Some may find the rolling of a cart along a dirt road to provide a sort of comforting sway, like a boat in water or a baby's crib. But there was no such solace for Damien. Being in such close quarters with other combatants meant Rugal was positively burning with anticipation, and it was taking all of Damien's willpower to keep the bloodthirsty spirit quelled. Trying to distract himself from the stress, he looked at the combatants he shared the cart with. Sturgar looked to be the most immediate danger, with his impressive body and arsenal. He was surely a well trained and honed combatant, someone Damien would never have a hope of taking on. It's because you're a coward, Damien.
The next person in the cart was an elf who carried themselves with an air of experience. Damien himself wasn't an experienced fighter, and he had no knowledge of Rugal's methods or if they'd be effective against anyone armed with a weapon and strategy. Damien continued to hold his tongue. Your fear is palpable, Damien.
As for the last figure, Damien wasn't sure what to make of them. It was a creature of small stature, the likes of which he'd never seen, and frankly it looked to him like it'd wandered out of a fairy tale. It even almost looked harmless. But Damien knew better. If it was here, it was dangerous, and he'd need to be careful. Paranoia is unbecoming of you, Damien. Why don't you let me handle this?
Damien's hands immediately went the sides of his head, grimacing as he bent over in his seat. Not here, not now. There would be a time for this, and it wasn't now. Who knows what Rugal would do? Get Damien killed, probably. After several long painful minutes of this, the mental assault halts, and Damien lets out an unsteady exhale, sweating as he sat back up straight in his seat.
Cypherous tried to make himself comfortable in the wagon. He looked around the wooden cart, observing the other champions. Sitting beside him was a vampire with pale skin and long red hair. Behind him was a female necromancer in dark robes and an armored knight. Beside them was a horned woman whom Cypherous assumed was some sort of demon.
Suddenly, the vampire turned towards him and spoke.
"Excuse me, you with the magical machine glove. Hate being the one to interrupt this quiet ride in the woods sitting in sheep crap," The vampire, who's name was Nilfi, began. "But I couldn't help but notice you don't seem very, oh how should I say, fleshy? Is your physiology comprised entirety of compressed magical essence?"
Cypherous was silent for a bit, then responded.
"On my home world of Kaladesh, the environment is filled with the magical energy known as aether. I am an aetherborn. I am a being made entirely of aether. I have no flesh or organs."
"Hmm. Very interesting." The vampire turned away.
This place known as Avelaide was so different from Kaladesh, so unfamiliar. It was so... natural. On Kaladesh, the world was covered in large cities, filled with buildings and inventions. On Avelaide, there was much less of that. You could go for hours without seeing a single person.
Arha couldn't help but wonder why the tournament knight (Killian, she believed he introduced himself as) had said that people would want to fight any of the contestants. Yes, there might be a feeling of jealousy among some, and others might want to find a way into the tournament, but the contestants had been chosen to fight for a reason. The elf doubted the average citizen could stand much of a chance against any of the contestants.
Well, Arha thought, eyeing the other contestants in the wagon, there could be a sliding scale on that.
She doubted anyone would be brave enough to try and attack the metal lizard-man. She doubted she would be able to do much to him, even if she did try to petrify him. The little one, the kobold, was much smaller, but Arha got the sense that there was something more to him It was a feeling more than anything, but Arha trusted her feelings enough to be at least polite with the kobold if they talked. The human looked stressed, holding his head in his hands as he tried to calm down.
Maybe he had the most sense among them, if not skill.
Tournament of Champions selections made, is bribery possible?
Very recently, the 16 competitors for the Tournament have been chosen. Among the competitors are talented young mages and warriors, from all around Avelaide. However, possibly he most surprising choice from among them is Conscience Reveera, daughter of the incredibly successful merchant family Reveera. After acquiring interviews from people she grew up with (full transcripts page 4), we have ascertained that she is in no way fit for the tournament. She has, according to our sources, shown no magical aptitude, nor any combat ability. When faced with the murder of an old friend in the city, she burst into tears, showing complete emotional weakness. So, the real question we all must ask, have the un-bribable judges been bribed? More on this, page 4.
The Shadow Fox Strikes Again!
Last night, the Shadow Fox, an urban robber, struck the manor house of the Argivald house, leaving behind his trademark letter, which contains such scandalous information like an affair between two prominent nobles, Aran Harvole and Elise Arakova. This man also stole the Argivald House heirloom, the skull of their progenitor. The Shadow Fox has never been caught, and more strangely, never been seen either. More about this man’s daring heists on page 7!
The Lisakdonia Confessional (Readers: ~1,000)
Is Reveera what she seems, or something more?
As of two days ago, 16 competitors for the Tournament of Champions were chosen. In these prestigious ranks are those from all around, and one rather close to home: Conscience Reveera. This girl is heir to the Reveera Merchant Company, and one would think to see her showing up at balls and parties all around Eviera. One would not expect her to enter the Tournament of Champions. However, she may not be what she seems. I, your humble writer, believe she is much more. The recent murder of one of her friends, just after she left him, would not seem suspicious, since she appears a weakling, obviously unable to murder a grown man. However, as one of my sources says, this man was unable to be resurrected, his soul supposedly gone. This is obviously not a normal murder, as the recent spree in the Upper City leaves people dead, not gone. Now, still, you, the reader, may ask how she was able to disguise her skills through her childhood. As the daughter of a merchant however, that seems quite easy, with the amount of time spent sequestered away. I would bring all of this to a conclusion, and I, Nathaniel Greypoint, your humble writer, believe she is much more than you would see at first glance. It comes as no surprise she would make it into the tournament, as her skills must be truly extraordinary based on all the evidence I have compiled…. (more on page 5).
Standing amongst the 15 other competitors, outside the hall where they had just been chosen. Conscience sighed, looking each of them over. Most of them seemed easy to beat however, a few looked threatening. That cat person seemed, not threatening per se, but someone that would be a pain to fight. As for that emo teenage boy, Lyuben she thought it was, seemed powerful, but didn’t seem to have much control. The black-clad witch, Emilia she was quite sure,
“When are they letting us out, again?” Conscience was tired of waiting.
“I have no idea,” said the black clad girl standing next to her. “It’s Imilia. You’re Conscience, right?” She turned to look at her, smiling slightly, with her hand outstretched. Immediately suspicious, since she had seen this girl act very differently toward others, she shook the hand offered.
“You’re a witch, right?” She smirked.
“Kind of.” No other answer was given. “Lovely dress you have there.”
“Let’s just cut to the chase. I just saw you run that other boy off, so why are you being so nice to me? You after my money or my secrets?” She smiled, twisting a strand of magic to measure her response.
Her response was immediate. She twisted her hand, stopping the tendril where it was, in-between them, with some strange magic.
“Nothing really. I just happen to find you interesting. You’re the only contestant here that might be able to challenge me, at least, on an equal playing field. Might as well stick close to you,” she said, pretending as if nothing had happened.
“Your cute. You think you could beat me?” Conscience retracted the strand, and turned slightly. “I guess I’ll see you around…Imilia.” Spinning fully, and walking away, she headed away from the main group, pulling a quill and a piece of paper from her purse. Before she could begin writing, Arvell came up to her.
“Hey, you,” he began. “Why are you even here? You obviously stand no chance against me, let alone anyone else.”
“It really shows that you are absolutely incompetent, you know.” Sighing, she walked away, leaving him spluttering behind her. Finding a table, she called one of her servants over after writing a short note down on the piece of paper and folding it.
“Hey, got a job for you.” This servant looked awed to be talking to her.
“Y-y-yeah?” He was obviously extremely nervous.
“Deliver this to one miss Tresa Hawthorne. Tell her it’s about the Shadow Fox.”
Lyuben sat down on the dirty white sheets of the old bed in his room. All the curtains were closed and the room was pitch black except for a small lantern that glowed like a single firefly in the vast night sky. The darkness was comforting for him. It allowed him to feel safe. To feel alone.
There was a loud knock on the door.
“Now, who could that be?”
Lyuben cautiously opened the door, allowing a crack of sunlight to flow into the otherwise dark room. In front of him, he saw Ayden, again. Lyuben could feel a tint of pink appear on his otherwise pale cheeks.
“Lyuben, right?” Ayden asked politely.
“Um, yeah…”
“Judge Gaspar wants all the champions to meet in the town square to travel to the tournament's actual location.”
“Like, now?”
“Yeah,” he replied as Lyuben clumsily gathered his few belongings: Bright blue silk pajamas, eleven gold coins, a dim lamp, and his precious rose, the only reminder of his dead boyfriend. As Lyuben was about to leave, he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.
“Congrats, by the way, on making it into the tournament,” Ayden smiled.
Lyuben didn’t know how to respond. He smiled back awkwardly and ran off. In the town square, Lyuben found the fifteen other contestants lined up in front of four wagons. Or really just cages on wheels.
We’re not zoo animals are we?
Lyuben was put in a cage at the back along with a blind musician, some old prankster, and a girl that looked about Lyuben’s age. From her looks, Lyuben could tell she was from a wealthy family like him.
Most of the ride was silent. Lyuben was particularly freaked out by the old prankster, so he kept himself as far away from it as possible.
Maybe I should talk to that girl? She seems like she might know things.
“Hey,” Lyuben said as he tapped the girl on her shoulder, “What’s your name?”
The girl, who was previously staring outside the wagon stared at Lyuben with disgust. She looked Lyuben up and down like one would towards an animal.
“Conscience Reveera,” she replied, annoyed.
Rich kids...wait...I am a rich kid...well, not anymore.
Lyuben chuckled sadly to himself. He pulled out the beautiful rose from within his robes. Lyuben turned it over in his hands and stared at it for a minute before returning it to his left pocket. Oddly enough, the rich girl was watching Lyuben carefully.
“That rose,” she inquired, “Where’d you get it?”
Lyuben looked offended. “That’s none of your business. Why?”
“I know magic when I see it, and that rose carries lots of dark magic.”
“That’s stupid. It’s just a rose,” Lyuben retorted, “See?”
He pulled the rose out of his pocket. Lyuben looked at it more closely. He didn’t feel any traces of magic in the rose. He gave Conscience a weird look. Lyuben could see the confusion behind Conscience’s cold eyes. Lyuben pocketed the rose again, and scooted away from the teenage girl. She didn’t seem all that trustworthy to Lyuben anyways.
Lyuben looked out to the wagon in front of him. In there, a particular figure caught his eye. There was a young woman, only slightly older than him and the Conscience, that looked sweet yet incredibly cold at the same time. Bittersweet, one might say. Lyuben could feel the powerful magic that she could wield too. They made eye contact for a moment, but Lyuben looked away. He couldn’t trust her, but Lyuben wanted to know more.
-----
Cecilia, Ryan, and Erin approached Ayden as he returned to his house early after work.
“Hey, do you know where Lyuben went?” Cecilia asked Ayden.
“The guy in the black robes? Yeah. Why?”
“Just because,” Cecilia said. She had a wicked smile plastered on her face.
Ayden stared off into the distance where the wagon had disappeared, then back at the trio in front of him. He could sense something was off.
“I- I don’t know where he is.”
“I see,” Cecilia replied, “That’s a shame.”
They walked off.
“Did you see where he was looking?” Ryan whispered.
“Yeah. That way,” Erin pointed, “And remember, we can’t let the tournament guards see us. Lyuben’s hurting, and we need to take him back while the emotions are still fresh.”
Ayden watched the three odd characters walk off. “Who is this Lyuben? And what do they want from him?”
Sturgar sat in the carriage, immobile. As it trundled along the bumpy road, he sat straight-backed, staring right ahead. Sensing the tension in the wagon, he slowly turned his head, quietly observing each other contender.
He first looked at the human. The man was sweating, bent over and clutching his head. Hmm, thought Sturgar. This one looks sick already. How on earth did he manage to get this far, much less sign up for such an event? Desperate for money, fame, or attention? Perhaps a glorious death? He shook his head. Never underestimate an opponent. That was the first lesson he'd learned. Perhaps this man was hiding something. He'd have to pay close attention to this one.
Next, he turned his attention to the small, reptilian creature sitting on the bench. What on earth was it? Not exactly a goblin. Definitely not a halfling or gnome. A kobold? Yes, that was it. Sturgar smiled inwardly. Know your enemy was the second lesson he'd learned. Knowledge is power, and power is victory. He stared at the small creature. So strange, he mused. It must have come from very far away. This one would be interesting to watch.
Finally, he turned his steady gaze to the last person in the carriage. An elf, it seemed. He noticed she had quickly sized him up earlier. Interesting. This one seems confident enough, I wonder if she knows something I don't. She looked fairly normal, as you could expect a knight to. Did she possess hidden abilities? Magic, perhaps. She worried him the most. Perhaps he should be friendly to her. Not easy, given his inability to speak. Still, it never hurt to be nice. After, the third lesson he'd ever learned was keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
While the journey ahead was long and he gained no interest from the others in his wagon, The Soundweaver had endured a lifetime of journey accompanied only by the song he wove. He strummed a quiet, yet calming tune to accompany the journey and to take stock of the people around him - while he knew the names of those he traveled with, he wished to learn of their natures. A single layer of song revealed the strength of the souls in each wagon. He added a second layer to search deeper within those closer to him: a sorrowful soul, filled with longing and pain and... something else. The next was an arrogant soul, but perhaps rightfully so - magic and guile emanated from it. Finally, a malign and chaotic being, tainted with betrayal and immortal death.
He heard Lyuben attempting conversation with Conscience to no avail, but no further attempt at dialogue was made. In order to bring this audience together, he would need a stronger song. Smiling, his third layer expanded his song to the whole party, strumming the feelings of all travelling to Werther Fortress.
We were traveling on the road which was leading us out of the forest. It's been about an hour since the city disappeared behind us. I heard the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, birds of spring singing in the distance, the Soundweaver's music, and how the contestants sometimes shared a word or two with each other. All this was accompanied and outnumbered by the sound of constant walking steps of our horses and the rolling of numerous wooden wheels, which carried the most important individuals of this group. I was riding next to the caged wagons, and I avoided looking into them, for I didn't want to meet the eyes of those who were upset for being put into animal cages right after my speech. The feeling of embarrassment still warmed my face, so I kept watching the horizon and the road ahead. Thanks to you, cheapskate. Eventually, fewer trees stood next to the road and a cold wind greeted us as we arrived to a plain of green grass and yellow dandelion flowers. We could clearly see the eastern mountain peaks bathing in sunlight and the morning mist, which shrouded their feet.
Art: Johannes K. Roots
But while others enjoyed the scenery, I felt something from somewhere nearby, and looked around. Then the clouds covered the sun, and silence surrounded us. The air felt colder than before, and one of the riding guards noticed my sudden alertness. "What is it, Sir?" The man asked as he fastened his horse's pace until he was right next to my Rusty. I didn't answer until I saw many birds flying away from the dark woods in the distance in scattered directions.
"Stop the caravan," I told him, still watching the woods. Rusty and the other horses had become nervous. "Tell everyone to stop now!"
When the guard saw the look on my face, he rode towards the leading guards while shouting "Stop the caravan! Stop the caravan!" Each rider pulled reins, and the horses stopped. Soundweaver stopped playing with his lute, other contestants looked outside of their cages, and the sleeping ones opened their eyes. Judge Gaspar opened the carriage door, looked around, then at us while his other foot was standing on a carriage step right below the door.
"Why did we stop?" He asked with even more coarser voice than usually. The guard may have awakened him from a short nap. I rode right next to the guard and the judge, and took a deep breath.
"Akon." Everyone who heard me say that suddenly looked at me, even the hooded carriage rider. Then the Judge looked into the woods as well. Treetops swayed one at a time, as if something bumped into them while also moving closer to the edge of the plain. Wrinkles deepened in Gaspar's forehead.
"Prepare for battle," the Judge said in a low voice as he stepped outside the carriage.
"Akon!" I shouted and rode around everyone. "Akon approaching from the east! Get off of your horses and prepare for an attack!" The guards were dismounting, but I pointed my hand at two of them. "Except you two! You follow me!" The others grabbed their halberds and greatshields, then walked into a defensive formation right next to the caged wagons and the carriage. Me and two other guards rode our horses to the field in front of them.
"Shouldn't we release the contestants?" One of the riding guards asked.
"Only if I tell you to," I said as we stopped over ten meters away from the wagons and the other guards. I gestured at them to stay right in front of the wagons. Then we watched as the creature moving in the woods was approaching the plain. It emerged from the shadows of the trees, then it stopped, standing on all fours. It was huge, completely covered in black, dripping ooze. Its body was muscular, and its eyeless head was reminiscent of a reptile. Multiple tentacles of different sizes dangled from its back, and they writhed as the monster roared at us in slimy, otherworldly voice. "Led' Vegrin," I shouted as the wind grew more powerful.
"Led' Vegrin," the guards next to me shouted. Others behind us repeated. It was a vengeful, possibly the same one which the old farmer had seen earlier that day. And only then did I find it, when we were escorting the contestants. Just my luck. I grabbed the hilt of my greatsword, which was hanging on my back. As I unsheathed it slowly, its blade reflected the faint light of the cloud-covered sun. Then me and the two guards slowly rode towards the dark monstrosity.
"Flank it, and keep it in its place as I cut it down. Don't let it approach the wagons. We need to kill it quickly."
"Yes, Sir," both men shouted and raised their halberds. The beast started moving towards us, first slowly, but then it gained more speed while leaving behind a trail of black ooze. The guards' horses galloped, and they swung their halberds at the creature's front legs at the same time as they passed it, making it fall onto the ground face first. When I charged Rusty at the beast with my weapon ready, it quickly stood up and flailed its right leg at us. I deflected the blow with the greatsword, then slashed the beast's torso within the same second. Black smoke emerged from the large wound as the monster roared. Enraged, it leaped and flailed both of its front legs at me. Rusty easily dodged the attacks by moving aside. Then the guards charged at the beast from behind, slashing its back in unison while passing us once again. But they couldn't pull the halberds away, since the tentacles quickly entangled around the weapons. This made the soldiers fall onto the ground while their horses kept galloping away. The monster grabbed one of the prone guards on its right side, then threw the screaming man at Rusty. My horse couldn't dodge fast enough, and the heavily armored soldier crashed into Rusty's right thigh while neighing in pain, but he somehow managed to keep his balance. He didn't fall onto the ground like the unfortunate guard. But thanks to the injury, Rusty lost some of its speed. None of us could attack the monster on that moment, so it freely charged towards the other soldiers and the wagons. Even though the halberds were firmly sticking out of its back, the creature seemed eager to crash through the guards just to get its hands on the contestants.
"No, you won't," I shouted while gritting my teeth. I encouraged Rusty to go after the beast. It neighed, then started to gain speed during its gallop, slowly approaching the rushing monster. My heart beat faster and my vision was only a red circle, which was focused on the dark creature. It was no surprise that I didn't notice a lone rider, who was riding his horse towards us from the forest's shadows until one of the guards shouted a warning. The hooded rider unsheathed his longsword, stood up on his saddle, then jumped onto the monster while thrusting his sword horizontally through the beast's head. The creature crashed onto the ground, its massive body sliding a few meters until it stopped right in front of the guards. They still kept their greatshields and halberds ready, but this time they pointed the weapons at the mysterious rider, who had fallen onto a flower bed. After standing up, he was busy pulling his sword from the slain creature's head. With a grunt and his other foot on the creature's head, he pulled the sword off while black liquid flew in a wide arc onto the grass. I calmed down once I recognized the hooded man, dismounted from Rusty, then walked towards him. Without caring about the guards, he turned to look at me. A wide grin shined under his hood.
"Well if it isn't the most annoying hunter knight in Eviera," he shouted as he approached me with outstretched arms. "You still haven't found a ditch for yourself to die in?"
"You won't get rid of me that easily! Come here, you bloody bastard," I laughed, then we hugged each other for a few seconds while patting each other's backs with our left hands, since we were still holding our weapons in right hands. The guards lowered their halberds, then some of them hurried to help the fallen soldiers while others surrounded the dead beast, which had begun to rot quickly while emitting thick black smoke.
"It's so good to see you, old friend," the assassin said in a joyful tone. "How long has it been? Half a year?"
"Who is this man?" Judge Gaspar asked, who was suddenly standing right next to us. The rider took off his hood, revealing his brown, messy hair and the black marks on his face.
"Excuse me," he said as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead with his left hand's sleeve, then he quickly swung his longsword to the side, causing the black blood to splatter from the sword onto the grass before he sheathed it and offered his right hand to the judge. "I am Rodolf, Blade of Champions. I think we have met once or twice years ago, Judge Gaspar."
"Yes, I think we have," the Judge smirked and shook the assassin's hand. "Did someone send you to come here, or is this just a mere coincidence?"
"I got word from the capital. They asked me to help you with the best of my skills. It was sheer luck that I managed to come here before this damn beast got the chance to kill all contestants! How are we supposed to have a tournament if everyone is mangled all over the field? Hahahaha!"
"I was about to swing the final blow onto the beast before you killed it right in front of me," I said to my smug friend while cleaning my greatsword from blood. Judge Gaspar snorted, then a tournament guard approached him.
"One of the guards broke his left arm. The other one is fine, and so are their horses."
"Treat his arm. If he can't ride his horse, bring him to the carriage. We must continue our journey to the fortress as soon as possible. The healers will take care of him once we get there."
"Yes, your honor," the guard said while saluting, then he ran back to the field. Judge Gaspar walked back to the carriage, and Rodolf mounted onto his horse.
"Come on, get back onto your horses so we can keep going," the assassin shouted while riding around. "We can't stay here for the whole day!"
I sheathed my greatsword, then I approached Rusty and put my hands onto his head. After stroking it for a moment, I inspected his body. "You'll have a nasty bruise on your right thigh, but I think you'll be fine. Isn't that right, buddy?" He answered by pushing my right shoulder with his snout. Then I mounted onto him and looked around. The clouds had revealed the sun once again, and the abyss beast had completely turned into smoke, which the wind had blown away, leaving behind only withered grass and flowers. The injured guard was back on his horse. His left gauntlet was removed and his left arm was resting on a white sling. In a moment, everyone was ready, and the wagons moved again. Rodolf rode his horse right next to mine.
"Do you think that we will be attacked again?"
"I'm afraid so, Rodolf. Maybe not today, but who knows what the following weeks will throw at us. After all, this is just the beginning."
Chapter three (Tournament) - An Interesting Occurrence
To say Arn was not impressed would be an understatement, first a rich host of tournaments could not afford carriages to deliver his visitors in safety (at least the frail ones that is), then the knight Killian who he had build up could not manage to take down a creature the mere size of a large boar. Disappointment could not begin to describe the level of second hand embarrassment Arn felt for Killian for Arn had seen boars mightier than that and the only one he ever had trouble with was Klyox who was known as a plane-shatteror and its pesky courtier.
Arn was even further amused by how much he expected from Killian who in a moment of weakness had to be saved by his now more slightly intriguing friend who had to come and help him slaughter that magnificent creature. Had this been the old forests of Eldrine, none of these weaklings would have survived, they relied on their tools too much and placed their life on armor alone whilst getting their work done, rather than using them in tandence with their dexterity, cunning, and agility to outmaneuver and disarm threats but then again Arn had never fought one of these monstrosities before so he couldn't really have a say on how to handle them, perhaps he would have done better, perhaps at his worst he would have had a few close calls.
Arn did however get some mediocre entertainment from the fight as the ace of this battle became the jester and as he the jester became the ace. Arn laughed at the thought of being protected by these buffoons all the while coming into the age-old conclusion that in nature the strong thrive and the weak get deprived. It was all to clear to Arn that from now on, he would have to be ready to defend himself and his prey, after all, a hunter can't have the thrill of the hunt stolen from them, a hunters claim is always absolute.
Snapping out of his inner amusement did made him realize something interesting about that beautiful creature, It reeked of a special kind of energy, one that was almost palatable, one that Arn enjoyed very much. Could that energy have been the source of that creatures power? Arn decided to make note and keep track of that for later.
There was a pleasant strangeness, living outside of life's patterns. Still awoken by the rise of the sun and tolling of bells, Kaigan would get out of bed prepared for another day of training, hauling wood and rocks to fix the constantly crumbling keep, and instead be pleasantly surprised. Perhaps there was a bird at his window, reminding him that he wasn't underground and wouldn't have to toil all day. Or perhaps it was that there was water to bathe in. Or maybe the curious aroma of refuse and rot that wasn't home here, but in a swamp that would reel him towards the remembrance that he wasn't here to work, but to contest.
If nothing else did it, it was always the medallion. This medallion was only worn by one other person; Rograhk, Voice of Prossh, when he was overthrowing his father's despotic and blasphemous rule. It meant that he was, first and foremost, Prossh's champion in these affairs. Such honor, such weight. The days that that fact woke him up were worse. Nothing much seemed to go wrong; they were just generally more despondent. Nothing but time is a heavy weight.
Finally, on the ninth day, something happened to break him out of his cycle. After getting up and washing, Kaigan realized it was later than his normal wake up. Normally he had time to go out and practice his forms with his spear and then come back in for a breakfast, however today he would have to choose. Deciding to train over eat, he went down and past the busy entrance room to the courtyard in the back.
As the spear swished through the beams of sunlight peeking through the rooftops and chimneys, the day started around him. People left the inn, going about their work. Some took their animals from the stables, heading off on their further journeys. Others headed in to market, trying to sell wares. All people, all with separate lives.
As Kaigan was about to head inside, finished with his routine, he saw a man dashing towards the inn from a distance. Panting, the man, a courier apparently, came into the yard.
"Are you Kaigan?"
Kaigan nodded.
"Are you ok?" he asked, worried. The runner was still panting.
"I've been looking for you all over! You got in! I don't know where your letter of acceptance went, but you're late for the sendoff! Get everything you need and then come with me!"
Alarmed and exited, Kaigan ran inside, upstairs, and grabbed all of his baggage. He had paid the innkeep for a fortnight, but it'd take too long to get a refund for the other days... Oh well. The innkeep had said it was a steal anyway; this was probably just the fair price. Dashing down, he tossed a farewell to the assembly, getting a couple of laughs in the process.
The runner was standing where he had been, not winded anymore. Kaigen was laden a bit, but he was able to keep up as they sprinted towards the spot where the rest of the people were being kept. Only three minutes later, they were paraded out.
Kaigan was thrilled at the rides. They were huge! And he'd get to hang out with the other competitors! And see everything! Who cared about a little stench? The city smelled pretty awful too. As he was directed to the first wagon, he was smiling. Everyone here seemed to be really cool! And although there were some other cool dudes in the other carts, especially the cat and the leather person, he got to chill with a... a uh... suit of armor? He resolved to ask for clarification later. He still hadn't done his meditations yet; that was the first on the list of things to do.
He found a nice corner and wrappe his tail around a bar. Holding his spear lengthwise across his lap, he went into a calm trance...
Well. Calm until the wind changed. Something was off. A powerful presence it seemed. His eyes popped open, and he sprang to his feet. Just then he heard the knight guarding them give the orders to stop the caravan, and gave the call "Akon". He wasn't sure what it meant, but it didn't sound nice. If things came down to a fight, he reasoned, this sort of cart made sense. Easy to fight out of, hard to break into unless you're small.
And oh boy the monster was big! Before Kaigan could see it, he could see the trees shaking and swaying as the large creature bore down on the team of soldiers. At first, he was clenched. The beast was lowly, and dumb for sure, but its size made up for that in it's aggressive power. The soldiers seemed to be toys to it almost, their weapons seeming to only hinder it slightly.
However, even their lowly blows worked against it, and watching it play out, respect for the teamwork of the group was palpable. As the new rider finished off the beast, Kaigan relaxed and sat back down. His meditation was over, and he was now interested in getting to know everyone. The armor is kind of intimidating, but perhaps one of the other two? He decided to start intruductions between himself and the other spear wielder...
@SpellPiper2213 1. It looked like a spear in the art, sorry if it's something else. 2. can we do something on discord? I find it easier than on the forums. Then one of us writes it out.)
As the cart trundled slowly down the road, Imilia sat on her trunk, trying her best to repair one of Sim's wires. As she did so, she took the time to get better looks at the other competitors in her cart. She was satisfied with her analysis of the young man and the cat, and turned her gaze toward the older man in the robes. As she looked, she noticed something odd, mostly hidden beneath the robes. As she partially cast her unobtrusiveness aside in order to get a better look, she found herself making eye contact with the old man himself. The corners of his eyes wrinkled in a soft smile as he noticed.
“If you stare any harder you’ll probably burn a hole straight through me.”
Imilia's hand twitched as the man's voice broke her concentration, and she bent the marionette wire she was trying to replace. She played it off with a light laugh.
"You certainly look the part of a wizard, but you're no journeymage. What's called you here, teacher?"
"The same thing that's called us all, I suppose - curiosity. A hunger for the unknown." He glanced wistfully out at the passing scenery and grinned. "The potential for better pay than that of an academy instructor." Imilia was skeptical. Surely money wasn't the only thing on this old man's mind?
"Then we're both searchers, you and I, but we're magic users as well. We two know more about magic than anyone else here. What, then, do you stand to learn? Or are you instead looking for something more... tangible?"
"Just because we're accomplished much doesn't mean that we've attained. There are many stones yet to be turned, for each of us I'd wager." He's dodging the question. Interesting, Imilia thought
"Turn one stone and you topple the cairn." Imilia smirked. "Knowledge comes not from simply searching, but action as well. I seek to know what reactions await me, but you do not. Do you seek an action to take, then?"
"There is value in proaction of course, but I've found that there is great value in patience and observation. Only in the market do the wise wish they had acted more quickly." And which market passed you by, old man?
"So observation is your goal? Then tell me, teacher, have you ever experienced the magics taught at Baltenainne and Balantoinne?"
The old man raised his eyebrows and coughed into his hand. "Well, er, that is to say... names haven't always been my strong suit."
Imilia smiled. I'll need to be careful not to show my true abilities until I need to, Imilia thought. If it's too impressive enough, then I may be deemed a threat to be removed. But if it's not impressive enough, the others will think me weak. Damn these balancing acts.
"Then perhaps I shall give a demonstration," Imilia said. After locating a piece of chalk, she drew a black sigil in the air. Anyone familiar would know it only as a basic conjuring sigil, but she hoped it looked impressive enough to pass for something more applicable. Adding the marks for water and fire, she tapped the sigil and leeched the energy into her hand, leaving the sigil dissolving into dust and her with a steaming ball of dark boiling water, perfectly balanced in her palm. "That's just a basic offensive sigil of course, I'm too tired to create anything more."
The old man laughed, clapping politely. "Delightful! It's been many years since I've seen sigil-based casting like that. It's so delicate, like a dance," he mused as he mimed the motions. "You said you learned these from Balten- something?" Tch, who is this man? Imilia thought, incredulous. Clearly a caster, but hasn't heard of Baltenainne? The fool will know soon enough...
"Oh yes, of course," Imilia said. "On that note, I should probably introduce myself. Imilia Haas, 3rd year magic theory student and Junior Consul at College Baltenainne, sister college of College Balantoinne, the most prestigious magic academies in all of Loenmeira."
"Well met indeed," the old man bowed as much as the rocking wagon allowed for. "You may call me Hadid. I am professor emeritus of Spellcraft and Practical Experimentation at Scryptorum Academy. It's just outside of Seastnan here." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Though clearly it's not as prestigious as your College."
"Ah, yes, I know well of Scryptorum. I travelled there for a semester as part of my first-year Journeymage Expedition. It was... a new experience, to be sure. Somewhat less... orderly... than Baltenainne, if you'll excuse my rudeness. I believed I signed up for Introduction to Contemporary Magic Theory instead of Practical Experimentation. Shame I did, too. I'm sure even you'd agree that Professor Reylina is quite... ornery on some occasions."
"She can be a handful at times. Though in fairness, spending the day sitting in the stacks thinking about your craft rather than doing it can make one a bit..." Hadid whistled and twirled a finger around his temple. Folding his hands, he leaned forward conspiratorially. "So, a third-year student from an elite school entering an even more elite tournament. Is this part of your coursework or is there something more grand at play?" Imilia laughed inwardly. You think that's going to work, just asking nicely? Alright then, maybe I'll humor you a little...
Raising her voice slightly, so that others around her could hear, she said "Yes, well, certainly you can tell I'm no mere third-year. I am in the Journeymage program, after all. I was selected specifically by Headmistress Bellamy to represent our school and network on its behalf at this year's tournament." Speaking quieter once more, she added "My entry in to the tournament, however, is the result of my decision, not the school's. I'd hardly say there's anything more grand at play, though. I'm not even quite sure myself what exactly I'm looking for. Money? Power? Love? Revenge? Or maybe just personal growth. The call to competition isn't something I can ignore so easily, you see."
Hadid rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is answering the 'call to competition' worth the potential risk? Especially for a personal reward that is as-of-yet undefined?" "For what reason are risks to exist if they shouldn't be taken?" Imilia said, scowling as she looked down at her trunk before looking up again. In doing so, she noticed that the carts ahead had stopped, and she could hear shouting up ahead. "Well, teacher, it seems something is going awry. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to find out what it is." She smiled once more, reaching out to shake the old man's hand, and as he took it, she leaned in to whisper something before pulling away. "You and I both know it, teacher. Our goals are perfectly well defined." -cowritten with @domrikade-
Arha looked away from the soldiers surrounding the creature's body at the kobold in the cart beside her. He had come out of what looked like a meditation and had apparently watched the fight along with Arha and the other contestants in the wagon.
"Well, they did very nicely, especially Sir Killian and the newcomer," Arha said. "They seem like they know each other, so I'm sure we'll be introduced at some point. How about you? Do you think they did well?"
"Yes!" Kaigan said, smiling. "Their teamwork was great. So why did you enter the Tournament?"
The elf sat back and thought about her answer. Then she said, "I've come to find allies for Qan Maris, the kingdom I come from. What about you?"
Kaigan grinned again. "I've come to increase peace and prosperity for here, like at home!" He paused a moment before adding, "I also wanted something to do."
Arha chuckled. "Well, the Tournament is definitely something."
"Do you know anyone here?" Kaigan asked. When Arha shrugged and shook her head, he scratched his chin. "I don't either, but I'm trying to make friends."
"That seems like a good idea," Arha said.
"Speaking of friends," Kaigan said, "why are you looking for allies? Is this Morris place under attack?"
Arha sat straighter on her bench. In a practiced, businesslike tone, she said, "As a borderlands nation, Qan Maris is looking to peacefully expand into the unclaimed territory around it. I am here to look for allies who could provide monetary or political support for the nation." She paused before continuing, "The Reveera heiress is someone I could approach for the first option, while the witch could be that person for the second option. However, I didn't expect to see either in this Tournament."
Kaigan smiled, a little softly this time. "I guess I won't be as much help, then. Good luck in finding allies."
"Come now," Arha said. "We still have some time. What about you?"
The kobold shrugged. "There's not much to tell. I haven't done much so far." He looked from side to side. "Maybe these two can help you." His eyes rested on the metal lizard-man for a second before looking back at Arha, who smiled.
"I'll think about it," she said.
Cowritten with @DrakeGladis. Feel free to tell me if there's any parts for Kaigan I should rewrite.
Walking along the boulevard overlooking the lower city of Eviera, Conscience was only hours away from heading to the fortress. Perhaps I messed this up, maybe she isn’t comin-. No! What am I talking about? I never miscalculate.
“Conscience Reveera, isn’t it?” a girl, walking quite briskly, came up beside Conscience, who picked up her pace to match the girl.
“And I would suppose that you are Tresa Hawthorne? Or should I say…” She was cut off by the girl, Tresa actually, who nudged her to the side, stopping the rest of the sentence.
“Not. Here. Come with me.” Tresa said, bringing them off the boulevard, toward a tea shop. Conscience smiled, tea being her favorite drink. This tea shop had a reputation for a lovely, imported green, and she’d been hoping to come here, just to sample it. Walking in, Tresa smiled, asking for a private room in the back.
“Which one? The Rose Room is taken up by someone who is competing for the Tournament, but the others are open.” The mistress of the tea house smiled, placating her silently.
“Kick her out. You know the Rose room is the only one I will drink in here.” Tresa looked down upon her with disdain.
“I- I’m sorry. I don’t think she would like that very much.” Before Tresa could reply, Conscience cut in. “We’ll just take the next best one you have.” Tresa glared, before putting on an accepting face, and following the lady to a room, decorated in images of exotic fauna.
“I’ll send a waiter in for your orders in a moment. In the meantime, feel free to relax and browse the menu.” She said, before walking out.
“Now,” Conscience said, with a cruel twist to her mouth, “how exactly did you come to be the Shadow Fox?”
“How did you know? I covered my tracks perfectly.” Tresa appeared perplexed as to how the other girl had figured it out.
“It was really quite easy. No man would have the intelligence to pull off those heists, not to gather such gossip. Not to mention how no nobleman of this city would not boast of this. As for how I picked you, I suppose it was a lucky guess.” Conscience shrugged.
“Well, you caught me. Wow.” She rolled her eyes. “So what exactly are you going to do?”
“I need an informant who will be able to come to the fortress. They’ll have incredibly hard screening to get by, not to mention suspicion on anyone who looks threatening. And since you appear, stress on the appear; I’m sure you’re quite deadly; you won’t be under suspicion as a handmaiden. As for the screening, you obviously have some way of avoiding magical detectors, or you would’ve been found.” Conscience passed over a paper, written with rules, a contract of a sorts.
“And what if I just killed you here? I certainly have the capability to kill a merchant’s daughter, given what you have claimed.” Tresa leaned forward threateningly.
“I doubt you could. Appearances lie.” Conscience mirrored the leaning forward. Tresa smiled, before disappearing from her seat in a whirl of shadow, reappearing behind Conscience, a blade of shadow to her throat.
“As you can see,” she whispered in Conscience’s ear, her mouth close to the ear, “I easily have the capabilities to kill you.”
“I could say the same.” Conscience leaned her hand backwards, before pressing it to her other arm, and pushing a bit of magic in. Tresa frowned, confused by the move. In the slight moment of confusion, Conscience twisted out from her grip, forming a mirror of the knife in the other girl’s hand, except it was made of a purplish substance.
“Now, do you accept?” Conscience frowned. Tresa dropped her hand, the knife disappearing, before smiling.
“I guess I judged you right. I’ll accept, but there had better be some form of compensation.” Tresa put her hand forward. “Also, can you remove whatever weird magic thing you did to me?”
“Done,” Conscience murmured, before putting her hand forward to shake. “The ride is in a few hours. Might as well enjoy some tea before then.”
A FEW HOURS LATER
Leaving the tea shop, the two girls had immediately struck for the carriages that would bear them there, Tresa’s luggage, which she had called for a while ago, being portered by a couple of servants. Arriving at the carriages, Conscience spotted a few familiar faces, as well as a few she hadn’t managed to see before. Someone was playing some god-awful music, which felt like it was supposed to be calming, but utterly failed in terms of everything.
“Whoever is playing that music needs to stop.” Conscience demanded, before sighting the culprit, a strange, masked figure. “You. Stop the music and we will be okay. Got it?” The figure made no sign of assent, and the other competitors looked at her like she was crazy.
“Why do you hate the music? It sounds perfectly okay.” Imilia said, sliding up to her.
“It sounds absolutely horrendous. I’ve heard similar things so many times before, so it manages to be horrendous and boring.” She gave a mocking smile.
“Oh. I see.” At an apparent loss for words, she turned towards Tresa. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Tresa Hawthorne, her handmaiden.” She said, before Conscience could explain. “And yes, I agree with Conscience, the music is absolutely horrid and dull.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Imilia said, ignoring the jab at the music. “I feel like I’ve heard of your family? What are they in?”
As Tresa and Imilia continued talking, Conscience sighed, wishing the music would just go away. Just at that moment, a group of wagons pulled up.
“What in hell are these contraptions?” Conscience was staring in disbelief at the wagons. “Are we chattel or something?”
“Don’t think you’re going to be able to fit all your things in there,” Imilia said, very unhelpfully, breaking away from her conversation with Tresa.
“I KNOW.” Conscience appeared very angry, and began shouting at servants to move certain things away, and repack essentials in three trunks. Tresa looked just as unhappy, only bringing two trunks.
“You ride in that one, I’ll take this one, okay?” Conscience gestured to Tresa. Nodding her assent, she walked off, heading towards one of the wagons.
Sighing, Conscience got on one of them, consigned to a wagon with that strange boy, some old prankster type, and most annoyingly of all, the music guy. On closer inspection, the wagon was more like a cage than anything. Sitting in the corner on her three trunks, she was forced to listen to the absolutely terrible music that was coming from this guy. With no response to her pleas for him to stop, she sighed and rested her head back.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she spun, seeing the strange boy sitting there.
“Hey. What’s your name?” He asked.
“Conscience Reveera,” Was all she said in reply. He fidgeted slightly, bringing a rose out of his pocket. Recoiling slightly, she recognized the rose as having extremely potent dark magic. Her magic was neither light nor dark, it was the middle ground between them. Her magic depended on the wielder’s disposition, so hers normally swung to a darker shade. However, this rose was of true dark magic, the evil things that lived in the night that should never be found again. He slipped it back into his pocket, and the slight weight that carried over the air disappeared.
“That rose. Where’d you get it?” She was trying to be polite, attempting to figure out where one could get such darkness. Slipping out a piece of her magic, she felt for his aura, finding an ink-blackened shroud wrapped around him. Definitely don’t want to get matched against him. Conscience thought to herself.
“That’s none of your business.” He looked strangely defensive of it, as if he had something to hide. “Why?”
“I know magic when I see it, and that rose carries a lot of dark magic.” A lot was an understatement. That thing was essentially entirely made of it.
“That’s stupid.” He looked slightly unsure of himself while saying it. “It’s just a rose.” Pulling it out of his pocket, he twirled it. Confusion lit within her, as the rose no longer carried any trace of the heavy magic she’d felt before.
“Whatever.” She turned back around, before turning again, about to say something, when she saw him staring at Imilia in the wagon in front of them. She waved mockingly at Imilia, before turning back before seeing if Imilia would wave. Suddenly, something came to her. A way to test exactly how much magical awareness these three had. Releasing her magic into the air, purple strands appeared before her eyes, but none of the others appeared to see the magic. Bringing it closer to each one, only Lyuben flinched slightly. Smiling, she recalled it, before laying her head down and going to sleep.
Sturgar was dreaming. Or as close to it as possible. Although his enhanced body would fully rouse him at the slightest shock or danger, his mind drifted slowly into unconsciousness.
"Up!" The whip cracked over his head. "Get up!"
Lying in the dirt, he struggled to push himself upright. It was then he new he was no longer in the land of the waking. Past the blood cascading down his face, he saw his two arms trying to lift him off the ground. He paused for a moment, seeing the scales and skin that covered them. He had nearly forgotten their beautiful blue shimmer. They glittered softly through the dust and blood, flickers of iridescent blue reminiscent of raindrops.
As he calmed himself, he stood. Before him stood a gruff, balding dwarf with a long bullwhip in hand. They stared at each other for a long time, the student and the master, the young dragonborn and the old dwarf.
"Yer gettin' soft" Growled the dwarf, dusting his chain shirt off and coiling up the leather whip. "That duke has ye starting in a month, an' ye can't even fight an ol' man!" He spat in the dirt of the training ground.
Sturgar didn't say anything. He wasn't sure he could. Did people forget how to speak? He smiled, despite his mentor's harsh words. Shrugging, he decided to go along with the dream. Having skin felt nice. He walked over to the weapon rack, finding the blood gone from his clothes as if by magic. He picked up two curved, single-edged sabers, testing their weight and balance. He reached for an axe, then remembered with a chuckle that he only had two arms. How limiting biology was. Sturgar turned to face the dwarf, who had outfitted himself with pauldrons, a shield, and a bucket helm, hoisting a hammer.
"Well, ye just gonna stand 'round? Hurry up ya useless fool!" The dwarf, called Grollan Hammerhand, Sturgar knew, yelled.
Grollan was not a kind man. Beyond a doubt a good fighter and trainer, but not a kind one. It wasn't even tough love, or a gruff attitude. He simply pushed and pushed, looking on disdainfully if one failed to live up to his impossible expectations. No fond memories had been made at this training ground, only blood and tears and rage. But no matter how much Grollan hated Sturgar, and he him, Sturgar was appreciative of their time together. Certainly, he would not look back fondly upon those times, but they had forged him into who he was, figuratively. He had indeed been literally forged quite a few years later, of course.
The two sparred viciously, sometimes coming to dangerous blows. Sturgar, though disappointed at his apparent lack of arms, whirled about with his blades, while Grollan thundered the ground with his great hammer, roaring as he swung again and again.
"Akon!" Grunted the dwarf.
Momentarily confused, Sturgar paused long enough to receive a crushing blow to the chest, sending him backwards into the ground. He sat, dazed, as the dwarf stood mockingly before him. Then, the ground shook, and the dream was gone.
Sturgar woke, though he gave no sign of it. He simply became conscious, his brain turning on like a candle. Knights were riding towards something he couldn't see, yelling. A battle was most likely happening. As he turned his head towards the scuffle, another rider charged the enemy and ended it. Well, that's taken care of. Sturgar relaxed. He turned around, and drifted slowly back to sleep.
For the most part, the rest of the journey was silent except for the quiet strumming of a peaceful tune from the blind musician. Lyuben could feel himself within the soft melody. He could feel the pain and longing, brought forth in the muted minor chords and the dissonance in the melody that never seemed to resolve. Yet, there was something more. Something that made Lyuben feel...happy. Then, the tune changed.
Lyuben sighed as he focused his attention back outside the cage he was trapped in. The scenery passed by like a slideshow of different images: some trees, a desert, then a lake, and some mountains too.
How long have we been traveling for?
He saw a strand of dim purple magic float in front of him. He flinched a little as it got closer, then watched it dissipate into the air.
Who…? What was that?
Lyuben sighed and focused back on The Soundweaver’s melody. It was fast and chaotic now, with large octave jumps and fast arpeggios that seemed almost impossible to play, especially on the instrument The Soundweaver held.
Such beauty. Music can do so much with so little…
The Soundweaver’s music forced Lyuben to think back on his childhood. Lyuben could see the false smiles on his parents' faces in the chairs as he skillfully played his own piano compositions under the warm spotlight of the stage. Lyuben could see his boyfriend running up to him after the concert, somehow managing to evade the security backstage. Lyuben could hear the notes he once loved to play. But he couldn't play them--anymore. It brought him too much pain.
Then, The Soundweaver’s tune stopped. The suddenly wagon halted to a stop and Lyuben was thrown against the bars of the cage.
“Ow…”
Conscience stared at him for a moment, then shifted her gaze outside. Lyuben looked to where she was looking too, and saw a huge monster. There were yells from the tournament guards as they all worked together to take down the monster. Lyuben watched the soldiers’ blades as they slashed through the air, still failing to harm the “Akon” as one of them called it.
Something about that monster felt familiar, however. Lyuben pulled the rose out of his pocket again. He looked at the monster and back at his “harmless” rose.
Is there something I’m missing? Was Conscience correct about the magic in this rose?
Lyuben’s attention was yanked back towards the monster as it let out a large roar. Lyuben jumped back to the opposite side of the cart, drawing weird looks from Arn and Conscience. The sound of steel cutting into flesh filled the air, then a thud followed as the monster fell to the ground.
Lyuben breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at the rose that he still held gently in his hand. The petals seemed to be glowing faintly with a dark light.
What? Why..?
Lyuben stared closely at the rose, then watched as the light faded. The petals returned to their blood red color. Lyuben looked outside at the head of the slain beast, failing to make any connections. Lyuben’s mind was full of questions, but all of them remained unanswered--for now, at least.
With nothing better to do, Lyuben closed his eyes and fell asleep holding tight onto the mysterious rose as The Soundweaver’s drowsy tune filled the silence of the wagon.
The day and the journey continued peacefully after the battle. A couple of times the caravan had stopped for short breaks, during which the contestants were allowed to come out of the caged wagons to stretch, drink, eat, lie on a field, or take a short walk. The day was sunny most of the time, but the clouds and winds eased the heat of the journey. When the sun was starting to descend in the horizon, they finally saw it. An old fortress, which was standing tall in the middle of a lake. Its countless flags waved with the wind and uneven mortar walls reflected the orange rays of the setting sun.
Art: Andreas Rocha
Hooves clattered and wooden wheels creaked on the stone bridge, which was leading the weary travelers to the island. Patrolling soldiers shouted something behind the walls, then the sound of moving chains echoed while the gates were being opened. The riders, the carriage, and the four caged wagons went through the gates, then they slowly closed behind them. Countless lightly armored soldiers were waiting for the travelers in a courtyard. When everyone stopped in the middle of the courtyard, Sir Killian, Rodolf, and the tournament guards unmounted from their horses, then the soldiers led the steeds to the stables. Suddenly, the contestants in the first wagon heard a loud *BANG* right next to their ears. "Wake up!" *BANG* "We have arrived!" *BANG* "Move your asses!" *BANG* "The captain will be here soon!" Rodolf hit the metal bars of each wagon with a dagger's pommel as he walked past them. The fighters opened their eyes, yawned, then stepped out of the caged wagons one at a time. Everyone seemed more or less grumpy thanks to the long and slow journey. Gaspar stepped outside of his carriage, and he watched as a tall man arrived to the courtyard from the main building, then approached the Judge. He was wearing a finely crafted armor with metal plates which were painted in red. His short grey hair and beard were in contrast with his brown eyes. The man smiled as he greeted the Judge and the hunter knight by shaking their hands. The trio shared words with each other for a moment before the old soldier walked towards the contestants.
"Welcome to our humble Werther Fortress, contestants of the tournament," the soldier said merrily to the diverse group while the carriage and the wagons were being put away by the soldiers. "I'm Captain Rheinallt, and I will be your host for the first round of the competition."
"Sorry to hear that your journey here wasn't completely peaceful, but at least we can all be happy for getting here in one piece, eh? But, enough of that! I'm sure you're all hungry? The dinner will soon be ready, so please step in! Our servants will show you to your rooms," and as he said that, many young men and women came to carry the bags and items which the contestants had brought with them. Each contestant was being helped by two servants at least, and they asked the fighters to follow them into the main building. They stepped through the large wooden front doors and each contestant saw a glimpse of a great hall before they followed their servants into corridors of stone blocks and wooden logs, which were illuminated by torches, candles, and the daylight which shined through occasional windows.
After climbing up the stairs, the contestants arrived to a four story wing of the fortress. Each floor had a long corridor, which led to four wooden doors. Behind each door was a room that was no different from the other; a feather bed at the right wall, a wooden table at the opposite wall from the door, and a simple wooden cabinet at the left wall. Couple of unlit candles were on the table, and an unlit torch was right next to the door. The room was illuminated by the setting sun, which peeked from a window right above the table. Servants put the contestants' luggage into the rooms, then they asked each fighter if they wanted to take a bath before the dinner. For each contestant who said yes, servants brought them a wooden bathtub, towels, scented oils, and multiple buckets which contained hot and cold water, so they could mix them according to their preferences.
Once everyone was ready, the servants led the contestants to the great dining hall. They were welcomed by the sight and aroma of different tempting foods and drinks: meats, soups, spices, breads, fruits, vegetables, berries, milks, ales, and wines. Captain Rheinallt and everyone else who traveled with the contestants were within the hall. Sir Killian, Rodolf, and the tournament guards were dressed in more comfortable clothes which were befitting for any proud soldier of the kingdom. The heroes got to choose their own places from the long tables, and once Captain Rheinallt uttered a prayer to one of the caretakers of Avelaide, the feast began. People enjoyed the foods and drinks while sharing laughs and stories, especially about the recent battle with the abyss beast.
Hours went by, and nightfall arrived. Each contestant eventually returned to their rooms, which the servants had emptied from all the bathing items. On the next day, they got to know the match positions.
Arn had no interest in hot baths yet he humored them, hot meals but yet again he humored them, but now they expected a spirit to go to sleep? This would simply not do. Arn snuck out into the empty fort grounds and only the ringing of the night and the howling winds could be heard for miles on end. Arn gazed in silence and waited in anticipation until he heard a resounding howl or as close as the creatures here could come to making a howl. Arn let out a wide grin under his mask, as he used wild magic to shift into a hawk like creature and fly out the premise in the process avoiding the already exhausted guards. He mused about hunting the guards instead, but ultimately decided against it.
Arn flew in the direction he heard the howl, a process which took him only a few minutes in part due to his flight. He shifted just as he was about to land and he tumbled on to his feet right in between the pack of beasts. Contrary to how pack animals act, the animals seemed to be afraid and even hesitated to attack him.
They began backing away from their meal when Arn charged one of them and with supernatural speed and shived his dagger into its chest rending it. Such animosity was only heard of in stories as he leaped with monstrous strength on the next beast, crushing its skull.
It had been a while since Arn had had so much fun. Since he got here it was just one restriction and another, and being cooked up in that cage unable to do anything to anyone or thing left him with a ton of animosity to spare.
Arn: "7" "6"
The other animals scattered in all directions. A tactic that increased the likely-hood of survival of the pack in the event of a preditor appearing, but this mattered not to Arn. Whatever he decided to hunt would be hunted. This was a side of Arn that he kept reserved for times of great desperation. He was usually more strategic, would joke around with his hunt and would avoid exerting so much effort. He mostly maintained his prankster side by doing acts that would relive his blood thirst such as pranks, single prey hunting e.t.c but right now he was at his primal state..
He dashed from tree to tree, chasing after a single one of the beasts as he leaped from the tree slashing its throat. He then chased after the next closest one and unleashed a brutal cleave on it using his dagger.
Arn: "5" "4"
In almost one fluid rush, he slashed and cut, all the while doing impressive acrobatics and tearing through animal after animal as he slayed four of them in a row.
Arn:"3" "2" "1"
Arn: "Now where could you be?" Arn inquired as he looked around at the pool of blood and gore seeping into the nearby river, dawn was quickly approaching. He followed a blood trail to his right where he found the beast with a wounded leg. It must have gotten hurt when it was trying to flee from him.
Arn kneelt, healing its leg and just as the beast got comfortable and its fear subsided, just as Arn had let it begin its escape, he decapitated its head with one swift motion with only one last whimper being heard from it.
Arn went and took a bath in the waterfall near the river as to not draw attention to his nightly escapade, and then Arn wild shifted back to it's bird like form and made way back to its resting chambers. Leaving a river of blood painted in its path.
(Last one was chapter 4, I just forgot to title it)
Well, this must have been nice for the other fighters, Sturgar thought. For those who still took baths and ate food. For him, this fortress brought quiet anxiety. Nartheus had not come with him, the journey being only for contestants. He was scheduled to arrive several days later, and during that time, Sturgar worried, he was in all manner of danger. After all, how could he protect him from miles away, locked up in a fortress?
He skipped dinner, sitting on his bed obsessively sharpening his blades, polishing his armor, and oiling his joints. He wondered who he'd be up against tomorrow. Some of the contestants seemed so nice, he hesitated to think about hurting them. Some, on the other hand, looked powerful enough to hold their own. He shuddered thinking about the masked Aetherborn, and his crackling lightning. And the final few that remained, those he would gladly fight. The arrogant young woman, the sinister masked being, the demon. He needed something to do, someone to fight. It was all that kept his mind sharp. Years of no talking, eating, and barely sleeping had worn him bare. He collapsed on the bed, and let his mind wander.
"Back for more, eh?" Grollan clipped on his armor and fitted his wide helm to his head.
Now familiar with the dream, Sturgar looked down, comforted by the sight of his own two arms, clad in brilliant blue scales. He smiled.
"Have at it, then!" The dwarf twirled the handle of his warhammer and slowly circled Sturgar, eyes narrowed.
They prowled round one another for a minute, before Grollan ran forwards and swiped at Sturgar's knees. Shockingly light, he easily jumped it and danced away again. He was starting to have fun.
"Where ye goin', boy!?" Grollan swung again, missing. "Ye been training without me?"
Sturgar ducked and dodged, weaving and jumping and dancing out of the way, always out of Grollan's reach. Seeing the dwarf's anger, he grinned and let out a laugh, surprising himself with the sound of his own voice. It was deep and gravely, as if it came from a deep cavern. He stopped moving, dazed. A blow from Grollan's hammer knocked him clean onto his back, but he felt no pain. He lay there, laughing and laughing, at the sound of his voice, at Grollan, at himself, and at the absurdity of it all. He lay there in the dirt, staring up at the blinding sun, laughing until he felt hollow and spent. He closed his eyes, letting the sunlight filter through his eyelids, mouthing random sounds, just to hear himself again.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in bed. He sat, and the bedframe creaked dangerously under his weight. Looking down at himself, he saw four metallic arms, and a gleaming alloyed torso. He sighed, but no sound was made. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.
Sir Killian, the assassin named Rodolf, and the champions had arrived at Castle Werther, where a man who introduced himself as Captain Rheinallt welcomed them and told them of the feast that would come. Various servants lead Cypherous and the other champions up to their rooms.
The rooms were simple, with a bed, a table, a cabinet, and a window letting in sunlight. The servants put Cypherous's luggage, which was a few tools and parts from his lab, in the room. They asked him if he wanted a bath before the great feast, and Cypherous declined. The servants then left.
The servants led each champion to the dining hall once they were ready, and the contestants took their chosen places at the long tables. Captain Rheinallt performed a small prayer, and after that, the feast began.
Cypherous did not eat any of the various foods and dishes, and declined any that were offered to him. Being an aetherborn, he could not eat or drink.
This earned him quite a few strange looks and questions from the other champions, who were enjoying the food.
Bored, Cypherous ran through a list of the other champions in his head, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, as the fight would start tommorow.
There was the blind musician. The Soundweaver, he had been called. He didn't look like much, but Cypherous knew not to underestimate any of the other champions. His songs probably had some magical effect, or something like that.
There was the demoness who had been with Cypherous, Nilfi, and Iseabel Rathais and her brother Stephen in the cart. He didn't know much about her, either, but she seemed like she had power of some sort.
Then there was the dragonoid construct, named Sturgar. This one fascinated Cypherous the most. Was he a living being, modified through artifice? Was he a construct animated through magic? Was he entirely mechanical? Cypherous at least knew Sturgar had a weakness for lightning and electricity, which would be quite helpful for Cypherous if he met Sturgar in combat.
There was the human male named Lyuben, the one with the rose. He seemed like he had some sort of dark magic.
There was the female elf knight, Arha. Again, Cypherous didn't know a lot about her.
There was the necromancer, Iseabel Rathais, who had also been in the cart with Cypherous, along with her undead brother Stephen.
There was the little kobold, Kaigan. He didn't look like much, but, again, Cypherous knew not to underestimate him.
Cypherous just sat at the table, lost in thought. Eventually, the feast ended, and the contestants were led back to their rooms. Once he got into his room, Cypherous sat down on the side of the bed that he, being an aetherborn, would not be using. He didn't know how tomorrow would turn out, and he couldn't wait to see.
(I know I didn't talk about all the champions but honestly I just got bored of writing so yeah)
The breakfast served was meager. It was a meal that could barely shine a light on any meal she’d ever had before. Sighing, she stood up after partaking of the meal, and headed to her rooms. The rooms were fine, they weren’t impeccable, but nor were they too bad. Falling back onto the lumpy bed, she called out, “Tresa! You can come out from where your hiding now.”
Turning her head to the side, what one would assume a normal shadow pooled, before taking human form, in the body of her handmaiden, Tresa. “What did you find out about the others? Tell me everything.”
Tresa sighed, hopping onto the little bed. “I know you’ve already figured out the powers of most, and you’re just testing me, but here we go anyways.”
“First of all, Imilia. She’s a consul from the witch school Baltenainne, and uses some sort of dark magic. I couldn't figure out what exactly, she has fairly strong mental defenses. In terms of what I know about her generally, she appears to have similar mental abilities to you, which are extremely high.” Conscience smiled at the compliment.
“Lyuben. He can use extremely powerful dark magic, but I don’t think he has a handle on it. I have no idea where he got that rose, but that thing is seriously scary. He has a dark past though.” Conscience nodded agreement, as she had felt the rose’s darkness.
“Arn, the fairy guy. Last night, he went on a rampage, and basically murdered any predator within a few miles. However, he’s extremely cocky, and will easily underestimate people he doesn’t think are as powerful as him. For combat ability, fairly sure he won't be too much of a threat." Remembering what she had seen of him, Conscience agreed with the assessment.
“Kaigan.” At the other girl’s look of confusion, she elaborated. “The kobold guy. He’s from some other plane, and I can’t tell you much about him. He draws magic from the earth it seems, but I can’t really guess anything about him.”
“Ystix. He controls some seriously powerful time magic, but I get the feeling he knows how to use it, but doesn’t quite control it. I don’t think he’s really a threat, since you can lock down his magic easily.”
“Isabel and Steaphan. They seem slightly threatening. Steaphan provides a melee edge, while Isabel adds strong necromanctic magic of some sort. However, you’re fast enough to evade Steaphan, and powerful enough to take out Isabel before Steaphan can catch up, so I wouldn’t overly worry.”
“Noah. He’s…weird. I honestly have no idea what he can do. His head is so full of dreams and visions of other worlds that I can’t get a read on him.”
“Arha. Not someone you need to worry about. She has some basilisk magic, but that's really all I could divine. Based on what”
“Cypherous. He’s…another interesting one. Your magic’s draining capabilities will either not work against him, or completely shred him to pieces, but I’m not sure which. As for magic abilities, he can do something with aether, and I think it's lightning, since his getup leans in that direction."
“Sturgar. He can wield a bunch of blades proficiently, but I don’t believe he has any magic. He still has a soul, so the general pieces of your magic will be enough to harm him. You two are probably matched in combat ability, mainly because you’ll be slightly faster, since he wields four weapons and is made out of metal.”
“The Soundweaver.” Tresa started, but was quickly interrupted by Conscience.
“He’s the music guy, right? The blind dude who played absolutely horrid music for the entire journey here?” Conscience scowled.
“Yes. And I sympathize; he played horribly. Anyways, he weaves magic with his instrument, and I think that depending on what he plays, the effect is different, since yesterday he was playing something that was supposed to be calming."
“Nilfi is an alchemist, but also a vampire. I know the alchemist part from what was in his room, and I think he has magic, but I'm not sure. Vampirism probably gives him enhanced healing and strength, things like that. I've read about them.”
“Finally, Hadid. His mind is extremely well guarded, so I was wasn’t able to figure out anything, and may have been noticed by him, but I’m not sure.” With this, Conscience grimaced, before smiling.
“Well, you’re very useful, it seems. I think I’ll keep you around,” she joked.
Arha leaned back in the bath. The warm water felt good after traveling to the fortress. The elf relaxed, thinking about the Tournament and the other contestants.
She'd already talked to Kaigan about the abyssal creature on the ride. She thought he was nice, although she'd have liked to talk to him a little bit more. Still, it was nice to connect to at least one other contestant before the fortress.
As for the other two in her carriage, she was more worried about Sturgar than Damien. The eight-foot lizardman was skilled, that much was certain. He also had four arms, which was admittedly a little scary.
The elf knew she had to approach Imilia and Conscience about the possibility of the organizations they were associated with allying with Qan Maris. She fully expected to be turned down, but she had work to do here, and she had to do it.
Tomorrow, though, Arha thought. Tonight, rest.
The other contestants were an interesting group. She couldn't tell anything about Lyuben or Noah, although the former reminded her of the family of one of Qan Maris' nobles. Iseabel and Steaphan were interesting, since they were working together. She'd gotten an odd feeling from them as the contestants were entering the fortress, but nothing more.
Hadid, Cypherous, and Nilfi were all magical researchers, Arha could tell that much. They were in different fields, obviously, but their outfits were all indicative of magical study. Ytsix (Arha wasn't quite sure how to pronounce his name) also looked like a researcher, although she couldn't tell if it was magical research or not.
The Soundweaver interested Arha. He wasn't a magic-user per se, but the elf still got a sense that he could create it. As for the spirit, Arn, she wasn't entirely pleased about his presence. He was chaotic, and the elf wasn't sure if he would stick to the rules of the Tournament if he lost. Still, he was as much a contestant as her, and she wouldn't try and see him out just because of her own preferences.
Arha stepped out of the bath and dressed for the feast. She checked in her pack for a small mirror, rubbed it clean with her sleeve, slipped it under one of the bed's pillows, and went down to join the feast.
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Chapter 3: The Ride
Cypherous tried to make himself comfortable in the wagon. He looked around the wooden cart, observing the other champions. Sitting beside him was a vampire with pale skin and long red hair. Behind him was a female necromancer in dark robes and an armored knight. Beside them was a horned woman whom Cypherous assumed was some sort of demon.Suddenly, the vampire turned towards him and spoke.
"Excuse me, you with the magical machine glove. Hate being the one to interrupt this quiet ride in the woods sitting in sheep crap," The vampire, who's name was Nilfi, began. "But I couldn't help but notice you don't seem very, oh how should I say, fleshy? Is your physiology comprised entirety of compressed magical essence?"
Cypherous was silent for a bit, then responded.
"On my home world of Kaladesh, the environment is filled with the magical energy known as aether. I am an aetherborn. I am a being made entirely of aether. I have no flesh or organs."
"Hmm. Very interesting." The vampire turned away.
This place known as Avelaide was so different from Kaladesh, so unfamiliar. It was so... natural. On Kaladesh, the world was covered in large cities, filled with buildings and inventions. On Avelaide, there was much less of that. You could go for hours without seeing a single person.
Cypherous settled in for a ride to the castle.
Well, Arha thought, eyeing the other contestants in the wagon, there could be a sliding scale on that.
She doubted anyone would be brave enough to try and attack the metal lizard-man. She doubted she would be able to do much to him, even if she did try to petrify him. The little one, the kobold, was much smaller, but Arha got the sense that there was something more to him It was a feeling more than anything, but Arha trusted her feelings enough to be at least polite with the kobold if they talked. The human looked stressed, holding his head in his hands as he tried to calm down.
Maybe he had the most sense among them, if not skill.
The Eviera Reporter (Readers: ~20,000)
Tournament of Champions selections made, is bribery possible?
Very recently, the 16 competitors for the Tournament have been chosen. Among the competitors are talented young mages and warriors, from all around Avelaide. However, possibly he most surprising choice from among them is Conscience Reveera, daughter of the incredibly successful merchant family Reveera. After acquiring interviews from people she grew up with (full transcripts page 4), we have ascertained that she is in no way fit for the tournament. She has, according to our sources, shown no magical aptitude, nor any combat ability. When faced with the murder of an old friend in the city, she burst into tears, showing complete emotional weakness. So, the real question we all must ask, have the un-bribable judges been bribed? More on this, page 4.
The Shadow Fox Strikes Again!
Last night, the Shadow Fox, an urban robber, struck the manor house of the Argivald house, leaving behind his trademark letter, which contains such scandalous information like an affair between two prominent nobles, Aran Harvole and Elise Arakova. This man also stole the Argivald House heirloom, the skull of their progenitor. The Shadow Fox has never been caught, and more strangely, never been seen either. More about this man’s daring heists on page 7!
The Lisakdonia Confessional (Readers: ~1,000)
Is Reveera what she seems, or something more?
As of two days ago, 16 competitors for the Tournament of Champions were chosen. In these prestigious ranks are those from all around, and one rather close to home: Conscience Reveera. This girl is heir to the Reveera Merchant Company, and one would think to see her showing up at balls and parties all around Eviera. One would not expect her to enter the Tournament of Champions. However, she may not be what she seems. I, your humble writer, believe she is much more. The recent murder of one of her friends, just after she left him, would not seem suspicious, since she appears a weakling, obviously unable to murder a grown man. However, as one of my sources says, this man was unable to be resurrected, his soul supposedly gone. This is obviously not a normal murder, as the recent spree in the Upper City leaves people dead, not gone. Now, still, you, the reader, may ask how she was able to disguise her skills through her childhood. As the daughter of a merchant however, that seems quite easy, with the amount of time spent sequestered away. I would bring all of this to a conclusion, and I, Nathaniel Greypoint, your humble writer, believe she is much more than you would see at first glance. It comes as no surprise she would make it into the tournament, as her skills must be truly extraordinary based on all the evidence I have compiled…. (more on page 5).
Standing amongst the 15 other competitors, outside the hall where they had just been chosen. Conscience sighed, looking each of them over. Most of them seemed easy to beat however, a few looked threatening. That cat person seemed, not threatening per se, but someone that would be a pain to fight. As for that emo teenage boy, Lyuben she thought it was, seemed powerful, but didn’t seem to have much control. The black-clad witch, Emilia she was quite sure,
“When are they letting us out, again?” Conscience was tired of waiting.
“I have no idea,” said the black clad girl standing next to her. “It’s Imilia. You’re Conscience, right?” She turned to look at her, smiling slightly, with her hand outstretched. Immediately suspicious, since she had seen this girl act very differently toward others, she shook the hand offered.
“You’re a witch, right?” She smirked.
“Kind of.” No other answer was given. “Lovely dress you have there.”
“Let’s just cut to the chase. I just saw you run that other boy off, so why are you being so nice to me? You after my money or my secrets?” She smiled, twisting a strand of magic to measure her response.
Her response was immediate. She twisted her hand, stopping the tendril where it was, in-between them, with some strange magic.
“Nothing really. I just happen to find you interesting. You’re the only contestant here that might be able to challenge me, at least, on an equal playing field. Might as well stick close to you,” she said, pretending as if nothing had happened.
“Your cute. You think you could beat me?” Conscience retracted the strand, and turned slightly. “I guess I’ll see you around…Imilia.” Spinning fully, and walking away, she headed away from the main group, pulling a quill and a piece of paper from her purse. Before she could begin writing, Arvell came up to her.
“Hey, you,” he began. “Why are you even here? You obviously stand no chance against me, let alone anyone else.”
“It really shows that you are absolutely incompetent, you know.” Sighing, she walked away, leaving him spluttering behind her. Finding a table, she called one of her servants over after writing a short note down on the piece of paper and folding it.
“Hey, got a job for you.” This servant looked awed to be talking to her.
“Y-y-yeah?” He was obviously extremely nervous.
“Deliver this to one miss Tresa Hawthorne. Tell her it’s about the Shadow Fox.”
Chapter Three - The Journey
Lyuben sat down on the dirty white sheets of the old bed in his room. All the curtains were closed and the room was pitch black except for a small lantern that glowed like a single firefly in the vast night sky. The darkness was comforting for him. It allowed him to feel safe. To feel alone.
There was a loud knock on the door.
“Now, who could that be?”
Lyuben cautiously opened the door, allowing a crack of sunlight to flow into the otherwise dark room. In front of him, he saw Ayden, again. Lyuben could feel a tint of pink appear on his otherwise pale cheeks.
“Lyuben, right?” Ayden asked politely.
“Um, yeah…”
“Judge Gaspar wants all the champions to meet in the town square to travel to the tournament's actual location.”
“Like, now?”
“Yeah,” he replied as Lyuben clumsily gathered his few belongings: Bright blue silk pajamas, eleven gold coins, a dim lamp, and his precious rose, the only reminder of his dead boyfriend. As Lyuben was about to leave, he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.
“Congrats, by the way, on making it into the tournament,” Ayden smiled.
Lyuben didn’t know how to respond. He smiled back awkwardly and ran off. In the town square, Lyuben found the fifteen other contestants lined up in front of four wagons. Or really just cages on wheels.
We’re not zoo animals are we?
Lyuben was put in a cage at the back along with a blind musician, some old prankster, and a girl that looked about Lyuben’s age. From her looks, Lyuben could tell she was from a wealthy family like him.
Most of the ride was silent. Lyuben was particularly freaked out by the old prankster, so he kept himself as far away from it as possible.
Maybe I should talk to that girl? She seems like she might know things.
“Hey,” Lyuben said as he tapped the girl on her shoulder, “What’s your name?”
The girl, who was previously staring outside the wagon stared at Lyuben with disgust. She looked Lyuben up and down like one would towards an animal.
“Conscience Reveera,” she replied, annoyed.
Rich kids...wait...I am a rich kid...well, not anymore.
Lyuben chuckled sadly to himself. He pulled out the beautiful rose from within his robes. Lyuben turned it over in his hands and stared at it for a minute before returning it to his left pocket. Oddly enough, the rich girl was watching Lyuben carefully.
“That rose,” she inquired, “Where’d you get it?”
Lyuben looked offended. “That’s none of your business. Why?”
“I know magic when I see it, and that rose carries lots of dark magic.”
“That’s stupid. It’s just a rose,” Lyuben retorted, “See?”
He pulled the rose out of his pocket. Lyuben looked at it more closely. He didn’t feel any traces of magic in the rose. He gave Conscience a weird look. Lyuben could see the confusion behind Conscience’s cold eyes. Lyuben pocketed the rose again, and scooted away from the teenage girl. She didn’t seem all that trustworthy to Lyuben anyways.
Lyuben looked out to the wagon in front of him. In there, a particular figure caught his eye. There was a young woman, only slightly older than him and the Conscience, that looked sweet yet incredibly cold at the same time. Bittersweet, one might say. Lyuben could feel the powerful magic that she could wield too. They made eye contact for a moment, but Lyuben looked away. He couldn’t trust her, but Lyuben wanted to know more.
-----
Cecilia, Ryan, and Erin approached Ayden as he returned to his house early after work.
“Hey, do you know where Lyuben went?” Cecilia asked Ayden.
“The guy in the black robes? Yeah. Why?”
“Just because,” Cecilia said. She had a wicked smile plastered on her face.
Ayden stared off into the distance where the wagon had disappeared, then back at the trio in front of him. He could sense something was off.
“I- I don’t know where he is.”
“I see,” Cecilia replied, “That’s a shame.”
They walked off.
“Did you see where he was looking?” Ryan whispered.
“Yeah. That way,” Erin pointed, “And remember, we can’t let the tournament guards see us. Lyuben’s hurting, and we need to take him back while the emotions are still fresh.”
Ayden watched the three odd characters walk off. “Who is this Lyuben? And what do they want from him?”
Sturgar sat in the carriage, immobile. As it trundled along the bumpy road, he sat straight-backed, staring right ahead. Sensing the tension in the wagon, he slowly turned his head, quietly observing each other contender.
He first looked at the human. The man was sweating, bent over and clutching his head. Hmm, thought Sturgar. This one looks sick already. How on earth did he manage to get this far, much less sign up for such an event? Desperate for money, fame, or attention? Perhaps a glorious death? He shook his head. Never underestimate an opponent. That was the first lesson he'd learned. Perhaps this man was hiding something. He'd have to pay close attention to this one.
Next, he turned his attention to the small, reptilian creature sitting on the bench. What on earth was it? Not exactly a goblin. Definitely not a halfling or gnome. A kobold? Yes, that was it. Sturgar smiled inwardly. Know your enemy was the second lesson he'd learned. Knowledge is power, and power is victory. He stared at the small creature. So strange, he mused. It must have come from very far away. This one would be interesting to watch.
Finally, he turned his steady gaze to the last person in the carriage. An elf, it seemed. He noticed she had quickly sized him up earlier. Interesting. This one seems confident enough, I wonder if she knows something I don't. She looked fairly normal, as you could expect a knight to. Did she possess hidden abilities? Magic, perhaps. She worried him the most. Perhaps he should be friendly to her. Not easy, given his inability to speak. Still, it never hurt to be nice. After, the third lesson he'd ever learned was keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
Four
Just the Beginning - Part II (Final)
#toc4_story
Don't worry, you'll all reach Werther Fortress in the next chapter, which I will post quicker than this one!
Chapter three (Tournament) - An Interesting Occurrence
To say Arn was not impressed would be an understatement, first a rich host of tournaments could not afford carriages to deliver his visitors in safety (at least the frail ones that is), then the knight Killian who he had build up could not manage to take down a creature the mere size of a large boar. Disappointment could not begin to describe the level of second hand embarrassment Arn felt for Killian for Arn had seen boars mightier than that and the only one he ever had trouble with was Klyox who was known as a plane-shatteror and its pesky courtier.Arn was even further amused by how much he expected from Killian who in a moment of weakness had to be saved by his now more slightly intriguing friend who had to come and help him slaughter that magnificent creature. Had this been the old forests of Eldrine, none of these weaklings would have survived, they relied on their tools too much and placed their life on armor alone whilst getting their work done, rather than using them in tandence with their dexterity, cunning, and agility to outmaneuver and disarm threats but then again Arn had never fought one of these monstrosities before so he couldn't really have a say on how to handle them, perhaps he would have done better, perhaps at his worst he would have had a few close calls.
Arn did however get some mediocre entertainment from the fight as the ace of this battle became the jester and as he the jester became the ace. Arn laughed at the thought of being protected by these buffoons all the while coming into the age-old conclusion that in nature the strong thrive and the weak get deprived. It was all to clear to Arn that from now on, he would have to be ready to defend himself and his prey, after all, a hunter can't have the thrill of the hunt stolen from them, a hunters claim is always absolute.
Snapping out of his inner amusement did made him realize something interesting about that beautiful creature, It reeked of a special kind of energy, one that was almost palatable, one that Arn enjoyed very much. Could that energy have been the source of that creatures power? Arn decided to make note and keep track of that for later.
Conclusion
Chapter 5: To the Fortress!
If nothing else did it, it was always the medallion. This medallion was only worn by one other person; Rograhk, Voice of Prossh, when he was overthrowing his father's despotic and blasphemous rule. It meant that he was, first and foremost, Prossh's champion in these affairs. Such honor, such weight. The days that that fact woke him up were worse. Nothing much seemed to go wrong; they were just generally more despondent. Nothing but time is a heavy weight.
Finally, on the ninth day, something happened to break him out of his cycle. After getting up and washing, Kaigan realized it was later than his normal wake up. Normally he had time to go out and practice his forms with his spear and then come back in for a breakfast, however today he would have to choose. Deciding to train over eat, he went down and past the busy entrance room to the courtyard in the back.
As the spear swished through the beams of sunlight peeking through the rooftops and chimneys, the day started around him. People left the inn, going about their work. Some took their animals from the stables, heading off on their further journeys. Others headed in to market, trying to sell wares. All people, all with separate lives.
As Kaigan was about to head inside, finished with his routine, he saw a man dashing towards the inn from a distance. Panting, the man, a courier apparently, came into the yard.
"Are you Kaigan?"
Kaigan nodded.
"Are you ok?" he asked, worried. The runner was still panting.
"I've been looking for you all over! You got in! I don't know where your letter of acceptance went, but you're late for the sendoff! Get everything you need and then come with me!"
Alarmed and exited, Kaigan ran inside, upstairs, and grabbed all of his baggage. He had paid the innkeep for a fortnight, but it'd take too long to get a refund for the other days... Oh well. The innkeep had said it was a steal anyway; this was probably just the fair price. Dashing down, he tossed a farewell to the assembly, getting a couple of laughs in the process.
The runner was standing where he had been, not winded anymore. Kaigen was laden a bit, but he was able to keep up as they sprinted towards the spot where the rest of the people were being kept. Only three minutes later, they were paraded out.
Kaigan was thrilled at the rides. They were huge! And he'd get to hang out with the other competitors! And see everything! Who cared about a little stench? The city smelled pretty awful too. As he was directed to the first wagon, he was smiling. Everyone here seemed to be really cool! And although there were some other cool dudes in the other carts, especially the cat and the leather person, he got to chill with a... a uh... suit of armor? He resolved to ask for clarification later. He still hadn't done his meditations yet; that was the first on the list of things to do.
He found a nice corner and wrappe his tail around a bar. Holding his spear lengthwise across his lap, he went into a calm trance...
Well. Calm until the wind changed. Something was off. A powerful presence it seemed. His eyes popped open, and he sprang to his feet. Just then he heard the knight guarding them give the orders to stop the caravan, and gave the call "Akon". He wasn't sure what it meant, but it didn't sound nice. If things came down to a fight, he reasoned, this sort of cart made sense. Easy to fight out of, hard to break into unless you're small.
And oh boy the monster was big! Before Kaigan could see it, he could see the trees shaking and swaying as the large creature bore down on the team of soldiers. At first, he was clenched. The beast was lowly, and dumb for sure, but its size made up for that in it's aggressive power. The soldiers seemed to be toys to it almost, their weapons seeming to only hinder it slightly.
However, even their lowly blows worked against it, and watching it play out, respect for the teamwork of the group was palpable. As the new rider finished off the beast, Kaigan relaxed and sat back down. His meditation was over, and he was now interested in getting to know everyone. The armor is kind of intimidating, but perhaps one of the other two? He decided to start intruductions between himself and the other spear wielder...
@SpellPiper2213 1. It looked like a spear in the art, sorry if it's something else. 2. can we do something on discord? I find it easier than on the forums. Then one of us writes it out.)
Parler Bidirectionelle
As the cart trundled slowly down the road, Imilia sat on her trunk, trying her best to repair one of Sim's wires. As she did so, she took the time to get better looks at the other competitors in her cart. She was satisfied with her analysis of the young man and the cat, and turned her gaze toward the older man in the robes. As she looked, she noticed something odd, mostly hidden beneath the robes. As she partially cast her unobtrusiveness aside in order to get a better look, she found herself making eye contact with the old man himself. The corners of his eyes wrinkled in a soft smile as he noticed.“If you stare any harder you’ll probably burn a hole straight through me.”
Imilia's hand twitched as the man's voice broke her concentration, and she bent the marionette wire she was trying to replace. She played it off with a light laugh.
"You certainly look the part of a wizard, but you're no journeymage. What's called you here, teacher?"
"The same thing that's called us all, I suppose - curiosity. A hunger for the unknown." He glanced wistfully out at the passing scenery and grinned. "The potential for better pay than that of an academy instructor." Imilia was skeptical. Surely money wasn't the only thing on this old man's mind?
"Then we're both searchers, you and I, but we're magic users as well. We two know more about magic than anyone else here. What, then, do you stand to learn? Or are you instead looking for something more... tangible?"
"Just because we're accomplished much doesn't mean that we've attained. There are many stones yet to be turned, for each of us I'd wager." He's dodging the question. Interesting, Imilia thought
"Turn one stone and you topple the cairn." Imilia smirked. "Knowledge comes not from simply searching, but action as well. I seek to know what reactions await me, but you do not. Do you seek an action to take, then?"
"There is value in proaction of course, but I've found that there is great value in patience and observation. Only in the market do the wise wish they had acted more quickly." And which market passed you by, old man?
"So observation is your goal? Then tell me, teacher, have you ever experienced the magics taught at Baltenainne and Balantoinne?"
The old man raised his eyebrows and coughed into his hand. "Well, er, that is to say... names haven't always been my strong suit."
Imilia smiled. I'll need to be careful not to show my true abilities until I need to, Imilia thought. If it's too impressive enough, then I may be deemed a threat to be removed. But if it's not impressive enough, the others will think me weak. Damn these balancing acts.
"Then perhaps I shall give a demonstration," Imilia said. After locating a piece of chalk, she drew a black sigil in the air. Anyone familiar would know it only as a basic conjuring sigil, but she hoped it looked impressive enough to pass for something more applicable. Adding the marks for water and fire, she tapped the sigil and leeched the energy into her hand, leaving the sigil dissolving into dust and her with a steaming ball of dark boiling water, perfectly balanced in her palm. "That's just a basic offensive sigil of course, I'm too tired to create anything more."
The old man laughed, clapping politely. "Delightful! It's been many years since I've seen sigil-based casting like that. It's so delicate, like a dance," he mused as he mimed the motions. "You said you learned these from Balten- something?" Tch, who is this man? Imilia thought, incredulous. Clearly a caster, but hasn't heard of Baltenainne? The fool will know soon enough...
"Oh yes, of course," Imilia said. "On that note, I should probably introduce myself. Imilia Haas, 3rd year magic theory student and Junior Consul at College Baltenainne, sister college of College Balantoinne, the most prestigious magic academies in all of Loenmeira."
"Well met indeed," the old man bowed as much as the rocking wagon allowed for. "You may call me Hadid. I am professor emeritus of Spellcraft and Practical Experimentation at Scryptorum Academy. It's just outside of Seastnan here." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Though clearly it's not as prestigious as your College."
"Ah, yes, I know well of Scryptorum. I travelled there for a semester as part of my first-year Journeymage Expedition. It was... a new experience, to be sure. Somewhat less... orderly... than Baltenainne, if you'll excuse my rudeness. I believed I signed up for Introduction to Contemporary Magic Theory instead of Practical Experimentation. Shame I did, too. I'm sure even you'd agree that Professor Reylina is quite... ornery on some occasions."
"She can be a handful at times. Though in fairness, spending the day sitting in the stacks thinking about your craft rather than doing it can make one a bit..." Hadid whistled and twirled a finger around his temple. Folding his hands, he leaned forward conspiratorially. "So, a third-year student from an elite school entering an even more elite tournament. Is this part of your coursework or is there something more grand at play?" Imilia laughed inwardly. You think that's going to work, just asking nicely? Alright then, maybe I'll humor you a little...
Raising her voice slightly, so that others around her could hear, she said "Yes, well, certainly you can tell I'm no mere third-year. I am in the Journeymage program, after all. I was selected specifically by Headmistress Bellamy to represent our school and network on its behalf at this year's tournament." Speaking quieter once more, she added "My entry in to the tournament, however, is the result of my decision, not the school's. I'd hardly say there's anything more grand at play, though. I'm not even quite sure myself what exactly I'm looking for. Money? Power? Love? Revenge? Or maybe just personal growth. The call to competition isn't something I can ignore so easily, you see."
Hadid rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is answering the 'call to competition' worth the potential risk? Especially for a personal reward that is as-of-yet undefined?"
"For what reason are risks to exist if they shouldn't be taken?" Imilia said, scowling as she looked down at her trunk before looking up again. In doing so, she noticed that the carts ahead had stopped, and she could hear shouting up ahead. "Well, teacher, it seems something is going awry. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to find out what it is." She smiled once more, reaching out to shake the old man's hand, and as he took it, she leaned in to whisper something before pulling away. "You and I both know it, teacher. Our goals are perfectly well defined."
-cowritten with @domrikade-
Arha looked away from the soldiers surrounding the creature's body at the kobold in the cart beside her. He had come out of what looked like a meditation and had apparently watched the fight along with Arha and the other contestants in the wagon.
"Well, they did very nicely, especially Sir Killian and the newcomer," Arha said. "They seem like they know each other, so I'm sure we'll be introduced at some point. How about you? Do you think they did well?"
"Yes!" Kaigan said, smiling. "Their teamwork was great. So why did you enter the Tournament?"
The elf sat back and thought about her answer. Then she said, "I've come to find allies for Qan Maris, the kingdom I come from. What about you?"
Kaigan grinned again. "I've come to increase peace and prosperity for here, like at home!" He paused a moment before adding, "I also wanted something to do."
Arha chuckled. "Well, the Tournament is definitely something."
"Do you know anyone here?" Kaigan asked. When Arha shrugged and shook her head, he scratched his chin. "I don't either, but I'm trying to make friends."
"That seems like a good idea," Arha said.
"Speaking of friends," Kaigan said, "why are you looking for allies? Is this Morris place under attack?"
Arha sat straighter on her bench. In a practiced, businesslike tone, she said, "As a borderlands nation, Qan Maris is looking to peacefully expand into the unclaimed territory around it. I am here to look for allies who could provide monetary or political support for the nation." She paused before continuing, "The Reveera heiress is someone I could approach for the first option, while the witch could be that person for the second option. However, I didn't expect to see either in this Tournament."
Kaigan smiled, a little softly this time. "I guess I won't be as much help, then. Good luck in finding allies."
"Come now," Arha said. "We still have some time. What about you?"
The kobold shrugged. "There's not much to tell. I haven't done much so far." He looked from side to side. "Maybe these two can help you." His eyes rested on the metal lizard-man for a second before looking back at Arha, who smiled.
"I'll think about it," she said.
Cowritten with @DrakeGladis. Feel free to tell me if there's any parts for Kaigan I should rewrite.
Part 3: The Shadow Fox
Walking along the boulevard overlooking the lower city of Eviera, Conscience was only hours away from heading to the fortress. Perhaps I messed this up, maybe she isn’t comin-. No! What am I talking about? I never miscalculate.
“Conscience Reveera, isn’t it?” a girl, walking quite briskly, came up beside Conscience, who picked up her pace to match the girl.
“And I would suppose that you are Tresa Hawthorne? Or should I say…” She was cut off by the girl, Tresa actually, who nudged her to the side, stopping the rest of the sentence.
“Not. Here. Come with me.” Tresa said, bringing them off the boulevard, toward a tea shop. Conscience smiled, tea being her favorite drink. This tea shop had a reputation for a lovely, imported green, and she’d been hoping to come here, just to sample it. Walking in, Tresa smiled, asking for a private room in the back.
“Which one? The Rose Room is taken up by someone who is competing for the Tournament, but the others are open.” The mistress of the tea house smiled, placating her silently.
“Kick her out. You know the Rose room is the only one I will drink in here.” Tresa looked down upon her with disdain.
“I- I’m sorry. I don’t think she would like that very much.” Before Tresa could reply, Conscience cut in. “We’ll just take the next best one you have.” Tresa glared, before putting on an accepting face, and following the lady to a room, decorated in images of exotic fauna.
“I’ll send a waiter in for your orders in a moment. In the meantime, feel free to relax and browse the menu.” She said, before walking out.
“Now,” Conscience said, with a cruel twist to her mouth, “how exactly did you come to be the Shadow Fox?”
“How did you know? I covered my tracks perfectly.” Tresa appeared perplexed as to how the other girl had figured it out.
“It was really quite easy. No man would have the intelligence to pull off those heists, not to gather such gossip. Not to mention how no nobleman of this city would not boast of this. As for how I picked you, I suppose it was a lucky guess.” Conscience shrugged.
“Well, you caught me. Wow.” She rolled her eyes. “So what exactly are you going to do?”
“I need an informant who will be able to come to the fortress. They’ll have incredibly hard screening to get by, not to mention suspicion on anyone who looks threatening. And since you appear, stress on the appear; I’m sure you’re quite deadly; you won’t be under suspicion as a handmaiden. As for the screening, you obviously have some way of avoiding magical detectors, or you would’ve been found.” Conscience passed over a paper, written with rules, a contract of a sorts.
“And what if I just killed you here? I certainly have the capability to kill a merchant’s daughter, given what you have claimed.” Tresa leaned forward threateningly.
“I doubt you could. Appearances lie.” Conscience mirrored the leaning forward. Tresa smiled, before disappearing from her seat in a whirl of shadow, reappearing behind Conscience, a blade of shadow to her throat.
“As you can see,” she whispered in Conscience’s ear, her mouth close to the ear, “I easily have the capabilities to kill you.”
“I could say the same.” Conscience leaned her hand backwards, before pressing it to her other arm, and pushing a bit of magic in. Tresa frowned, confused by the move. In the slight moment of confusion, Conscience twisted out from her grip, forming a mirror of the knife in the other girl’s hand, except it was made of a purplish substance.
“Now, do you accept?” Conscience frowned. Tresa dropped her hand, the knife disappearing, before smiling.
“I guess I judged you right. I’ll accept, but there had better be some form of compensation.” Tresa put her hand forward. “Also, can you remove whatever weird magic thing you did to me?”
“Done,” Conscience murmured, before putting her hand forward to shake. “The ride is in a few hours. Might as well enjoy some tea before then.”
A FEW HOURS LATER
Leaving the tea shop, the two girls had immediately struck for the carriages that would bear them there, Tresa’s luggage, which she had called for a while ago, being portered by a couple of servants. Arriving at the carriages, Conscience spotted a few familiar faces, as well as a few she hadn’t managed to see before. Someone was playing some god-awful music, which felt like it was supposed to be calming, but utterly failed in terms of everything.
“Whoever is playing that music needs to stop.” Conscience demanded, before sighting the culprit, a strange, masked figure. “You. Stop the music and we will be okay. Got it?” The figure made no sign of assent, and the other competitors looked at her like she was crazy.
“Why do you hate the music? It sounds perfectly okay.” Imilia said, sliding up to her.
“It sounds absolutely horrendous. I’ve heard similar things so many times before, so it manages to be horrendous and boring.” She gave a mocking smile.
“Oh. I see.” At an apparent loss for words, she turned towards Tresa. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Tresa Hawthorne, her handmaiden.” She said, before Conscience could explain. “And yes, I agree with Conscience, the music is absolutely horrid and dull.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Imilia said, ignoring the jab at the music. “I feel like I’ve heard of your family? What are they in?”
As Tresa and Imilia continued talking, Conscience sighed, wishing the music would just go away. Just at that moment, a group of wagons pulled up.
“What in hell are these contraptions?” Conscience was staring in disbelief at the wagons. “Are we chattel or something?”
“Don’t think you’re going to be able to fit all your things in there,” Imilia said, very unhelpfully, breaking away from her conversation with Tresa.
“I KNOW.” Conscience appeared very angry, and began shouting at servants to move certain things away, and repack essentials in three trunks. Tresa looked just as unhappy, only bringing two trunks.
“You ride in that one, I’ll take this one, okay?” Conscience gestured to Tresa. Nodding her assent, she walked off, heading towards one of the wagons.
Sighing, Conscience got on one of them, consigned to a wagon with that strange boy, some old prankster type, and most annoyingly of all, the music guy. On closer inspection, the wagon was more like a cage than anything. Sitting in the corner on her three trunks, she was forced to listen to the absolutely terrible music that was coming from this guy. With no response to her pleas for him to stop, she sighed and rested her head back.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she spun, seeing the strange boy sitting there.
“Hey. What’s your name?” He asked.
“Conscience Reveera,” Was all she said in reply. He fidgeted slightly, bringing a rose out of his pocket. Recoiling slightly, she recognized the rose as having extremely potent dark magic. Her magic was neither light nor dark, it was the middle ground between them. Her magic depended on the wielder’s disposition, so hers normally swung to a darker shade. However, this rose was of true dark magic, the evil things that lived in the night that should never be found again. He slipped it back into his pocket, and the slight weight that carried over the air disappeared.
“That rose. Where’d you get it?” She was trying to be polite, attempting to figure out where one could get such darkness. Slipping out a piece of her magic, she felt for his aura, finding an ink-blackened shroud wrapped around him. Definitely don’t want to get matched against him. Conscience thought to herself.
“That’s none of your business.” He looked strangely defensive of it, as if he had something to hide. “Why?”
“I know magic when I see it, and that rose carries a lot of dark magic.” A lot was an understatement. That thing was essentially entirely made of it.
“That’s stupid.” He looked slightly unsure of himself while saying it. “It’s just a rose.” Pulling it out of his pocket, he twirled it. Confusion lit within her, as the rose no longer carried any trace of the heavy magic she’d felt before.
“Whatever.” She turned back around, before turning again, about to say something, when she saw him staring at Imilia in the wagon in front of them. She waved mockingly at Imilia, before turning back before seeing if Imilia would wave. Suddenly, something came to her. A way to test exactly how much magical awareness these three had. Releasing her magic into the air, purple strands appeared before her eyes, but none of the others appeared to see the magic. Bringing it closer to each one, only Lyuben flinched slightly. Smiling, she recalled it, before laying her head down and going to sleep.
"Up!" The whip cracked over his head. "Get up!"
Lying in the dirt, he struggled to push himself upright. It was then he new he was no longer in the land of the waking. Past the blood cascading down his face, he saw his two arms trying to lift him off the ground. He paused for a moment, seeing the scales and skin that covered them. He had nearly forgotten their beautiful blue shimmer. They glittered softly through the dust and blood, flickers of iridescent blue reminiscent of raindrops.
As he calmed himself, he stood. Before him stood a gruff, balding dwarf with a long bullwhip in hand. They stared at each other for a long time, the student and the master, the young dragonborn and the old dwarf.
"Yer gettin' soft" Growled the dwarf, dusting his chain shirt off and coiling up the leather whip. "That duke has ye starting in a month, an' ye can't even fight an ol' man!" He spat in the dirt of the training ground.
Sturgar didn't say anything. He wasn't sure he could. Did people forget how to speak? He smiled, despite his mentor's harsh words. Shrugging, he decided to go along with the dream. Having skin felt nice. He walked over to the weapon rack, finding the blood gone from his clothes as if by magic. He picked up two curved, single-edged sabers, testing their weight and balance. He reached for an axe, then remembered with a chuckle that he only had two arms. How limiting biology was. Sturgar turned to face the dwarf, who had outfitted himself with pauldrons, a shield, and a bucket helm, hoisting a hammer.
"Well, ye just gonna stand 'round? Hurry up ya useless fool!" The dwarf, called Grollan Hammerhand, Sturgar knew, yelled.
Grollan was not a kind man. Beyond a doubt a good fighter and trainer, but not a kind one. It wasn't even tough love, or a gruff attitude. He simply pushed and pushed, looking on disdainfully if one failed to live up to his impossible expectations. No fond memories had been made at this training ground, only blood and tears and rage. But no matter how much Grollan hated Sturgar, and he him, Sturgar was appreciative of their time together. Certainly, he would not look back fondly upon those times, but they had forged him into who he was, figuratively. He had indeed been literally forged quite a few years later, of course.
The two sparred viciously, sometimes coming to dangerous blows. Sturgar, though disappointed at his apparent lack of arms, whirled about with his blades, while Grollan thundered the ground with his great hammer, roaring as he swung again and again.
"Akon!" Grunted the dwarf.
Momentarily confused, Sturgar paused long enough to receive a crushing blow to the chest, sending him backwards into the ground. He sat, dazed, as the dwarf stood mockingly before him. Then, the ground shook, and the dream was gone.
Sturgar woke, though he gave no sign of it. He simply became conscious, his brain turning on like a candle. Knights were riding towards something he couldn't see, yelling. A battle was most likely happening. As he turned his head towards the scuffle, another rider charged the enemy and ended it. Well, that's taken care of. Sturgar relaxed. He turned around, and drifted slowly back to sleep.
Chapter Four - The Journey, Part II
For the most part, the rest of the journey was silent except for the quiet strumming of a peaceful tune from the blind musician. Lyuben could feel himself within the soft melody. He could feel the pain and longing, brought forth in the muted minor chords and the dissonance in the melody that never seemed to resolve. Yet, there was something more. Something that made Lyuben feel...happy. Then, the tune changed.
Lyuben sighed as he focused his attention back outside the cage he was trapped in. The scenery passed by like a slideshow of different images: some trees, a desert, then a lake, and some mountains too.
How long have we been traveling for?
He saw a strand of dim purple magic float in front of him. He flinched a little as it got closer, then watched it dissipate into the air.
Who…? What was that?
Lyuben sighed and focused back on The Soundweaver’s melody. It was fast and chaotic now, with large octave jumps and fast arpeggios that seemed almost impossible to play, especially on the instrument The Soundweaver held.
Such beauty. Music can do so much with so little…
The Soundweaver’s music forced Lyuben to think back on his childhood. Lyuben could see the false smiles on his parents' faces in the chairs as he skillfully played his own piano compositions under the warm spotlight of the stage. Lyuben could see his boyfriend running up to him after the concert, somehow managing to evade the security backstage. Lyuben could hear the notes he once loved to play. But he couldn't play them--anymore. It brought him too much pain.
Then, The Soundweaver’s tune stopped. The suddenly wagon halted to a stop and Lyuben was thrown against the bars of the cage.
“Ow…”
Conscience stared at him for a moment, then shifted her gaze outside. Lyuben looked to where she was looking too, and saw a huge monster. There were yells from the tournament guards as they all worked together to take down the monster. Lyuben watched the soldiers’ blades as they slashed through the air, still failing to harm the “Akon” as one of them called it.
Something about that monster felt familiar, however. Lyuben pulled the rose out of his pocket again. He looked at the monster and back at his “harmless” rose.
Is there something I’m missing? Was Conscience correct about the magic in this rose?
Lyuben’s attention was yanked back towards the monster as it let out a large roar. Lyuben jumped back to the opposite side of the cart, drawing weird looks from Arn and Conscience. The sound of steel cutting into flesh filled the air, then a thud followed as the monster fell to the ground.
Lyuben breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at the rose that he still held gently in his hand. The petals seemed to be glowing faintly with a dark light.
What? Why..?
Lyuben stared closely at the rose, then watched as the light faded. The petals returned to their blood red color. Lyuben looked outside at the head of the slain beast, failing to make any connections. Lyuben’s mind was full of questions, but all of them remained unanswered--for now, at least.
With nothing better to do, Lyuben closed his eyes and fell asleep holding tight onto the mysterious rose as The Soundweaver’s drowsy tune filled the silence of the wagon.
Five
Worthy Welcome
#toc4_story
Minor Mischief (Series #3)
(The night before)Arn had no interest in hot baths yet he humored them, hot meals but yet again he humored them, but now they expected a spirit to go to sleep? This would simply not do. Arn snuck out into the empty fort grounds and only the ringing of the night and the howling winds could be heard for miles on end. Arn gazed in silence and waited in anticipation until he heard a resounding howl or as close as the creatures here could come to making a howl. Arn let out a wide grin under his mask, as he used wild magic to shift into a hawk like creature and fly out the premise in the process avoiding the already exhausted guards. He mused about hunting the guards instead, but ultimately decided against it.
Arn flew in the direction he heard the howl, a process which took him only a few minutes in part due to his flight. He shifted just as he was about to land and he tumbled on to his feet right in between the pack of beasts. Contrary to how pack animals act, the animals seemed to be afraid and even hesitated to attack him.
They began backing away from their meal when Arn charged one of them and with supernatural speed and shived his dagger into its chest rending it. Such animosity was only heard of in stories as he leaped with monstrous strength on the next beast, crushing its skull.
It had been a while since Arn had had so much fun. Since he got here it was just one restriction and another, and being cooked up in that cage unable to do anything to anyone or thing left him with a ton of animosity to spare.
Arn: "7" "6"
The other animals scattered in all directions. A tactic that increased the likely-hood of survival of the pack in the event of a preditor appearing, but this mattered not to Arn. Whatever he decided to hunt would be hunted. This was a side of Arn that he kept reserved for times of great desperation. He was usually more strategic, would joke around with his hunt and would avoid exerting so much effort. He mostly maintained his prankster side by doing acts that would relive his blood thirst such as pranks, single prey hunting e.t.c but right now he was at his primal state..
He dashed from tree to tree, chasing after a single one of the beasts as he leaped from the tree slashing its throat. He then chased after the next closest one and unleashed a brutal cleave on it using his dagger.
Arn: "5" "4"
In almost one fluid rush, he slashed and cut, all the while doing impressive acrobatics and tearing through animal after animal as he slayed four of them in a row.
Arn:"3" "2" "1"
Arn: "Now where could you be?" Arn inquired as he looked around at the pool of blood and gore seeping into the nearby river, dawn was quickly approaching. He followed a blood trail to his right where he found the beast with a wounded leg. It must have gotten hurt when it was trying to flee from him.
Arn kneelt, healing its leg and just as the beast got comfortable and its fear subsided, just as Arn had let it begin its escape, he decapitated its head with one swift motion with only one last whimper being heard from it.
Arn went and took a bath in the waterfall near the river as to not draw attention to his nightly escapade, and then Arn wild shifted back to it's bird like form and made way back to its resting chambers. Leaving a river of blood painted in its path.
conclusion.
(Last one was chapter 4, I just forgot to title it)
Well, this must have been nice for the other fighters, Sturgar thought. For those who still took baths and ate food. For him, this fortress brought quiet anxiety. Nartheus had not come with him, the journey being only for contestants. He was scheduled to arrive several days later, and during that time, Sturgar worried, he was in all manner of danger. After all, how could he protect him from miles away, locked up in a fortress?
He skipped dinner, sitting on his bed obsessively sharpening his blades, polishing his armor, and oiling his joints. He wondered who he'd be up against tomorrow. Some of the contestants seemed so nice, he hesitated to think about hurting them. Some, on the other hand, looked powerful enough to hold their own. He shuddered thinking about the masked Aetherborn, and his crackling lightning. And the final few that remained, those he would gladly fight. The arrogant young woman, the sinister masked being, the demon. He needed something to do, someone to fight. It was all that kept his mind sharp. Years of no talking, eating, and barely sleeping had worn him bare. He collapsed on the bed, and let his mind wander.
"Back for more, eh?" Grollan clipped on his armor and fitted his wide helm to his head.
Now familiar with the dream, Sturgar looked down, comforted by the sight of his own two arms, clad in brilliant blue scales. He smiled.
"Have at it, then!" The dwarf twirled the handle of his warhammer and slowly circled Sturgar, eyes narrowed.
They prowled round one another for a minute, before Grollan ran forwards and swiped at Sturgar's knees. Shockingly light, he easily jumped it and danced away again. He was starting to have fun.
"Where ye goin', boy!?" Grollan swung again, missing. "Ye been training without me?"
Sturgar ducked and dodged, weaving and jumping and dancing out of the way, always out of Grollan's reach. Seeing the dwarf's anger, he grinned and let out a laugh, surprising himself with the sound of his own voice. It was deep and gravely, as if it came from a deep cavern. He stopped moving, dazed. A blow from Grollan's hammer knocked him clean onto his back, but he felt no pain. He lay there, laughing and laughing, at the sound of his voice, at Grollan, at himself, and at the absurdity of it all. He lay there in the dirt, staring up at the blinding sun, laughing until he felt hollow and spent. He closed his eyes, letting the sunlight filter through his eyelids, mouthing random sounds, just to hear himself again.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in bed. He sat, and the bedframe creaked dangerously under his weight. Looking down at himself, he saw four metallic arms, and a gleaming alloyed torso. He sighed, but no sound was made. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.
Chapter 4- le castle and le feast
Sir Killian, the assassin named Rodolf, and the champions had arrived at Castle Werther, where a man who introduced himself as Captain Rheinallt welcomed them and told them of the feast that would come. Various servants lead Cypherous and the other champions up to their rooms.The rooms were simple, with a bed, a table, a cabinet, and a window letting in sunlight. The servants put Cypherous's luggage, which was a few tools and parts from his lab, in the room. They asked him if he wanted a bath before the great feast, and Cypherous declined. The servants then left.
The servants led each champion to the dining hall once they were ready, and the contestants took their chosen places at the long tables. Captain Rheinallt performed a small prayer, and after that, the feast began.
Cypherous did not eat any of the various foods and dishes, and declined any that were offered to him. Being an aetherborn, he could not eat or drink.
This earned him quite a few strange looks and questions from the other champions, who were enjoying the food.
Bored, Cypherous ran through a list of the other champions in his head, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, as the fight would start tommorow.
There was the blind musician. The Soundweaver, he had been called. He didn't look like much, but Cypherous knew not to underestimate any of the other champions. His songs probably had some magical effect, or something like that.
There was the demoness who had been with Cypherous, Nilfi, and Iseabel Rathais and her brother Stephen in the cart. He didn't know much about her, either, but she seemed like she had power of some sort.
Then there was the dragonoid construct, named Sturgar. This one fascinated Cypherous the most. Was he a living being, modified through artifice? Was he a construct animated through magic? Was he entirely mechanical? Cypherous at least knew Sturgar had a weakness for lightning and electricity, which would be quite helpful for Cypherous if he met Sturgar in combat.
There was the human male named Lyuben, the one with the rose. He seemed like he had some sort of dark magic.
There was the female elf knight, Arha. Again, Cypherous didn't know a lot about her.
There was the necromancer, Iseabel Rathais, who had also been in the cart with Cypherous, along with her undead brother Stephen.
There was the little kobold, Kaigan. He didn't look like much, but, again, Cypherous knew not to underestimate him.
Cypherous just sat at the table, lost in thought. Eventually, the feast ended, and the contestants were led back to their rooms. Once he got into his room, Cypherous sat down on the side of the bed that he, being an aetherborn, would not be using. He didn't know how tomorrow would turn out, and he couldn't wait to see.
Part 4: Evaluation
The breakfast served was meager. It was a meal that could barely shine a light on any meal she’d ever had before. Sighing, she stood up after partaking of the meal, and headed to her rooms. The rooms were fine, they weren’t impeccable, but nor were they too bad. Falling back onto the lumpy bed, she called out, “Tresa! You can come out from where your hiding now.”
Turning her head to the side, what one would assume a normal shadow pooled, before taking human form, in the body of her handmaiden, Tresa. “What did you find out about the others? Tell me everything.”
Tresa sighed, hopping onto the little bed. “I know you’ve already figured out the powers of most, and you’re just testing me, but here we go anyways.”
“First of all, Imilia. She’s a consul from the witch school Baltenainne, and uses some sort of dark magic. I couldn't figure out what exactly, she has fairly strong mental defenses. In terms of what I know about her generally, she appears to have similar mental abilities to you, which are extremely high.” Conscience smiled at the compliment.
“Lyuben. He can use extremely powerful dark magic, but I don’t think he has a handle on it. I have no idea where he got that rose, but that thing is seriously scary. He has a dark past though.” Conscience nodded agreement, as she had felt the rose’s darkness.
“Arn, the fairy guy. Last night, he went on a rampage, and basically murdered any predator within a few miles. However, he’s extremely cocky, and will easily underestimate people he doesn’t think are as powerful as him. For combat ability, fairly sure he won't be too much of a threat." Remembering what she had seen of him, Conscience agreed with the assessment.
“Kaigan.” At the other girl’s look of confusion, she elaborated. “The kobold guy. He’s from some other plane, and I can’t tell you much about him. He draws magic from the earth it seems, but I can’t really guess anything about him.”
“Ystix. He controls some seriously powerful time magic, but I get the feeling he knows how to use it, but doesn’t quite control it. I don’t think he’s really a threat, since you can lock down his magic easily.”
“Isabel and Steaphan. They seem slightly threatening. Steaphan provides a melee edge, while Isabel adds strong necromanctic magic of some sort. However, you’re fast enough to evade Steaphan, and powerful enough to take out Isabel before Steaphan can catch up, so I wouldn’t overly worry.”
“Noah. He’s…weird. I honestly have no idea what he can do. His head is so full of dreams and visions of other worlds that I can’t get a read on him.”
“Arha. Not someone you need to worry about. She has some basilisk magic, but that's really all I could divine. Based on what”
“Cypherous. He’s…another interesting one. Your magic’s draining capabilities will either not work against him, or completely shred him to pieces, but I’m not sure which. As for magic abilities, he can do something with aether, and I think it's lightning, since his getup leans in that direction."
“Sturgar. He can wield a bunch of blades proficiently, but I don’t believe he has any magic. He still has a soul, so the general pieces of your magic will be enough to harm him. You two are probably matched in combat ability, mainly because you’ll be slightly faster, since he wields four weapons and is made out of metal.”
“The Soundweaver.” Tresa started, but was quickly interrupted by Conscience.
“He’s the music guy, right? The blind dude who played absolutely horrid music for the entire journey here?” Conscience scowled.
“Yes. And I sympathize; he played horribly. Anyways, he weaves magic with his instrument, and I think that depending on what he plays, the effect is different, since yesterday he was playing something that was supposed to be calming."
“Nilfi is an alchemist, but also a vampire. I know the alchemist part from what was in his room, and I think he has magic, but I'm not sure. Vampirism probably gives him enhanced healing and strength, things like that. I've read about them.”
“Finally, Hadid. His mind is extremely well guarded, so I was wasn’t able to figure out anything, and may have been noticed by him, but I’m not sure.” With this, Conscience grimaced, before smiling.
“Well, you’re very useful, it seems. I think I’ll keep you around,” she joked.
(Cards linked to cardsmith versions)
She'd already talked to Kaigan about the abyssal creature on the ride. She thought he was nice, although she'd have liked to talk to him a little bit more. Still, it was nice to connect to at least one other contestant before the fortress.
As for the other two in her carriage, she was more worried about Sturgar than Damien. The eight-foot lizardman was skilled, that much was certain. He also had four arms, which was admittedly a little scary.
The elf knew she had to approach Imilia and Conscience about the possibility of the organizations they were associated with allying with Qan Maris. She fully expected to be turned down, but she had work to do here, and she had to do it.
Tomorrow, though, Arha thought. Tonight, rest.
The other contestants were an interesting group. She couldn't tell anything about Lyuben or Noah, although the former reminded her of the family of one of Qan Maris' nobles. Iseabel and Steaphan were interesting, since they were working together. She'd gotten an odd feeling from them as the contestants were entering the fortress, but nothing more.
Hadid, Cypherous, and Nilfi were all magical researchers, Arha could tell that much. They were in different fields, obviously, but their outfits were all indicative of magical study. Ytsix (Arha wasn't quite sure how to pronounce his name) also looked like a researcher, although she couldn't tell if it was magical research or not.
The Soundweaver interested Arha. He wasn't a magic-user per se, but the elf still got a sense that he could create it. As for the spirit, Arn, she wasn't entirely pleased about his presence. He was chaotic, and the elf wasn't sure if he would stick to the rules of the Tournament if he lost. Still, he was as much a contestant as her, and she wouldn't try and see him out just because of her own preferences.
Arha stepped out of the bath and dressed for the feast. She checked in her pack for a small mirror, rubbed it clean with her sleeve, slipped it under one of the bed's pillows, and went down to join the feast.