Iseabel was taking a walk with Steaphan outside the fortress. She moved her hands slightly reached out with their palms facing downwards. After some time, she went down on her knees beside a lonely tree. She pushed her right hand towards the ground. She could the remains of a skeleton. Like someone moving from page to page in a book, she read the the bones of their history. The skeleton was of a man about fifty years of age, and it was fresh, only a few years had he been in the ground. She moved her hand through the grass. She could feel scars in the leg bones that had been healed. She found more along his rib cage and arms, but it was one in particular that she found interesting. In his skull was a large crack that had healed - slightly.
The impact was large, too large to have been made by a tool but instead likely from a fall - probably from horseback. The wound had healed for some time, Iseabel guessed about two weeks before he had died. The healing process was regular and fine except for a minor infection he had received but not the cause for his death. He was probably just a normal man who suffered from bad luck and was then taken care of by loved once before he passed from his wound.
Most people would have gotten filled with ill by seeing the skeleton of someone who died of an accident, but not Iseabel. She found it warming to see someone that had died, not by being ripped to pieces by monster or devoured by demons, but when lying in bed while bein taken care of. There was sadness and tragedy about this mans death but there were no terror or chaos.
She clenched the grass with her fist. She could bring undeath to this man's remains, she could bring him up if she needed to. She did not want to bring undeath to anyone other than Steaphan or useless rodents, but she knew too little about her opponents in this tournament. Maybe Steaphan would not be enough after all. She processed the thought in case she would need to commit to it one day. She released her grip of the grass and then she walked away from the place.
That day might even come sooner than she had hoped. She would fight in the first match and her opponent was some strange small creature named Kaigan. Iseabel had not worked on gaining much knowledge about the other contestants but she could see how most of them were capable of fighting - and maybe killing, except that consul girl, that noble one and Kaigan. She thought about the contestants.
She felt hate for most of them.
Narcissistic self-absorbed idiots who thought they could tremble the very foundation of the world if they so wanted to. They were pathetic children who had not been revealed their shackles yet. Blinded by their own arrogance they walk over the world as if the grass should bow to their might, that they should be loved and respected because they have a good heart?! They want to force the people to love them because they can save them from death, from harm? That they are a better than everyone else just because they are powerful? They are just too stupid to see their shackles, to see that they are powerful because someone allows it!
Iseabel slammed her fist into another tree beside her before she fell down on her knees. She covered her eyes as if she was about to cry, but she didn't. She never did anymore. She realized that she was talking about herself, who she had been way back then. She had thought that she was to become a hero with her newly given powers. She could save people from disease, pain, suffering, even death. She thought people would travel far just to meet her. She thought she would be respected and loved. She was so naïve, so very naïve. When she was not grabbed by the demon in the river she thought she was some kind of chosen of the demons. She was not even a pawn. She was but plaything, a toy, that just existed for their amusement.
The demons were laughing at her as she ran for her life from the angels, from her father, from her family. If it had not been for Steaphan, she would have been the one dead there in the streets. She never mad a sacrifice of her own choice, he sacrificed his life. She was never a hero, he was. Steaphan reached out a hand to her. She looked up at him and the hand. Did she do that or did he by himself? She rubbed her eyes and grabbed his hand.
When walking back with Steaphan she thought about the upcoming fight and Kaigan whom she would face in the match. She knew about the arrogance of humans, demons and angels but nothing did she know of Kaigan's species. Maybe he was truly just unknowing and innocently naïve. She would find out soon enough.
Kaigan practically blanched when he saw his matchup. Iseabel. One of the ones that he and Sturgar had said seemed most powerful against him. Conscience was not unbeatable, but also seemed to not use magic from what was said. So maybe he was overthinking it?
Either way, Kaigan knew it would be a good fight. He turned from the notice and headed to the set of rooms that the contestants had been assigned. They had been nice enough to give him an entire week to prepare! He wasn't actually sure how he'd want to use that... like, he already did normal training daily. Should he perhaps do more of the same? Maybe try to practice something against multiple opponents if her guard is gonna be allowed in with her.
Lost in these musings, he nearly passed by his room. Correcting himself, he ducked inside and went to grab his silver spear which was leaning against the wall. It gleamed in the sunlight coming in through the window, and a few seconds are taken with reflecting the light around the room. The beauty of the line flashing around, across the walls and over the mirror. Turning back, he headed out of the room when he was done.
Thrust! Block! Back! Dodge! Deflect! Trip! Spin!
THWACK!
The mockup stick cracked as the haft of the spear whirled into it. Kaigan glanced around, flushed from the exertion. The sun was high, but a swift breeze blew across the training ground, throwing up small clouds of dust. A few other combatants were at it, but with the exception of Sturgar, none had been there as long as him. Lunch would be soon, and it'd be nice to get in a bath before hand.
As he left the training grounds, in the distance he saw her. Them, rather. Iseabel's escort drew his eye more than she herself did. While the man looked normal, it always felt like he was aware of every motion he did. Like each breath was intentional. They were a scarce sight around the place, so he hurried over.
"Hey, uh. You're Iseabel, right? I'm Kaigan. I'm gonna be your opponent in game one. I just wanted to wish you best of luck!" Kaigan extended his hand out and up for a handshake, looking at the cold figure with sincere eyes. Iseabel regarded the extended hands with cold eyes. Still unknowing of his intentions, or even of his kind, she was unwilling to meet with him in openness. The safety of doing nothing called.
Kaigan's smile and hand wavered, then collapsed under the gaze of ice. Embarrassed and uncertain, he stepped back. Bowing to her politely, he then turned to her escort and did a similar bow.
"And uh. Best of luck to you too."
He turned and left them behind, dissapointed. Perhaps it was cultural, perhaps it was just her. However, it was still personal to him. Oh well, it would be fine. And hey! There was that Ytsix guy! Right on the bridge back to the main area!
Ytsix was staring at the list, lost in thought. He didn't know how to respond to his matchup. Lyuben seemed approachable and all, but while he may seem like a rose in charisma and kindness, a rose is only part of the bush, and the bush has thorns. In this case, those thorns were an imaginary darkness surrounding Lyuben, swirling and repulsing him. Even thinking aboue t it repulsed him, and he hurried off around the island, away from his thoughts.
Kaigan followed, eager to talk to the elusive cat-person. His curiousity was peaked, and he also felt a strange sort of pity for the young-looking boy. The cat always seemed ill at ease when he was even with the group.
Ytsix paused, not noticing the person following him. Panicking more and more at the thought of having to face someone using dark magic, his fur began to stand on end. Trying to compose himself, he was utterly unprepared when a small hand rested on his arm and a voice spoke to him.
"Hey, you ok?"
Kaigan was not prepared for the visceral response he got. Ytsix leaped away and gave a yelp as he felt the hand, ending with a mighty splash as he fell into the lake/moat. Kaigan didn't know a lot about cats, but from what he knew, they were fairly bad at water. He dived in, going after the poor lad.
With Kaigan's help, Ytsix came up sputtering. "Man, second day in a row that happened!" he muttered, both frustrated and amused. The water was ice cold, which was normal for the spring weather.
"Sorry about that, I hadn't meant to startle you."
"Oh... Ah! What are you?"
Ytsix frantically started to try and swim away, but fairly innefectually, both because he wasn't that strong and because swimming isn't his forte.
"I'm a kobold."
"Whassa kobold?"
Kaigan finished bringing him ashore. "I'm a kobold. Sorry about all of that; I didn't mean to scare you. You just... you kinda looked like you needed someone."
"Hmm? What's... that's supposed to mean? I... normally don't talk to strangers."
"You looked scared and alone. You've not really done anything with anyone since you've arrived, and you always have a look like you think the world itself is hunting you. You're not like the others, who have goals here. So I thought that you could use someone to talk to, or maybe a friend."
"Well... I suppose there's a bit of truth to that," Ytsix began to shake himself dry. "When I... first got here... it wasn't exactly a smooth transition..."
Kaigan endured the showering willingly. He wasn't effected by the cold near as much as Ytsix was. Besides, this sounded interesting!
"So you're saying that you're not from this... plane?"
"It's a place called New Tommia... haven't been there for over a century. I've been trying to make it back, but I haven't had any success..."
"You're over a century old!?" Kaigan's voice lowers in respect, becoming more of a whisper of reverance. "Wow. You must be so wise and smart! I can't imagine what it's like to be that old."
There was both a measure of awe and compassion in his look. He wanted to help this person, truely he did. However, his instructions from Prossh himself forbade revealing his own true origins, or anything about the spell that Prossh had cast that had brought him here.
"It's a tad troublesome for someone like me. People are so impatient, the world goes by too fast, and-" Suddenly, Ytsix disappeared, leaving no trace of him behind. Kaigan began to look around frantically, not quite sure where he had gone off to. After a brief moment, he reappeared. "And that's how I- uh... oh..."
"You just vanished!"
"Well... um... uh... that tends to happen at random. To summarize in as little detail as possible, I attempted to make a device for planeswalking, and it exploded! Ever since, I've been randomly teleporting between different places, different times, and sometimes even different planes!"
"Oh. Uh. When you do so... does it hurt?" Kagan winced. If it felt anything like the transport he had had...
"The teleporting itself doesn't... but it's put me in a lot of dangerous situations."
"so why did you sign up?"
"I... didn't..." Ytsix leaned on a nearby fence, and let out a sigh. "It's a weird story. Everyone was praising me like I'm some hero, but I only signed up for one of the contests I've been in. The rest I've been thrown into!"
"So how did you get to be in this one?"
"I don't know! I went to the cafe for some coffee, and I was approached by a messenger letting me know I was chosen!"
"Are you actually planning to compete?" Kaigan's questions seem to be endless, and as long as Ytsix doesn't mind answering them...
"I don't really have a chance in the matter, do I? I was escorted here by armed guards."
"Well, uh. I don't think they'd force you to actually fight. But then again, maybe the way out is to win one of these tournaments you keep getting into?"
"I've won every tournament I've fought in!" Oh dear. Kaigan kinda leapt back from the force of that shout. Apparently he had touched a nerve.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I was just thinking that- well, I shouldn't have assumed. Uh."
"In fact, I think that's why I'm here... all of this anticipation for someone who doesn't even want to fight..."
"So this is some sort of cosmic joke?"
"I... I suppose, I guess? That's the only way to explain how this keeps happening..." Ytsix paused, as this new thought struck him. It was an unpleasant one, but it made some semblance of sense. He'd have to dissect it later.
"That sounds absolutely terrible for you." Kaigan didn't say that ironically, he truly felt bad for Ytsix. "However, I have to ask. If you won every time you were in a tournament like this, why are you so scared?"
"I'm afraid I might not win, but alas, nothing I do can keep me out. I can run, but I always end up appearing back where I came from." That didn't make sense to Kaigan, but it was clear to him that he didn't really understand much of Ytsix's situation. All he could do was learn.
"Can I... help somehow?"
"Hmm... I'm not too sure, but... It's nice to at least have someone to vent to..."
"I mean, I'm always an ear."
"You're not an ear. You're a cobalt." Ytsix and Kaigan both giggled at that. Kaigan felt like Ytsix was getting more comfortable and more at ease around him.
"Ko-bold. Not co-balt. Close though. And I meant that I'm always ready to listen. You look like you need a friend, and I'd like to be one. I understand that you still may be scared, and that I am technically an enemy to you because we are against each other in the tournament, but also know that this is not a real fight. This is to get a person who is able to help the people here recognized."
"Well... you don't seem like you're going to kill me... but... are you a demon?" Ytsix had to know. This Kaigan person was cute, and really nice it seemed, but if he was a demon, it might all just be an act to get close and hurt him.
"What? No. Im a kobold. Like you just said. Technically, we're related to dragons, but demons aren't even real." Kaigan chuckled at the thought.
"Dragons? Ah... I... think I know what you're talking about now... curious..."
Ytsix stared off into space for a second, lost in his own head. He had heard a lot of bad stories about dragonborn, but this fellow matched none of them. He didn't even look like the descriptions he had heard.
"Anyway, you feeling better now? You're fur's still on end, but I think that that is more from the water than from fear."
Pulled back to reality, Ytsix blinked. "Oh. Probably. Yeah, I am feeling a bit better."
"Well, best of luck with your match then, Ytsix." Kaigan offered the cat a hand up, but was polietly declined. He went back to his room to put the spear up.
It was weird, he thought. Ytsix is paradoxical. He's barely a boy, yet over a century old. He hates and fears fighting, yet he competes in these tournaments without declining them. He seems to have two people inside of him. A skeptical old one, and one like me, but more curious. Intimidatable. Innocent even.
Thank you @Jonteman93 for talking me through writing for Iseabel, and thank you @Tommia for working with me on writing Ytsix! If either of you want me to edit anything, please, contact me and we can work on it. I took a bit of creative license with both characters, and I want to make sure I got them right!
Unlike most other participants, Arn hadn't spent enough time with his opponent to come to a conclusive analysis of who they were. Arn knew not of their name, their abilities, or where he could even find them to learn of these things and neither did he care to do so.
Since the hunt, Arn had ventured outside of the confines a few times along the week to study the Akon and how their magics work, and through some discussions with the locals he discovered that this energy was called abyssal energy. Initially Arn had come here with no goals or plans other than chaos, but now he was more interested than ever in this so called new form of power he could attain if he harnessed it. He kept note on his head of a few key points before he returned to the tournament grounds.
As Arn flew in his raven like form from above, It observed what seemed to be drone of sorts flying at a significantly lower height than his to the direction where Consiterse and Kaifar were training, or was it Contience and Kailan? Either way it mattered not from him. It was good to see that the Aetherborn had what it took to win but would he ever do what he needed to win that mattered.
Arn wild shifted in an empty training area with dummies after making a birds eye view clearance of the surrounding to insure the grounds he was on was the most Isolated and not grounds for the unwanted visitors like the ones he saw earlier. When he was far enough he decided that even though still dummies made for bad training partners, for now it would have to do.
Arn pulled out a piece of the abyssal creature, which he had isolated in his prior ventures using wild magic then bound it to a crystalized rock and held it in his hand while channeling a bit of his wild magic into it just had he had practiced outside the castle confines. The energy reverberated back into his arm three fold and while he did not feel the pain, he could see the damage that had began to appear but it was much better than last time when he almost blew his whole vessel to smithereens.
(*Akon T_T*)
Arn then released what he would have normally considered a normal punch on a dummy and uprooted it from its very foundation, launching it far enough and fast enough to cause a shock wave. He then gazed at the stone in his hand and channeled a little bit more, this time flakes of his hands wafting like ashes at the dark reverberation, he then unleashed a string of wild magic that obliterated the surrounding dummies and withered trees within a 5 meter arc.
He then put away the relic and left the grounds. He needed to first find a way to revitalize his body before he could master this power. With this new purpose in mind, he set out to the nearby library to pull out books on the capabilities of the creatures of the abyss.
Whatever it took, Arn would make his vessel stronger.
Sturgar stood at the bridge, silent and immobile as stone. His eyes strained, staring at the road ahead and the distant horizon. Nartheus was set to arrive any minute now, and Sturgar was worried, perhaps unnecessarily so, that the duke had suffered an injury or, gods forbid, perished during the voyage. He was in good hands, four trained guards were nothing to scoff at, but Sturgar felt uncomfortable leaving Nartheus with anyone other than himself. He tightened his grip on his weapons, scanning the trees surrounding the area for any sign of movement. When he finally saw the cloud of dust on the horizon, he shaded his eyes, peering through the cloud. To his relief, a dark wood carriage soon pulled out of the dust, trundling up the dirt road. He calmed his pulse and gave the tree line another scan.
"Well how long have you been waiting there?" Nartheus smiled, stepping out of the carriage.
A stern looking man clad in plate mail helped the duke down onto the ground, and was promptly shoved aside as Sturgar immediately put himself between the Duke and the other men. He looked all around, twisting his head one way and another, before rushing Nartheus off to the fort. It wasn't safe in the open, despite the numerous guards on patrol. Anything could happen out here.
"I've just arrived, Sturgar. No need to worry so much!" The duke protested as Sturgar hauled him through the fortress gates, nearly carrying him. "Alright, we're inside and safe. May I walk on my own now, before you ruin my jacket?" Nartheus smirked. He was used to this behavior. To Sturgar, who felt no pain or discomfort, safety was always more important than comfort, and some rough treatment was to be expected.
Only when the duke was in his room, and the door locked with a chair and dresser pressed against it did Sturgar relax a single fiber of his being. He poked his head out the window, quickly looking left and right, before slamming it shut and barring it.
"No one's trying to kill me, you can relax." Nartheus smiled tolerantly, sitting on the bed. "That reminds me. I've brought you a little gift." He pulled a long, cloth-wrapped parcel from his bag, handing it over. "Go on, open it."
Letting the cloth fall to the floor, Sturgar admired the present. A masterfully crafted, beautiful longsword sat, sheathed in polished mahogany and golden etching, in his palm. He pulled it from it's scabbard slowly, almost reverently, marveling at it's blade as sunlight danced and sparkled off the brilliant steel. Fully unsheathed, the blade rang quietly, humming a high pitched tune. It was four feet long, made from the finest Damascus steel, nearly unbreakable and surprisingly light. A length of white silken cloth wrapped it's handle, and it's hilt was spun gold, wrapping elegantly around the handle and blending seamlessly into the blade. He tested it's weight and balance, swinging it gently around. Perfect. Sturgar looked up.
"Nice, isn't it?" Nartheus stood up. "Our friend Zordroth made this especially for this tournament, free of charge. Not that we haven't payed him enough already. Nevertheless, he seems to like you. He'll be arriving tomorrow, to see your match and to repair your body and weapons if need be."
Nartheus smiled knowingly. "Sturgar. Indulge me for a moment and swing that as if to strike an enemy.
Sturgar shrugged and put himself into a crouched position, sword pointed outwards at the wall. With a thrust, the blade shot forth, liquifying and solidifying into a point. A slash, and it shifted like mercury, becoming wide and curved like an axe. A parry, and it was flat and round as a shield. He paused, staring at the weapon in awe. This was nothing short of magic.
"It is enchanted." Nartheus nodded as Sturgar looked towards him, surprised. "A friend of mine knows a powerful enchanter, and owed me a favor. I do believe we're even now. I hope it was worth it."
Sturgar nodded, smiling to himself. This was incredible. A magic sword was indeed worth it, a secret weapon. No other competitor knew about this, and he would have to keep it that way. He immediately closed the curtains aggressively, sheathing the blade, which had reformed into a longsword, wrapped it up and shoved it under the bed's mattress, before threading an impossibly thin, clear wire around the bed. If anyone lifted the mattress and saw or stole the sword, he would know. He finally sat down, collecting himself. This would certainly make a splash, once the first match was over. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, mind at rest for the first time in days. Everything would be okay.
Each of your heroes prepare for their matches in their own ways as the week goes on. On some days, Sir Killian, Rodolf, and Captain Rheinallt each mention different people and locations that could prove helpful one way or another. The training grounds are known to everyone, but Werther Fortress and its nearby areas have places which are also worth paying a visit. Let your heroes see them with their own eyes...
Healing Chamber
In one of the fort's chambers there's a place where the healers create medicine and treat the sick and wounded. Most of the time the patients are soldiers of the fort, who train daily and ensure that the surrounding areas and roads are safe from monsters and outlaws. People bound to such duty will always get an injury or two, and those who aren't too unlucky may wake up in one of the white beds of the healing chamber.
All healers are old women, and they have practiced this skill for their whole lives. Now that the tournament is being held in Werther Fortress, the healers must focus on the contestants, even if it means ignoring other patients. They won't do so willingly, but your heroes are more important to the tournament than mere soldiers with simple lives.
Chapel
The small chapel is attached to the main building. As your hero approaches the door, they hear whispering from inside. When they enter, they see a bald man kneeling in the middle of the chapel, silently mumbling a never-ending prayer. Two braziers are placed next to him, and a strange colorless flame dances on both of them. The cleric's body is covered with black markings and his eyes are blank.
"I am Kara," he says quietly with his bandaged hands in front of his mouth when your hero tries to greet him. "Servant of Terrodus, the godlike caretaker of death, and watcher of the abyssal gate." He tells how he is able to guide the recently dead back to life, so the hosts asked for his help with the tournament matches. Your heroes may try to ask for more information about the godlike caretakers of Avelaide or the abyss, but Kara doesn't always seem like he is aware of what's happening around him.
Smithy
Sound of clanging hammer and flashes of blue light are common within the smithy that's nearby the training grounds. Inside your hero meets a vigorous man with long black hair. Whenever he tempers steel on a strange anvil, sparks of blue light explode from each strike, and peculiar markings appear on his left hand for a moment. His eyes glow with the same light whenever he uses the anvil, but he looks like a normal human otherwise.
"Here for an order?" He asks your hero with a loud voice when he isn't working on the anvil. "My name is Rezar, and many have sought my services around the kingdom and even beyond! Recently I have lacked inspiration, so I decided to come here and work with the otherworldly tools, weapons, enchantments, and armor you and other contestants have. Since I am a master spellsmith, my works aren't usually cheap, but for a small price, I'll upgrade and modify your gear!"
Tower
If your hero is observant, they may have noticed colored smoke occasionally coming from the chimney of the fort's tallest tower. After taking the stairs and climbing to the top floor, your hero hears as someone is working behind the door; turning book pages, clinging vials, whispering incantations, pouring liquids, then starting all over. When your hero enters the room, they see a young woman in a neat black dress that's in contrast to the messy shelves and tables which are full of different objects; books, scrolls, potions, plants, animal skulls, trinkets, candles, ink bottles, and quills. A silver dagger, a chalice, a crystal ball, an hourglass, and a black cauldron that's placed on the fireplace seem to be the most important items for the witch. She glances at your hero with her light blue eyes.
"Were you ever taught to knock the door?" She asks in an annoyed tone while still working on her project, but after a while, she stops and looks at your hero. "Mimosa is my name. I am a witch who specializes in potions, poisons, soups, and other concoctions. I get requests from nobles and farmers weekly, so if you also want something from me, you have to wait your own time unless you're willing to pay extra. So make it quick, then go practice for your match or something."
Market
On the other side of the lake that surrounds the Werther Fortress, there's a long dam, where people from the nearest farms, towns, and cities have gathered and set up a market. It's not uncommon to see merchants and profiteers gather around during big events, and the tournament is the most famous one in Eviera. The market is filled with different food places, trinket sellers, phony shops, and fortune tellers. If your hero tries hard enough and uses their wits, they might find something truly extraordinary from the sea of trifles, but usually on that point a pickpocket has already taken your hero's coins when they were not looking.
If your hero requires money for a certain service, Captain Rheinallt is willing to give your hero a pouch of gold coins.
* * * *
You may use these characters and locations in your stories as you see fit. If you have questions about any of them, feel free to ask me through private messages. You may also contact me via Discord. My username is TenebrisNemo#6101.
The matches are approaching, so now would be the best time to message me about your hero's tactics, skills, and their attitudes towards their opponent. Also, feel free to tell me if you have any specific requests for your match.
The first match will begin on 16.00 Central Standard Time!
Imilia tossed and turned in her bed, her silk shorts and shirt clinging to her skin as it beaded with sweat. The night was swelteringly hot, and Imilia kicked the covers off her bed out of frustration.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, she reached for the piece of chalk on her nightstand, drawing a set of three sigils in the air above her. Inscribing the sigils for earth, water, and fire, she sent mana into the sigils, and slowly from the space between them, a jet black piece of glass descended towards her. She snatched it out of the air, exhausted, and the sigils vanished into dust. Holding the shard up, she saw her reflection in it. She scowled at herself in the shard, and tossed it aside, where it stuck in the opposite wall.
Sighing, she rolled over onto her side, her long hair cascading in a jet-black waterfall around her shoulder and down her neck. She could almost feel the gentle fingers of a lover running through it, and she closed her eyes, a soft smile on her face as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
She head someone in the distance calling her name, and just as soon as she had fallen asleep, she shot up in bed again. But she was no longer in her bed in Werther Fortress. She was 15 again, back home at her house back in Loenmeira, and her mother was calling for her.
"Imilia! The letter's arrived!"
Imilia gasped. The letter! Of course! Panicking, she threw off her covers, flinging herself out of her bed. She flung off her pajamas, changing hastily into a sundress and running a brush once through her hair. She raced through her house, dodging her father and older brother on her way to the door, where their district's messenger, Hannon, stood waiting for her, a letter in his hand, uniform as crisp and as well fit as ever.
"Good morning Hannon, I see you've got a letter there for me."
"An especially good morning to you as well, Imilia. And in fact I do. All the way from College Baltenainne even! I do hope you've gotten in." Imilia, fighting to control her enthusiasm, gently took the letter.
"Oh Hannon, you know me, of course I got in!" Hannon chuckled, and patted Imilia's shoulder
"Well that's wonderful news, then." Calling now into the house, he said "It was wonderful to see you, Haas family! I'll be back around next week!" Her father waved and her mother called from the kitchen.
"Thank you Hannon, see you soon!"
Hannon tipped his hat as he stepped down from the verandah, and Imilia stepped inside, tearing open the letter and reading what was inside.
Congratulations!
You've been accepted into College Baltenainne. Of the nearly ten thousand applications received, yours was exceptional enough to be chosen among the one hundred students that comprise a class.
Your application was selected as: 4/100 Should you choose to join us here at College Baltenainne, you'll need a uniform. These can be purchased on campus, as well as from certified tailors.
Your local certified tailor is: N/A
Attached to this letter is a course selection form, as well as an application to the College Baltenainne Journeymage program. What is the Journeymage program?
The college Baltenainne Journeymage program is for only the most studious and capable of academics and magic users. This group of no more than thirty students, comprised of both Baltenainne and Balantoinne students, will be eligible to take up to three additional co-college classes, with the possibility to raise your grade point average to a 5.0.
Additionally, students within the Journeymage program will, once per year, go on a Journeymage Expedition outside of Loenmeira to expand their knowledge and cultural experiences.
Lastly, Journeymage students will have a special Magic Theory course taught by Headmistress Bellamy and Headmaster Beurnas.
We here at College Baltenainne look forward to seeing you on campus in the coming semester. Make sure you're prepared.
Congratulations again, student.
- Headmistress Bellamy
Imilia's eyes lit up, and her heart raced in her chest. She had gotten in! Her dreams and aspirations of the past four years, finally coming to fruition!
Ignoring the questions from her family, she slipped on her sandals before running out the door, clutching the letter tightly to her chest. She ran down the road, gravel crunching underfoot as the wind played through her hair. Gulls wheeled up above, and the seaside town was awash with colors under the midmorning sun. It was a beautiful day to be happy.
Making her way down towards the waterfront, she rounded the last corner before the gnarled old olive tree where she and Han had met almost every day for the past four years.
He was there waiting for her, and he turned toward her as she approached, a huge smile on his face, holding up a letter identical to hers.
Suddenly, her foot slipped, and the road rushed up to meet her.
Imilia snapped awake once more. She was back in Werther Fortress now, and the fortress was bustling around her. Why is it so busy? Imilia shot up as she remembered. The first match! Getting out of bed, Imilia got dressed, grabbing a notebook and quill on her way out of the room. Matches meant fights, and fights meant information. And information meant power.
Imilia gently traced the scar on her chest through her shirt as she looked at her trunk where it sat, tucked into a corner.
Midday sun shined brightly in the cloudless blue sky as the time for the first match was approaching. Countless people from near and far had arrived to the outskirts of Werther Fortress, awaiting for the tournament guards and hosts to lead them and the two contestants to one of the many arenas, which had been kept a secret. Young people danced around campfires, older ones drank ale while laughing, and minstrels played their songs. There weren't many children, since they were forbidden from watching the brutal competition, but some kids were far too curious and surprisingly cunning, they would find a hidden spot for themselves and watch the battles without anyone interrupting. Everyone excitedly stopped what they were doing when the gates of the fortress started to open. Tournament guards, Sir Killian and Rodolf rode on their horses, leading the carriage and two of the caged wagons. Judge Gaspar, Captain Rheinallt, and a bald man with black markings over his body were in the carriage, and the fighters of the day were in their caged wagons. Everyone else followed the caravan by foot. After a while, they arrived to a nearby forest, which seemed normal at first, but then they saw white pillars along an abandoned road. Each pillar was more or less broken and covered in ivy, some were toppled while others still stood tall. Eventually they reached the end of the old road and saw the arena; white temple ruins.
Art: Sylvain Sarrailh
Wooden stands were placed around the entrance to the ruins. Sir Killian, Rodolf, and the tournament guards unmounted from their horses. The Judge, the Captain, and the bald man stepped out from the carriage. Guards took their positions and the Judge took his seat at the top row of one of the stands, which was reserved for tournament hosts only. While the crowd were finding their places, Sir Killian opened one of the caged wagons while Rodolf opened the other. Kaigan stepped out from his wagon, then Iseabel and her brother Steaphan did the same. Then the captain and the bald man approached the two contestants. "One of you may die during this match," the bald man whispered to the two heroes. "You will suffer from pain, but I will grant you a mark in your palm which will prevent your soul from reaching the abyssal gate. It will only work if you die within the arena, and the effect lasts only for an hour." Kaigan and Iseabel both looked into the man's blank eyes, and then they looked at the Captain.
"This is the only way we can keep you safe from death," Rheinallt said in a serious tone. "So do as priest Kara says. When the battle starts, fight as you like, just don't leave the arena or attack anyone else."
After saying that, the Captain walked away. Kara put his hands on Kaigan's palm while Sir Killian and Rodolf watched, then the kobold felt the stinging of pain as the cleric whispered something in a foreign language and a black mark slowly appeared in the kobold's palm. When it was Iesabel's turn, Kaigan walked in the middle of the ruins while the crowd looked at him. Some people even started to make bets. Kaigan looked at the crowd, and focused on the people next to the Judge. On his left side, he saw a large muscular man with black hair, dressed in blacksmith's clothes. On his right side, a young woman in a black dress, which highlighted her blonde hair. He didn't get to look at them long before Iseabel and Steaphan took their places few meters in front of him. Kaigan approached Iseabel and offered her a hand, but since he was met with the same cold gaze as before, he sighed and walked back to his position. Captain Rheinallt, who was standing on a wooden podium in front of the wooden stands, cleared his voice and raised his hands. "Welcome to the first round of the seventeenth tournament of champions!" After a thundering ovation quieted down, the Captain continued. "Let's get straight to the business! On our left side we have a tiny kobold with a great heart; Kaigan of Kher Keep!" The people clapped, then Rheinallt introduced the other fighters of the day. "On our right side we have a necromancer and her loyal knight, who is also her brother; Iseabel and Steaphan Rathais!" When the applause ended, Captain Rheinallt turned to look at the fighters. When everyone seemed ready, he raised both of his hands.
(I'm really sorry if this is disrupting the flow of the first match! I meant to get it in earlier but I've been really busy this past week. This takes place before the start of he 1st match)
---
Chapter Six - Une amie mystérieuse
Lyuben awoke early the next morning--again. The matches were to be posted at noon that day. Lyuben was nervous. He was scared of many of the contenders, especially Imilia: there was something about her that left Lyuben a little...unsettled. Lyuben could sense powerful magic within her, all hidden behind her sweet smile.
Am I being too suspicious?
The next few hours passed slowly until Lyuben heard a loud announcement echo through the fortress.
“Greetings all tournament contenders: The matches have been posted on the bulletin board on the front of the entrance bridge.”
Lyuben quickly grabbed his rose and dashed out of his room, nearly crashing into the Soundweaver in the long hallway.
How many times will I almost crash into him?!
When Lyuben got to the bridge, he could see people flocked around the bulletin board.
“The first match,” a boy in a blue hat read, “Kaigan versus Iseabel.”
“And the second,” another person said, “Hadid versus Damien.”
“Then in the third match, Lyuben versus Ytsix.”
It took Lyuben a moment to remember who Ytsix was.
A time traveler?! How will I ever be able to beat that cat?
Lyuben shook his head as he started back towards his room.
I mean, what did I expect? An easy fight? At least he doesn’t wield crazy magic like Conscience and Imilia or crazy blades like Sturgar…
Lyuben sighed, staring at his rose again. He could now see microscopic, faint balls of purple light fluttering around the beautiful petals. Lyuben stared closer at the magic. It looked as if each ball of light had silky wings behind it in order to keep it afloat around the beautiful flower.
I can’t lose my match...if I do, I’ll be forced to go back to my parents. They will make me suffer. They already took him away. I can’t let them take any more...
---
That day at dinner, Imilia sat next to Lyuben at dinner again.
Who is this Imilia? Why is she being so nice to me? What does she want?
“So, you mentioned you’re a student at Baltenainne?” Lyuben asked as he picked up the silver fork in his left hand.
“Indeed.”
“I’ve heard of it. It seems quite prestigious. My parents knowone of the top graduates from there,” Lyuben continued before putting a piece of delicious chicken in his mouth. The spices reminded him of the food from his own castle.
“Know?”
Lyuben finished chewing and swallowed his food before elaborating. “I mean there’s not much more to say about that, is there?”
Imilia frowned and continued the conversation, “What about you? Where are you and your parents from?”
“Mal-” Lyuben stopped himself again, “I’m from a kingdom that’s pretty far from here. There were lots of people there. I never went to any school of magic though. I don’t think my parents would’ve wanted it. Especially my mother.”
“So, you’re untrained in magic, yet you still decided to enter?” the witch pressed.
“Well, yes…”
“Do you think you’ll be able to win? I mean everyone here has practiced their art for years…”
Lyuben looked down at his plate to avoid eye contact with Imilia.
“We’ll see, I guess,” Lyuben replied quietly.
“Wait...why did you enter this competition?”
Lyuben saw people getting up and leaving the dining hall.
I think I need to leave now…
“It’s a long story,” Lyuben said, “And plus...I think dinner might be ending soon.”
Lyuben stood up abruptly, accidentally knocking over the unfinished glass of wine that he had touched earlier.
“Oh!”
“Don’t worry,” Imilia smiled, “I’ll take care of that.”
Imilia cleaned up the mess quickly with some sort of magic infused rag.
“Th-thank you,” Lyuben stammered. He turned and started to walk away when he heard Imilia call his name.
“Lyuben!”
“Yes?”
“I thought that since I used to mentor students in the school, perhaps, I could help you learn to wield your magic? I mean you will need some help, if you want to control a little bit of your magic before the fight…especially if you’re up against some crazy time traveller like Ytsix...”
Lyuben looked at Imilia. He looked at her eyes and that same unnerving smile. He couldn’t bring himself to trust her. Not yet.
Lyuben paused. “Actually, I think that would be cool! Would you want to meet in the training grounds after the first match ends?” Lyuben asked nervously.
The smile on Imilia’s face grew.
“Splendid! And yes, the training grounds should do just fine.”
I still can’t trust her yet. She’ll still let me down like my parents will. They’re all the same. They always have been. But I must win my match. I must.
Nilfi laid in bed, absently watching
the moon through his bedroom window while thinking about the events of the past
few days. The Akon encounter on their way to the tournament grounds was
confirmation enough of the rumors and stories; this Abyssal presence was
determined to halt the contest, and it seemed to be taking everything the
organizers had to keep the participants safe. Why else hold the games in a
fortress? Still, that beast was far more dangerous than his first encounter in
this world, and Nilfi knew not to underestimate them.
“That’s
not the only thing you shouldn’t underestimate, Nilly boy.” The thought
shot through his mind as he pictured the bulletin board, each match listed in
order.
~ “MATCH FIVE: NILFI AND NOAH.” ~
“Who or what are you, Noah? There’s
something – unreal – about you, and that makes me nervous.” He mused to himself
and the moon. Reaching under his pillow, Nilfi pulled out an amber-like stone,
holding it up in the moonlight, soft silver beams illuminating it with a golden
glow emanating from within. He closed his eyes, taking a breath as he slowly
let a flow of mana course through him into the stone as he whispered, “As
within, so without. As above, so below…” Nilfi aimed his other hand at a pile
of rocks he had collected onto his desk. When he opened his eyes, the pile of
plain cobblestones had transformed into pure, raw nuggets of gold. “That should be enough.”
Nilfi closed his eyes and rested.
True sleep eluded him these days, but he was able to enter a trance-like state
where he could shut up his conscious mind for a while. His subconscious was
free to run wild though, and with it, memories he’d rather have left in the
depths of his mind.
~~~~~~~
Memory
of a Brilliant Flame
Sweltering, unbearable heat
assaulted every inch of the wizard’s skin as Nilfi approached the enraged
dragon; her sky-like azure scales glimmering from the engulfing sapphire flames
bellowing from her lungs. His body was burning, each step felt like an eternity
of pain, skin charring and falling from his bones. “If I don’t stop this soon, I’m not making it out of this!” His
mind screamed. Nilfi couldn’t feel
the scales of the dragon, but he could tell that the scorched bone stump of his
arm had made physical contact with the beast. “Now!”
In an instant, the vampiric spell
Nilfi had prepared was unleashed, and suddenly the flames were rapidly consumed
by some force from within Nilfi as if he were some kind of black hole. All of
the raw energy from the fire was drawn into him until not even a spark left the
dragon’s mouth. Nilfi struggled to pull his arm away from her as the spell
continued trying to consume any form of energy and matter the dragon emitted. With
a forceful tug, his enfeebled body flung backwards to the ground, a decayed and
necrotic patch left on the dragon’s otherwise spotless and beautiful abdomen.
The alchemist laid there on the scorched earth for minutes, hours, days; all he
knew was pain and loneliness as his body slowly repaired itself.
But now, now he had the dragon’s
flame. “I’m sorry for the harm I caused
you Dreamcharmer, but thank you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inspired
Commission
Nilfi shot up out of bed, hurriedly shoving
the freshly transmuted gold into a leather pouch, throwing on his robe, and
grabbing his staff as he rushed out of his room and down Werther’s halls, his
smooth bare feet slapping against the cold stone floors of the fortress. Treading
across the training grounds he saw smoke rising from the smithy’s chimney, the
sound of hammer striking metal growing louder as he approached.
Flinging the door open with a bit
more force than intended, Nilfi stepped inside. The workshop was fairly dark
besides the light of the forge and the brilliant blue sparks jumping from the
freshly heated blade being pounded into shape by the blacksmith. The smithy
glances over to the open door, his long black hair swaying to the side as he
nods to over to the contestant. “With you in a moment.” He says loudly as he
works the blade until its cooled, resting it in the fire as he goes to greet
Nilfi properly. “Here for an order?” he asks.
“Rezar, yes? I’m going to have to
give this tournament every ounce of my strength and my magic, and this-” Nilfi
started as he raised his staff, flipping it over and releasing the cap that
concealed the spear blade, “Or more specifically this I’m concerned won’t
handle the heat. Quite literally I should say. I trust the staff to channel the
magic, but I’m afraid the blade won’t hold. I’m talking like, dragon’s flame
levels of arcane fire, and I’m told you might be able to ensure that won’t be
concern? I have brought payment.” He added quickly at the end, tossing the
smith the entire pouch of gold. The man emptied the leather bag; taking about
two-thirds of the gold and placing the rest back inside and tossing it back
over.
“If you’re satisfied with the work
once I’m done, you can add a tip to the payment then. But for now…” He said,
delicately taking the bone staff from Nilfi, “I think I might be able to help.”
(I hate how long it took for me to post something, lots of fun moments I didn't really get to touch on, but super excited for what's to come. Good luck everyone! Also if anyone wants to collab with me, either shoot me a DM on here or a message on my discord: Red_Tower#6724 )
Once the battle started, Kaigan climbed onto a pillar while the silent knight followed him with his sword ready. Steaphan wasn't able to reach the nimble opponent, so Iseabel had to think of something. The kobold looked at the necromancer, who was waving her staff in an ominous way. Sound of a whistle, then Kaigan felt as a sudden arcane blast hit his left shoulder. It caused the kobold lose his balance on the pillar, and he fell back first onto a white stone slab. The moss that covered the stone slab barely made the impact of the fall any softer. "Ow," Kaigan groaned, then he quickly jumped onto his feet, even though his back hurt. The knight was right behind him and ready to cut his head off, but Kaigan parried the sword, then quickly pushed Steaphan few steps away by thrusting his head with the butt of the spear. Another whistle sound and arcane blast, this time directed at Kaigan's head. Iseabel attacked Kaigan from behind, and so the monk fell onto his knees while leaning onto his spear. He shook his head, then noticed as Steaphan was right in front of him. The knight thrust his sword at Kaigan's chest, but the kobold dodged the attack just barely, and the sword cut a wound in the left side of his torso. Blood bled like a little waterfall along his body.
Kaigan gritted his teeth, then jumped behind Steaphan. Iseabel couldn't focus her magic at the kobold if her brother was in the way. Steaphan turned around and parried the thrust of Kaigan's spear. Cling! Clang! Kaigan kept attacking Steaphan with a flurry of thrusts, but the knight was always fast enough to parry each attack. The kobold hissed before he backed up and took a defensive stance. Steaphan pointed at him with his sword, then dashed towards the monk. When their weapons connected, Kaigan leaped over Steaphan. Upon landing, he rotated and cut the right ankle of the knight, causing him to collapse onto his knee. Steaphan didn't even whimper, but Kaigan still smiled triumphantly. The knight was slowed down, so the kobold turned to look at Iseabel, who was waving her staff again. Yet another whistling arcane blast, but Kaigan took cover behind a fallen pillar, causing the blast to scratch the pillar's surface. Iseabel grunted and fired again, but the small kobold jumped behind another pillar. Before Iseabel could prepare another spell, Kaigan dashed in front of her, his determined eyes meeting her cold ones. Iseabel tried to strike him with her staff, but Kaigan easily responded with a swish of his silver spear. The staff snapped and wooden splinters flew around the two contestants. Iseabel screamed, then fell onto her knees, but quickly noticed she was still unharmed. However, the tip of Kaigan's spear was pointing at her nose. "You're defenseless," the kobold said while he breathed heavily and sweat trickled down his face. "Surrender now, so neither of us has to die. Please?" Iesabel stared silently for a moment, then she smacked the kobold's head with a broken half of her staff. Kaigan whimpered as he took a few confused steps, then he felt as Iseabel grabbed his arms from behind him.
"Do it, brother! Now!" Kaigan didn't like the sound of the necromancer's words. The kobold opened his eyes and saw Steaphan, who was still many meters away, but he prepared his sword for a throw. Kaigan gulped and tried to get away, but Iseabel was firmly holding his arms, preventing him from moving. However, Kaigan was still holding his spear in his right hand. He aligned it, then thrust Iseabel's stomach with the butt of the spear. The necromancer crouched while coughing, and the kobold got free. At the same time, Steaphan threw his sword. Everyone heard the sound of blade penetrating flesh and the blood splattering onto the ground. Kaigan was prone, covered in blood. He opened his eyes and looked around. He saw Iseabel kneeling right behind him, a sword's hilt sticking out from her chest while the bloody blade was sticking out from her back. With wavering fingers, she tried to touch the sword, then she looked at Steaphan before she coughed blood from her mouth and collapsed. Kaigan, who was completely covered in Iesabel's blood, stared at his opponent, eyes wide open, then he fainted. Steaphan crawled past unconscious Kaigan to Iesabel's side. He stood up on his knees and silently pulled the sword from his sister's lifeless body, then he stopped. The knight just stared at his dead sister without moving a muscle.
After a moment, Sir Killian, Rodolf, and a couple of tournament guards approached the contestants. Killian picked up Kaigan, then watched as Steaphan suddenly pointed his sword at anyone who tried to approach Iesabel's body. "He's protecting her, even when she's dead," Sir Killian said.
"Look," Rodolf said anxiously and pointed at Iesabel's palms. "She doesn't have a mark. Why doesn't she have a mark?" As the assassin asked that, Kara approached him.
"She asked me not to give her nor her brother a mark," the abyssal priest whispered. "It was her own choice."
"Why in the name of gods she would ask that?" Killian shouted angrily. "Why did you let her fight!? Now we have a permanently dead contestant here whom we can never bring back!"
"Maybe she had a death wish, or maybe she didn't want to live with her defeat," Rodolf said quietly. "In any case, it's too late to ask her now." Sir Killian was about to say something, but then he held his breath for a moment and looked at the necromancer. The undead knight was still protecting her.
"Lev'foralt, Iesabel Rathais," Sir Killian said before he walked away while carrying Kaigan's unconscious body. Rodolf and the tournament guards repeated the same words, then they also left the arena. Soon after, Captain Rheinallt announced the winner of the first match.
Winner / Killed @DrakeGladis - Kaigan is victorious and leaps to the 2nd round! You may create a new version of him or a new signature/companion card, but this time the maximum mana value of those cards is increased to 5!
@Jonteman93 - Iseabel has died, but you may still write a concluding chapter to her story and post any cards which you had planned for her!
Match 2 will be hosted on 5th of April, 16.00 Central Standard Time!
Arn observed the tournament from above the tree tops of the trees surrounding the temple top ruins. He had to admit that while the kobold had more prowess than he had accredited, he expected the necromancer to make easy work of the kobold. Arn's confidence in Iseabel was further bolstered by the fact that he noticed that Iseabel didn't receive the sigil that the kobold got, a fact that most missed. By now Arn had an idea of what the sigil did, but the fit that the judge later threw after the fall of Iseabel confirmed his beliefs. The sigil was for preserving the life of the fallen contestants.
While the battle was mostly anticlimactic. Arn took the liberty of observing both contestants, from how their feet shifted, their mobility, and their preferred styles of combat from the beginning of battle all the way until the bitter end of it.
He was disappointed that such a harmless creature, took down a necromancer, but while the kobold was skilled, he caught glimpses of some weaknesses he would later exploit. He noticed the kobold was hesitant to kill, a weakness which he did not suffer, he noticed how the kobold left himself open when he offered a hand in a gesture of kindness, he noticed that the kobold cared for others, a weakness easily exploited in nature, and finally he noticed the kobolds willingness to help something that he could take advantage of should they come to blows.
Arn: "So the name is Kaigan hmm?" Arn said semi-quietly to himself in an an ominous tone that was far from the one in his jockey prankster façade "You should be glad that I didn't learn your name until now, but for now I have business to attend to" Arn said as he wild shifted into a raven like bird then promptly flew off the tree .
Not another mark, not again. Iseabel have already received a mark before - from her demonic master. She thought back then that it would protect her and aid her but like with so much else, she was wrong. She would not risk it this time, she would not allow her body, her soul, to be marked once again. She outright refused the mark from the cleric. "to keep her alive if fallen." those words were not much different from those that Oz'anuun had given her. He also acted kindly and told her of her destiny. All was just a hoax. Why would this be any different.
She did not need a mark to protect herself, she had Steaphan - and he had never failed to protect her, both in life and death.
Gg Jonteman. A moment of silence, then I shall post the results. Know that this will dramatically effect how Kaigan moves forward.... an interesting twist I was not expecting.
Sturgar sat behind Nartheus, intently watching the unfolding duel. For one with little combat experience, Kaigan was good. Sure, he was ill prepared, without armor or another weapon, but as Sturgar had predicted, the kobold's small size and nimbleness worked wonderfully in combat. He involuntarily winced when Kaigan smashed into the pillar and suffered a sizeable slash across his abdomen, and sighed with relief when the necromancer fell. It was, of course, impolite to celebrate with anyone's death, but she had rejected the sigil of her own volition, and Sturgar felt some amount of sympathy for the small kobold, so far from home.
"I say!" Nartheus frowned as Iseabel lay prone in the dirt, bleeding out. "That was unnecessarily gruesome."
Sturgar shook his head. It was a silly mistake. Kaigan was a great deal smaller then his foe, making a poor human shield, and to the best of his knowledge rigor mortis severely impaired one's accuracy when throwing a weapon. Furthermore, throwing a longsword was far from optimal. Why hadn't the knight ran forth and stabbed him? This was all wrong. The fight had been two on one, Kaigan was inexperienced, and the necromancer and her knight seemed to know what they were doing. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps Kaigan was much stronger than he seemed? Although he was glad Kaigan had won, Sturgar kicked himself for underestimating the kobold.
Nartheus furrowed his brow. "I do hope that small fellow is alright. He seemed nice enough." He rose, seeing the crowd begin to disperse. "Let's go."
Sturgar walked the duke back towards the fortress, carefully inspecting his surroundings. He wasn't sure if each match would be fought here, but he hoped his would. The pillars provided him excellent cover from ranged attacks, and he could knock one over on his foe for a crushing blow. Additionally, he could use the uneven ground and bright sunlight to his advantage, something a less experienced opponent would be incapable of. He looked about as they neared the gates, spotting a few other contestants making their ways back to the fortress as well. He looked them up and down, then examined the weapons he held in his hands, sunlight glinting of the polished surfaces of his armor and blades. He would be ready.
It was a sunny morning, and the sky was in different shades of light blue thanks to the distant clouds that spread from one edge of the horizon to the other. Servants had made breakfast in the dining hall of the fort, and the tournament guards ate there while talking about the yesterday's match. At the same time, Rheinallt's soldiers prepared the horses, the carriage, and two of the caged wagons. Sir Killian and Rodolf knocked to the room doors, where the fighters of the day slept. When they woke up, they were led for their breakfasts, then they packed any items they would need for the match before they walked to the courtyard and climbed into their wagons. Midday arrived sooner than expected. Once the Captain, the Judge, and the abyssal cleric climbed into the carriage, the caravan moved through the open gates. The crowd gathered and followed them from the campsite which was set next to the dam market. The next arena was a bit further away than the first one, and the path was a bit more dangerous. Tournament guards rode their horses along a rocky road, climbing their way over the tall cliffs right next to Werther Fortress. When they finally got over the last hill, they followed a clear river which flowed through a small red canyon. Blue gemstones shimmered in the canyon's rocks, and the deeper they went, the more gemstones they saw. The crowd gasped in awe once they reached the heart of the canyon. Sunlight reflected from the water and the gemstones, casting all shadows away from the red canyon.
Art: Ferdinand Ladera
Wooden stands were placed on top of the cliffs, and people quickly filled them. Judge Gaspar, Mimosa, and Rezar were on the highest row. Guards took their positions and placed the wooden podium in front of the stands. Sir Killian and Rodolf opened the caged wagons. Hadid climbed out, and so did Damien. People in the stands eyed them while trying to guess what kind of powers these two rather normal looking fighters had. Kara granted the abyssal mark to Hadid's palm, then he did the same to Damien's palm. Both of them gritted their teeth during the process. When it was done, Sir Killian double checked, then let them go to their positions in the middle of the canyon. The water flowed around their feet, and once they found their places, they turned to face each other. "May the best man win," Hadid said genuinely and offered his hand to Damien. The large man accepted, and the two shook hands.
"Of course," Damien said while smiling, then his face turned serious. "And please don't hold back. I'm afraid I won't be able to..." After saying that, Damien walked back to his position. Hadid smiled a bit awkwardly as he waved his right hand a little, which got a strong squeeze from the shake. Then he saw as Captain Rheinallt stepped onto the wooden podium. The time had come.
"Welcome everyone, and thank you for coming here to witness the second match! On our left we have Professor Emeritus of Spellcraft and Practical Experimentation; Hadid, Portal Master!" Applause. "On our right we have a peaceful blacksmith with a blazing furnace inside him; Damien the Stoic!" The crowd clapped their hands again, then Rheinallt turned to look at the two fighters. He smiled and raised both of his hands.
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Iseabel was taking a walk with Steaphan outside the fortress. She moved her hands slightly reached out with their palms facing downwards. After some time, she went down on her knees beside a lonely tree. She pushed her right hand towards the ground. She could the remains of a skeleton. Like someone moving from page to page in a book, she read the the bones of their history. The skeleton was of a man about fifty years of age, and it was fresh, only a few years had he been in the ground. She moved her hand through the grass. She could feel scars in the leg bones that had been healed. She found more along his rib cage and arms, but it was one in particular that she found interesting. In his skull was a large crack that had healed - slightly.
The impact was large, too large to have been made by a tool but instead likely from a fall - probably from horseback. The wound had healed for some time, Iseabel guessed about two weeks before he had died. The healing process was regular and fine except for a minor infection he had received but not the cause for his death. He was probably just a normal man who suffered from bad luck and was then taken care of by loved once before he passed from his wound.
Most people would have gotten filled with ill by seeing the skeleton of someone who died of an accident, but not Iseabel. She found it warming to see someone that had died, not by being ripped to pieces by monster or devoured by demons, but when lying in bed while bein taken care of. There was sadness and tragedy about this mans death but there were no terror or chaos.
She clenched the grass with her fist. She could bring undeath to this man's remains, she could bring him up if she needed to. She did not want to bring undeath to anyone other than Steaphan or useless rodents, but she knew too little about her opponents in this tournament. Maybe Steaphan would not be enough after all. She processed the thought in case she would need to commit to it one day. She released her grip of the grass and then she walked away from the place.
That day might even come sooner than she had hoped. She would fight in the first match and her opponent was some strange small creature named Kaigan. Iseabel had not worked on gaining much knowledge about the other contestants but she could see how most of them were capable of fighting - and maybe killing, except that consul girl, that noble one and Kaigan. She thought about the contestants.
She felt hate for most of them.
Narcissistic self-absorbed idiots who thought they could tremble the very foundation of the world if they so wanted to. They were pathetic children who had not been revealed their shackles yet. Blinded by their own arrogance they walk over the world as if the grass should bow to their might, that they should be loved and respected because they have a good heart?! They want to force the people to love them because they can save them from death, from harm? That they are a better than everyone else just because they are powerful? They are just too stupid to see their shackles, to see that they are powerful because someone allows it!
Iseabel slammed her fist into another tree beside her before she fell down on her knees. She covered her eyes as if she was about to cry, but she didn't. She never did anymore. She realized that she was talking about herself, who she had been way back then. She had thought that she was to become a hero with her newly given powers. She could save people from disease, pain, suffering, even death. She thought people would travel far just to meet her. She thought she would be respected and loved. She was so naïve, so very naïve. When she was not grabbed by the demon in the river she thought she was some kind of chosen of the demons. She was not even a pawn. She was but plaything, a toy, that just existed for their amusement.
The demons were laughing at her as she ran for her life from the angels, from her father, from her family. If it had not been for Steaphan, she would have been the one dead there in the streets. She never mad a sacrifice of her own choice, he sacrificed his life. She was never a hero, he was. Steaphan reached out a hand to her. She looked up at him and the hand. Did she do that or did he by himself? She rubbed her eyes and grabbed his hand.
When walking back with Steaphan she thought about the upcoming fight and Kaigan whom she would face in the match. She knew about the arrogance of humans, demons and angels but nothing did she know of Kaigan's species. Maybe he was truly just unknowing and innocently naïve. She would find out soon enough.
Chapter 7: Starting Positions!
Either way, Kaigan knew it would be a good fight. He turned from the notice and headed to the set of rooms that the contestants had been assigned. They had been nice enough to give him an entire week to prepare! He wasn't actually sure how he'd want to use that... like, he already did normal training daily. Should he perhaps do more of the same? Maybe try to practice something against multiple opponents if her guard is gonna be allowed in with her.
Lost in these musings, he nearly passed by his room. Correcting himself, he ducked inside and went to grab his silver spear which was leaning against the wall. It gleamed in the sunlight coming in through the window, and a few seconds are taken with reflecting the light around the room. The beauty of the line flashing around, across the walls and over the mirror. Turning back, he headed out of the room when he was done.
Thrust! Block! Back! Dodge! Deflect! Trip! Spin!
THWACK!
The mockup stick cracked as the haft of the spear whirled into it. Kaigan glanced around, flushed from the exertion. The sun was high, but a swift breeze blew across the training ground, throwing up small clouds of dust. A few other combatants were at it, but with the exception of Sturgar, none had been there as long as him. Lunch would be soon, and it'd be nice to get in a bath before hand.
As he left the training grounds, in the distance he saw her. Them, rather. Iseabel's escort drew his eye more than she herself did. While the man looked normal, it always felt like he was aware of every motion he did. Like each breath was intentional. They were a scarce sight around the place, so he hurried over.
"Hey, uh. You're Iseabel, right? I'm Kaigan. I'm gonna be your opponent in game one. I just wanted to wish you best of luck!" Kaigan extended his hand out and up for a handshake, looking at the cold figure with sincere eyes. Iseabel regarded the extended hands with cold eyes. Still unknowing of his intentions, or even of his kind, she was unwilling to meet with him in openness. The safety of doing nothing called.
Kaigan's smile and hand wavered, then collapsed under the gaze of ice. Embarrassed and uncertain, he stepped back. Bowing to her politely, he then turned to her escort and did a similar bow.
"And uh. Best of luck to you too."
He turned and left them behind, dissapointed. Perhaps it was cultural, perhaps it was just her. However, it was still personal to him. Oh well, it would be fine. And hey! There was that Ytsix guy! Right on the bridge back to the main area!
Ytsix was staring at the list, lost in thought. He didn't know how to respond to his matchup. Lyuben seemed approachable and all, but while he may seem like a rose in charisma and kindness, a rose is only part of the bush, and the bush has thorns. In this case, those thorns were an imaginary darkness surrounding Lyuben, swirling and repulsing him. Even thinking aboue t it repulsed him, and he hurried off around the island, away from his thoughts.
Kaigan followed, eager to talk to the elusive cat-person. His curiousity was peaked, and he also felt a strange sort of pity for the young-looking boy. The cat always seemed ill at ease when he was even with the group.
Ytsix paused, not noticing the person following him. Panicking more and more at the thought of having to face someone using dark magic, his fur began to stand on end. Trying to compose himself, he was utterly unprepared when a small hand rested on his arm and a voice spoke to him.
"Hey, you ok?"
Kaigan was not prepared for the visceral response he got. Ytsix leaped away and gave a yelp as he felt the hand, ending with a mighty splash as he fell into the lake/moat. Kaigan didn't know a lot about cats, but from what he knew, they were fairly bad at water. He dived in, going after the poor lad.
With Kaigan's help, Ytsix came up sputtering. "Man, second day in a row that happened!" he muttered, both frustrated and amused. The water was ice cold, which was normal for the spring weather.
"Sorry about that, I hadn't meant to startle you."
"Oh... Ah! What are you?"
Ytsix frantically started to try and swim away, but fairly innefectually, both because he wasn't that strong and because swimming isn't his forte.
"I'm a kobold."
"Whassa kobold?"
Kaigan finished bringing him ashore. "I'm a kobold. Sorry about all of that; I didn't mean to scare you. You just... you kinda looked like you needed someone."
Kaigan endured the showering willingly. He wasn't effected by the cold near as much as Ytsix was. Besides, this sounded interesting!
"So you're saying that you're not from this... plane?"
Chapter 7: Starting Positions (cont.)
There was both a measure of awe and compassion in his look. He wanted to help this person, truely he did. However, his instructions from Prossh himself forbade revealing his own true origins, or anything about the spell that Prossh had cast that had brought him here.
"You just vanished!"
"Well, uh. I don't think they'd force you to actually fight. But then again, maybe the way out is to win one of these tournaments you keep getting into?"
"Oh! I'm sorry, I was just thinking that- well, I shouldn't have assumed. Uh."
"That sounds absolutely terrible for you." Kaigan didn't say that ironically, he truly felt bad for Ytsix. "However, I have to ask. If you won every time you were in a tournament like this, why are you so scared?"
"I'm afraid I might not win, but alas, nothing I do can keep me out. I can run, but I always end up appearing back where I came from." That didn't make sense to Kaigan, but it was clear to him that he didn't really understand much of Ytsix's situation. All he could do was learn.
"Can I... help somehow?"
"Hmm... I'm not too sure, but... It's nice to at least have someone to vent to..."
"Ko-bold. Not co-balt. Close though. And I meant that I'm always ready to listen. You look like you need a friend, and I'd like to be one. I understand that you still may be scared, and that I am technically an enemy to you because we are against each other in the tournament, but also know that this is not a real fight. This is to get a person who is able to help the people here recognized."
Ytsix stared off into space for a second, lost in his own head. He had heard a lot of bad stories about dragonborn, but this fellow matched none of them. He didn't even look like the descriptions he had heard.
"Anyway, you feeling better now? You're fur's still on end, but I think that that is more from the water than from fear."
Pulled back to reality, Ytsix blinked. "Oh. Probably. Yeah, I am feeling a bit better."
"Well, best of luck with your match then, Ytsix." Kaigan offered the cat a hand up, but was polietly declined. He went back to his room to put the spear up.
It was weird, he thought. Ytsix is paradoxical. He's barely a boy, yet over a century old. He hates and fears fighting, yet he competes in these tournaments without declining them. He seems to have two people inside of him. A skeptical old one, and one like me, but more curious. Intimidatable. Innocent even.
Chapter four (Tournament) - An Arn-est decision
Unlike most other participants, Arn hadn't spent enough time with his opponent to come to a conclusive analysis of who they were. Arn knew not of their name, their abilities, or where he could even find them to learn of these things and neither did he care to do so.Since the hunt, Arn had ventured outside of the confines a few times along the week to study the Akon and how their magics work, and through some discussions with the locals he discovered that this energy was called abyssal energy. Initially Arn had come here with no goals or plans other than chaos, but now he was more interested than ever in this so called new form of power he could attain if he harnessed it. He kept note on his head of a few key points before he returned to the tournament grounds.
As Arn flew in his raven like form from above, It observed what seemed to be drone of sorts flying at a significantly lower height than his to the direction where Consiterse and Kaifar were training, or was it Contience and Kailan? Either way it mattered not from him. It was good to see that the Aetherborn had what it took to win but would he ever do what he needed to win that mattered.
Arn wild shifted in an empty training area with dummies after making a birds eye view clearance of the surrounding to insure the grounds he was on was the most Isolated and not grounds for the unwanted visitors like the ones he saw earlier. When he was far enough he decided that even though still dummies made for bad training partners, for now it would have to do.
Arn pulled out a piece of the abyssal creature, which he had isolated in his prior ventures using wild magic then bound it to a crystalized rock and held it in his hand while channeling a bit of his wild magic into it just had he had practiced outside the castle confines. The energy reverberated back into his arm three fold and while he did not feel the pain, he could see the damage that had began to appear but it was much better than last time when he almost blew his whole vessel to smithereens.
Arn then released what he would have normally considered a normal punch on a dummy and uprooted it from its very foundation, launching it far enough and fast enough to cause a shock wave. He then gazed at the stone in his hand and channeled a little bit more, this time flakes of his hands wafting like ashes at the dark reverberation, he then unleashed a string of wild magic that obliterated the surrounding dummies and withered trees within a 5 meter arc.
He then put away the relic and left the grounds. He needed to first find a way to revitalize his body before he could master this power. With this new purpose in mind, he set out to the nearby library to pull out books on the capabilities of the creatures of the abyss.
Whatever it took, Arn would make his vessel stronger.
Sturgar stood at the bridge, silent and immobile as stone. His eyes strained, staring at the road ahead and the distant horizon. Nartheus was set to arrive any minute now, and Sturgar was worried, perhaps unnecessarily so, that the duke had suffered an injury or, gods forbid, perished during the voyage. He was in good hands, four trained guards were nothing to scoff at, but Sturgar felt uncomfortable leaving Nartheus with anyone other than himself. He tightened his grip on his weapons, scanning the trees surrounding the area for any sign of movement. When he finally saw the cloud of dust on the horizon, he shaded his eyes, peering through the cloud. To his relief, a dark wood carriage soon pulled out of the dust, trundling up the dirt road. He calmed his pulse and gave the tree line another scan.
"Well how long have you been waiting there?" Nartheus smiled, stepping out of the carriage.
A stern looking man clad in plate mail helped the duke down onto the ground, and was promptly shoved aside as Sturgar immediately put himself between the Duke and the other men. He looked all around, twisting his head one way and another, before rushing Nartheus off to the fort. It wasn't safe in the open, despite the numerous guards on patrol. Anything could happen out here.
"I've just arrived, Sturgar. No need to worry so much!" The duke protested as Sturgar hauled him through the fortress gates, nearly carrying him. "Alright, we're inside and safe. May I walk on my own now, before you ruin my jacket?" Nartheus smirked. He was used to this behavior. To Sturgar, who felt no pain or discomfort, safety was always more important than comfort, and some rough treatment was to be expected.
Only when the duke was in his room, and the door locked with a chair and dresser pressed against it did Sturgar relax a single fiber of his being. He poked his head out the window, quickly looking left and right, before slamming it shut and barring it.
"No one's trying to kill me, you can relax." Nartheus smiled tolerantly, sitting on the bed. "That reminds me. I've brought you a little gift." He pulled a long, cloth-wrapped parcel from his bag, handing it over. "Go on, open it."
Letting the cloth fall to the floor, Sturgar admired the present. A masterfully crafted, beautiful longsword sat, sheathed in polished mahogany and golden etching, in his palm. He pulled it from it's scabbard slowly, almost reverently, marveling at it's blade as sunlight danced and sparkled off the brilliant steel. Fully unsheathed, the blade rang quietly, humming a high pitched tune. It was four feet long, made from the finest Damascus steel, nearly unbreakable and surprisingly light. A length of white silken cloth wrapped it's handle, and it's hilt was spun gold, wrapping elegantly around the handle and blending seamlessly into the blade. He tested it's weight and balance, swinging it gently around. Perfect. Sturgar looked up.
"Nice, isn't it?" Nartheus stood up. "Our friend Zordroth made this especially for this tournament, free of charge. Not that we haven't payed him enough already. Nevertheless, he seems to like you. He'll be arriving tomorrow, to see your match and to repair your body and weapons if need be."
Nartheus smiled knowingly. "Sturgar. Indulge me for a moment and swing that as if to strike an enemy.
Sturgar shrugged and put himself into a crouched position, sword pointed outwards at the wall. With a thrust, the blade shot forth, liquifying and solidifying into a point. A slash, and it shifted like mercury, becoming wide and curved like an axe. A parry, and it was flat and round as a shield. He paused, staring at the weapon in awe. This was nothing short of magic.
"It is enchanted." Nartheus nodded as Sturgar looked towards him, surprised. "A friend of mine knows a powerful enchanter, and owed me a favor. I do believe we're even now. I hope it was worth it."
Sturgar nodded, smiling to himself. This was incredible. A magic sword was indeed worth it, a secret weapon. No other competitor knew about this, and he would have to keep it that way. He immediately closed the curtains aggressively, sheathing the blade, which had reformed into a longsword, wrapped it up and shoved it under the bed's mattress, before threading an impossibly thin, clear wire around the bed. If anyone lifted the mattress and saw or stole the sword, he would know. He finally sat down, collecting himself. This would certainly make a splash, once the first match was over. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, mind at rest for the first time in days. Everything would be okay.
Exploration and New Acquaintances
Each of your heroes prepare for their matches in their own ways as the week goes on. On some days, Sir Killian, Rodolf, and Captain Rheinallt each mention different people and locations that could prove helpful one way or another. The training grounds are known to everyone, but Werther Fortress and its nearby areas have places which are also worth paying a visit. Let your heroes see them with their own eyes...Healing Chamber
In one of the fort's chambers there's a place where the healers create medicine and treat the sick and wounded. Most of the time the patients are soldiers of the fort, who train daily and ensure that the surrounding areas and roads are safe from monsters and outlaws. People bound to such duty will always get an injury or two, and those who aren't too unlucky may wake up in one of the white beds of the healing chamber.
All healers are old women, and they have practiced this skill for their whole lives. Now that the tournament is being held in Werther Fortress, the healers must focus on the contestants, even if it means ignoring other patients. They won't do so willingly, but your heroes are more important to the tournament than mere soldiers with simple lives.
Chapel
The small chapel is attached to the main building. As your hero approaches the door, they hear whispering from inside. When they enter, they see a bald man kneeling in the middle of the chapel, silently mumbling a never-ending prayer. Two braziers are placed next to him, and a strange colorless flame dances on both of them. The cleric's body is covered with black markings and his eyes are blank.
"I am Kara," he says quietly with his bandaged hands in front of his mouth when your hero tries to greet him. "Servant of Terrodus, the godlike caretaker of death, and watcher of the abyssal gate." He tells how he is able to guide the recently dead back to life, so the hosts asked for his help with the tournament matches. Your heroes may try to ask for more information about the godlike caretakers of Avelaide or the abyss, but Kara doesn't always seem like he is aware of what's happening around him.
Smithy
Sound of clanging hammer and flashes of blue light are common within the smithy that's nearby the training grounds. Inside your hero meets a vigorous man with long black hair. Whenever he tempers steel on a strange anvil, sparks of blue light explode from each strike, and peculiar markings appear on his left hand for a moment. His eyes glow with the same light whenever he uses the anvil, but he looks like a normal human otherwise.
"Here for an order?" He asks your hero with a loud voice when he isn't working on the anvil. "My name is Rezar, and many have sought my services around the kingdom and even beyond! Recently I have lacked inspiration, so I decided to come here and work with the otherworldly tools, weapons, enchantments, and armor you and other contestants have. Since I am a master spellsmith, my works aren't usually cheap, but for a small price, I'll upgrade and modify your gear!"
Tower
If your hero is observant, they may have noticed colored smoke occasionally coming from the chimney of the fort's tallest tower. After taking the stairs and climbing to the top floor, your hero hears as someone is working behind the door; turning book pages, clinging vials, whispering incantations, pouring liquids, then starting all over. When your hero enters the room, they see a young woman in a neat black dress that's in contrast to the messy shelves and tables which are full of different objects; books, scrolls, potions, plants, animal skulls, trinkets, candles, ink bottles, and quills. A silver dagger, a chalice, a crystal ball, an hourglass, and a black cauldron that's placed on the fireplace seem to be the most important items for the witch. She glances at your hero with her light blue eyes.
"Were you ever taught to knock the door?" She asks in an annoyed tone while still working on her project, but after a while, she stops and looks at your hero. "Mimosa is my name. I am a witch who specializes in potions, poisons, soups, and other concoctions. I get requests from nobles and farmers weekly, so if you also want something from me, you have to wait your own time unless you're willing to pay extra. So make it quick, then go practice for your match or something."
Market
On the other side of the lake that surrounds the Werther Fortress, there's a long dam, where people from the nearest farms, towns, and cities have gathered and set up a market. It's not uncommon to see merchants and profiteers gather around during big events, and the tournament is the most famous one in Eviera. The market is filled with different food places, trinket sellers, phony shops, and fortune tellers. If your hero tries hard enough and uses their wits, they might find something truly extraordinary from the sea of trifles, but usually on that point a pickpocket has already taken your hero's coins when they were not looking.
The matches are approaching, so now would be the best time to message me about your hero's tactics, skills, and their attitudes towards their opponent. Also, feel free to tell me if you have any specific requests for your match.
Un Rêve de Mémoire
Imilia tossed and turned in her bed, her silk shorts and shirt clinging to her skin as it beaded with sweat. The night was swelteringly hot, and Imilia kicked the covers off her bed out of frustration.Wiping the sweat off her brow, she reached for the piece of chalk on her nightstand, drawing a set of three sigils in the air above her. Inscribing the sigils for earth, water, and fire, she sent mana into the sigils, and slowly from the space between them, a jet black piece of glass descended towards her. She snatched it out of the air, exhausted, and the sigils vanished into dust. Holding the shard up, she saw her reflection in it. She scowled at herself in the shard, and tossed it aside, where it stuck in the opposite wall.
Sighing, she rolled over onto her side, her long hair cascading in a jet-black waterfall around her shoulder and down her neck. She could almost feel the gentle fingers of a lover running through it, and she closed her eyes, a soft smile on her face as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
She head someone in the distance calling her name, and just as soon as she had fallen asleep, she shot up in bed again. But she was no longer in her bed in Werther Fortress. She was 15 again, back home at her house back in Loenmeira, and her mother was calling for her.
"Imilia! The letter's arrived!"
Imilia gasped. The letter! Of course! Panicking, she threw off her covers, flinging herself out of her bed. She flung off her pajamas, changing hastily into a sundress and running a brush once through her hair. She raced through her house, dodging her father and older brother on her way to the door, where their district's messenger, Hannon, stood waiting for her, a letter in his hand, uniform as crisp and as well fit as ever.
"Good morning Hannon, I see you've got a letter there for me."
"An especially good morning to you as well, Imilia. And in fact I do. All the way from College Baltenainne even! I do hope you've gotten in." Imilia, fighting to control her enthusiasm, gently took the letter.
"Oh Hannon, you know me, of course I got in!" Hannon chuckled, and patted Imilia's shoulder
"Well that's wonderful news, then." Calling now into the house, he said "It was wonderful to see you, Haas family! I'll be back around next week!" Her father waved and her mother called from the kitchen.
"Thank you Hannon, see you soon!"
Hannon tipped his hat as he stepped down from the verandah, and Imilia stepped inside, tearing open the letter and reading what was inside.
You've been accepted into College Baltenainne. Of the nearly ten thousand applications received, yours was exceptional enough to be chosen among the one hundred students that comprise a class.
Your application was selected as: 4/100
Should you choose to join us here at College Baltenainne, you'll need a uniform.
These can be purchased on campus, as well as from certified tailors.
Your local certified tailor is: N/A
Attached to this letter is a course selection form, as well as an application to the College Baltenainne Journeymage program.
What is the Journeymage program?
The college Baltenainne Journeymage program is for only the most studious and capable of academics and magic users. This group of no more than thirty students, comprised of both Baltenainne and Balantoinne students, will be eligible to take up to three additional co-college classes, with the possibility to raise your grade point average to a 5.0.
Additionally, students within the Journeymage program will, once per year, go on a Journeymage Expedition outside of Loenmeira to expand their knowledge and cultural experiences.
Lastly, Journeymage students will have a special Magic Theory course taught by Headmistress Bellamy and Headmaster Beurnas.
We here at College Baltenainne look forward to seeing you on campus in the coming semester. Make sure you're prepared.
Congratulations again, student.
- Headmistress Bellamy
Ignoring the questions from her family, she slipped on her sandals before running out the door, clutching the letter tightly to her chest. She ran down the road, gravel crunching underfoot as the wind played through her hair. Gulls wheeled up above, and the seaside town was awash with colors under the midmorning sun. It was a beautiful day to be happy.
Making her way down towards the waterfront, she rounded the last corner before the gnarled old olive tree where she and Han had met almost every day for the past four years.
He was there waiting for her, and he turned toward her as she approached, a huge smile on his face, holding up a letter identical to hers.
Suddenly, her foot slipped, and the road rushed up to meet her.
Imilia snapped awake once more. She was back in Werther Fortress now, and the fortress was bustling around her. Why is it so busy? Imilia shot up as she remembered. The first match! Getting out of bed, Imilia got dressed, grabbing a notebook and quill on her way out of the room. Matches meant fights, and fights meant information. And information meant power.
Imilia gently traced the scar on her chest through her shirt as she looked at her trunk where it sat, tucked into a corner.
Power...
Oh what I'd give for you...
First Round
First Match
---
Chapter Six - Une amie mystérieuse
Lyuben awoke early the next morning--again. The matches were to be posted at noon that day. Lyuben was nervous. He was scared of many of the contenders, especially Imilia: there was something about her that left Lyuben a little...unsettled. Lyuben could sense powerful magic within her, all hidden behind her sweet smile.
Am I being too suspicious?
The next few hours passed slowly until Lyuben heard a loud announcement echo through the fortress.
“Greetings all tournament contenders: The matches have been posted on the bulletin board on the front of the entrance bridge.”
Lyuben quickly grabbed his rose and dashed out of his room, nearly crashing into the Soundweaver in the long hallway.
How many times will I almost crash into him?!
When Lyuben got to the bridge, he could see people flocked around the bulletin board.
“The first match,” a boy in a blue hat read, “Kaigan versus Iseabel.”
“And the second,” another person said, “Hadid versus Damien.”
“Then in the third match, Lyuben versus Ytsix.”
It took Lyuben a moment to remember who Ytsix was.
A time traveler?! How will I ever be able to beat that cat?
Lyuben shook his head as he started back towards his room.
I mean, what did I expect? An easy fight? At least he doesn’t wield crazy magic like Conscience and Imilia or crazy blades like Sturgar…
Lyuben sighed, staring at his rose again. He could now see microscopic, faint balls of purple light fluttering around the beautiful petals. Lyuben stared closer at the magic. It looked as if each ball of light had silky wings behind it in order to keep it afloat around the beautiful flower.
I can’t lose my match...if I do, I’ll be forced to go back to my parents. They will make me suffer. They already took him away. I can’t let them take any more...
---
That day at dinner, Imilia sat next to Lyuben at dinner again.
Who is this Imilia? Why is she being so nice to me? What does she want?
“So, you mentioned you’re a student at Baltenainne?” Lyuben asked as he picked up the silver fork in his left hand.
“Indeed.”
“I’ve heard of it. It seems quite prestigious. My parents knowone of the top graduates from there,” Lyuben continued before putting a piece of delicious chicken in his mouth. The spices reminded him of the food from his own castle.
“Know?”
Lyuben finished chewing and swallowed his food before elaborating. “I mean there’s not much more to say about that, is there?”
Imilia frowned and continued the conversation, “What about you? Where are you and your parents from?”
“Mal-” Lyuben stopped himself again, “I’m from a kingdom that’s pretty far from here. There were lots of people there. I never went to any school of magic though. I don’t think my parents would’ve wanted it. Especially my mother.”
“So, you’re untrained in magic, yet you still decided to enter?” the witch pressed.
“Well, yes…”
“Do you think you’ll be able to win? I mean everyone here has practiced their art for years…”
Lyuben looked down at his plate to avoid eye contact with Imilia.
“We’ll see, I guess,” Lyuben replied quietly.
“Wait...why did you enter this competition?”
Lyuben saw people getting up and leaving the dining hall.
I think I need to leave now…
“It’s a long story,” Lyuben said, “And plus...I think dinner might be ending soon.”
Lyuben stood up abruptly, accidentally knocking over the unfinished glass of wine that he had touched earlier.
“Oh!”
“Don’t worry,” Imilia smiled, “I’ll take care of that.”
Imilia cleaned up the mess quickly with some sort of magic infused rag.
“Th-thank you,” Lyuben stammered. He turned and started to walk away when he heard Imilia call his name.
“Lyuben!”
“Yes?”
“I thought that since I used to mentor students in the school, perhaps, I could help you learn to wield your magic? I mean you will need some help, if you want to control a little bit of your magic before the fight…especially if you’re up against some crazy time traveller like Ytsix...”
Lyuben looked at Imilia. He looked at her eyes and that same unnerving smile. He couldn’t bring himself to trust her. Not yet.
“I’m sor-” Lyuben started.
Y̸͗ͅo̷̞̒ṳ̸̓ ̶͈̓w̷̡̃a̴̜͌n̵̟̋ẗ̷̥́ ̵̡͘t̸̟̽ö̴̟́ ̴̣̆w̶͚͋i̵̦͛n̷̘̏ ̷͔̓y̷̡̆ȯ̸͜u̷̲̓r̷̫͗ ̴̣́m̶̯͛a̴͔̅t̴͙̃c̵̡̊ḩ̶̃,̶͕́ ̴̮̉d̷̻̄o̵͙͆n̸̳͌'̶̹̋t̴̟͐ ̸̫̆y̶̡͒o̷͝ͅu̸͓̔?̴̀͜
Yes…
T̶̖̈h̷̳͆e̴͙͗ń̷͎ ̶̜̌t̸̡͊ȃ̴̟k̵̲͋ë̷̹́ ̷͖̈́h̵̥̒ḙ̶͗r̶̦̕ ̵̧̕ẖ̶͑e̵̝̍l̶̛̼p̶͕̆.̸̳̍ ̷̡̈́S̶̜̅h̴́͜ẽ̸̘ ̸̜̊d̵̢͘ơ̴͜ê̸̞s̷̻̿ ̸̩͐h̷̞̊á̵̬v̷̗̀e̶͉̿ ̴̯͆e̶͎͊x̸̪̒p̵̫͠e̴̛͍r̸̪̈́į̴̉é̸̡n̵͖̆c̴͋͜e̷̘̾ ̶̭̏ä̶̬́f̵̱͆t̴͉͠ë̵̖́r̸̻̚ ̸͕͗a̴̦̿l̵̗̔l̴͉̇.̷̤̕
Lyuben paused. “Actually, I think that would be cool! Would you want to meet in the training grounds after the first match ends?” Lyuben asked nervously.
The smile on Imilia’s face grew.
“Splendid! And yes, the training grounds should do just fine.”
I still can’t trust her yet. She’ll still let me down like my parents will. They’re all the same. They always have been. But I must win my match. I must.
Ą̶̑r̷̨͋e̴̮͛ ̷͖͝ẗ̵̯h̸͙͌ē̷̟y̸̞̿ r̵̫͠e̸̟͌a̸̾͜ḽ̵́l̴̪̉ŷ̷̧ ̸̠̌a̷̡̓ĺ̵̮l̷̦̈́ ̸̰̌t̸͒ͅh̴̠̕a̴̢͠t̶͚͝ ̵̭̆w̸̗̉a̶̗̒y̵̯͊?̵̏ͅ
The Passage of Time
Nilfi laid in bed, absently watching the moon through his bedroom window while thinking about the events of the past few days. The Akon encounter on their way to the tournament grounds was confirmation enough of the rumors and stories; this Abyssal presence was determined to halt the contest, and it seemed to be taking everything the organizers had to keep the participants safe. Why else hold the games in a fortress? Still, that beast was far more dangerous than his first encounter in this world, and Nilfi knew not to underestimate them.
“That’s not the only thing you shouldn’t underestimate, Nilly boy.” The thought shot through his mind as he pictured the bulletin board, each match listed in order.
~ “MATCH FIVE: NILFI AND NOAH.” ~
“Who or what are you, Noah? There’s something – unreal – about you, and that makes me nervous.” He mused to himself and the moon. Reaching under his pillow, Nilfi pulled out an amber-like stone, holding it up in the moonlight, soft silver beams illuminating it with a golden glow emanating from within. He closed his eyes, taking a breath as he slowly let a flow of mana course through him into the stone as he whispered, “As within, so without. As above, so below…” Nilfi aimed his other hand at a pile of rocks he had collected onto his desk. When he opened his eyes, the pile of plain cobblestones had transformed into pure, raw nuggets of gold. “That should be enough.”
Nilfi closed his eyes and rested. True sleep eluded him these days, but he was able to enter a trance-like state where he could shut up his conscious mind for a while. His subconscious was free to run wild though, and with it, memories he’d rather have left in the depths of his mind.
~~~~~~~
Memory of a Brilliant Flame
Sweltering, unbearable heat assaulted every inch of the wizard’s skin as Nilfi approached the enraged dragon; her sky-like azure scales glimmering from the engulfing sapphire flames bellowing from her lungs. His body was burning, each step felt like an eternity of pain, skin charring and falling from his bones. “If I don’t stop this soon, I’m not making it out of this!” His mind screamed. Nilfi couldn’t feel the scales of the dragon, but he could tell that the scorched bone stump of his arm had made physical contact with the beast. “Now!”
In an instant, the vampiric spell Nilfi had prepared was unleashed, and suddenly the flames were rapidly consumed by some force from within Nilfi as if he were some kind of black hole. All of the raw energy from the fire was drawn into him until not even a spark left the dragon’s mouth. Nilfi struggled to pull his arm away from her as the spell continued trying to consume any form of energy and matter the dragon emitted. With a forceful tug, his enfeebled body flung backwards to the ground, a decayed and necrotic patch left on the dragon’s otherwise spotless and beautiful abdomen. The alchemist laid there on the scorched earth for minutes, hours, days; all he knew was pain and loneliness as his body slowly repaired itself.
But now, now he had the dragon’s flame. “I’m sorry for the harm I caused you Dreamcharmer, but thank you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inspired Commission
Nilfi shot up out of bed, hurriedly shoving the freshly transmuted gold into a leather pouch, throwing on his robe, and grabbing his staff as he rushed out of his room and down Werther’s halls, his smooth bare feet slapping against the cold stone floors of the fortress. Treading across the training grounds he saw smoke rising from the smithy’s chimney, the sound of hammer striking metal growing louder as he approached.
Flinging the door open with a bit more force than intended, Nilfi stepped inside. The workshop was fairly dark besides the light of the forge and the brilliant blue sparks jumping from the freshly heated blade being pounded into shape by the blacksmith. The smithy glances over to the open door, his long black hair swaying to the side as he nods to over to the contestant. “With you in a moment.” He says loudly as he works the blade until its cooled, resting it in the fire as he goes to greet Nilfi properly. “Here for an order?” he asks.
“Rezar, yes? I’m going to have to give this tournament every ounce of my strength and my magic, and this-” Nilfi started as he raised his staff, flipping it over and releasing the cap that concealed the spear blade, “Or more specifically this I’m concerned won’t handle the heat. Quite literally I should say. I trust the staff to channel the magic, but I’m afraid the blade won’t hold. I’m talking like, dragon’s flame levels of arcane fire, and I’m told you might be able to ensure that won’t be concern? I have brought payment.” He added quickly at the end, tossing the smith the entire pouch of gold. The man emptied the leather bag; taking about two-thirds of the gold and placing the rest back inside and tossing it back over.
“If you’re satisfied with the work once I’m done, you can add a tip to the payment then. But for now…” He said, delicately taking the bone staff from Nilfi, “I think I might be able to help.”
(I hate how long it took for me to post something, lots of fun moments I didn't really get to touch on, but super excited for what's to come. Good luck everyone! Also if anyone wants to collab with me, either shoot me a DM on here or a message on my discord: Red_Tower#6724 )First Round
First Conclusion
Signature // Arena // Companion
First Result
@DrakeGladis - Kaigan is victorious and leaps to the 2nd round! You may create a new version of him or a new signature/companion card, but this time the maximum mana value of those cards is increased to 5!
@Jonteman93 - Iseabel has died, but you may still write a concluding chapter to her story and post any cards which you had planned for her!
Disappointing Outcome
Arn observed the tournament from above the tree tops of the trees surrounding the temple top ruins. He had to admit that while the kobold had more prowess than he had accredited, he expected the necromancer to make easy work of the kobold. Arn's confidence in Iseabel was further bolstered by the fact that he noticed that Iseabel didn't receive the sigil that the kobold got, a fact that most missed. By now Arn had an idea of what the sigil did, but the fit that the judge later threw after the fall of Iseabel confirmed his beliefs. The sigil was for preserving the life of the fallen contestants.While the battle was mostly anticlimactic. Arn took the liberty of observing both contestants, from how their feet shifted, their mobility, and their preferred styles of combat from the beginning of battle all the way until the bitter end of it.
He was disappointed that such a harmless creature, took down a necromancer, but while the kobold was skilled, he caught glimpses of some weaknesses he would later exploit. He noticed the kobold was hesitant to kill, a weakness which he did not suffer, he noticed how the kobold left himself open when he offered a hand in a gesture of kindness, he noticed that the kobold cared for others, a weakness easily exploited in nature, and finally he noticed the kobolds willingness to help something that he could take advantage of should they come to blows.
Arn: "So the name is Kaigan hmm?" Arn said semi-quietly to himself in an an ominous tone that was far from the one in his jockey prankster façade "You should be glad that I didn't learn your name until now, but for now I have business to attend to" Arn said as he wild shifted into a raven like bird then promptly flew off the tree .
She thought back then that it would protect her and aid her but like with so much else, she was wrong.
She would not risk it this time, she would not allow her body, her soul, to be marked once again. She outright refused the mark from the cleric. "to keep her alive if fallen." those words were not much different from those that Oz'anuun had given her. He also acted kindly and told her of her destiny. All was just a hoax. Why would this be any different.
She did not need a mark to protect herself, she had Steaphan - and he had never failed to protect her, both in life and death.
F
Sturgar sat behind Nartheus, intently watching the unfolding duel. For one with little combat experience, Kaigan was good. Sure, he was ill prepared, without armor or another weapon, but as Sturgar had predicted, the kobold's small size and nimbleness worked wonderfully in combat. He involuntarily winced when Kaigan smashed into the pillar and suffered a sizeable slash across his abdomen, and sighed with relief when the necromancer fell. It was, of course, impolite to celebrate with anyone's death, but she had rejected the sigil of her own volition, and Sturgar felt some amount of sympathy for the small kobold, so far from home.
"I say!" Nartheus frowned as Iseabel lay prone in the dirt, bleeding out. "That was unnecessarily gruesome."
Sturgar shook his head. It was a silly mistake. Kaigan was a great deal smaller then his foe, making a poor human shield, and to the best of his knowledge rigor mortis severely impaired one's accuracy when throwing a weapon. Furthermore, throwing a longsword was far from optimal. Why hadn't the knight ran forth and stabbed him? This was all wrong. The fight had been two on one, Kaigan was inexperienced, and the necromancer and her knight seemed to know what they were doing. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps Kaigan was much stronger than he seemed? Although he was glad Kaigan had won, Sturgar kicked himself for underestimating the kobold.
Nartheus furrowed his brow. "I do hope that small fellow is alright. He seemed nice enough." He rose, seeing the crowd begin to disperse. "Let's go."
Sturgar walked the duke back towards the fortress, carefully inspecting his surroundings. He wasn't sure if each match would be fought here, but he hoped his would. The pillars provided him excellent cover from ranged attacks, and he could knock one over on his foe for a crushing blow. Additionally, he could use the uneven ground and bright sunlight to his advantage, something a less experienced opponent would be incapable of. He looked about as they neared the gates, spotting a few other contestants making their ways back to the fortress as well. He looked them up and down, then examined the weapons he held in his hands, sunlight glinting of the polished surfaces of his armor and blades. He would be ready.
First Round
Second Match