(I'm really sorry for posting this after you started the second match again! This is meant to take place after the first match, but I finished writing this right after you posted the intro to the second match)
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Chapter Seven - Training
Lyuben watched in horror as the knight’s longsword pierced the necromancer’s chest. Blood was splattered all over the kobold, Kaigan, who had a look of terror in his innocent eyes. Even the obnoxious crowd was deathly silent.
There was a tense exchange of dialogue between Judge Gaspar, tournament knights, the healers, then the audiences worst fears were confirmed: Iseabel was dead.
In a heavy voice, Captain Rheinallt announced Kaigan as the winner. Very few people clapped, and there were no cheers like the ones during the brief fight. Lyuben stood up from his seat and exited the arena.
As he walked to the training ground, he tried to think of something else. Iseabel’s death shook him.
I know! But I don’t have a choice, okay? This tournament offers me protection from my parents that no other place can offer! I’m fighting for my freedom. I don’t want to be under my parents’ tyrannical grasp anymore…
A twig snapped behind Lyuben. He frantically cast a dark blast of magic towards the direction of a noise. There was an explosion behind him followed by a laugh.
“Who is it?” Lyuben called as he turned around cautiously.
“It’s me, you idiot,” a witch said playfully, “Imilia!”
“Oh...sorry. I was just nervous.”
Lyuben put his hands down. Imilia brought some mysterious object out of her pocket and muttered a few words, causing Lyuben to fly backwards and fall on his back.
“Ouch!” Lyuben grimaced, “What was that for?”
“Rule number one,” Imilia said brightly, “Never let your guard down.”
“Right,” Lyuben said.
Lyuben saw Imilia’s eyes flicker to his pocket, which still had his rose in it, then move back to his face.
“So, I think we should start by seeing what you can do,” Imilia started, “Can you try and blast that boulder over there?”
She pointed to a mound of shiny rock gleaming in the sunlight that sat to the left of the training grounds.
“But that’s not-”
“It’s fine,” the witch interrupted, “Just show me.”
Lyuben sighed as he gathered all his energy into his hand. A dark ball of fire lit up in his white palm, scorching the tall grass beneath him, yet somehow leaving himself unharmed.
The boy shook uncontrollably as he tried to contain the flames, but they kept growing larger and larger. He was losing control of it.
“Ummm...slight problem…” Lyuben panted as he tried to keep his energy stable, “I don’t think I can aim this properly.”
A frightful expression flickered across Imilia’s, but was quickly replaced with her usual confidence. “Here...I’ll help you.”
Imilia slowly got closer to the struggling mage. She stepped cautiously behind him and guided his forearms, so that they faced the boulder.
“Release it. Now.” she whispered in his ear.
Imilia kept Lyuben’s hands stable as he let go of the dark flames. The flames collided with the rock in a fiery explosion, sending a purple flare and clouds of thick smoke into the sky. The shockwave spread throughout the field, uprooting large patches of the grass around it and tearing through the wooden fence. Lyuben felt Imilia’s hands let go of him as she got thrown backwards by the dark energy rippling through the field.
Lyuben looked down inside his large pocket. His boyfriend’s rose was glowing malevolently with a purple light, giving Lyuben an odd feeling.
What was this rose he had? Why did he have it? What was he doing with it?
Imilia got up quickly. She brushed the dust off of her robes.
“So that’s how his magic works…” she muttered under her breath.
“What?”
“Oh! Nothing!”
“Is there a place I can keep this rose?” Lyuben asked nervously. He was scared to let go of his only memory of his boyfriend, but he felt like the rose was making his spells more powerful and harder for him to control. He didn't want to end up killing a contestant, after all.
Imilia gestured to a patch where she had kept an odd looking jar of flies down. Lyuben looked at her suspiciously, then set the rose down.
“Good, let’s start with the easier stuff first, then we can learn to use your magic to its fullest potential” Imilia’s voice trailed off.
Imilia showed Lyuben another target, and guided his hands so that he could hit them successfully. They repeated this process over and over until Lyuben started getting comfortable.
-----
Three people hid behind a bush in the training grounds. They watched as Imilia assisted Lyuben to control his more powerful magic to a certain degree.
“There he is!” Cecilia said.
“Yup, that’s him...and who is that other girl?” Ryan asked.
“Imilia,” Arin said, “She goes to a prestigious witch school in the plane, and she’s known as one of the top students there. Her magical prowess in necromancy is dangerous. We can’t approach Lyuben while she’s around.”
“Isn’t Lyuben not supposed to practice magic?” Cecilia inquired.
“That’s right,” Ryan responded, “His mother hates magic. She is known as the Silver Terror after all. She ruthlessly killed many notorious mages of the Dusk Rose legion without the use of any magic whatsoever.”
“Really? How?”
“There are rumors...none of which I can confirm. Some say she is a descendant of-” Ryan continued.
“Shh!” Arin whispered, “They’re coming over here! We can tell Cecilia about this later.”
The match started, and Hadid calmly looked at Damien, waiting for his move. The large man gazed in the sky with a worried look in his eyes. "This is it," Damien said, the expression in his face seemed like he was about to get hanged. "Make it quick... please..." Then with a sudden splash of water, Damien fell onto his knees while holding his head with both hands as if it was about to explode. "Hrnnggh...!" He shut his eyes as tightly as he could and gritted his teeth. Hadid raised his eyebrows in bewilderment, he wasn't sure if he should help the man until his voice changed. "Hhrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!" Damien grimaced and let out an echoing, monstrous roar as his eyes went ablaze. A red aura surrounded him as he slowly stood up, and when he turned his head to look at his opponent, he clenched his large hands into fists. The mage's mouth was slightly open from the unbelievable sight, and after a few seconds, he walked behind a canyon wall in a hurried pace. Damien, who had been possessed by Rugal, ran after the wizard, the river water splashing under each footstep. When he looked behind the rock wall, he realized it was a dead end, yet Hadid had somehow vanished.
"Over here," the mage shouted from the edge of a nearby cliff as he looked down at the canyon floor. Possessed Damien's anger seemed to burn even brighter, and after a roar, he ran towards the cliff wall and started climbing. Hadid watched as Damien climbed the wall in extraordinary speed, but he couldn't look for long as the bloodthirsty opponent was getting uncomfortably close. With a wave of his hand, Hadid conjured a sparking blue portal right next to him, then stepped through it. Damien leaped from the edge of the cliff after the mage, but the portal vanished as quickly as it appeared, and he fell chest first onto the hard ground. The possessed man quickly stood up while puffing repeatedly, turning his head left and right as he tried to spot the annoying wizard. Then he saw him standing at the edge of another cliff, at the opposite side of the canyon. Possessed Damien was getting annoyed, so he picked up small rocks with his both hands and threw multiple of them at Hadid one at a time, but the wizard easily dodged them and they hit the cliff instead. Click! Clack! Infuriated, Damien picked a larger rock with both of his hands, and with a grunt, threw it at his opponent. For half a second, Hadid wondered what to do, then he raised his hand and conjured a tiny portal in front of the falling rock. As it went through the magical gate, it appeared behind Damien and hit his back, causing him to fall prone right at the edge of the cliff as he groaned furiously. He tried to push himself up with wavering hands, and for a moment, the red glint in his eyes vanished.
"No more," Damien pleaded and laid on the ground. "My back hurts like hell. No more! Please..." He shook his head uncontrollably, then his eyes turned red again.
"Shut up," he shouted in anger and quickly stood up. "I'm not finished yet!" Then he slowly backed away from the edge of the cliff, sprinted, jumped over the gorge, and landed on the cliff where Hadid was. "I got you now, wizard," he said menacingly after regaining his balance. The portal mage hesitated for a second, but then he raised his hand again. "Your portals won't save you now," Damien growled and prepared his fists. "If you open one, I'll follow-" Swooooosh! As Hadid opened the portal, a torrent of water emerged from it. It easily pushed Damien off the cliff, and he screamed until a loud splash echoed in the canyon. The origin point of the portal was within the canyon river. Hadid dismissed the portal, then he slowly walked to the edge of the cliff and looked at what he had done. Damien was supine in the river, unconscious. The red aura had vanished. Hadid bit his lip, quickly made yet another portal, and stepped through it to Damien's side. The large man was bleeding blood from his forehead and he wasn't breathing. Hadid grabbed Damien's hands and pulled him until he wasn't in the water anymore. Then the mage knelt down right next to him and was about to check his pulse until Damien coughed water from his mouth and started breathing, though he was still unconscious. Hadid sighed, but then he heard a splash of water right behind him.
As the mage turned around, someone kicked him in the face, which caused him to fall into the river. Water drops of the splash glimmered around Hadid, and when they fell back into the river, he sat up and saw his attacker. A long-haired savage man with a leather loincloth. Tribal tattoos covered his body and he had the exact same aura as Damien. Hadid shook his head for his error. That being is the aura! Rugal was as furious as before, and his red eyes burned brightly. "Enough of this," he shouted and grabbed a large stone from the river. "Time to crush your big brains, maggot!" The spirit aimed at Hadid's head and struck with the round stone, but the mage managed to block the blow with his left arm. The impact broke the bones in Hadid's forearm, making him groan in pain. Rugal laughed maniacally and prepared to strike with the stone again. Hadid screamed and raised his right hand at the mad spirit. The stone fell again, this time through a portal. Rugal lost his balance, fell into the portal, and his "body" hit soft sand. Rugal was prone in the sand, raised his head and looked around. He was in a windy desert, where the sun was rising in the horizon. Sudden realization occurred to the spirit, and he looked behind as fear shined in his face. On that moment, the portal vanished. Hadid moaned as he crawled next to Damien, then he laid on his back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The battle was finally over. The two contestants' clothes were wet and cold, but the midday sun was gently warming them up. While the tournament guards went to take the two fighters bact to the fort, Captain Rheinallt announced the winner of the second match.
Winner / Loser @DomriKade - Hadid opened his way 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!
@Lujikul - Sometime after the match, Damien wakes up in the healing chamber of Werther Fortress. You may write a concluding chapter to his tournament journey and post any cards which are involved in that story!
Kaigan was very popular while Iseabel was not much more than a glorified background character, so I don't think Iseabel had much of a chance to win in the first place.
I just wish that her defeat had been... different, but hey!, can't demand more for a character that did not even reach the quarter finals.
I will continue to follow Kaigan's journey so make sure that he makes if far!
It has been a week since Tika received the letter that she was selected to participate in the tournament... which was a surprise, given how she was rejected first. It had been a long week traveling along the Everian landscape. But, at last, the island fortress was in view. A light rainstorm drizzled above as Tika made her way across the bridge to one of the fortress's entrances. A guard greeted her at the entrance.
"Tika, I presume?"
Tika nodded.
"Welcome. Please, follow me."
The guard opened up a door into the fort and guided Tika into the fortress's courtyard. Tika looked around in awe.
Ytsix made sure to watch Kaigan's match. He didn't trust him as much as that old fellow Hadid, but Kaigan seemed decent enough. He sort of reminded Ytsix of his youth, back when he was an aspiring young adult full of dreams, not fears. He would say sweet and innocent, if it weren't for the kobold's draconian nature. Where Ytsix comes from, dragonborn have been innately evil throughout history, and despite Kaigan's positive gestures, that stigma was still fixed in the cat's mind.
The inventor sat in the crowd and set his arm upon his lap. It let out a mild whirring as the aether around it began to fold in.
"Hey! My champion!"
Ytsix groaned as he turned to see the mouse from before below him.
"Oh… hey Kavro."
"So… you made it?"
"Yeah…"
"WOOHOOOOO! You did it! I knew my old cat would make it when they signed up!"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD?!" Ytsix stares daggers at the mouse, and for a moment, it seemed as though all innocence had left the normally kind cat's face. "AND NO, I DIDN'T SIGN UP!"
"I… literally went with you to the signups. The judge seemed quite intrigued by your skillset and weapons!"
"No, I didn't…"
"You sure you aren't getting old timer's?"
Another stare made Kavro gulp… he's seen Ytsix angry before.
"So… um… who's your first opponent?"
"Some witch or something… why me, though? I hate dark magic!"
"You'll make it through this, buddy! I've seen what you can do."
"I just… know what can happen if I go all out…" Ytsix's voice got a bit down as he looked at his prosthetic. "I try to avoid it when I can, but… sometimes I haven't had a choice but to go all-out."
"Cheer up, buddy. These guys lool like lightwe-" Kavro's ears perked up, and it felt like at least half of the contestants were giving him a death stare. "Well, at least that kobold and that old man."
...make that all of the contestants, Ytsix included. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh! Um- n-nothing! Ahah! Wish you luck, I think I left my coins at the blacksmith!"
Kavro suddenly darted off, and Ytsix groaned as he went back to adjusting his prosthetic…
~ The 'Bold and the Cruel
As the arena was presented, Ytsix's ears perked up, a little nub visibly moving under his jacket as his eyes flew around.
Hmm… what in the world were they thinking with this arena? Ytsix thought to himself. Far too advantageous for Kaigan, even if I want him to win. Way too much cover, and easy access to higher ground the others would have difficulty exploiting, and a spear is able to keep sword wielding opponents at bay in the right hands… this… match seems set, as long as Kaigan doesn't do anything stupid..
Ytsix sat and patiently waited for the other competitors to begin when he noticed something… off. That bald priest was… doing something to Kaigan! He was in pain!
"HEY!" Ytsix called out. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?!"
"It's an important ritual," one of the officials respond. "It is necessary in order for proceedings to go smoothly…"
Ytsix gulped, a heavy feeling in his chest as he watched… the others weren't marked. Is he being cursed? Was the match being... rigged?!
As the match began, Ytsix was at attention, not even blinking for fear of missing an important detail. His prosthetic was ready to absorb any rogue spell that flew his direction, and his eyes were darting like he was chasing a laser pointer as he watched the match.
This, isn't good… he's fast, yes, but he's weak. He has a spear, which would normally reign supreme in this situation, but compared to that massive sword… he's actually at an arms disadvantage. And that armor… his best hope is to eliminate the mage, and fast!
The match started off almost as Ytsix expected, except he had overestimated Kaigan's strength and underestimated the mage's talents. This was going to be too close! The feline's heart beat rapidly… this was anyone's match!
Ytsix had calculated things down to a science. If Kaigan was surrounded, he'd likely lose, but if he could pin down the spellcaster, he'd have a win! What he couldn't predict, however, is what would happen next…
As the blade flew towards Kaigan, his heart skipped a beat. So much power… such finesse, perfect form… but the aim was off… a killing throw with butchered aim, and the blade went through her chest. His breathing and tail wagging stopped as he watched… her fall limp atop the kobold… was she dead?
As the officials flocked, he watched, growing a bit faint… they were obviously panicked, except for the cleric… did he… no! Stop it, Ytsix!...
After a moment, it was quite clear what happened. Ytsix grew more and more faint as tears began to form in his eyes… black, inky tears as his pupils turned black.
"I… I thought… no one was going to die…"
With those weak words, he passed out, collapsing. His tears shimmered a metallic black as they ran down his seat. After he awoke, no one saw Ytsix except the blacksmith, with him requesting a large amount of scrap metal, and anyone who was lucky enough to bump into him at the dining hall…
.....
The next day, gunshots rang out from the training grounds as Ytsix practiced.
"I wasn't going to be using this in the tournament," he said to himself as he aimed down the range, "but the stakes are higher than I anticipated."
~ @TenebrisNemo Pinging to make sure you see this. Sorry I haven't been able to post! My work week is 10 hours a day Saturdays through Tuesdays, which really doesn't line up with the rest of the site, and this week has been hectic to top it off!
Whispers and humming emanated from the chapel's walls. Kaigan shifted uncomfortably. This was not the house of his god, Prossh. It was rather that of someone else, someone who didn't know him and he didn't know. However, this is where the man who had marked him lived too, and Kaigan needed answers. The mark still was tender on his hand, slowly fading away like a burn.
Hesitantly, he walked up to the door and knocked. Neither the humming or the whispers of reverences from long ago stopped, but footsteps also came towards the door. It opened, although there was no view of who opened it. Walking inside, it swung shut behind him, narrowly missing his tail. Thoroughly spooked, but just as resolved, he continued towards the altar, where there was a kneeling figure.
"E-excuse me sir."
Kaigan was hesitant to interrupt the devotions of the priest, but if he was too busy, he'd not have had someone open the door right?
"Yes, son?" The priest rose from his position and turned to Kaigan. "And please, call me Kara."
"Well, uh, Kara. I'm not one for other religions, but my god cannot give me his wisdom right now. And I just... I don't know. I need to know. Why?"
Kara heaved a sigh.
"Come sit, son." He patted a bench and had a seat himself. "I think I know your questioning. Why did Iseabel have to die? The answer to that question is a long one, but it can be summed up in that she had to die because that is how it was willed."
Kaigan went and sat, but shook his head as Kara spoke. "Not that. Why did she want to die? You said she rejected the mark. She didn't know she would die for good, but I had had her to rights and she didn't surrender. She instead chose to continue fighting. If she didn't die by the sword, I wouldn't have won except for knocking her out or killing her. She wanted to die, or at least not live with a loss."
This seemed to strike Kara with the same force as a frying pan to the chest. He looked at Kaigan for a second, stunned.
"... You ask the harder questions here son. Religion doesn't have answers for the goals of individual men. I can attempt to answer, but we shall never know her true goals for certain. For all we know, she feared dying and coming back more than just death. Do you know who the man with her was?"
Listening to this, Kaigan settled back.
"That was her brother. She had raised him from the dead, and from his state, it looks like she cared for him more than for herself. She's seen all the damage that death does to a body, and wouldn't necessarily have realized that that wasn't the case with my sigil. So she could have refused it because she didn't want to end up a mindless servant for me, or whoever she thought would have it."
"Another option was that she felt like she couldn't bear the humiliation of defeat by someone... well someone like you. Small. Polite. Someone most people would write off as harmless, or even silly. If two grown adults couldn't cause you to even consider surrender, and you could disable both of them... well, most people would write the adults off as incompetent jokes. They'd underestimate you, and then dismiss the people that were being beaten by you."
Kaigan paused, his tail twitching over the back of the bench.
"I hear you Mr. Kara... but does that meant that I'm responsible for her death? Am I to blame that she wanted death?"
"Son... I can answer that easily enough. No, you are not to blame. It was her choice. However, my words alone won't convince you. You need to believe. Don't just listen, but ingest these words. Whyever she wanted to die, she wanted it. She chose it. You did not; you actively tried to stop her. I am not able to tell you why, but it in her and Terrodus now that the answer lies. I urge you to put your mind at ease."
Kaigan rose and nodded to Kara.
"Thank you for your insight. Uh. Pray well, I guess?"
Kara laughed, patting Kaigan on the back.
"God be with you son. Go and let the light of day wash your troubled mind clean."
As Kaigan left, the door swung open for him, and shut behind with a resounding thud. He decided to head for the lake, wanting to sit there and meditate for a while. However, he didn't get that far. Passing by the hospital, he was reminding himself to check in on Damien after his match when he ran into Nilfi. With his head down and mind in deep thought, he didn't notice the vampire crossing his path and bumped right into him.
A startled apology burst from them both, and Nilfi smiled.
"You did well in the arena there. Two on one like that, I wasn't expecting you to pull out the win."
Kaigan nodded, but still appeared quite down. Nilfi clearly noticed; it didn't take a genius to tell that something was on the kobold's mind.
"So what's got you so deep in thought that you're gonna be bumping into people?"
"Oh. Iseabel. Like... I dodged. And so she died. And if I hadn't dodged, we'd both be alive. And I might still be in even. And.... now she's dead. Like, she wasn't nice, but she was a person who as trying to do the right thing."
Nilfi nodded his understanding. "I've been thinking about her death too, although maybe not quite in the same way as you have been. Would my opinion and insights be useful? I don't want to burden you with more than you need to think about."
Kaigan looks up at him for a second, then nods.
"Yeah... knowing your opinions won't hurt, and they might put me more at ease."
"Well then... know that this is a dark road with only more pain and suffering to endure. Physical wounds yes, but I doubt this will be the last death of the tournament. Most of the contestants here are trained to kill. If you keep insisting on not killing in return, I doubt you'll win. Iseabel saw that you didn't kill her and took advantage of that as best she could, even if she failed in the end. The other competitors will too."
At this Kaigan seemed even more puzzled and distressed. "This tournament was advertised as a way to help people and protect them, not kill people needlessly! Are you saying that the proclamations were lies and that this is some sort of blood sports match?"
"Sort of? If you crack an egg to cook it and feed someone starving, you've cared for that person today, but you've also killed the egg. You'll never escape the duality of your good intentions versus the deeds you do to get you there. Also, killing is the warriors way. It is the fate of all of us. If you are to fight for the people of this kingdom, you will eventually need to kill, maybe monsters like the one that attacked us on the way here, or maybe more human monsters... one with goals and lives."
"I know that. I can handle that. But those who can reason can surrender; they don't have to die. So... why did she want to die?"
The pain in his voice was palpable. Kaigan needed something. Anything. The priest's thoughts were good, but not enough. Would anything be enough? Anything to justify an untimely death? Nilfi's face twisted at the question, grim and saddened.
"That's likely something she took to her grave, but perhaps the weight of her life or actions became too great to bear, or perhaps she doesn't trust the magic offered for our protection. Regardless, she made that choice willingly. Perhaps it was cruel for her not to disclose that choice prior to the match, or perhaps it would have been crueler still to tell you and make you fight with that knowledge. Would you have delivered the final blow if you knew she wouldn't return?"
"I didn't deliver the final blow. I had the victory; all she needed to do was surrender. Instead, she grappled for me, knowing that I was small and could easily escape. She commanded the throw... she knew it would end her. She had to have known."
"Yes but that was... That attack was absurd, but if you had to land the killing strike, could you have done it knowing she'd stay down? Or did she spare you the knowledge so you'd fight to the last breath?"
"... She knew I wouldn't kill her. Maybe not before the match, but when I told her to surrender. At worst I'd knock her out. I'm not going to kill people for a shot at a title!"
This last seemed to him almost in protest to the tournament as a whole. Even if they wouldn't stay dead, killing people was wrong. And what if something failed! Then he would have really killed someone over nothing. NOTHING! Kaigan looked at the vampire, noting the grimace and the firmness in stance.
"People kill for so much less..." Nilfi sighed, meeting the kobold's gaze. "Many here have come to test the absolute limits of their strength and abilities, and I don't plan to hold back against anyone with that determination; if and when we meet in the arena, I hope you'll show me the same respect. Strike to kill, no restraint, no mercy. You've got ingenuity and skill, and I want to see every bit of it. Besides, the tournament enchantment seems reasonable enough, and I'm not scared to die even if it were to fail."
Kaigan sat down on the stone steps of the hospital. "Your statement troubles me;" he confessed. "I've believed all my life that the most important skill for a warrior to have is self control, including restraint. Precise motions. If the goal is to duel to a standstill, a blow that would kill but doesn't harm demonstrates more technical skill, will, and talent than a blow that cuts someone down the center. Death is part of these games, not because its preferred, but because it's all that some people know I think. However, I suppose I'm just... sheltered."
"In my experience, honor only goes so far before you've been hit below the belt, poisoned, back-stabbed, or had sand thrown in your eyes. When everything's on the line, choosing not to give every ounce of yourself is asking to die." Nilfi joined him, sitting and gesturing out onto the fortress grounds. "If you haven't noticed, even the most innocent looking contestants here are fighting at their peak abilities. As much as I love to see a restrained and fair duel between two skilled fighters, this is no fairground contest of precise aim with a bow or a casual joust. This is preparation, possibly for war."
"I know. Against the beasts out there, I would send the head of my spear two inches further. Against the foes here, I'd do it only as a last resort. Before I knew of the marks, I would have surrendered with my tip to their throat and them helpless though if the alternate was killing them. I won't hold back and I will do my best to win, but that doesn't mean I will kill needlessly. As for dishonorable attacks.... well, Conscience's spar with me was enough to warn me of those. I expect them now."
No matter how stubborn Kaigan acted though, it's clear that some of what Nilfi was telling him had sunk in, for better or worse. He sighed and stood up, avoiding the gaze of the vampire. His head leans forward, still troubled.
"Thank you though. For your warning and your advice. Know that if I do face you, I still will not kill you intentionally unless you absolutely force my hand. I would request that you, if we face, will allow me the dignity of surrender if you have me helpless."
Nilfi paused for a moment, recognizing the troubled demeanor and considering Kaigan's statement. With a chuckle he nodded, picking up his staff as well.
"Well, I'll certainly try my best in that regard, but just know I'm not holding back. The flames of battle will quite literally burn." He said, deadpan, before giving a nervous laugh and scratching his head. "But hey, don't let it keep you down, alright? You're the brightest thing in this place, and someone has to keep us all from sulking in our rooms melodramatically."
A low chuckle was forced from the kobold. No matter how serious the situation is, a joke is a joke, and that one hit him right. "Then we both have what we want. You have the choice to not surrender, and I, hopefully, have the choice to surrender. May your match against Noah be a valiant one."
He turns to leave, heading back on track for the lake. Nilfi almost said something but paused. . "What would Yen say right now, he seems just like a kid, but I also saw the way he fought. He's scrappy and quick on his feet, but he just hasn't seen the real horrors out there. Or in here for that matter..."
With a sigh, he turned and started walking down towards the other end of the hall. Pausing, he shouted out over his shoulder "I hope you find some peace, Kaigan. You've got the heart of a child and the soul of dragon. Just don't tell the others I'm such a sap!"
Kaigan looked back at him and nodded. No one else needed to know of this moment. Besides, he had meditations to get to.
Imilia stalked the halls of Werther Fortress, following the faint sounds of a piano from somewhere within. Her shoes clicked softly on the stone floor as she clenched her hands into fists, her fingernails biting deep into her palms. She rounded a corner to see Lyuben, sat before a piano, playing some foreign sounding melody she'd never heard before. Insolent fool! Your match is today and you're playing the piano? I can't have you failing, wretch.
Taking care to make no noise as she crossed the floor, she crept up behind the unsuspecting Lyuben and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back as she held a dagger up to his throat, softly whispering into his ear. Defend yourself! Lyuben cried out, turning from the piano wide eyed, and Imilia used the momentum to pull him off the bench, throwing him to the floor, where scrambled away. "Imilia!" He yelled. "What under God's own eyes are you doing!?" Imilia strode up to him, hauling him up by his shirt and shoving him against the wall. "The better question, Lyuben," she said, her voice cold, and sharp as a knife, "Is what are you doing? Playing piano? At a time like this? Your match is today, you fool. Your magic ability is still undertrained, and I won't stand for you losing!" Lyuben pushed her off and glared at her, as small fingers of black flame started to coalesce in his palms. Imilia's mouth widened into a grim smile. She flicked her hand, drawing a wide sigil in the air. "The cat you're fighting has some sort of quick shooting projectile weapon. I don't have that, but I do have this. Defend yourself!" Imilia sent a blast of energy into the sigil, and a storm of small crystal projectiles shot from it. Lyuben raised his hands, creating a swath of flame that incinerated some of the projectiles. Others though, found their way through the flame, sticking into Lyuben's legs and torso like needles of a cactus. He gritted his teeth in pain, and retaliated, launching a bolt of fire at Imilia. She jumped out of the way, laughing. Lyuben sent more bolts of fire at her, and she continued to dodge, leaving them as nothing more than scorch marks on the wall, before launching even more crystals. Lyuben tried to block them, but was mostly unsuccessful, and he clenched his teeth from the pain as tears started to well in his eyes. Imilia's laugh was beginning to sound like that of a psychopath. Frustrated, Lyuben gathered up more energy, then sent a massive beam of black fire straight at Imilia. Perfect. I hate losing, but I suppose just this once I'll have to.
Imilia created a shielding sigil, but intentionally made it weak, and the beam broke right through it, catching her in the chest and flinging her hard against the wall, where she collapsed to the floor. Her body screamed in pain as she leaned limp against the wall. Shit. I seriously underestimated this kid. She forced tears into her eyes, the pain making it a lot easier than it usually was. Lyuben gasped, freezing momentarily before running across the room and kneeling down next to her. He recoiled slightly when he saw the tears streaming down her face, eyes wide with worry. "Imilia! Are you alright!?" Imilia's breaths came raggedly, and she caught her words in her throat. "I'm sorry..." Lyuben raised his hands, looking slightly confused now. "What!? Imilia, I-" "I really want you to win, Lyuben. I'm so sorry- I went overboard, didn't I?" She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Lyuben's neck and burying her face in his shoulder, surreptitiously tracing a small sigil on his spine.
Lyuben pulled away, slightly confused as to how to respond.
"There's no need to be sorry! I... I appreciate your help, Imilia. Now here, let me help you up." He grabbed her hand, gently helping her off the ground. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled.
"That's your match!" Imilia said. "Go! I'll be alright." Lyuben seemed reluctant to leave her there, scorched and battered as she was, but Imilia shooed him away. Her eyes narrowed and her voice became cold once again.
I should have my part posted in about 30 minutes if that's okay with you @TenebrisNemo ! I've had some work to do today that got in the way of finishing this earlier. Sorry about that.
Lyuben looked out the window as the sun rose early in the morning. Something about the golden color of the rising sun called to him. The rising sun’s rays swept through the quiet fortress, cleansing the town of nighttime’s heaviness.
“Today’s the day,” Lyuben whispered to himself, “This is it.”
Lyuben picked up his rose, holding it up to the sun.
My father hated that I liked boys. My mother hated that I could wield magic. You were the only person that believed in me...
Lyuben could see a faint outline of his dead boyfriend again, this time sitting on the windowsill.
...and as long as I have this rose, I know you’ll be by my side.
Lyuben could see a faint smile form on his boyfriend’s perfect face.
I’m fighting to keep your memory alive. Wish me luck, okay?
With that, Lyuben left his room and head to the nearest piano to calm his nerves.
-----
Dim candles across the wooden walls lit up the circular, windowless room. Rows of tall shelves were spread all across the room, each one holding important records of the past. This room was known as the Planar Archive. If one spent long enough inside, they could learn the entire history of the plane from the abyssal wars to the most detailed family trees and beyond. However, such knowledge of history can be dangerous, and very few are let into the special room.
In the center of the room, Ayden sat surrounded by stacks of ancient books and papers. Beside him laid a pair of keys stolen from the owner of the mailing office. The owner was a wise elf around 200 years old. They were the only one that visited the room in the past hundred years. Not anymore.
“Hmm...maybe I should start with the Tournament of Champions history? I know he joined that…”
The first page showed a gallery of all the champions in the tournament. Most of the champions were very similar, and surprising number of them had been killed or died. Many of them seemed to have died in the battle of Lalden minor, which was indicated in the book.
He saw the most recent champion too. Her name was Tiamat. Ayden had been a huge fan of hers throughout the tournament, though he did still wish Radhe had gone further with her.
It’s a shame how people have to be left behind. There just isn’t any other way sometimes.
After flipping to the end of the book, he could only see the sixteen accepted champions, and a paragraph on Aiko’s dismissal from the tournament.
“Nope. Nothing useful here,” Ayden muttered.
He tossed the heavy book on the ground, causing a loud boom to echo through the magical archive.
“Why were all those people after him? What did they want? Who were they??”
Ayden sifted through some more papers, but still nothing.
“How am I supposed to search this entire place? There’s got to be hundreds of thousands of records in here. I need to find a clue that will give me more information about Lyuben…”
Ayden got up from his wooden chair and paced around the one desk in the center of the dark room. Ayden felt himself smiling slightly as he thought about Lyuben. His beautiful hazel eyes. His charming face. His rose…
“That’s it!” Ayden exclaimed, “Lyuben’s rose!! There’s always been something special about it, right?”
Ayden raced over to a bookshelf and climbed a ladder to reach the very top level. His eyes glazed over the rows of colorful books until he found the perfect ones. Ayden pulled out a deep purple book and a green one. Both of them had ancient gold lettering on the covers with black frames on the borders of the covers. The messenger climbed down the ladder and walked back to the desk.
“The Dusk Rose Legion,” Ayden read as he traced his finger over the title of the purple book, “I’ve heard rumors about them…”
Ayden opened the book and started reading:
Over two hundred and years ago, a group of mages known as the Dusk Rose Legion ruled the northeastern part of the plane. Within their fearful ranks stood the darkest mages in the land, all of them associated with the abyss and its dark powers. Each mage carried a rose, which there is only one left of, called the blood rose. The stem was as sharp as a dagger and the petals carried dark magic enough to kill a person. If the user didn’t know about its powers, it could be fatal to them. Many mages died using it, but these mages were trained well. Extremely well. All of them had turned on Goddes Friyena, and now only obeyed one master: Emperor Rakhadi.
Emperor Rakhadi was once close to the gods before succumbing to the irresistible power of the abyss. However, even while under the influence of the abyss, he cared for his people. But only the people that obeyed him. Ruling with a firm hand, he built his kingdom up, assembling a large army of mages that could defeat any army in the land. He was known to his people as a benevolent protector, but to anyone outside as the most feared mage in the land.
One day, Zoë, his granddaughter and a young prodigy even among Rakhadi’s ranks, discovered a locked room where his plans laid. After managing to get in and discovering his plans, she was horrified. The picture of her grandfather society had painted for her was false. The girl ran away with her boyfriend and younger brother.
Within a year, the trio were killed by the legion, but they had failed to find Zoë’s family, who she had hidden away. Years later, Zoë’s granddaughter rose to power. She hated the Dusk Rose Legion and the dangerous influence they had on the land. With the powers she inherited from Zoë, she crafted a dark sword and a large steel whip made to combat the blood rose’s magic. She was known to the mages as “The Silver Terror”. Without using magic, she took on the ranks of the Dusk Rose legion alone, killing every one of them. Some say her violence was justified. Others say it fell in line with the same cruelty her ancestor Rakhadi exerted on his enemies. Some say she may have even been able to match the power of Rakhadi himself, though he was dead by then. The Silver Terror, named Hjordis, hates her own magic to her day. With the Dusk Rose legion fallen, another family rose to power: the Rosenburg family. Hjordis married into this family, taking her new position as queen to wipe out the traces of the Dusk Rose legion from the kingdom.
She issued a decree getting all the blood roses rounded up and destroyed. However, one rose was stolen and the person who stole it remains a mystery. The whereabouts of this rose are unknown.
“So...could Lyuben’s rose be the last blood rose in existense? Are they the same thing? How did he get a hold of it? And how is this girl, the Silver Terror, related to Lyuben?”
Ayden opened up the green book. It was titled “The Rakhadi Family Tree”. Ayden traced the line from Rakhadi to Zoë and then from Zoë down to Hjordis. Ayden looked at the name below Hjordis. Ayden couldn’t believe it. It was Lyuben. He was the prince of Malterra!
“Lyuben...Lyuben is the ancestor of the feared Rakhadi?! Does he even know this? H-he could be in danger! Who are those people that were trying to find him??”
Ayden stood up and put on his messenger bag. He ran around the shelves grabbing various books and took the two he read about Emperor Rakhadi’s history.
“I must tell Lyuben. If I pull the right strings, I can enter the tournament fortress with a message and alert Lyuben then…” Ayden spoke rapidly to himself, panicked.
He raced outside the room, leaving the desk untidy and door wide open, but he didn’t care now. He was focused on Lyuben.
“For now, Lyuben, stay safe...I’m worried about you…”
Why do I care anyway? He’s just another boy, right?
(Thanks for waiting for me to finish!! This is the last part before my fight.)
----
After the training with Imilia, Lyuben was sore, yet thankful.
Maybe I can trust Imilia after all...we'll see...my mom did teach me a little bit of hand to hand combat tricks before she betrayed me.
Lyuben walked over to the arena, imagining a melody inside his head to help calm the tension.
I will beat that cat. I must. I will. There is no other option...
"Lyuben!!" a familiar voice called.
Lyuben looked around, confused.
"It's me Cecilia! From your school!" a girl running towards him said, "Oh, and, what are you wearing? Ragged black robes like that?"
Lyuben smiled slightly, then realized what her being here meant. "Did anyone follow you? Is anyone here with you?"
"Does it look like anyone is there?"
Lyuben smiled. "I never got to thank you for arranging all those dates with my boyfriend even when my father hated it. I never got to really thank you for that..."
She smiled. There was something off about her smile, but Lyuben still smiled back at the familiar face. It was nice to see someone he knew.
"How did you manage to get in to the fortress?" Lyuben asked as they walked to the arena together.
"I snuck in of course," she laughed, "Well, good luck, Lyuben! That cat will be a tough opponent."
Lyuben nodded sadly.
"Say, would you want to meet after the match? We could talk and catch up, especially after everything that happened in the kingdom after you left..."
Lyuben looked alarmed at the mention of his kingdom. "Yeah, right...I'll think about it..."
"See you soon!" Cecilia said sweetly as Lyuben walked away.
Lyuben held his rose close to his chest as he walked away.
I'll win this and I'll do it for you. I'd do anything to honor you memory...I just hope it'll be enough...
"We did it!" she whispered to Arin after Lyuben left. She was hidden in plain sight in a bar close to the stadium, "Soon, Lyuben might just find himself back home..."
The market would be a perfect place to perform, to bring together merchants, commoners and thieves alike. The Soundweaver walked into a central area where many could see him, sat and began tuning his instrument. He added a single layer of magic into the low twanging of strings in order to get the basic feelings of this audience; various emotions could be sensed, from open boredom to excitement.
Suddenly, the old musician began to play. The song was upbeat and happy, light and cheerful. A layer of magic into this grasped the attention of nearby people, and his crowd began to grow. Slowly, the song got faster and bouncier as more people joined the spectators. To much surprise. The Soundweaver began to dance to his tune, leaping higher as the song became bouncier. His hands moved faster than seemed possible. The force of the tune almost compelled the crowd to dance with him. At last, The Soundweaver leapt out of the crowd and finished the song. From the emotions he sensed, he knew that he had given these people a topic for talk for a while to come. Smiling, he left the market.
Chapter 5 (Tournament) - A Visit From The Devil (re-done)
(During the Night)
Tidal winds and clapping storms erupted in the silent voids of the night as an unkept librarian scrambled to skim through all the books about the abyss underneath his well kept cabin. He dreamt of the few days before the contestants arrived to that foolish Gaspar's fort and of how peaceful the days were.
(Lightning)
Ever since those so called champions arrived Mizor's life was turned upside down, in particular ever since it arrived.
Once an indulgent practitioner of abyssal magic, his days had been far left behind and his works sealed behind magic barriers. How it came to know of this Mizor knew not and ever since that day Mizor hasn't know a day of comfort.
If it wasn't for Mizor's seven year old ray of sunshine Mercy or his wife Tina he would have ended this madness ages ago, but now he has people worth living for and protecting.
He flipped through the pages re-learning all his notes about the abyss and how he could help this demanding visitor. He had to have every breakthrough necessary to help this visitor control his wild magic and with his unpredictable appearances and flakey temperament he had to constantly be studying.
His thoughts knawed on his mind as he studied the ancient madness he had long forgotten and he hadn't slept for days, the rain didn't help either but his wife would soon be home and he had to ensure she was here safely.
Tina: "Honey I'm home." A voice flowed through the empty silence.
Mizor let out a sigh of relief, now that Tina was here she could keep an eye on Mercy so he would have one less thing to worry about for the night. Mizor put down his books and scrambled, a smile procured from his face but he stopped a couple of feet away from her and his smile disappeared from his face.
Mizor : "The doors were looked, how did you get in"
Tina: "Well, with the spare keys you oaf"
Things just didn't add up, her clothes were dry despite rainy weather and she was at least an hour too early, there was also something else strange but Mizor couldn't put a hand on it yet.
Mizor: "You aren't Tina. Tina has a mole under the right eye of her face." Mizor said trying to contain his anger and frustration.
(Lightning)
Tina: "Is this better dear?" She said as she magically procured a mole under her right eye. Her voice sounded word for word like Tina's which further drove Mizor near a breakdown. Mizor: What have you done with Tina?!" He said his rage flaring up while trying to keep it down as to not wake up Mercy. Arn: "It's so hard to convince people this days." Arn said shifting himself back to his original form as the man's face turned from anger to that of fear.
Arn: Don't worry your wife is fine, I insured of it. Infact on my way here she was ambushed by a group of four bandits and while I doubt she wasn't traumatized from how gruesomely I decapitated their heads, she should arrive in about an hour." Arn: "I'm not all that bad so what's the grim look for? I just saved your wife and you still see me as a monster? I'm hurt." Arn said in a joking manner his voice a mix of amusement and ridicule. Mizor: No..No, no...not at all. I am...very grateful" Mizor said scrambling back in fear to his documents. Arn: "I believe that one good favor pays another" Arn said approaching the nerve wrecked man "Have you learned anything of use to me."
Mizor: Frozen in fear "Well..I...*gulp*... I need more time;"
Arn: "More time?" Arn said his voice changing into a more ominous tone.
Mizor: "Please" he began sobbing "Please leave my family out of this, I am really doing my best, please just a little more time" Mizor kept pleading.
Arn: "I would hate for anything unfortunate to happen to Tina or Mercy" Arn said turning for the door "You have three days."
With that Arn opened the door and turned into his raven like form then flew away.
Mizor: "They can never know." he said under his breath to himself
Mizor quickly rushed to close the door to prevent the rain from blowing into his cabin and buried his head on the table crying until Tina arrived forty five minutes later.
@Tommia - It's alright, we're all busy with all kinds of things!
@shadow123 - No problem, though I wasn't waiting, I'm just late. Hahaha!
Yet there are still some important things I need to do, so I'm afraid I have to move today's match to tomorrow, 7th of April 16.00 CST. I'm sure you understand, and I thank you all for your patience!
@DrakeGladis & @TonySparks - I like how both of you used character Kara in your stories! But I'm afraid you both also misinterpret some of his aspects. First of all, Kara is blind. He has no eyesight whatsoever, but he is able to sense presences and value their statuses. Sometimes he enters a trance and completely ignores the world around him. Lastly, Kara isn't much of a polite, expressive, or talkative person, quite the opposite. He barely shows any emotions at all, unless an overwhelming feeling builds up in him, then he just might show it (like fear in Arn's chapter). That's rare though, since he spends most of his days in quiet churches, serving one of the many gods of Avelaide.
Sturgar screamed again, throwing his head back, blood trickling from his mouth. He lay on a cold stone slab in a basement physician's office, burnt and bleeding from a multitude of puncture wounds. He had floated to shore of a plank of wood hours ago, after half a ton of gunpowder had detonated in her hold. The doctor, a bespectacled middle aged elven woman in a white coat, shuffled around him, gently wrapping what remained of his charred, blackened and bleeding body in a length of white cloth. He groaned, thrashing about. Both legs had been torn off in the explosion, and his tailbone and a few stray tendons protruded slightly from the bloody mess that was his waist. His left arm had been blown off at the shoulder, and his right arm was but a stump, less than a foot long. A portion of his neck on his right side had been burned so badly there was a hole in it, from which poured forth a cascade of blood barely staunched by a wad of rapidly reddening gauze, and his chest and face were charred, black and cracked with raw, pink flesh showing through were the scabs had broken. His screams were now barley more than hisses, his crushed windpipe struggling to pull in air. He stared one last time at Nartheus' face, leaning over him beside the doctor, brows furrowed with concern, then his vision darkened and he slipped gratefully into unconsciousness.
"Sturgar?" He slowly opened his eyes. "Sturgar?" Nartheus sat before him on a rickety wooden stool.
Sturgar suddenly shook himself, trying to look around him, but a shooting pain in his neck followed by a fresh stream of blood stopped him instantly, reducing the dragonborn to a whimpering mess.
"It's... dear me." Nartheus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking at Sturgar again. "Sturgar, it's really bad. You will never move or do anything again. It's a miracle you survived."
The doctor stood behind him, bags under her eyes as she tiredly pulled off the gloves and began washing her bloodstained hands. It was morning now, and the hustle of the city could be heard through the wooden door. Sturgar gently moved his eyes about, taking in what he could. He sat, propped up in a padded chair. His entire body was covered in bandages, and the floor was awash in his blood. He tried to get up, tilting himself forward before falling flat on the bloody floor with a wet thud. He tried to yell, but only the bares whisper made it from his lips, as he burbled and fought to breath in the spreading pool of blood. As Nartheus and the doctor hoisted him back up with worried faces, he retched, spraying blood and bile everywhere, and passed out again.
When he next woke, a week had passed. He was lying in a soft bed, clean bandages wrapping his broken body. He wiggled himself higher up onto the pillow despite the searing pain racking his entire being, seeing Nartheus at his bedside, reading a book.
"Ah, you're awake. At last." Nartheus put down the book and adjusted his glasses, smiling. "How are you feeling? I've had some arrangements made, and I think they'll suit you. You can, if you like, continue to work for me. I know it seems odd, but let me show you later." He said. "Oh, no. Don't try to talk." He interrupted as Sturgar began coughing loudly, flecks of red spattering the pristinely clean white sheets. He rolled his head back, settling into the pillow, and fell gently asleep once more.
The next month, he met Zordroth Dragonflame. Zordroth was, like him, a dragonborn. Unlike Sturgar however, Zordroth still had all of his limbs, and it looked like he used them too. His chest was broad, his arms thick and muscular, his shoulders wide. Overall, a very imposing figure, which contrasted starkly with his intense, bubble personality.
"Oh hey there!" He reached to shake Sturgar's hand, then quickly pulled back when he remembered. "Ooh, right. So sorry about that." He continued on, speaking quickly in deep, smooth voice, as he walked down a hallway with Nartheus, pushing Sturgar's wheelchair.
"So we've been planning something for you, and I hope you'll like it. I think, you'll like it... Oh we'll just see." He opened the door to his workshop.
"I'm a blacksmith, you see." He entered the room, beckoning them to follow. "And people say I'm pretty good at it. So I guess word got out, and your boss here," He nodded at the duke, "Commissioned me to build this. It's got lots of little parts, so be careful, and remember: It's only a prototype, so it's get better with time."
He arrived at a large structure, shrouded in a large canvas. With a flourish, the smith whipped off the covering, revealing his work. On a stand sat an enormous metal body, made of hammered iron plates bolted together. Sturgar wondered briefly if it was a robotic version of himself, a replacement, seeing the head identical to his. In fact, it was a perfect metal replica of him, only slightly larger. Then, he saw it was hollow, and the joints and armor plates all made sense. For the first time in a month, he smiled.
@DrakeGladis - Kara is indeed the only priest in the fort at the moment, but some soldiers who live there are more pious than others. Perhaps one of those soldiers should replace Kara in your chapter?
Arha hummed as she walked to the market. As usual, she wore her cap, hoping that it would help throw off anyone who might recognize her. She didn't neccesarily need anything; it was more a way to get out away from the fortress. A coin occasionally turned to stone as it danced along the elf's fingers, only to turn back after a while in a hissing of dust.
Her petrification magic was Arha's best bet in the upcoming match. She knew she couldn't stand up to Sturgar physically, even if he didn't have his armor. Ergo, one fast strike and her magic, and -
Several children ran past Arha towards the market, laughing. The elf looked after them, a little surprised. She hadn't noticed any in the crowd watching the first two matches. Probably for the best, she thought, thinking back to the end of Kaigan and Iseabel's match. She hoped the kobold wasn't too affected by it; he'd seemed so excited and hopeful when she'd talked to him.
The market was bustling, especially since the match that had been scheduled for the day had been suddenly rescheduled. Vendors hawked their wares, several of which Arha knew were not local to Lisakdonia or even Eviera. Citizens wandered through it, stopping at stalls and admiring wares. The smell of food wafted through the market, setting an undertone to the entire affair.
Arha took a paper from a crier, handing him the coin she'd been toying with, and found a place to read it. Evieran politics, speculations about the war that had been paused for the Tournament, speculation about the Tournament itself, a kraken sighted off the coast of Denkun, a renegade angel in Solaria... It seemed normal. Thank the Seven that Qan Maris isn't in here, Arha thought.
Conscience sat in her room, idly twirling her purple, soul magic around her hands. Tendrils filled the room, and she sat, staring at her hands, attempting to remember something. A day in her life, specifically related to everything wrong with her.
A room, blood soaking the floor, Conscience, blood on her hands. A dagger lay in a pool of blood, and someone’s hand-
Conscience was jolted out of the memory by a knock at her door. Walking over to it, she opened it to a familiar face, Tresa.
“Come in, come in,” she said, closing the door behind her. “What information have you found on Cypherous?” Tresa stepped over to the bed, before sitting.
“Well, as we know, he’s aetherborn, so made of magic. He can wield aether to create destructive magic, but I’m not sure how he produces it. I think you should be able to beat him, but, as you said, we shouldn’t underestimate him.”
“Thanks. Now, out, I need to think.” Tresa looked slightly shocked, but nodded and left all the same.
Conscience moved to sit where Tresa had, before closing her eyes again, attempting to picture the memory. Nothing coming, she switched positions, trying to get more comfortable. Still nothing changing, she let out a groan, before falling backwards onto the bed. Suddenly, a memory sparked. Not the one she was looking for, but strangely, this memory she had no recollection of. It seemed more like a vision than a memory.
A different room, far more grand, similar to a throne room. Three bodies litter the floor, and a dark being, not quite a man, not quite human, stands before her. Raising his head, he turns toward Conscience, smirking with evil intent. Raising his bloodstained sword, he picks his way across the floor, carefully stepping over pools of blood. Conscience looks down, purple magic, no, black magic floating off her small body. Lifting her head again, she sees the man open his mouth to speak.
Ỉ̸̛̼̦̥̘̦͐̍̎͒́̂̉̈̈́̀̃͊͋͝t̸͇̟͕̹̓͑̽̀̏̚͝'̸̡͍͇͇̳̫̖̻͔̘̍̇͐̉͋̄̓̐̓́̀̔͂̕̕͝s̸̱̬̣̦͈̝͈̭͎̾͒ ̶̢̧͈̼̜̻̣̻͕̥̘̹̬͕͉̘̱͋̂̈́̈͑͌͂̔́̈̏̅́͘͠ͅt̶̨̢̨̲̟̰͓͔̫̮̰̹̉̐̿̽͜i̸̢̛̳̞͉̟͍̼̳̠ḿ̶̡͚͎̜̙̖̩̱̬̯͑ḙ̸͖̳̣͚̯̫͔̰̟̭̏͂̅̄̓͊̎́̈̀̚ ̴̧̧̛̙̪̗̬̲͇̬͍̪̫͚͍̝͒̽̍̒͐̀̓͐̈̇͑̏̔̕̕ͅţ̸̡͔̥̹̖̲̬̰̭̗̰̩͍̹̾̅̀̋͌̈̇̚͜͝ͅơ̶̬̮͍̭̪͖͇̱̫̙͈͛̈́̓̚͘ ̴̛͕̺̣̐̈́̆̔͛͊̏̏̽̏̈́͂͝͝͠͝f̴̢̗͖͔̅̃̓̇͌͂͋̈́̔̑̿̏͘ọ̵̗͚̯͕͎͕̠̩̲̝̜͇̳͗̾̓̆͋̋̒̀̃͊̒̕͝͠ͅͅṙ̸̢̧̛̩͚͖̥͓͕̮̮̬͙̳̯̞̈̓̄͛̂̃̍̔͂̄͑͜͠ͅg̷̡̥̭̹̲̟̜̞̠̳̝̺̻̲̭͔͍͌͊͗͂̅̓̔͌̊̚͠ͅĕ̵̛̤̜̺̫̖̝̺̳̱̤̚͘̕͠͠t̴̢͙̘̠͚̫̭͐͂̎͆̅̂̓̓͒̂̈́̂̕̚͝,̸̨̹̟̹͙͙̝̯̞̯̦̀ͅ ̵̢̡̛̮̠͕͇͕͕͔̹̗̌̾͑̽̋̇̾̓͐͛́̐͒̋͆̚̕ľ̸̛̤̫͚̜͎̭̭͚̞́̃̿͛͐͗́̓͑̂̔̒̍̆̑i̶̪̱̺̟̗͓̟͓̲̓̏̀ṱ̴͔͎̬͋̾l̴̬͔̠͖͙̤̱̩͒̇ȩ̵͇̻̫̥̣͙͙͐̍̆͌̈́͋͒͒̚̕͝ ̸̛̺͕̥͎̥̫̦̤͍̟͖̃͐̇̀͗̈̈́̄́̈͒̕͠͠g̶̺̲̮͇͍̰͔̎̏̑̋̅̉̒̄̆̈́͌̂̌́͠í̷̧̱̗̙̳̼̘̻̜̰̹́͗̎͌̆̌̈́̎̕̚͜͜͠͝ͅͅr̶̛̺̭̦͙͖̯̥͚̟̣̳̮̭̎͋̄̎̇͂͂͒̍͒͛̕̕l̵̜̰͈̟̟̥̮̽̄͑͂̇̉̂̈́͘̚͠ͅ. Blackness swept across her vision, and he disappeared.
Waking up from her day nap, Conscience shook her head, yawning. For some reason, the time before the nap was a blank spot, and yesterday was filled with them too. I wonder if Tresa finished her portfolio, Conscience thought, before getting up to go find Tresa.
The sky was overcast on the morning of the third match. Quiet rain sprinkled over Werther Fortress, the lake, the market, and the surrounding areas with the help of occasional howling gales. Yet people prepared for the day like usual, but instead of preparing two of the caged wagons, Rheinallt's soldiers prepared three. The third wagon was meant for the tournament healers and their tools. Wherever the day's match was going to be hosted, it was even further away than the previous arenas. After the breakfast and the mounting of horses, the tournament caravan was on its way again. The journey took approximately half an hour and it wasn't a pleasant one. The combination of the wind and the rain made it chilly. After they passed many fields, they reached the outskirts of a forest at the foot of a tall cliff, which was the end of the road. Sir Killian, Rodolf, and the guards dismounted from their horses. While they released Lyuben, Ytsix, and the healers from the wagons, Judge Gaspar, Captain Rheinallt, witch Mimosa, and priest Kara stepped out from the carriage. When the hosts shared a few words with each other, Rodolf waved to the others. "We continue on foot! This way!" Everyone followed the leading soldiers into the forest, walking along a hidden path while Sir Killian and the tournament guards were close to the two contestants. Some in the crowd started to complain about the weather and asked if it was going to take long. Around that time they saw an entrance to an underground hall, which was chiseled into the cliff wall. Everyone walked inside, leaving the rain outside. The sound of wind, falling water, and countless footsteps echoed in the hall. It was illuminated by faint daylight, shining through a great window high at the opposite wall from the entrance and the holes in the roof, which also let in tiny waterfalls. A large stone statue of an old robed scholar with a beard was standing in front of the window and next to a pile of books while holding a quill and an open book. It was the only remaining proof of the abandoned library's glory days. Countless shelves were empty, banners were torn, furniture was broken, and large boulders had fallen from the roof onto the stone floor.
Art: Roman Kuteynikov
The crowd and the hosts walked up the stairs, which led to the wooden stands. Once again, Judge Gaspar had the top row with witch Mimosa. Spellsmith Rezar had decided to stay in the fort's smithy that day. Guards took positions in front of the stairs and next to the stands, and the healers set up a tent in the second floor. The abyssal priest Kara approached Lyuben and Ytsix, who were just escorted to their positions in the middle of the hall by Sir Killian and Rodolf. "Offer me your hands," Kara said silently. "I will grant you the mark of Terrodus. It will keep your souls safe in the moment of death." Lyuben offered his palm, and Kara placed his hands around it. The boy twisted his face from the momentary pain as the blind priest drew the black mark, then he let go from the contestant's palm and turned towards the cat. Ytsix gulped and offered his humanoid cat paw while keeping his eyes shut. He meowed loudly while Kara granted him the mark, and when it was done, the priest hurried to the wooden stands and took a place next to the Judge.
"Remember that the effect will only work within this hall," Sir Killian said. "And it lasts only for an hour, so don't intentionally prolong your match." Then the knight and the assassin took their places at the opposite edges of the hall. Captain Rheinallt stood at the edge of the highest balcony of the hall, where everyone could see him. He cleared his voice and raised his right hand.
"Welcome to the abandoned library, which is now the arena for the tournament's third match! Before we begin, meet today's fighters! On the left we have a mysterious young man who wields dark magic; Lyuben, the Bittersweet!" Some clapped, some didn't. "On the right we have a chronomancer who wanders through time and space; Ytsix, Lost Chronologist!" Even louder applause thundered in the library. Then Captain Rheinallt looked at each contestant with a smile for a few seconds before he raised his both hands.
Before the crowd could finish their cheer for the start of the third match, Ytsix charged electricity into his prosthetic arm, and pointed it at Lyuben, whose eyes widened from surprise. As the palm of the metallic device grew ever brighter, Lyuben could hear Imilia's words in his mind, as if she was whispering to his ear on that moment. Defend yourself! The young cleric raised his hands and conjured a swath of black fire in front of him, which consumed the electric bolts. "Nngh," Ytsix shouted as he kept firing, his voice was a mixture of fury and fear. He wanted to end the match as quickly as possible. Lyuben was constantly on the defensive, keeping the wall of dark flames burning strong, lest the bright projectiles would hit him. Mimosa was watching from the top row of the wooden stands, leaning her head on her left hand while smiling a little.
"He's even cuter under pressure," she said to a tournament guard standing next to her. The heavily armored soldier glanced at the witch, then he looked at the struggling cleric.
"Well, he's got the looks of an aristocrat," the man said from under his helmet. "Mysterious and young, yet filled with tragedy-"
"I meant the cat, you tin can," the witch hissed as her smile vanished. The guard tried to say something, but then he sighed, turned back into a silent statue, and kept watching the match. Lyuben's burning wall was going out, and Ytsix kept firing his bolts. The cleric groaned, then quickly channeled the remaining flames into a dark ball and threw it at the cat. With a yelp, Ytsix charged much more power into his next bolt, and fired it at the approaching fireball, causing the elements to collide and break with a magical explosion in the middle of the hall. Some wooden benches broke into pieces and water puddles vaporized. Luckily everyone was safe from all else but the shockwave. The two fighters fell down behind the furniture, but rose back up immediately. Ytsix tried to shoot at Lyuben again, but nothing came out of his prosthetic arm, which had a red glow.
"Oh no, it overheated! Wait! I shouldn't have said that," Ytsix shouted and saw as Lyuben began shooting black flaming darts at his direction. "OW OW OW! HOT HOT HOT! NOT AGAIN!" The cat screamed as he ran around the hall, leaving behind a trail of black smoke. Lyuben didn't blink as he tried to keep his aim at the agile opponent. Most of the dark darts missed their mark, and some only scratched Ytsix's coat. Lyuben held his breath, made one more shot, and it was a direct hit on Ytsix's face. "ACK!" The crowd gasped as the artificer groaned and fell from the attack behind a stone boulder. Lyuben breathed again, though rapidly, since he was being amazed by his lucky shot. He hurried behind the boulder to see the damage he had done to Ytsix, but when Lyuben got there, he noticed that the cat had vanished, leaving behind his broken goggles. The cleric got a bad feeling, then he heard a metallic click behind him. "T-t-t-t-t-this is nothing p-p-p-personal," Ytsix stuttered and fired a bullet from his handgun at Yubel's head. BANG! His aim was a bit off, so it teared through the cleric's left shoulder instead, breaking bones and splattering blood. Yubel screamed in pain and took cover behind the boulder while holding his right hand's palm over the wound. "I missed," Ytsix screamed. "How c-c-c-c-could I miss!? HE WAS RIIIIIIIIIGHT THEEEEEERE! AAAHH!" The cat disappeared and reappeared around the hall while carelessly shooting at running Lyuben. BANG! BANG! Sir Killian crouched behind a boulder as bullets flew around the hall. Rodolf, who was hidden in shadows, quickly joined him.
"What the hell is that thing!?" The assassin asked in confusion. Before Killian could answer, another loud BANG echoed in the hall, and the bullet ricocheted off the boulder right next to Rodolf's head, causing him to duck instinctively. "By the gods!"
"It's a firearm," Sir Killian said calmly while staying still. "A miniature cannon, in a sense."
"How do you know!?" BANG!
"I once knew someone who used similar weapons," the knight said as he slowly peeked from behind the boulder. Ytsix was pointing the gun at a tall wooden bench, and Lyuben was hiding behind it. The cleric gritted his teeth and picked the rose from his pocket. His blood had bled over the petals, and black aura surrounded it. Lyuben breathed heavily. He felt how the rose transferred dark power into his shaking hands.
Ń̷̨̬̥̈́̊ŏ̵̺͉̯̽w̵͕̏̍͝!̵̠̗̹̄
Lyuben shouted, jumped out from his cover, and pointed his hands at Ytsix. The cat startled, then pulled the trigger of his gun once more. BANG! The bullet penetrated Lyuben's stomach, causing him to fall on his knee, but he still kept casting the spell. Black aura surrounded his hands, and Ytsix panicked, pulling the trigger again. Click! "NO," he screamed and looked at his weapon. Click! All bullets had been fired. "THIS IS THE WORST-" A roar of abysmal energy thundered in the hall as a vortex of black mana emerged from Lyuben's hands and grabbed Ytsix, throwing the cat through a bench, bouncing him off a boulder, and finally smashing him against a stone wall. After a few seconds, the immense power disappeared, and Ytsix fell onto the floor like a doll. Silence fell afterwards. Lyuben tried to stand up, but it caused him to bleed blood from his stomach onto the floor. His vision blurred, and so he collapsed, a puddle of blood spreading underneath him.
Sir Killian and Rodolf went to pick up the contestants' bodies and brought them to the healers' tent. Kara followed them, prepared a ritual which brought them back to life and unmade the fatal wounds. While Captain Rheinallt was announcing the winner of the third match, Rodolf walked out of the tent. He was holding Ytsix's handgun, spinning it in his right hand's finger, then aimed with it at the statue. Sir Killian walked next to the assassin and put his hand on his shoulder while shaking his head. Rodolf sighed and gave the gun to the knight, who then returned it to its owner.
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(I'm really sorry for posting this after you started the second match again! This is meant to take place after the first match, but I finished writing this right after you posted the intro to the second match)
---Chapter Seven - Training
Lyuben watched in horror as the knight’s longsword pierced the necromancer’s chest. Blood was splattered all over the kobold, Kaigan, who had a look of terror in his innocent eyes. Even the obnoxious crowd was deathly silent.
There was a tense exchange of dialogue between Judge Gaspar, tournament knights, the healers, then the audiences worst fears were confirmed: Iseabel was dead.
In a heavy voice, Captain Rheinallt announced Kaigan as the winner. Very few people clapped, and there were no cheers like the ones during the brief fight. Lyuben stood up from his seat and exited the arena.
As he walked to the training ground, he tried to think of something else. Iseabel’s death shook him.
T̸̨̍h̴̙̿i̴̜͘ṣ̴̾ ̸̱̽ị̵͂s̷̼̀ ̶̙͋n̵̦̚o̴̘͠t̴̹͝ ̵̣̃ä̷̡ ̵̺͗g̶̻͌a̶͎̎ṁ̸̯e̸̖̊,̸̨̕ ̴͇̅L̶͕̿y̶̛̘ụ̸̋ḇ̷̓e̴̢̽ṇ̷̓.̸̳͆ ̶̦͒P̷̧̔e̴̟͌o̴͚͌p̷̥̔ļ̷̾e̷͈͌ ̸͕͠d̸͉̕i̴͇̐e̶̞͌ ̷̫̓f̸͔͆ï̸͜g̵̘̓h̷̦̓ṭ̶̒i̶̯̐ǹ̷̙g̴̲̚.̴͍͋.̴̰̄.̸̦͆
I know! But I don’t have a choice, okay? This tournament offers me protection from my parents that no other place can offer! I’m fighting for my freedom. I don’t want to be under my parents’ tyrannical grasp anymore…
Ȃ̷̠ṭ̶̚ ̵̪̽t̷̞͊h̵̼͌e̷̱͑ ̶͔̅c̵̬͛o̸̜͝s̶̱͝t̴̀͜ ̶̺͠o̵̥͑f̴̢̀ ̴̼̋y̵͇̒o̸͎̿u̷͈̎r̴̫̃ ̷͈͠l̶̺̓ḯ̴̱f̵̜͂ẹ̸̕?̴̜̽
Well, if I-
B̵͈̃e̷̦͌s̷̟̍i̴̭̍d̷̗͝e̶͈̿s̸̗̓.̴̫̈́.̴̹̐.̷̖̽y̴̻͝ò̸̙u̴̲͠r̴̭̓ ̷̖͠p̷̦̄à̵͜r̴͐ͅḛ̴͋n̵͈͆ţ̴̅s̸̬̿ ̴̟̾h̷̟͆a̵̫̐v̶̟͒ȩ̶́ ̶̘͝a̶͓̚ ̴̡̽p̵̝̏o̸͕͗w̴̺̔e̵̖̔r̵͓̀f̶̗̆u̷͕͒ḷ̷͝ ̵̬͂ḯ̶̦ń̵̜f̶̱̓l̷̢̅u̶̳̽e̴̞͊n̵̢̊c̶̈́ͅe̷͓͝ ̷̠͛ọ̵̅v̴̛̥e̵̡͘r̸̝͒ ̷̨̅m̷̮̒a̷̟͆n̵̘͆y̸̲̑ ̶̛̙i̴̧͗n̷͔̍d̶̬̓i̶̩̊v̶̩̋i̸͈̅d̸͖̿u̵̥͊a̴̩͋l̷̨͐ṣ̸̍ ̴̡̓a̶̢͌ĉ̴̯ŕ̸̟ö̶̯́s̸̬̿ṣ̶̔ ̶͓̈́t̶̺̍ĥ̶̰i̵̹̿ș̷͋ ̴̡͐p̸͙̌l̵͓̚à̷̦ṉ̶̌ẹ̸͠.̴̯̀ ̸͙͒I̴͍̍ť̸̟'̶̺͛s̸͔̔ ̶͙̆è̷͉ń̴̫ṱ̵̈i̶̥̍ȓ̶͓e̵̥̓l̸̡̈́ẏ̵̼ ̵͚͛p̸̘̕ö̵̡́s̶̛̼s̴͈̕i̶̗̊b̸̼̓l̸̗̀e̵͎͂ ̷̙̐t̶͆ͅh̶͉͑a̸̩͆t̵̅͜ ̸̢̽s̷̝̆o̵̠͛ṁ̸̳ê̶̦ő̵̟n̵̥̈́è̶̹ ̵̤͒i̶͓̽ŝ̵͈ ̵͖͝ẁ̵̜a̷͇͑t̸̜͐c̸̣͘ḧ̸̰ì̷͎n̸̪͊g̷̻̀ ̴̞̄y̵̦͛ȯ̴͔ü̴̗ ̷͈̿ñ̵̰o̷̞̽ẃ̵̩.̴̹̇.̶̫̿.̶̦͋
A twig snapped behind Lyuben. He frantically cast a dark blast of magic towards the direction of a noise. There was an explosion behind him followed by a laugh.
“Who is it?” Lyuben called as he turned around cautiously.
“It’s me, you idiot,” a witch said playfully, “Imilia!”
“Oh...sorry. I was just nervous.”
Lyuben put his hands down. Imilia brought some mysterious object out of her pocket and muttered a few words, causing Lyuben to fly backwards and fall on his back.
“Ouch!” Lyuben grimaced, “What was that for?”
“Rule number one,” Imilia said brightly, “Never let your guard down.”
“Right,” Lyuben said.
Lyuben saw Imilia’s eyes flicker to his pocket, which still had his rose in it, then move back to his face.
“So, I think we should start by seeing what you can do,” Imilia started, “Can you try and blast that boulder over there?”
She pointed to a mound of shiny rock gleaming in the sunlight that sat to the left of the training grounds.
“But that’s not-”
“It’s fine,” the witch interrupted, “Just show me.”
Lyuben sighed as he gathered all his energy into his hand. A dark ball of fire lit up in his white palm, scorching the tall grass beneath him, yet somehow leaving himself unharmed.
The boy shook uncontrollably as he tried to contain the flames, but they kept growing larger and larger. He was losing control of it.
“Ummm...slight problem…” Lyuben panted as he tried to keep his energy stable, “I don’t think I can aim this properly.”
A frightful expression flickered across Imilia’s, but was quickly replaced with her usual confidence. “Here...I’ll help you.”
Imilia slowly got closer to the struggling mage. She stepped cautiously behind him and guided his forearms, so that they faced the boulder.
“Release it. Now.” she whispered in his ear.
Imilia kept Lyuben’s hands stable as he let go of the dark flames. The flames collided with the rock in a fiery explosion, sending a purple flare and clouds of thick smoke into the sky. The shockwave spread throughout the field, uprooting large patches of the grass around it and tearing through the wooden fence. Lyuben felt Imilia’s hands let go of him as she got thrown backwards by the dark energy rippling through the field.
Lyuben looked down inside his large pocket. His boyfriend’s rose was glowing malevolently with a purple light, giving Lyuben an odd feeling.
What was this rose he had? Why did he have it? What was he doing with it?
Imilia got up quickly. She brushed the dust off of her robes.
“So that’s how his magic works…” she muttered under her breath.
“What?”
“Oh! Nothing!”
“Is there a place I can keep this rose?” Lyuben asked nervously. He was scared to let go of his only memory of his boyfriend, but he felt like the rose was making his spells more powerful and harder for him to control. He didn't want to end up killing a contestant, after all.
Imilia gestured to a patch where she had kept an odd looking jar of flies down. Lyuben looked at her suspiciously, then set the rose down.
“Good, let’s start with the easier stuff first, then we can learn to use your magic to its fullest potential” Imilia’s voice trailed off.
Imilia showed Lyuben another target, and guided his hands so that he could hit them successfully. They repeated this process over and over until Lyuben started getting comfortable.
-----
Three people hid behind a bush in the training grounds. They watched as Imilia assisted Lyuben to control his more powerful magic to a certain degree.
“There he is!” Cecilia said.
“Yup, that’s him...and who is that other girl?” Ryan asked.
“Imilia,” Arin said, “She goes to a prestigious witch school in the plane, and she’s known as one of the top students there. Her magical prowess in necromancy is dangerous. We can’t approach Lyuben while she’s around.”
“Isn’t Lyuben not supposed to practice magic?” Cecilia inquired.
“That’s right,” Ryan responded, “His mother hates magic. She is known as the Silver Terror after all. She ruthlessly killed many notorious mages of the Dusk Rose legion without the use of any magic whatsoever.”
“Really? How?”
“There are rumors...none of which I can confirm. Some say she is a descendant of-” Ryan continued.
“Shh!” Arin whispered, “They’re coming over here! We can tell Cecilia about this later.”
First Round
Second Conclusion
Signature // Arena // Companion
Second Result
@DomriKade - Hadid opened his way 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!
@Lujikul - Sometime after the match, Damien wakes up in the healing chamber of Werther Fortress. You may write a concluding chapter to his tournament journey and post any cards which are involved in that story!
GG to you too.
Kaigan was very popular while Iseabel was not much more than a glorified background character, so I don't think Iseabel had much of a chance to win in the first place.
I just wish that her defeat had been... different, but hey!, can't demand more for a character that did not even reach the quarter finals.
I will continue to follow Kaigan's journey so make sure that he makes if far!
Chapter 1
Storm Warning
It has been a week since Tika received the letter that she was selected to participate in the tournament... which was a surprise, given how she was rejected first. It had been a long week traveling along the Everian landscape. But, at last, the island fortress was in view. A light rainstorm drizzled above as Tika made her way across the bridge to one of the fortress's entrances. A guard greeted her at the entrance."Tika, I presume?"
Tika nodded.
"Welcome. Please, follow me."
The guard opened up a door into the fort and guided Tika into the fortress's courtyard. Tika looked around in awe.
She was finally here.
~ A Glistening in the Darkness
~ Before the First Match...
Ytsix made sure to watch Kaigan's match. He didn't trust him as much as that old fellow Hadid, but Kaigan seemed decent enough. He sort of reminded Ytsix of his youth, back when he was an aspiring young adult full of dreams, not fears. He would say sweet and innocent, if it weren't for the kobold's draconian nature. Where Ytsix comes from, dragonborn have been innately evil throughout history, and despite Kaigan's positive gestures, that stigma was still fixed in the cat's mind.The inventor sat in the crowd and set his arm upon his lap. It let out a mild whirring as the aether around it began to fold in.
"Hey! My champion!"
Ytsix groaned as he turned to see the mouse from before below him.
"Oh… hey Kavro."
"So… you made it?"
"Yeah…"
"WOOHOOOOO! You did it! I knew my old cat would make it when they signed up!"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD?!" Ytsix stares daggers at the mouse, and for a moment, it seemed as though all innocence had left the normally kind cat's face. "AND NO, I DIDN'T SIGN UP!"
"I… literally went with you to the signups. The judge seemed quite intrigued by your skillset and weapons!"
"No, I didn't…"
"You sure you aren't getting old timer's?"
Another stare made Kavro gulp… he's seen Ytsix angry before.
"So… um… who's your first opponent?"
"Some witch or something… why me, though? I hate dark magic!"
"You'll make it through this, buddy! I've seen what you can do."
"I just… know what can happen if I go all out…" Ytsix's voice got a bit down as he looked at his prosthetic. "I try to avoid it when I can, but… sometimes I haven't had a choice but to go all-out."
"Cheer up, buddy. These guys lool like lightwe-" Kavro's ears perked up, and it felt like at least half of the contestants were giving him a death stare. "Well, at least that kobold and that old man."
...make that all of the contestants, Ytsix included. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh! Um- n-nothing! Ahah! Wish you luck, I think I left my coins at the blacksmith!"
Kavro suddenly darted off, and Ytsix groaned as he went back to adjusting his prosthetic…
~ The 'Bold and the Cruel
As the arena was presented, Ytsix's ears perked up, a little nub visibly moving under his jacket as his eyes flew around.
Hmm… what in the world were they thinking with this arena? Ytsix thought to himself. Far too advantageous for Kaigan, even if I want him to win. Way too much cover, and easy access to higher ground the others would have difficulty exploiting, and a spear is able to keep sword wielding opponents at bay in the right hands… this… match seems set, as long as Kaigan doesn't do anything stupid..
Ytsix sat and patiently waited for the other competitors to begin when he noticed something… off. That bald priest was… doing something to Kaigan! He was in pain!
"HEY!" Ytsix called out. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?!"
"It's an important ritual," one of the officials respond. "It is necessary in order for proceedings to go smoothly…"
Ytsix gulped, a heavy feeling in his chest as he watched… the others weren't marked. Is he being cursed? Was the match being... rigged?!
As the match began, Ytsix was at attention, not even blinking for fear of missing an important detail. His prosthetic was ready to absorb any rogue spell that flew his direction, and his eyes were darting like he was chasing a laser pointer as he watched the match.
This, isn't good… he's fast, yes, but he's weak. He has a spear, which would normally reign supreme in this situation, but compared to that massive sword… he's actually at an arms disadvantage. And that armor… his best hope is to eliminate the mage, and fast!
The match started off almost as Ytsix expected, except he had overestimated Kaigan's strength and underestimated the mage's talents. This was going to be too close! The feline's heart beat rapidly… this was anyone's match!
Ytsix had calculated things down to a science. If Kaigan was surrounded, he'd likely lose, but if he could pin down the spellcaster, he'd have a win! What he couldn't predict, however, is what would happen next…
As the blade flew towards Kaigan, his heart skipped a beat. So much power… such finesse, perfect form… but the aim was off… a killing throw with butchered aim, and the blade went through her chest. His breathing and tail wagging stopped as he watched… her fall limp atop the kobold… was she dead?
As the officials flocked, he watched, growing a bit faint… they were obviously panicked, except for the cleric… did he… no! Stop it, Ytsix!...
After a moment, it was quite clear what happened. Ytsix grew more and more faint as tears began to form in his eyes… black, inky tears as his pupils turned black.
"I… I thought… no one was going to die…"
With those weak words, he passed out, collapsing. His tears shimmered a metallic black as they ran down his seat. After he awoke, no one saw Ytsix except the blacksmith, with him requesting a large amount of scrap metal, and anyone who was lucky enough to bump into him at the dining hall…
.....The next day, gunshots rang out from the training grounds as Ytsix practiced.
"I wasn't going to be using this in the tournament," he said to himself as he aimed down the range, "but the stakes are higher than I anticipated."
~ @TenebrisNemo Pinging to make sure you see this. Sorry I haven't been able to post! My work week is 10 hours a day Saturdays through Tuesdays, which really doesn't line up with the rest of the site, and this week has been hectic to top it off!
Chapter 8:A Tragic Loss
Hesitantly, he walked up to the door and knocked. Neither the humming or the whispers of reverences from long ago stopped, but footsteps also came towards the door. It opened, although there was no view of who opened it. Walking inside, it swung shut behind him, narrowly missing his tail. Thoroughly spooked, but just as resolved, he continued towards the altar, where there was a kneeling figure.
"E-excuse me sir."
Kaigan was hesitant to interrupt the devotions of the priest, but if he was too busy, he'd not have had someone open the door right?
"Yes, son?" The priest rose from his position and turned to Kaigan. "And please, call me Kara."
"Well, uh, Kara. I'm not one for other religions, but my god cannot give me his wisdom right now. And I just... I don't know. I need to know. Why?"
Kara heaved a sigh.
"Come sit, son." He patted a bench and had a seat himself. "I think I know your questioning. Why did Iseabel have to die? The answer to that question is a long one, but it can be summed up in that she had to die because that is how it was willed."
Kaigan went and sat, but shook his head as Kara spoke. "Not that. Why did she want to die? You said she rejected the mark. She didn't know she would die for good, but I had had her to rights and she didn't surrender. She instead chose to continue fighting. If she didn't die by the sword, I wouldn't have won except for knocking her out or killing her. She wanted to die, or at least not live with a loss."
This seemed to strike Kara with the same force as a frying pan to the chest. He looked at Kaigan for a second, stunned.
"... You ask the harder questions here son. Religion doesn't have answers for the goals of individual men. I can attempt to answer, but we shall never know her true goals for certain. For all we know, she feared dying and coming back more than just death. Do you know who the man with her was?"
Listening to this, Kaigan settled back.
"That was her brother. She had raised him from the dead, and from his state, it looks like she cared for him more than for herself. She's seen all the damage that death does to a body, and wouldn't necessarily have realized that that wasn't the case with my sigil. So she could have refused it because she didn't want to end up a mindless servant for me, or whoever she thought would have it."
"Another option was that she felt like she couldn't bear the humiliation of defeat by someone... well someone like you. Small. Polite. Someone most people would write off as harmless, or even silly. If two grown adults couldn't cause you to even consider surrender, and you could disable both of them... well, most people would write the adults off as incompetent jokes. They'd underestimate you, and then dismiss the people that were being beaten by you."
Kaigan paused, his tail twitching over the back of the bench.
"I hear you Mr. Kara... but does that meant that I'm responsible for her death? Am I to blame that she wanted death?"
"Son... I can answer that easily enough. No, you are not to blame. It was her choice. However, my words alone won't convince you. You need to believe. Don't just listen, but ingest these words. Whyever she wanted to die, she wanted it. She chose it. You did not; you actively tried to stop her. I am not able to tell you why, but it in her and Terrodus now that the answer lies. I urge you to put your mind at ease."
Kaigan rose and nodded to Kara.
"Thank you for your insight. Uh. Pray well, I guess?"
Kara laughed, patting Kaigan on the back.
"God be with you son. Go and let the light of day wash your troubled mind clean."
As Kaigan left, the door swung open for him, and shut behind with a resounding thud. He decided to head for the lake, wanting to sit there and meditate for a while. However, he didn't get that far. Passing by the hospital, he was reminding himself to check in on Damien after his match when he ran into Nilfi. With his head down and mind in deep thought, he didn't notice the vampire crossing his path and bumped right into him.
A startled apology burst from them both, and Nilfi smiled.
"You did well in the arena there. Two on one like that, I wasn't expecting you to pull out the win."
Kaigan nodded, but still appeared quite down. Nilfi clearly noticed; it didn't take a genius to tell that something was on the kobold's mind.
"So what's got you so deep in thought that you're gonna be bumping into people?"
"Oh. Iseabel. Like... I dodged. And so she died. And if I hadn't dodged, we'd both be alive. And I might still be in even. And.... now she's dead. Like, she wasn't nice, but she was a person who as trying to do the right thing."
Nilfi nodded his understanding. "I've been thinking about her death too, although maybe not quite in the same way as you have been. Would my opinion and insights be useful? I don't want to burden you with more than you need to think about."
Kaigan looks up at him for a second, then nods.
"Yeah... knowing your opinions won't hurt, and they might put me more at ease."
Chapter 8:A Tragic Loss (cont.)
"Well then... know that this is a dark road with only more pain and suffering to endure. Physical wounds yes, but I doubt this will be the last death of the tournament. Most of the contestants here are trained to kill. If you keep insisting on not killing in return, I doubt you'll win. Iseabel saw that you didn't kill her and took advantage of that as best she could, even if she failed in the end. The other competitors will too."
At this Kaigan seemed even more puzzled and distressed. "This tournament was advertised as a way to help people and protect them, not kill people needlessly! Are you saying that the proclamations were lies and that this is some sort of blood sports match?"
"Sort of? If you crack an egg to cook it and feed someone starving, you've cared for that person today, but you've also killed the egg. You'll never escape the duality of your good intentions versus the deeds you do to get you there. Also, killing is the warriors way. It is the fate of all of us. If you are to fight for the people of this kingdom, you will eventually need to kill, maybe monsters like the one that attacked us on the way here, or maybe more human monsters... one with goals and lives."
"I know that. I can handle that. But those who can reason can surrender; they don't have to die. So... why did she want to die?"
The pain in his voice was palpable. Kaigan needed something. Anything. The priest's thoughts were good, but not enough. Would anything be enough? Anything to justify an untimely death? Nilfi's face twisted at the question, grim and saddened.
"That's likely something she took to her grave, but perhaps the weight of her life or actions became too great to bear, or perhaps she doesn't trust the magic offered for our protection. Regardless, she made that choice willingly. Perhaps it was cruel for her not to disclose that choice prior to the match, or perhaps it would have been crueler still to tell you and make you fight with that knowledge. Would you have delivered the final blow if you knew she wouldn't return?"
"I didn't deliver the final blow. I had the victory; all she needed to do was surrender. Instead, she grappled for me, knowing that I was small and could easily escape. She commanded the throw... she knew it would end her. She had to have known."
"Yes but that was... That attack was absurd, but if you had to land the killing strike, could you have done it knowing she'd stay down? Or did she spare you the knowledge so you'd fight to the last breath?"
"... She knew I wouldn't kill her. Maybe not before the match, but when I told her to surrender. At worst I'd knock her out. I'm not going to kill people for a shot at a title!"
This last seemed to him almost in protest to the tournament as a whole. Even if they wouldn't stay dead, killing people was wrong. And what if something failed! Then he would have really killed someone over nothing. NOTHING! Kaigan looked at the vampire, noting the grimace and the firmness in stance.
"People kill for so much less..." Nilfi sighed, meeting the kobold's gaze. "Many here have come to test the absolute limits of their strength and abilities, and I don't plan to hold back against anyone with that determination; if and when we meet in the arena, I hope you'll show me the same respect. Strike to kill, no restraint, no mercy. You've got ingenuity and skill, and I want to see every bit of it. Besides, the tournament enchantment seems reasonable enough, and I'm not scared to die even if it were to fail."
Kaigan sat down on the stone steps of the hospital. "Your statement troubles me;" he confessed. "I've believed all my life that the most important skill for a warrior to have is self control, including restraint. Precise motions. If the goal is to duel to a standstill, a blow that would kill but doesn't harm demonstrates more technical skill, will, and talent than a blow that cuts someone down the center. Death is part of these games, not because its preferred, but because it's all that some people know I think. However, I suppose I'm just... sheltered."
"In my experience, honor only goes so far before you've been hit below the belt, poisoned, back-stabbed, or had sand thrown in your eyes. When everything's on the line, choosing not to give every ounce of yourself is asking to die." Nilfi joined him, sitting and gesturing out onto the fortress grounds. "If you haven't noticed, even the most innocent looking contestants here are fighting at their peak abilities. As much as I love to see a restrained and fair duel between two skilled fighters, this is no fairground contest of precise aim with a bow or a casual joust. This is preparation, possibly for war."
"I know. Against the beasts out there, I would send the head of my spear two inches further. Against the foes here, I'd do it only as a last resort. Before I knew of the marks, I would have surrendered with my tip to their throat and them helpless though if the alternate was killing them. I won't hold back and I will do my best to win, but that doesn't mean I will kill needlessly. As for dishonorable attacks.... well, Conscience's spar with me was enough to warn me of those. I expect them now."
No matter how stubborn Kaigan acted though, it's clear that some of what Nilfi was telling him had sunk in, for better or worse. He sighed and stood up, avoiding the gaze of the vampire. His head leans forward, still troubled.
"Thank you though. For your warning and your advice. Know that if I do face you, I still will not kill you intentionally unless you absolutely force my hand. I would request that you, if we face, will allow me the dignity of surrender if you have me helpless."
Nilfi paused for a moment, recognizing the troubled demeanor and considering Kaigan's statement. With a chuckle he nodded, picking up his staff as well.
"Well, I'll certainly try my best in that regard, but just know I'm not holding back. The flames of battle will quite literally burn." He said, deadpan, before giving a nervous laugh and scratching his head. "But hey, don't let it keep you down, alright? You're the brightest thing in this place, and someone has to keep us all from sulking in our rooms melodramatically."
A low chuckle was forced from the kobold. No matter how serious the situation is, a joke is a joke, and that one hit him right. "Then we both have what we want. You have the choice to not surrender, and I, hopefully, have the choice to surrender. May your match against Noah be a valiant one."
He turns to leave, heading back on track for the lake. Nilfi almost said something but paused. . "What would Yen say right now, he seems just like a kid, but I also saw the way he fought. He's scrappy and quick on his feet, but he just hasn't seen the real horrors out there. Or in here for that matter..."
With a sigh, he turned and started walking down towards the other end of the hall. Pausing, he shouted out over his shoulder "I hope you find some peace, Kaigan. You've got the heart of a child and the soul of dragon. Just don't tell the others I'm such a sap!"
Kaigan looked back at him and nodded. No one else needed to know of this moment. Besides, he had meditations to get to.
Un Examen
Imilia stalked the halls of Werther Fortress, following the faint sounds of a piano from somewhere within. Her shoes clicked softly on the stone floor as she clenched her hands into fists, her fingernails biting deep into her palms. She rounded a corner to see Lyuben, sat before a piano, playing some foreign sounding melody she'd never heard before. Insolent fool! Your match is today and you're playing the piano? I can't have you failing, wretch.
Taking care to make no noise as she crossed the floor, she crept up behind the unsuspecting Lyuben and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back as she held a dagger up to his throat, softly whispering into his ear. Defend yourself!
Lyuben cried out, turning from the piano wide eyed, and Imilia used the momentum to pull him off the bench, throwing him to the floor, where scrambled away.
"Imilia!" He yelled. "What under God's own eyes are you doing!?" Imilia strode up to him, hauling him up by his shirt and shoving him against the wall.
"The better question, Lyuben," she said, her voice cold, and sharp as a knife, "Is what are you doing? Playing piano? At a time like this? Your match is today, you fool. Your magic ability is still undertrained, and I won't stand for you losing!"
Lyuben pushed her off and glared at her, as small fingers of black flame started to coalesce in his palms. Imilia's mouth widened into a grim smile. She flicked her hand, drawing a wide sigil in the air.
"The cat you're fighting has some sort of quick shooting projectile weapon. I don't have that, but I do have this. Defend yourself!"
Imilia sent a blast of energy into the sigil, and a storm of small crystal projectiles shot from it. Lyuben raised his hands, creating a swath of flame that incinerated some of the projectiles. Others though, found their way through the flame, sticking into Lyuben's legs and torso like needles of a cactus. He gritted his teeth in pain, and retaliated, launching a bolt of fire at Imilia. She jumped out of the way, laughing.
Lyuben sent more bolts of fire at her, and she continued to dodge, leaving them as nothing more than scorch marks on the wall, before launching even more crystals. Lyuben tried to block them, but was mostly unsuccessful, and he clenched his teeth from the pain as tears started to well in his eyes. Imilia's laugh was beginning to sound like that of a psychopath. Frustrated, Lyuben gathered up more energy, then sent a massive beam of black fire straight at Imilia. Perfect. I hate losing, but I suppose just this once I'll have to.
Imilia created a shielding sigil, but intentionally made it weak, and the beam broke right through it, catching her in the chest and flinging her hard against the wall, where she collapsed to the floor. Her body screamed in pain as she leaned limp against the wall. Shit. I seriously underestimated this kid. She forced tears into her eyes, the pain making it a lot easier than it usually was.
Lyuben gasped, freezing momentarily before running across the room and kneeling down next to her. He recoiled slightly when he saw the tears streaming down her face, eyes wide with worry.
"Imilia! Are you alright!?" Imilia's breaths came raggedly, and she caught her words in her throat.
"I'm sorry..." Lyuben raised his hands, looking slightly confused now.
"What!? Imilia, I-"
"I really want you to win, Lyuben. I'm so sorry- I went overboard, didn't I?" She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Lyuben's neck and burying her face in his shoulder, surreptitiously tracing a small sigil on his spine.
Lyuben pulled away, slightly confused as to how to respond.
"There's no need to be sorry! I... I appreciate your help, Imilia. Now here, let me help you up." He grabbed her hand, gently helping her off the ground. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled.
"That's your match!" Imilia said. "Go! I'll be alright." Lyuben seemed reluctant to leave her there, scorched and battered as she was, but Imilia shooed him away. Her eyes narrowed and her voice became cold once again.
"Beat that cat, Lyuben."
I definitely need to keep you around.
I should be done by 16:35 (4:35) CST
Chapter Eight - Family History
Lyuben looked out the window as the sun rose early in the morning. Something about the golden color of the rising sun called to him. The rising sun’s rays swept through the quiet fortress, cleansing the town of nighttime’s heaviness.
“Today’s the day,” Lyuben whispered to himself, “This is it.”
Lyuben picked up his rose, holding it up to the sun.
My father hated that I liked boys. My mother hated that I could wield magic. You were the only person that believed in me...
Lyuben could see a faint outline of his dead boyfriend again, this time sitting on the windowsill.
...and as long as I have this rose, I know you’ll be by my side.
Lyuben could see a faint smile form on his boyfriend’s perfect face.
I’m fighting to keep your memory alive. Wish me luck, okay?
With that, Lyuben left his room and head to the nearest piano to calm his nerves.
-----
Dim candles across the wooden walls lit up the circular, windowless room. Rows of tall shelves were spread all across the room, each one holding important records of the past. This room was known as the Planar Archive. If one spent long enough inside, they could learn the entire history of the plane from the abyssal wars to the most detailed family trees and beyond. However, such knowledge of history can be dangerous, and very few are let into the special room.
In the center of the room, Ayden sat surrounded by stacks of ancient books and papers. Beside him laid a pair of keys stolen from the owner of the mailing office. The owner was a wise elf around 200 years old. They were the only one that visited the room in the past hundred years. Not anymore.
“Hmm...maybe I should start with the Tournament of Champions history? I know he joined that…”
The first page showed a gallery of all the champions in the tournament. Most of the champions were very similar, and surprising number of them had been killed or died. Many of them seemed to have died in the battle of Lalden minor, which was indicated in the book.
He saw the most recent champion too. Her name was Tiamat. Ayden had been a huge fan of hers throughout the tournament, though he did still wish Radhe had gone further with her.
It’s a shame how people have to be left behind. There just isn’t any other way sometimes.
After flipping to the end of the book, he could only see the sixteen accepted champions, and a paragraph on Aiko’s dismissal from the tournament.
“Nope. Nothing useful here,” Ayden muttered.
He tossed the heavy book on the ground, causing a loud boom to echo through the magical archive.
“Why were all those people after him? What did they want? Who were they??”
Ayden sifted through some more papers, but still nothing.
“How am I supposed to search this entire place? There’s got to be hundreds of thousands of records in here. I need to find a clue that will give me more information about Lyuben…”
Ayden got up from his wooden chair and paced around the one desk in the center of the dark room. Ayden felt himself smiling slightly as he thought about Lyuben. His beautiful hazel eyes. His charming face. His rose…
“That’s it!” Ayden exclaimed, “Lyuben’s rose!! There’s always been something special about it, right?”
Ayden raced over to a bookshelf and climbed a ladder to reach the very top level. His eyes glazed over the rows of colorful books until he found the perfect ones. Ayden pulled out a deep purple book and a green one. Both of them had ancient gold lettering on the covers with black frames on the borders of the covers. The messenger climbed down the ladder and walked back to the desk.
“The Dusk Rose Legion,” Ayden read as he traced his finger over the title of the purple book, “I’ve heard rumors about them…”
Ayden opened the book and started reading:
Over two hundred and years ago, a group of mages known as the Dusk Rose Legion ruled the northeastern part of the plane. Within their fearful ranks stood the darkest mages in the land, all of them associated with the abyss and its dark powers. Each mage carried a rose, which there is only one left of, called the blood rose. The stem was as sharp as a dagger and the petals carried dark magic enough to kill a person. If the user didn’t know about its powers, it could be fatal to them. Many mages died using it, but these mages were trained well. Extremely well. All of them had turned on Goddes Friyena, and now only obeyed one master: Emperor Rakhadi.
Emperor Rakhadi was once close to the gods before succumbing to the irresistible power of the abyss. However, even while under the influence of the abyss, he cared for his people. But only the people that obeyed him. Ruling with a firm hand, he built his kingdom up, assembling a large army of mages that could defeat any army in the land. He was known to his people as a benevolent protector, but to anyone outside as the most feared mage in the land.
One day, Zoë, his granddaughter and a young prodigy even among Rakhadi’s ranks, discovered a locked room where his plans laid. After managing to get in and discovering his plans, she was horrified. The picture of her grandfather society had painted for her was false. The girl ran away with her boyfriend and younger brother.
Within a year, the trio were killed by the legion, but they had failed to find Zoë’s family, who she had hidden away. Years later, Zoë’s granddaughter rose to power. She hated the Dusk Rose Legion and the dangerous influence they had on the land. With the powers she inherited from Zoë, she crafted a dark sword and a large steel whip made to combat the blood rose’s magic. She was known to the mages as “The Silver Terror”. Without using magic, she took on the ranks of the Dusk Rose legion alone, killing every one of them. Some say her violence was justified. Others say it fell in line with the same cruelty her ancestor Rakhadi exerted on his enemies. Some say she may have even been able to match the power of Rakhadi himself, though he was dead by then. The Silver Terror, named Hjordis, hates her own magic to her day. With the Dusk Rose legion fallen, another family rose to power: the Rosenburg family. Hjordis married into this family, taking her new position as queen to wipe out the traces of the Dusk Rose legion from the kingdom.
She issued a decree getting all the blood roses rounded up and destroyed. However, one rose was stolen and the person who stole it remains a mystery. The whereabouts of this rose are unknown.
“So...could Lyuben’s rose be the last blood rose in existense? Are they the same thing? How did he get a hold of it? And how is this girl, the Silver Terror, related to Lyuben?”
Ayden opened up the green book. It was titled “The Rakhadi Family Tree”. Ayden traced the line from Rakhadi to Zoë and then from Zoë down to Hjordis. Ayden looked at the name below Hjordis. Ayden couldn’t believe it. It was Lyuben. He was the prince of Malterra!
“Lyuben...Lyuben is the ancestor of the feared Rakhadi?! Does he even know this? H-he could be in danger! Who are those people that were trying to find him??”
Ayden stood up and put on his messenger bag. He ran around the shelves grabbing various books and took the two he read about Emperor Rakhadi’s history.
“I must tell Lyuben. If I pull the right strings, I can enter the tournament fortress with a message and alert Lyuben then…” Ayden spoke rapidly to himself, panicked.
He raced outside the room, leaving the desk untidy and door wide open, but he didn’t care now. He was focused on Lyuben.
“For now, Lyuben, stay safe...I’m worried about you…”
Why do I care anyway? He’s just another boy, right?
(Thanks for waiting for me to finish!! This is the last part before my fight.)
----
After the training with Imilia, Lyuben was sore, yet thankful.
Maybe I can trust Imilia after all...we'll see...my mom did teach me a little bit of hand to hand combat tricks before she betrayed me.
Lyuben walked over to the arena, imagining a melody inside his head to help calm the tension.
I will beat that cat. I must. I will. There is no other option...
"Lyuben!!" a familiar voice called.
Lyuben looked around, confused.
"It's me Cecilia! From your school!" a girl running towards him said, "Oh, and, what are you wearing? Ragged black robes like that?"
Lyuben smiled slightly, then realized what her being here meant. "Did anyone follow you? Is anyone here with you?"
"Does it look like anyone is there?"
Lyuben smiled. "I never got to thank you for arranging all those dates with my boyfriend even when my father hated it. I never got to really thank you for that..."
She smiled. There was something off about her smile, but Lyuben still smiled back at the familiar face. It was nice to see someone he knew.
"How did you manage to get in to the fortress?" Lyuben asked as they walked to the arena together.
"I snuck in of course," she laughed, "Well, good luck, Lyuben! That cat will be a tough opponent."
Lyuben nodded sadly.
"Say, would you want to meet after the match? We could talk and catch up, especially after everything that happened in the kingdom after you left..."
Lyuben looked alarmed at the mention of his kingdom. "Yeah, right...I'll think about it..."
"See you soon!" Cecilia said sweetly as Lyuben walked away.
Lyuben held his rose close to his chest as he walked away.
I'll win this and I'll do it for you. I'd do anything to honor you memory...I just hope it'll be enough...
"We did it!" she whispered to Arin after Lyuben left. She was hidden in plain sight in a bar close to the stadium, "Soon, Lyuben might just find himself back home..."
----
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----
Story card:
Suddenly, the old musician began to play. The song was upbeat and happy, light and cheerful. A layer of magic into this grasped the attention of nearby people, and his crowd began to grow. Slowly, the song got faster and bouncier as more people joined the spectators. To much surprise. The Soundweaver began to dance to his tune, leaping higher as the song became bouncier. His hands moved faster than seemed possible. The force of the tune almost compelled the crowd to dance with him. At last, The Soundweaver leapt out of the crowd and finished the song. From the emotions he sensed, he knew that he had given these people a topic for talk for a while to come. Smiling, he left the market.
Chapter 5 (Tournament) - A Visit From The Devil (re-done)
Tidal winds and clapping storms erupted in the silent voids of the night as an unkept librarian scrambled to skim through all the books about the abyss underneath his well kept cabin. He dreamt of the few days before the contestants arrived to that foolish Gaspar's fort and of how peaceful the days were.
(Lightning)
Ever since those so called champions arrived Mizor's life was turned upside down, in particular ever since it arrived.
Once an indulgent practitioner of abyssal magic, his days had been far left behind and his works sealed behind magic barriers. How it came to know of this Mizor knew not and ever since that day Mizor hasn't know a day of comfort.
If it wasn't for Mizor's seven year old ray of sunshine Mercy or his wife Tina he would have ended this madness ages ago, but now he has people worth living for and protecting.
He flipped through the pages re-learning all his notes about the abyss and how he could help this demanding visitor. He had to have every breakthrough necessary to help this visitor control his wild magic and with his unpredictable appearances and flakey temperament he had to constantly be studying.
His thoughts knawed on his mind as he studied the ancient madness he had long forgotten and he hadn't slept for days, the rain didn't help either but his wife would soon be home and he had to ensure she was here safely.
Tina: "Honey I'm home." A voice flowed through the empty silence.
Mizor let out a sigh of relief, now that Tina was here she could keep an eye on Mercy so he would have one less thing to worry about for the night. Mizor put down his books and scrambled, a smile procured from his face but he stopped a couple of feet away from her and his smile disappeared from his face.
Mizor : "The doors were looked, how did you get in"
Tina: "Well, with the spare keys you oaf"
Things just didn't add up, her clothes were dry despite rainy weather and she was at least an hour too early, there was also something else strange but Mizor couldn't put a hand on it yet.
Mizor: "You aren't Tina. Tina has a mole under the right eye of her face." Mizor said trying to contain his anger and frustration.
(Lightning)
Tina: "Is this better dear?" She said as she magically procured a mole under her right eye. Her voice sounded word for word like Tina's which further drove Mizor near a breakdown.
Mizor: What have you done with Tina?!" He said his rage flaring up while trying to keep it down as to not wake up Mercy.
Arn: "It's so hard to convince people this days." Arn said shifting himself back to his original form as the man's face turned from anger to that of fear.
Arn: Don't worry your wife is fine, I insured of it. Infact on my way here she was ambushed by a group of four bandits and while I doubt she wasn't traumatized from how gruesomely I decapitated their heads, she should arrive in about an hour."
Arn: "I'm not all that bad so what's the grim look for? I just saved your wife and you still see me as a monster? I'm hurt." Arn said in a joking manner his voice a mix of amusement and ridicule.
Mizor: No..No, no...not at all. I am...very grateful" Mizor said scrambling back in fear to his documents.
Arn: "I believe that one good favor pays another" Arn said approaching the nerve wrecked man "Have you learned anything of use to me."
Mizor: Frozen in fear "Well..I...*gulp*... I need more time;"
Arn: "More time?" Arn said his voice changing into a more ominous tone.
Mizor: "Please" he began sobbing "Please leave my family out of this, I am really doing my best, please just a little more time" Mizor kept pleading.
Arn: "I would hate for anything unfortunate to happen to Tina or Mercy" Arn said turning for the door "You have three days."
With that Arn opened the door and turned into his raven like form then flew away.
Mizor: "They can never know." he said under his breath to himself
Mizor quickly rushed to close the door to prevent the rain from blowing into his cabin and buried his head on the table crying until Tina arrived forty five minutes later.
(Conclusion)
@shadow123 - No problem, though I wasn't waiting, I'm just late. Hahaha!
Yet there are still some important things I need to do, so I'm afraid I have to move today's match to tomorrow, 7th of April 16.00 CST. I'm sure you understand, and I thank you all for your patience!
@DrakeGladis & @TonySparks - I like how both of you used character Kara in your stories! But I'm afraid you both also misinterpret some of his aspects. First of all, Kara is blind. He has no eyesight whatsoever, but he is able to sense presences and value their statuses. Sometimes he enters a trance and completely ignores the world around him. Lastly, Kara isn't much of a polite, expressive, or talkative person, quite the opposite. He barely shows any emotions at all, unless an overwhelming feeling builds up in him, then he just might show it (like fear in Arn's chapter). That's rare though, since he spends most of his days in quiet churches, serving one of the many gods of Avelaide.
Sturgar screamed again, throwing his head back, blood trickling from his mouth. He lay on a cold stone slab in a basement physician's office, burnt and bleeding from a multitude of puncture wounds. He had floated to shore of a plank of wood hours ago, after half a ton of gunpowder had detonated in her hold. The doctor, a bespectacled middle aged elven woman in a white coat, shuffled around him, gently wrapping what remained of his charred, blackened and bleeding body in a length of white cloth. He groaned, thrashing about. Both legs had been torn off in the explosion, and his tailbone and a few stray tendons protruded slightly from the bloody mess that was his waist. His left arm had been blown off at the shoulder, and his right arm was but a stump, less than a foot long. A portion of his neck on his right side had been burned so badly there was a hole in it, from which poured forth a cascade of blood barely staunched by a wad of rapidly reddening gauze, and his chest and face were charred, black and cracked with raw, pink flesh showing through were the scabs had broken. His screams were now barley more than hisses, his crushed windpipe struggling to pull in air. He stared one last time at Nartheus' face, leaning over him beside the doctor, brows furrowed with concern, then his vision darkened and he slipped gratefully into unconsciousness.
"Sturgar?" He slowly opened his eyes. "Sturgar?" Nartheus sat before him on a rickety wooden stool.
Sturgar suddenly shook himself, trying to look around him, but a shooting pain in his neck followed by a fresh stream of blood stopped him instantly, reducing the dragonborn to a whimpering mess.
"It's... dear me." Nartheus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking at Sturgar again. "Sturgar, it's really bad. You will never move or do anything again. It's a miracle you survived."
The doctor stood behind him, bags under her eyes as she tiredly pulled off the gloves and began washing her bloodstained hands. It was morning now, and the hustle of the city could be heard through the wooden door. Sturgar gently moved his eyes about, taking in what he could. He sat, propped up in a padded chair. His entire body was covered in bandages, and the floor was awash in his blood. He tried to get up, tilting himself forward before falling flat on the bloody floor with a wet thud. He tried to yell, but only the bares whisper made it from his lips, as he burbled and fought to breath in the spreading pool of blood. As Nartheus and the doctor hoisted him back up with worried faces, he retched, spraying blood and bile everywhere, and passed out again.
When he next woke, a week had passed. He was lying in a soft bed, clean bandages wrapping his broken body. He wiggled himself higher up onto the pillow despite the searing pain racking his entire being, seeing Nartheus at his bedside, reading a book.
"Ah, you're awake. At last." Nartheus put down the book and adjusted his glasses, smiling. "How are you feeling? I've had some arrangements made, and I think they'll suit you. You can, if you like, continue to work for me. I know it seems odd, but let me show you later." He said. "Oh, no. Don't try to talk." He interrupted as Sturgar began coughing loudly, flecks of red spattering the pristinely clean white sheets. He rolled his head back, settling into the pillow, and fell gently asleep once more.
The next month, he met Zordroth Dragonflame. Zordroth was, like him, a dragonborn. Unlike Sturgar however, Zordroth still had all of his limbs, and it looked like he used them too. His chest was broad, his arms thick and muscular, his shoulders wide. Overall, a very imposing figure, which contrasted starkly with his intense, bubble personality.
"Oh hey there!" He reached to shake Sturgar's hand, then quickly pulled back when he remembered. "Ooh, right. So sorry about that." He continued on, speaking quickly in deep, smooth voice, as he walked down a hallway with Nartheus, pushing Sturgar's wheelchair.
"So we've been planning something for you, and I hope you'll like it. I think, you'll like it... Oh we'll just see." He opened the door to his workshop.
"I'm a blacksmith, you see." He entered the room, beckoning them to follow. "And people say I'm pretty good at it. So I guess word got out, and your boss here," He nodded at the duke, "Commissioned me to build this. It's got lots of little parts, so be careful, and remember: It's only a prototype, so it's get better with time."
He arrived at a large structure, shrouded in a large canvas. With a flourish, the smith whipped off the covering, revealing his work. On a stand sat an enormous metal body, made of hammered iron plates bolted together. Sturgar wondered briefly if it was a robotic version of himself, a replacement, seeing the head identical to his. In fact, it was a perfect metal replica of him, only slightly larger. Then, he saw it was hollow, and the joints and armor plates all made sense. For the first time in a month, he smiled.
Her petrification magic was Arha's best bet in the upcoming match. She knew she couldn't stand up to Sturgar physically, even if he didn't have his armor. Ergo, one fast strike and her magic, and -
Several children ran past Arha towards the market, laughing. The elf looked after them, a little surprised. She hadn't noticed any in the crowd watching the first two matches. Probably for the best, she thought, thinking back to the end of Kaigan and Iseabel's match. She hoped the kobold wasn't too affected by it; he'd seemed so excited and hopeful when she'd talked to him.
The market was bustling, especially since the match that had been scheduled for the day had been suddenly rescheduled. Vendors hawked their wares, several of which Arha knew were not local to Lisakdonia or even Eviera. Citizens wandered through it, stopping at stalls and admiring wares. The smell of food wafted through the market, setting an undertone to the entire affair.
Arha took a paper from a crier, handing him the coin she'd been toying with, and found a place to read it. Evieran politics, speculations about the war that had been paused for the Tournament, speculation about the Tournament itself, a kraken sighted off the coast of Denkun, a renegade angel in Solaria... It seemed normal. Thank the Seven that Qan Maris isn't in here, Arha thought.
Part 6: Forgotten
Conscience sat in her room, idly twirling her purple, soul magic around her hands. Tendrils filled the room, and she sat, staring at her hands, attempting to remember something. A day in her life, specifically related to everything wrong with her.
A room, blood soaking the floor, Conscience, blood on her hands. A dagger lay in a pool of blood, and someone’s hand-
Conscience was jolted out of the memory by a knock at her door. Walking over to it, she opened it to a familiar face, Tresa.
“Come in, come in,” she said, closing the door behind her. “What information have you found on Cypherous?” Tresa stepped over to the bed, before sitting.
“Well, as we know, he’s aetherborn, so made of magic. He can wield aether to create destructive magic, but I’m not sure how he produces it. I think you should be able to beat him, but, as you said, we shouldn’t underestimate him.”
“Thanks. Now, out, I need to think.” Tresa looked slightly shocked, but nodded and left all the same.
Conscience moved to sit where Tresa had, before closing her eyes again, attempting to picture the memory. Nothing coming, she switched positions, trying to get more comfortable. Still nothing changing, she let out a groan, before falling backwards onto the bed. Suddenly, a memory sparked. Not the one she was looking for, but strangely, this memory she had no recollection of. It seemed more like a vision than a memory.
A different room, far more grand, similar to a throne room. Three bodies litter the floor, and a dark being, not quite a man, not quite human, stands before her. Raising his head, he turns toward Conscience, smirking with evil intent. Raising his bloodstained sword, he picks his way across the floor, carefully stepping over pools of blood. Conscience looks down, purple magic, no, black magic floating off her small body. Lifting her head again, she sees the man open his mouth to speak.
Ỉ̸̛̼̦̥̘̦͐̍̎͒́̂̉̈̈́̀̃͊͋͝t̸͇̟͕̹̓͑̽̀̏̚͝'̸̡͍͇͇̳̫̖̻͔̘̍̇͐̉͋̄̓̐̓́̀̔͂̕̕͝s̸̱̬̣̦͈̝͈̭͎̾͒ ̶̢̧͈̼̜̻̣̻͕̥̘̹̬͕͉̘̱͋̂̈́̈͑͌͂̔́̈̏̅́͘͠ͅt̶̨̢̨̲̟̰͓͔̫̮̰̹̉̐̿̽͜i̸̢̛̳̞͉̟͍̼̳̠ḿ̶̡͚͎̜̙̖̩̱̬̯͑ḙ̸͖̳̣͚̯̫͔̰̟̭̏͂̅̄̓͊̎́̈̀̚ ̴̧̧̛̙̪̗̬̲͇̬͍̪̫͚͍̝͒̽̍̒͐̀̓͐̈̇͑̏̔̕̕ͅţ̸̡͔̥̹̖̲̬̰̭̗̰̩͍̹̾̅̀̋͌̈̇̚͜͝ͅơ̶̬̮͍̭̪͖͇̱̫̙͈͛̈́̓̚͘ ̴̛͕̺̣̐̈́̆̔͛͊̏̏̽̏̈́͂͝͝͠͝f̴̢̗͖͔̅̃̓̇͌͂͋̈́̔̑̿̏͘ọ̵̗͚̯͕͎͕̠̩̲̝̜͇̳͗̾̓̆͋̋̒̀̃͊̒̕͝͠ͅͅṙ̸̢̧̛̩͚͖̥͓͕̮̮̬͙̳̯̞̈̓̄͛̂̃̍̔͂̄͑͜͠ͅg̷̡̥̭̹̲̟̜̞̠̳̝̺̻̲̭͔͍͌͊͗͂̅̓̔͌̊̚͠ͅĕ̵̛̤̜̺̫̖̝̺̳̱̤̚͘̕͠͠t̴̢͙̘̠͚̫̭͐͂̎͆̅̂̓̓͒̂̈́̂̕̚͝,̸̨̹̟̹͙͙̝̯̞̯̦̀ͅ ̵̢̡̛̮̠͕͇͕͕͔̹̗̌̾͑̽̋̇̾̓͐͛́̐͒̋͆̚̕ľ̸̛̤̫͚̜͎̭̭͚̞́̃̿͛͐͗́̓͑̂̔̒̍̆̑i̶̪̱̺̟̗͓̟͓̲̓̏̀ṱ̴͔͎̬͋̾l̴̬͔̠͖͙̤̱̩͒̇ȩ̵͇̻̫̥̣͙͙͐̍̆͌̈́͋͒͒̚̕͝ ̸̛̺͕̥͎̥̫̦̤͍̟͖̃͐̇̀͗̈̈́̄́̈͒̕͠͠g̶̺̲̮͇͍̰͔̎̏̑̋̅̉̒̄̆̈́͌̂̌́͠í̷̧̱̗̙̳̼̘̻̜̰̹́͗̎͌̆̌̈́̎̕̚͜͜͠͝ͅͅr̶̛̺̭̦͙͖̯̥͚̟̣̳̮̭̎͋̄̎̇͂͂͒̍͒͛̕̕l̵̜̰͈̟̟̥̮̽̄͑͂̇̉̂̈́͘̚͠ͅ. Blackness swept across her vision, and he disappeared.
Waking up from her day nap, Conscience shook her head, yawning. For some reason, the time before the nap was a blank spot, and yesterday was filled with them too. I wonder if Tresa finished her portfolio, Conscience thought, before getting up to go find Tresa.
First Round
Third Match
Art: Roman Kuteynikov
First Round
Third Conclusion
Signature // Arena // Signature