niran didn’t mean any of those things she said…

    Right?


    (And that concludes my bit before the semifinal! I kind of set up a little hook into Aeryn and Niran's fight, if you are okay with that @CassZero . If not I can always change it later. Also if you didn't see the signature card already, it's in the second part (the big card))

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