Another massive wave struck the bow of the ship, and the vessel tilted dangerously. All on deck were thrown to the back of the boat, save one. Sturgar stood at the front of the ship, weapons drawn. His mechanical legs easily bent up and down, pistons hissing and cogs whirring, keeping his upper body entirely stable. The gleaming dragonoid figure raised it's head and scanned the horizon. The storm hadn't let up for three days, and the crew was in bad shape. This was Elvina Thorne's fleet's territory, and an attack now would go virtually undefended as the torrential rain had managed to leak into the hold and dampen the barrels of gunpowder used to fire the canons.
As Sturgar leaned over the ship's rail, a flash of lightning briefly illuminated a silhouette riding the waves and a very distinct flag, bearing a thorny rose bursting from a cracked human skull. A quick look behind him let Sturgar know he would be alone in this fight. Half the crew were tumbling around the deck, tossed this way and that by the merciless onslaught of waves, and the other half were either holed up in their cabins, vomiting a week's worth of meals, or severely injured in the tiny infirmary on board. He rolled his four shoulders, armor plating glinting in the rain, flicked the rainwater off of his weapons, and waited.
He didn't wait long. Another brilliant streak of lightning lit up the stormy skies, accompanied by the whistling of several projectiles. An ear splitting BANG, and the ship rocked as a volley of canon fire smashed into it's side. Sturgar was showered in bits of wood and debris, and several sailors yelled as they were thrown clean overboard. He didn't flinch. Though it pained him to see the men falling into the water, he did nothing about it. His first priority was duke Nartheus' safety during the long voyage towards Everia. Although he no longer needed to, he instinctively cracked his neck, and strode towards the door leading below decks. If the duke's quarters were breached, it would be over. As he walked calmly across the deck, he turned to see three grapples latch onto the rail. It had begun. He waited until the first pirate began climbing the rope, and he set himself to work. Swords flashing, he severed one rope, and a few men fell into the tumbling sea screaming, but more lines kept launching towards the ship. As marauders began to pour over the railing, Sturgar became a veritable tornado of blades and steel. He cut and slashed and hacked and bludgeoned in a furious frenzy, while sabers and musket balls pinged harmlessly off of his body. He smiled. This was the most fun he'd had in months, and it kept getting better. As he slowed, he stepped over the mound of bodies that had gathered around him, and cut as many ropes as he could while still fending off a continuous wave of corsairs, sometimes battling several opponents with three arms while his fourth slashed another grapple line.
Suddenly, an incredibly forceful blow knocked Sturgar clean off his feet. This was no mean feat, the dragonborn's synthetic body weighing nearly 870 pounds. Luckily, his robotic body reacted to shock very quickly, twisting his hips and landing him on his feet once again. Surprised, he looked up to see what must have been this particular ship's captain. An enormous orc towered over him, pushing eight feet tall, wielding a black iron anchor the size of a chair, and grinning wickedly down at Sturgar. He felt a twinge of disappointment. Of course, he couldn't expect to fight Elvina Thorne herself. After all, she did own almost fifty ships, and the chances of her being on this one were very low. He sighed. This oversized oaf would have to do. The orc grunted, hefting his anchor, and arced it downward with terrifying force, splintering the wooden deck. Luckily, Sturgar leaped out of the way, arms at the ready, and swiped at his foe with his mighty axe. The orc roared in pain as the tendons behind his left knee were abruptly severed, and he dropped to a knelling position, lashing out again. Sturgar ducked the blow and struck the back of the orc's elbow as hard as he could with his mace, grinning when he heard it snap. From then on, the duel was decided. The orc, surprisingly resilient, swung the anchor a few more times, but he was rapidly weakening. In thirty seconds, all four of his limbs were either broken or entirely removed from his body, and his head followed suit. Wiping the blood from his weapons, Sturgar pushed the corpses into the sea.
"Well, is it over?" Duke Nartheus opened the cabin door and stretched. "Terrible racket, that was. Oh, look."
He pointed upwards. Removing the final bits of blood from his blades, Sturgar tilted his head upwards. He smiled again. The clouds were parting, and the sun's warm embrace flooded the ship.
"Ah, what did I tell you, Sturgar." The duke shook his head. "Must you make so much blood come out? You needn't sever every limb!"
Sturgar shrugged. This was a long standing joke with Nartheus.
"Well done. I daresay were almost there!" Nartheus righted a toppled barrle and sat beside Sturgar. "You'll do fine. The sun's out."
Sturgar raised his head skyward and relaxed his tensed shoulders, letting the warm, golden rays wash over him. Yes. The sun was out.
Nilfi was wet, cold, and grumpy. It had
been three days since he woke up in this place and it had been nothing but dark
skies and storms the whole time. With a sigh, Nil reached into their coat
pocket and pulled out a silver flash embossed with a candle inside a chess
piece. With a flick of the wrist, Nilfi released the stopper from it, gave it a
sniff, and took a deep drink. "Well Nilly, you've gotten yourself into a
real mess this time, haven't you?" They mused to themselves while
surveying the landscape. He’d scrapped through the edges and side streets of a
few small villages collecting what information he could, which wasn’t a lot,
but certainly helped paint a rather depressing picture of the world he was in;
a nation at war for generations while also combatting an otherworldly invasion
of the undead.
“I’m not here to fight other people’s wars, but these rifts
might have something to do with why I got sucked into this place.” Nilfi
considered why looking out across the forest and hills from their perch on a
high tree branch. He saw smoke rising from just off the road not far away,
probably an attempt at a campfire from the size of it. Beyond that the forest
gave way to a lake, upon which sat a small island fortress. It looked like it
had seen better days, but regal banners still flew high and proud from the
battlements. The last town he’d passed by mentioned this place – Werther Fortress
– as a place where once heroes gathered in great tournaments. They spoke
hopefully of it, but they also said that it had been years since the last
tournament had been disrupted by the dark forces invading the land. They told
him it was a waste of time to even bother heading that way.
Negativity notwithstanding, Nilfi knew – despite all
reasonable thought or consideration – that this was where the most hopeful and
driven would gather. The nation’s capital lay a considerable distance away, and
he knew they’d care more about the bitter war of tradition than dealing with
the threats they had at home. “We’re not going to lead these people or make
impassioned speeches, we’re not even going to volunteer ourselves for anything;
we’re just going to see if they have a chance in all this. Right, Nil?” Nilfi
sighed, knowing he’d get himself roped into something, but he needed to get
more information, and this seemed like his best chance. So he gracefully dropped
down from the tree top to the ground, grunting at the impact. “That was a bit further a drop than I
thought. Just because the bones will heal doesn’t mean I need to walk around on
broken knees for the next mile.” He thought as he limped along, feeling the
energy inside him course down into his legs, binding and weaving the bones
together as he walked back to the road. Nilfi leaned on his staff as he went,
keeping up a considerable pace as the pain seared in his joints.
Encounter
with the Abyss
Approaching the site of the smoke he saw earlier, Nilfi
slowed down and took a long whiff of the air. “Maybe it wasn’t a campfire.”
He stopped, eyes focusing through the trees. The dark clouds above lowered visibility,
but he could make out a covered wagon and- there!
He saw a dark, disheveled shape stumbling around. It moved slow and uneven,
like someone half-awake who had just climbed out of bed. But the smell on the
wind, that was rotting flesh, and freshly spilled blood. His eyes widened at
the smell in instinct, but cleared his mind in a moment. The grip around his
staff tightened and he began to edge his way closer to the clearing the wagon
sat in. As Nilfi grew closer, he could start to clearly make out the shape he’d
seen. He’d fought cursed corpses and necromantic summons before, but this zombified
creature had a dark shadowy aura to it. “This
must be one of those Abyss monsters I’ve been hearing about.” Nil thought
as another of the creatures came around from the other side of the wagon. “Never just one, figures. Just keep your guard
up, there’s probably more nearby.”
Nilfi stepped lightly, soundlessly making their approach
towards the clearing, moving around through the tree line towards the back of
the wagon. He was on his own here, and didn’t know how hardy these Abyss-beings
were, so surprise and decisive action were his greatest advantage. That, and
they had never seen him before
either. Flipping his staff upside down, he gave the end a quick twist, and the
tip popped off to expose a small spear blade. With a near silent mutter under
his breath, the blade began to glow red hot.
In the blink of an eye, he charged forward, thrusting the
burning spear tip of his staff into the nape of one zombie’s neck, throwing a
ball of raging hot fire out from his hand at the other zombie. The abyssal
shadows lingering around the first creature faded away, leaving behind a simple
rotting corpse. The dark aura around the other one violently reared back from
the bright flame as the fireball made impact, searing the torso of the zombie,
exposing the ribcage, before the shadowy essence gathered back around the
monster. It began charging toward Nilfi, swiping its claw like nails and trying
to grab onto the wizard. Nil dodged out of the way with relative ease, thankful
that he seemed to be up against some of the weaker forces of the Abyss.
This also gave them a chance to experiment. He pulled a
glass bottle out of his coat with a mostly clear liquid contained inside, with
a simple label scrawled with the word “LIGHT” on it. They gave the bottle a
good shake and it began to glow with silver light. Nilfi let the creature
approach him again, noting that it didn’t seem overly bothered by the light
itself, although the aura around it seemed to grow darker before the zombie charged,
and Nil wasn’t sure if the flickering of the shadows was in reaction to the
light, or normal behavior between light and dark. With a shrug, he smashed the
glass vial on the monster’s head, which seemed to help expose it from within
the black aura. Their last test for now was to throw a very weak burst of flame
at the creature. Again, the shadow seemed to react violently the magical
flames, trying to grip and claw onto the zombie’s body, clinging to it like
little hands. The fire seemed to have trouble harming the monster’s flesh with
the abyssal aura still holding on so tightly. The wizard increased the power of
the flames, engulfing the creature in fire. It felt almost like the darkness
wailed against the fire as it dissipated from the walking corpse as it turned
to cinders.
Conclusion
Nilfi took a moment to look
around the campsite. He found another rotting body along the edge of the
clearing along with a splash of blood that trailed over to the covered wagon.
The lead harnesses for the horses were hastily cut, and there were a couple of
bloody handprints on the wagon. Inside the canvas covered bed of the cart the
rather fresh body of a man. He’d been bitten around the neck, one hand held
covering the wound, the other gripped around a short-sword, eyes wide starring
at the wagon opening. Nilfi climbed in, closed the man’s eyes and checked the
body for valuables. A small pouch of coins and a necklace was all they could
find. Outside, two tracks of hoof prints lead out of the camp, back to the
road, heading towards the fortress. “Well, guess I have some bad news.” They
sighed, giving their legs a stretch. His knees felt good as new after the drop
from the tree earlier, just a bit sore, like he’d gone for a jog. “Wonder if I’ll
ever get used to that.” Nil said as he continued his journey towards the towering
fortress in the distance.
Backstory
(Placed in spoilers in case anyone would like to learn about it more naturally
than have it all spelled out):
Nilfi (Nilfeira Williamson, first named after their mother, last named after their father) His mother was originally a street performer and artist, and his father a blacksmith and carpenter. At a young age, his father was drafted into the military to fight in a war across the sea halfway around the around the world. His mother stayed home with him and worked on her art. His father quickly climbed through the ranks, leading warriors into battles. However, the war went on for years and years, and when Nilfi was around twelve or so, they received word that his father was presumed dead.
His mother grief-stricken, Nilfi swore to use the art of magic and science of alchemy that he’d been learning in this time to bring his father back home alive. In this quest he went into the darkest depths of forbidden knowledge, and with his great attempt to bring his father back, the process killed his mother. Traumatized by what he had done, he delved deeper into his quest for answers. He worked endlessly in his home for years, blind to rest of the world, before finally in the pits of madness and despair he created his own philosopher’s stone. Only after its creation did he learn that it could not bring the dead back to life, only prolong the life of those still alive. The process took a toll on him, draining him of his youth and vitality. Months later, a friend of his father’s returned to her hometown from the war and upon visiting Nilfi to pay her respects, discovered what had become of him and his mother.
She took the now teenage child into her home and helped raise them as best she could, giving them an education and teaching them proper use and control of magic and alchemy. When Nilfi came of age, he set out on his own, deciding to help in the relief and recovery efforts in the aftermath of the war. During this time they thought to have fallen in love, only to discover they were under a vampire’s enchantment. Unfortunately it was too late, and Nilfi was transformed, given eternal life and incredible self-restoring properties that made them incredibly difficult to kill and keep dead at the cost of an eternal hunger for blood; without which the hunger becomes only stronger and less controllable.
After all of this, agents of a mysterious organization known only as The Red Tower made notice of Nilfi and recruited him to their ranks to help do their bidding - create a more balanced and ordered world and achieve equilibrium.
Hate that I had to separate out everything into three posts, especially the backstory from the rest of the character info, but it happens.
“‘Champion’ usually means someone that has won something or earned a title or--”
A wry smile wrinkled the corner of Hadid’s lips. “Are you concerned for my qualifications?”
“Less about your qualifications and more about your survivability. It’s a tournament after all. Combat, treachery... you know, that sort of thing?” Uriel’s tone was light but his furrowed brow betrayed his trepidation.
Hadid waved a hand dismissively. “I appreciate your care, my doting apprentice, but I believe it’s misplaced.”
Uriel took a broad step, placing himself between his instructor and the bulletin wall. “Misplaced perhaps, but not unfounded. The rumors surrounding this event are… troubling at best.”
“Not unfounded? You just said yourself, they’re rumors. There’s truly no harm in a bit of--” Hadid scanned the clouded sky, looking for the right words. “Active observation.” He patted his pupil on both shoulders and gently guided him to the side, stepping up to the parchment.
Uriel worried the hem of his sleeve between his fingers, debating whether he could say anything to dissuade Hadid from this fool’s errand. He had been studying with the older mage for the better part of six years and experience dictated that once the master’s mind was set it was nigh impossible to change. Uriel scoffed inwardly at the thought of one of Hadid’s many aphorisms - Risk and danger are part and parcel with the opportunity for improvement.
After a beat, Uriel spoke softly. “You’re certain of this?”
[several days earlier]
Six blue-rimmed portals burned angrily in the air. Sweat rolled down Hadid’s brow as he gritted his teeth, arms outstretched to the glowing rings around him. Temporary creation of the gates was one thing, maintaining them for any length of time was another entirely. As a matter of course, he sought to always push against his limits, to explore the edges of his magical prowess - only for the sake of research, he mused unconvincingly. Today’s experiment would determine whether this was still the extent of his capacity.
The mage tightened his left hand into a fist, clutching at some invisible force to hold the active portals. Gathering mana around himself and visualizing the desired origin point, he held his breath and turned his open palm from the ceiling toward the floor like brushing aside a tent flap.
Normally, these gaps in the planar space appeared without much fanfare. A light pop perhaps as atmospheres forcibly collide. As the seventh portal spun into place, an immense pressure began pushing at Hadid’s ears. A rumbling hum emanated from the new rift and pulsed through the chamber. The iridescent edges, typically ridged in brilliant blue energies, sparked and seeped a sickly black. A supernatural darkness from within clawed at the light in the room, hungrily pulling at the other gates.
Hadid quickly swept both arms across himself, dismissing the portals as quickly as his magical connection allowed. He tumbled backward, catching himself against the cool stone floor as the planar gaps sputtered into shimmering motes of glowing blue and deep black.
He gasped for air as he surveyed the empty room. That was not where he intended to create a portal to. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where that place was. Wherever - or whatever - it was, it was dangerous. Six, he thought grimly. Let’s stay with six. For now.
Hadid glanced up to Uriel from the notice, his expression warming as though he’d just seen an old acquaintance. “My boy, I’m only ever as certain as one can be on matters of the unknown.” Noting that his response failed to calm his student, he smiled deeply. “Yes, I am resolved on the matter. And I will be fine.”
hopping on the bandwagon of pre-tournament writing, have a short mini-chapter (and in the correct thread this time)
Le Début
So this is Eviera then, Imilia thought as she scanned the crowded market square, a look of vague disgust on her face. The square was packed with people, as was customary for a Sunday afternoon, and it teemed with life and sound. Vendors hawked their wares, children shrieked as they ran about, and some drunkards laughed loudly from a table next to an impromptu musical performance. Imilia found it all rather… distasteful.
She pushed her way through the crowd, ducking and weaving to get through the tighter spots in between the market-goers. It made her feel dirty, rubbing up against the town’s proletariat. No civilized nation would have a consul wade through grimy tradesmen to get to where she needed to be now, would they. Imilia made a note to speak to someone about that later. But for now, she just had to get to the capitol, where the tournament was being held. At the thought of the tournament, she couldn’t help but break her composed facade, and she grinned. The smile never reached her eyes.
Arha pulled her cap further over her eyes as she walked through the market day crowd. She knew no one would care about an elf coming from the docks - that wasn't strange, by any stretch - but she'd prefer to pass unnoticed before the tournament. Besides, the cap had let her get a look at the citizens of Eviera, Lisakdonian and Stelladoran alike, on her overland travel to the capital.
Let's just hope the tournament doesn't escalate things, she thought. She paused before adding, Too much.
"Hey, miss! Looking for anything?"
Arha looked up. A vendor was smiling at her from a nearby stall. When he noticed the elf looking at him, he beckoned her over.
"Sorry to bother you," he said, "but you looked a little lost."
Arha rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "Is it that obvious?"
The vendor held up two fingers a bit apart. "Just a little. Need a hand with anything? Maybe an item to remember your stay by while you're at it?" He gestured down at his wares, still smiling a little.
"You wouldn't happen to know a good route to the capital, would you?" Arha asked. "Quick, too."
The vendor's smile grew, and he nodded conspiratorially. "Going to watch the tournament, eh? I've seen plenty like you...although few elves," he added after a second. "Would you know anything...about..." His eyes drifted behind Arha, and he stopped talking.
As Arha began to turn, a tall human stepped between her and the vendor. He nodded coolly to the elf before saying to the vendor, "Your money's due, Kon." The vendor, Kon, stammered a few incomprehensible sentences while fidgeting with his wares. The tall human stood, quietly watching.
Finally, Arha had had enough. She cleared her throat and tapped the tall human on the back. "Excuse me, but I believe we were just-"
"This doesn't concern you," the tall human said before turning back to Kon.
Arha blinked. Then she sighed, spoke a word, and put her hand on the tall human's back. He began to turn and say something angrily, but the petrification magic Arha had used was already in effect.
"Not to worry, it's only temporary," Arha said to the shocked Kon. "Now, about that route to the capital."
Kon nodded, nervously explaining while Arha took a couple of notes. Then Arha pointed to a necklace and asked, "How much for that?" She glanced at the tall human. "And for that?"
"Five silver for the necklace," Kon said. "Ten gold for him."
"Hmm." Arha reached into her purse and handed Kon thirteen gold coins. "Keep the change. It's probably not enough for your trouble, but it will have to do for now. Tell our friend here I ran off after I froze him." She smiled at the vendor before walking back into the crowd towards the capital.
Iseabel moved her fingers through the grey wet hair feeling its length.
"Snip... Snip..."
Strains of hair fell down on Steaphan's grey shoulder or directly into the water of the wooden tub.
"Snip... Snip..."
Iseabel put down the scissors on a table beside an oil lamp and a sealed envelope. The smell of burning oil was almost impossible to smell, but Iseabel felt it all too well. She moved her hand across Steaphan's hair one last time looking for any uneven parts. Steaphan was dead, but Iseabel could not allow him to decay. She used her powers to force his body and cells to work as if he had been alive. He did not rot and his hair and nails grew. It was not much that gave Iseabel warm feeling anymore but taking care of his brother's hair like he had done for her so many years ago, it was able to make her smile.
She reached her hand into the water of the tub and grabbed a sponge. She began to scrub Steaphan's shoulders, neck, back, chest, arms. When she got to the hands she stopped for a moment. She looked at the hands covered in old burnt scars. She could hear a couple of children scream and laugh outside. In her head the screams and laugh turned to cries and groans as her memories took over.
The rain was pouring down. The mud was deep and thick, preventing the wagons from getting out of the city gates. Smells of mud, vomit, a sick cow and oil filled the air. A bunch of sick and starving children stood in a line, holding each other to keep themselves warm in the rain. A soldier was handling out old dry bread to the children. One child fell to his knees and threw up the entire content of his stomach. The captain of the guard ordered a man to get the boy into one of the wagons. A soldier, Steaphan, took the boy and led him beneath a roof at the wall were he could warm up beside a fire. The boy fell down again and vomited. Steaphan stayed by his side until further orders were given.
Iseabel sat with an older man beneath an outpost not far from the gates. She held the man's right arm in her hands. The wrist and large part of his inner arm had turned almost completely black. Iseabel took out a knife from her pocket and held it over a candle beside them. The man watched in fear as the blade moved from the flame towards his arm. The man clenched his fist and his breaths grew faster and faster. Iseabel did not even look into the man's eyes before she pushed the blade into his arm. The grinned his teeth as blood and pus poured out of his arms. It turned to scream as Iseabel down along the arm. Tears was pouring out of the man's eyes.
"Hey! Check the children's clothes!" the captain of the guard shouted. The captain was looking straight at the boy beside Steaphan. His coat was reflecting light from the fire in a colorful pattern. The soldier who was giving out bread grabbed a child's arm and lowered his nose towards the coat. He only smelled once before he raised his head. "Oil!" he yelled. The captain did not get time to give further orders before one of the children further up the line forced her way forward past the soldiers. She reached up, grabbed a lantern from the wall and threw it towards the rest of the children. The lantern shattered as it touched a large boy.
Iseabel and the old man were thrown down into the mud as the inferno spread like in an explosion. There were no time for the children to scream between being freed from whatever spell they were under and before the flame swallowed them. Wood shattered as wagons were blown out of the mud. Stone cracked as burning oil crawled into the cracks. Men, women and cattle screamed as the fire was eating into them. Iseabel rose from the mud and looked in terror. The city gate stood ablaze and soon it fell apart as the fire spread across the wall. Only a few long seconds later, a screeching sound reached her ears from the darkness behind her. The screech grew louder grew louder and in number. They are coming. They are hungry.
Iseabel snapped out of her memories. She looked at Steaphan's hands, she had scrubbed them so that the skin had almost fallen off. She dropped the sponge and so she could hold his hands between hers to heal them. When she was finished, she grabbed a towel and began to dry him. When finished, she grabbed the envelope and opened it.
Deep within the dry forests of western Eviera, a small herd of deer rest over the dried-up bed of a long-gone river. These deer won't have long to rest, however. A rift forms in the river's bed, and the deer quickly scatter to the near shore. However, this rift was unlike the abyssal faults that have plagued the region in that it seemed to bubble with water instead of the black void of the underworld. Soon, the rift split open as a giant salamander-like creature emerged from it. The waters that filled the rift soon spilt forth, overflowing the dried river's banks. The beast looked around, examining the new environment she found herself in. The primeval creature then dived into the river, and soon what looked like a young adult elf emerged at the edge of the waters. Tika brushed herself off and ventured deeper into the dessicated woods. She soon found an abandoned pamphlet on the Tournament of Champions. After thinking for a few minutes, she decided she had nothing better to do and began to trek out of the woods.
Backstory:
Tika is the pseudonym (or more accurately nickname) of a antediluvian salamander-like creature from the plane of Alcheraguda, an ancient world dominated by the cyclical patterns of the natural world. Tiktaalik is the harbinger of the wet season, and her arrival beckons seasonal rains and floods. Tiktaalik herself has a role in the shift, being able to gulp down or exhale massive volumes of water. However, while she's not managing the seasonal ebb-and-flow of water levels, Tiktaalik walks among the humanoids as an elf named Tika. Tiktaalik has recently been transported to Eviera through a one-way rift and has no idea how to go back.
Personality:
Tiktaalik is a wild child, no matter what form she's in. She is impulsive, blunt, and energetic, and can get quite bored staying in one place for long. Tika is very emotional, and can't really hide her emotions that easily... which makes her effective hiding of her true nature quite unexpected. Being a giant amphibian and possibly a natural embodiment of rain, Tiktaalik appreciates nature and opposes any attempt to exploit it, especially in regards to the natural cycles of the weather. However, Tika's naivety and sheer bluntness can get the better of her in social encounters. If you mess up, Tika will be sure to point it out. However, if you learn to live with Tika's quirks, she's a very loyal friend.
Tika is a very voracious eater, seeming to have the metabolism of a teenager on steroids. Being a salamander can do that sometimes.
Combat Abilities:
In her elf form, Tika is a dexterous fighter capable of both quick strikes and the occasional spell, which is usually associated with either storms, deserts, or amphibians. She prefers to fight in this form, occasionally summoning friendly frogs to assist her in battle. Only when she is down does she reveal her full power. Tiktaalik's physical attacks are nothing to scoff at, but her most powerful ability is her use of water. Tiktaalik can breath or spit out water as powerful beams, large balls, or extremely hot steam, and she can also use this water to partially flood the arena. However, these powerful abilities are limited to the water she can access. After completely using up her water, Tika typically changes back to her elf form until she recoops her lost water.
@Everyone - This tournament is now closed for draft elimination, where the best 16 heroes will be chosen to play in the game! That means; entries posted after this comment won't be taken in for the draft and cards which were submitted on time aren't allowed to be edited or replaced with new ones.
I believe I have put all approved entries here in a single set. It helps me during the elimination process, since all entries are within one place, where they can be accessed easily. I ask that everyone who posted their entries check out this set, and please let me know if your entry is missing, I'm using wrong cards as entries, or if there's any other problem. (Non-mtgcardsmith entries can be found from the set's disqus comments.)
The draft elimination process will last for a day or two. When it's over, the 16 fighters will be announced, you'll get to meet your hosts and your fellow contestants, and finally we can move on to getting your heroes to the place where the first tournament matches will be hosted.
@DrakeGladis - Like @Usaername said, you are not required to write anything in addition to your character's background. It is your choice to write extra story bits if you really want to, but they won't give any extra points, since the game hasn't started yet.
@FourEyesIsAFish - You can add additional info about your characters, but don't change any info you've already posted about them.
Tournament Healer: Casper, I can't keep giving you supplies. I will run out of them for the tournament participants.
Casper: I know...I know. I have quite a reputation here after all.
Tournament Healer: Alright Casper what's the excuse this time? If its good enough I'll not charge you for the healing.
Casper: Well you see, the strangest thing happened today...
*Flash Back*
Casper had seen his fair share of weird in all his years in Avelaide and he had heard stories of past tournaments and all the time distorting wizards and demon musicians that came along with it. On top of it, abyssal creatures roamed the outskirts of Avelaide so he had truly thought he had seen it all.
For the first time in a while Casper was actually sober, and he decided that it would be nice to rest under the shade of a nearby oak tree that had stood in Avelaide for as long as he remembered when a stranger approached him.
Arn: Hello there fine gentle lad of this strange lands, hath thee seen my cat? The little ruckle likes to shamble all over the area.
Casper: Ah..Im sorry uhm sir? I don't think I have...
Before Casper could finish his sentence, it was interrupted with a distant and very distinct purring coming from the oak tree he was sitting under. A cat the size of thumb jumped on his shoulder.
Casper: (I am pretty sure I did have anything to drink today) Casper thought to himself.
Arn: Snuggles!!! I found you you little devil, now lets get you back to your normal size.
Arn: Oops!
Arn said as Snuggles grew, then grew and grew, and finally grew some more.
Arn: Well I suppose I won't be able to take that home now. I suppose you can keep him now.
Arn vanished into thin air leaving a residues of magic glittering in the air. As for Casper he had bigger problems to worry about.
Flashback End
Casper: After that I passed out after I tripped and hit my head on a stone while running from the cat. An that is the story of how I got this black eye.
Tournament Healer: You would be so convincing If I didn't know you Casper. Do me a favor and lay of the drinking in the future.
Casper: But I'm telling you, it really did happen.
Tournament Healer: Say I believe you, then where did the cat go?
Casper: I.. I don't know, but
Tournament Healer: Casper, you have to promise me.
she interrupts Casper mid sentence in the tone of a mother scolding a child.
Casper: Fine. But only if you stop treating me like a child, I'm 21 you know.
It had been three weeks since the tournament was announced. Since then, leaflets were spread across the worlds. They attracted the most peculiar guests to a city named Seastnan at the southern shores of Eviera's mainland.
Art: Ferdinand Ladera
Each day, new potential fighters entered a city hall, where the tournament judge and guards resided for the duration of the calling. Even though the citizens of the city were amazed by some of these strange travelers, the soldiers within the hall didn't show it. They were like statues, seemingly standing in their places without moving or blinking. Donned in heavy armors, winged helmets, and armed with halberds and greatshields, these guards watched each fighter's every move while they were within the hall, where they could register for the tournament.
The registration table was in the middle of the hall. It was a simple wooden table, with chairs of different heights surrounding it. There were also quills of three different sizes, which different fighters could use with ease to write their names into the list. One by one, day by day, each fighter wrote their name into the parchment with ink, and the tournament judge himself watched them while sitting on a high seat at the end of the hall. Leaning his head onto his left hand, he weighed the values of each possible contestant in his mind, observed them, and jotted down some important details into a small parchment with his right hand. One day, a man in a pompous tunic and ruff collar walked past the registration table and approached the judge. He stopped once he was within a talking distance with the judge. He didn't want to get too close, since the guards seemed bigger the closer they were standing. The pompous man bowed deeply before speaking. "Good day, your honor! My name is Brogan Kameron, and I have come here to join your world-famous tournament! I have a request, if I may! During these uncertain times, certainty is as valued as gold, silver, or any other treasures of the world. So hear this," he kept straightening his black whiskers with his two fingers in vain over and over again while talking. "Reserve a place for me in the tournament, and I will pay you most handsomely. Sounds good? I'll have a ridiculous sum of money once I get in, and I am willing to share it with you, judge!" "This tournament is a contest of skill and mind, not of fame or wealth," the judge said in a rough, dismissive tone. "Your attempts of bribery are wasted. I have no need for your coin." "Please, your honor," the man pleaded and took a step closer to the judge, who looked down on him. "Just put me into the game! I don't have the money right now, I made many a wager before coming here, and I need only to get into this competition! Let me fight in a match or two! Everyone needs money, who are you to reject my offer? Be sensible, good man! I'll give you twenty percent of the money! That's reasonable, right? Or would you rather have twenty-five percent? Fifty percent, final offer!" "Get this fool out of my sight," the judge ordered and waved his right hand. Two tournament guards next to the desperate man grabbed him and escorted him out of the building while the man, in denial, tried to get a position in the tournament by shouting offers to the judge even when he was no longer within the hall. The guards threw the man out, and after rolling down the street stairs, he fell onto the dirty road, and the people around him stared in wonder and slight amusement. He quickly left the city after that incident.
Once the day of the deadline arrived, the tournament staff prepared to make an announcement in the city center. On midday, many citizens and fighters gathered around, and watched as a short, long-bearded dwarf climbed onto a tall, wooden pedestal. Everyone could see him as he cleared his voice and began to speak in a rather loud voice for such a short man. "Hear ye, hear ye! The time has arrived! Tournament judge has decided who will fight in the seventeenth tournament of champions! Many have come from far, yet only sixteen chosen contestants will have the honor to enter this legendary game! Citizens! Here are the names of those who will fight for the title of a champion!"
After the announcement, sixteen letters were sent, one for each of your heroes, wherever they were at the moment of the announcement. The messengers of the tournament provided them for you.
Contents of your letter
* * * * * * * * CONGRATULATIONS * * * * * * * *
You are one of the 16 fighters who have been chosen to compete in the 17th Tournament of Champions! On the morning of the 23rd day of this month, you will travel with tournament guards and hosts from the city of Seastnan to the Werther Fortress, where you will fight until 8 contestants are left. More information will be given at arrival!
MTG Cardsmith Community Forums
Comments
And here's the signature
Another massive wave struck the bow of the ship, and the vessel tilted dangerously. All on deck were thrown to the back of the boat, save one. Sturgar stood at the front of the ship, weapons drawn. His mechanical legs easily bent up and down, pistons hissing and cogs whirring, keeping his upper body entirely stable. The gleaming dragonoid figure raised it's head and scanned the horizon. The storm hadn't let up for three days, and the crew was in bad shape. This was Elvina Thorne's fleet's territory, and an attack now would go virtually undefended as the torrential rain had managed to leak into the hold and dampen the barrels of gunpowder used to fire the canons.
As Sturgar leaned over the ship's rail, a flash of lightning briefly illuminated a silhouette riding the waves and a very distinct flag, bearing a thorny rose bursting from a cracked human skull. A quick look behind him let Sturgar know he would be alone in this fight. Half the crew were tumbling around the deck, tossed this way and that by the merciless onslaught of waves, and the other half were either holed up in their cabins, vomiting a week's worth of meals, or severely injured in the tiny infirmary on board. He rolled his four shoulders, armor plating glinting in the rain, flicked the rainwater off of his weapons, and waited.
He didn't wait long. Another brilliant streak of lightning lit up the stormy skies, accompanied by the whistling of several projectiles. An ear splitting BANG, and the ship rocked as a volley of canon fire smashed into it's side. Sturgar was showered in bits of wood and debris, and several sailors yelled as they were thrown clean overboard. He didn't flinch. Though it pained him to see the men falling into the water, he did nothing about it. His first priority was duke Nartheus' safety during the long voyage towards Everia. Although he no longer needed to, he instinctively cracked his neck, and strode towards the door leading below decks. If the duke's quarters were breached, it would be over. As he walked calmly across the deck, he turned to see three grapples latch onto the rail. It had begun. He waited until the first pirate began climbing the rope, and he set himself to work. Swords flashing, he severed one rope, and a few men fell into the tumbling sea screaming, but more lines kept launching towards the ship. As marauders began to pour over the railing, Sturgar became a veritable tornado of blades and steel. He cut and slashed and hacked and bludgeoned in a furious frenzy, while sabers and musket balls pinged harmlessly off of his body. He smiled. This was the most fun he'd had in months, and it kept getting better. As he slowed, he stepped over the mound of bodies that had gathered around him, and cut as many ropes as he could while still fending off a continuous wave of corsairs, sometimes battling several opponents with three arms while his fourth slashed another grapple line.
Suddenly, an incredibly forceful blow knocked Sturgar clean off his feet. This was no mean feat, the dragonborn's synthetic body weighing nearly 870 pounds. Luckily, his robotic body reacted to shock very quickly, twisting his hips and landing him on his feet once again. Surprised, he looked up to see what must have been this particular ship's captain. An enormous orc towered over him, pushing eight feet tall, wielding a black iron anchor the size of a chair, and grinning wickedly down at Sturgar. He felt a twinge of disappointment. Of course, he couldn't expect to fight Elvina Thorne herself. After all, she did own almost fifty ships, and the chances of her being on this one were very low. He sighed. This oversized oaf would have to do. The orc grunted, hefting his anchor, and arced it downward with terrifying force, splintering the wooden deck. Luckily, Sturgar leaped out of the way, arms at the ready, and swiped at his foe with his mighty axe. The orc roared in pain as the tendons behind his left knee were abruptly severed, and he dropped to a knelling position, lashing out again. Sturgar ducked the blow and struck the back of the orc's elbow as hard as he could with his mace, grinning when he heard it snap. From then on, the duel was decided. The orc, surprisingly resilient, swung the anchor a few more times, but he was rapidly weakening. In thirty seconds, all four of his limbs were either broken or entirely removed from his body, and his head followed suit. Wiping the blood from his weapons, Sturgar pushed the corpses into the sea.
"Well, is it over?" Duke Nartheus opened the cabin door and stretched. "Terrible racket, that was. Oh, look."
He pointed upwards. Removing the final bits of blood from his blades, Sturgar tilted his head upwards. He smiled again. The clouds were parting, and the sun's warm embrace flooded the ship.
"Ah, what did I tell you, Sturgar." The duke shook his head. "Must you make so much blood come out? You needn't sever every limb!"
Sturgar shrugged. This was a long standing joke with Nartheus.
"Well done. I daresay were almost there!" Nartheus righted a toppled barrle and sat beside Sturgar. "You'll do fine. The sun's out."
Sturgar raised his head skyward and relaxed his tensed shoulders, letting the warm, golden rays wash over him. Yes. The sun was out.
Also the length is fine
New Horizons
Nilfi was wet, cold, and grumpy. It had been three days since he woke up in this place and it had been nothing but dark skies and storms the whole time. With a sigh, Nil reached into their coat pocket and pulled out a silver flash embossed with a candle inside a chess piece. With a flick of the wrist, Nilfi released the stopper from it, gave it a sniff, and took a deep drink. "Well Nilly, you've gotten yourself into a real mess this time, haven't you?" They mused to themselves while surveying the landscape. He’d scrapped through the edges and side streets of a few small villages collecting what information he could, which wasn’t a lot, but certainly helped paint a rather depressing picture of the world he was in; a nation at war for generations while also combatting an otherworldly invasion of the undead.
“I’m not here to fight other people’s wars, but these rifts might have something to do with why I got sucked into this place.” Nilfi considered why looking out across the forest and hills from their perch on a high tree branch. He saw smoke rising from just off the road not far away, probably an attempt at a campfire from the size of it. Beyond that the forest gave way to a lake, upon which sat a small island fortress. It looked like it had seen better days, but regal banners still flew high and proud from the battlements. The last town he’d passed by mentioned this place – Werther Fortress – as a place where once heroes gathered in great tournaments. They spoke hopefully of it, but they also said that it had been years since the last tournament had been disrupted by the dark forces invading the land. They told him it was a waste of time to even bother heading that way.
Negativity notwithstanding, Nilfi knew – despite all reasonable thought or consideration – that this was where the most hopeful and driven would gather. The nation’s capital lay a considerable distance away, and he knew they’d care more about the bitter war of tradition than dealing with the threats they had at home. “We’re not going to lead these people or make impassioned speeches, we’re not even going to volunteer ourselves for anything; we’re just going to see if they have a chance in all this. Right, Nil?” Nilfi sighed, knowing he’d get himself roped into something, but he needed to get more information, and this seemed like his best chance. So he gracefully dropped down from the tree top to the ground, grunting at the impact. “That was a bit further a drop than I thought. Just because the bones will heal doesn’t mean I need to walk around on broken knees for the next mile.” He thought as he limped along, feeling the energy inside him course down into his legs, binding and weaving the bones together as he walked back to the road. Nilfi leaned on his staff as he went, keeping up a considerable pace as the pain seared in his joints.
Encounter with the Abyss
Approaching the site of the smoke he saw earlier, Nilfi slowed down and took a long whiff of the air. “Maybe it wasn’t a campfire.” He stopped, eyes focusing through the trees. The dark clouds above lowered visibility, but he could make out a covered wagon and- there! He saw a dark, disheveled shape stumbling around. It moved slow and uneven, like someone half-awake who had just climbed out of bed. But the smell on the wind, that was rotting flesh, and freshly spilled blood. His eyes widened at the smell in instinct, but cleared his mind in a moment. The grip around his staff tightened and he began to edge his way closer to the clearing the wagon sat in. As Nilfi grew closer, he could start to clearly make out the shape he’d seen. He’d fought cursed corpses and necromantic summons before, but this zombified creature had a dark shadowy aura to it. “This must be one of those Abyss monsters I’ve been hearing about.” Nil thought as another of the creatures came around from the other side of the wagon. “Never just one, figures. Just keep your guard up, there’s probably more nearby.”
Nilfi stepped lightly, soundlessly making their approach towards the clearing, moving around through the tree line towards the back of the wagon. He was on his own here, and didn’t know how hardy these Abyss-beings were, so surprise and decisive action were his greatest advantage. That, and they had never seen him before either. Flipping his staff upside down, he gave the end a quick twist, and the tip popped off to expose a small spear blade. With a near silent mutter under his breath, the blade began to glow red hot.
In the blink of an eye, he charged forward, thrusting the burning spear tip of his staff into the nape of one zombie’s neck, throwing a ball of raging hot fire out from his hand at the other zombie. The abyssal shadows lingering around the first creature faded away, leaving behind a simple rotting corpse. The dark aura around the other one violently reared back from the bright flame as the fireball made impact, searing the torso of the zombie, exposing the ribcage, before the shadowy essence gathered back around the monster. It began charging toward Nilfi, swiping its claw like nails and trying to grab onto the wizard. Nil dodged out of the way with relative ease, thankful that he seemed to be up against some of the weaker forces of the Abyss.
This also gave them a chance to experiment. He pulled a glass bottle out of his coat with a mostly clear liquid contained inside, with a simple label scrawled with the word “LIGHT” on it. They gave the bottle a good shake and it began to glow with silver light. Nilfi let the creature approach him again, noting that it didn’t seem overly bothered by the light itself, although the aura around it seemed to grow darker before the zombie charged, and Nil wasn’t sure if the flickering of the shadows was in reaction to the light, or normal behavior between light and dark. With a shrug, he smashed the glass vial on the monster’s head, which seemed to help expose it from within the black aura. Their last test for now was to throw a very weak burst of flame at the creature. Again, the shadow seemed to react violently the magical flames, trying to grip and claw onto the zombie’s body, clinging to it like little hands. The fire seemed to have trouble harming the monster’s flesh with the abyssal aura still holding on so tightly. The wizard increased the power of the flames, engulfing the creature in fire. It felt almost like the darkness wailed against the fire as it dissipated from the walking corpse as it turned to cinders.
Conclusion
Nilfi took a moment to look around the campsite. He found another rotting body along the edge of the clearing along with a splash of blood that trailed over to the covered wagon. The lead harnesses for the horses were hastily cut, and there were a couple of bloody handprints on the wagon. Inside the canvas covered bed of the cart the rather fresh body of a man. He’d been bitten around the neck, one hand held covering the wound, the other gripped around a short-sword, eyes wide starring at the wagon opening. Nilfi climbed in, closed the man’s eyes and checked the body for valuables. A small pouch of coins and a necklace was all they could find. Outside, two tracks of hoof prints lead out of the camp, back to the road, heading towards the fortress. “Well, guess I have some bad news.” They sighed, giving their legs a stretch. His knees felt good as new after the drop from the tree earlier, just a bit sore, like he’d gone for a jog. “Wonder if I’ll ever get used to that.” Nil said as he continued his journey towards the towering fortress in the distance.Backstory (Placed in spoilers in case anyone would like to learn about it more naturally than have it all spelled out):
His mother grief-stricken, Nilfi swore to use the art of magic and science of alchemy that he’d been learning in this time to bring his father back home alive. In this quest he went into the darkest depths of forbidden knowledge, and with his great attempt to bring his father back, the process killed his mother. Traumatized by what he had done, he delved deeper into his quest for answers. He worked endlessly in his home for years, blind to rest of the world, before finally in the pits of madness and despair he created his own philosopher’s stone. Only after its creation did he learn that it could not bring the dead back to life, only prolong the life of those still alive. The process took a toll on him, draining him of his youth and vitality. Months later, a friend of his father’s returned to her hometown from the war and upon visiting Nilfi to pay her respects, discovered what had become of him and his mother.
She took the now teenage child into her home and helped raise them as best she could, giving them an education and teaching them proper use and control of magic and alchemy. When Nilfi came of age, he set out on his own, deciding to help in the relief and recovery efforts in the aftermath of the war. During this time they thought to have fallen in love, only to discover they were under a vampire’s enchantment. Unfortunately it was too late, and Nilfi was transformed, given eternal life and incredible self-restoring properties that made them incredibly difficult to kill and keep dead at the cost of an eternal hunger for blood; without which the hunger becomes only stronger and less controllable.
After all of this, agents of a mysterious organization known only as The Red Tower made notice of Nilfi and recruited him to their ranks to help do their bidding - create a more balanced and ordered world and achieve equilibrium.
Hate that I had to separate out everything into three posts, especially the backstory from the rest of the character info, but it happens.
“It says ‘of Champions.’”
“So it does.”
“Right there in the title.”
“Indeed.”
“‘Champion’ usually means someone that has won something or earned a title or--”
A wry smile wrinkled the corner of Hadid’s lips. “Are you concerned for my qualifications?”
“Less about your qualifications and more about your survivability. It’s a tournament after all. Combat, treachery... you know, that sort of thing?” Uriel’s tone was light but his furrowed brow betrayed his trepidation.
Hadid waved a hand dismissively. “I appreciate your care, my doting apprentice, but I believe it’s misplaced.”
Uriel took a broad step, placing himself between his instructor and the bulletin wall. “Misplaced perhaps, but not unfounded. The rumors surrounding this event are… troubling at best.”
“Not unfounded? You just said yourself, they’re rumors. There’s truly no harm in a bit of--” Hadid scanned the clouded sky, looking for the right words. “Active observation.” He patted his pupil on both shoulders and gently guided him to the side, stepping up to the parchment.
Uriel worried the hem of his sleeve between his fingers, debating whether he could say anything to dissuade Hadid from this fool’s errand. He had been studying with the older mage for the better part of six years and experience dictated that once the master’s mind was set it was nigh impossible to change. Uriel scoffed inwardly at the thought of one of Hadid’s many aphorisms - Risk and danger are part and parcel with the opportunity for improvement.
After a beat, Uriel spoke softly. “You’re certain of this?”
[several days earlier]
Six blue-rimmed portals burned angrily in the air. Sweat rolled down Hadid’s brow as he gritted his teeth, arms outstretched to the glowing rings around him. Temporary creation of the gates was one thing, maintaining them for any length of time was another entirely. As a matter of course, he sought to always push against his limits, to explore the edges of his magical prowess - only for the sake of research, he mused unconvincingly. Today’s experiment would determine whether this was still the extent of his capacity.
The mage tightened his left hand into a fist, clutching at some invisible force to hold the active portals. Gathering mana around himself and visualizing the desired origin point, he held his breath and turned his open palm from the ceiling toward the floor like brushing aside a tent flap.
Normally, these gaps in the planar space appeared without much fanfare. A light pop perhaps as atmospheres forcibly collide. As the seventh portal spun into place, an immense pressure began pushing at Hadid’s ears. A rumbling hum emanated from the new rift and pulsed through the chamber. The iridescent edges, typically ridged in brilliant blue energies, sparked and seeped a sickly black. A supernatural darkness from within clawed at the light in the room, hungrily pulling at the other gates.
Hadid quickly swept both arms across himself, dismissing the portals as quickly as his magical connection allowed. He tumbled backward, catching himself against the cool stone floor as the planar gaps sputtered into shimmering motes of glowing blue and deep black.
He gasped for air as he surveyed the empty room. That was not where he intended to create a portal to. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where that place was. Wherever - or whatever - it was, it was dangerous. Six, he thought grimly. Let’s stay with six. For now.
Hadid glanced up to Uriel from the notice, his expression warming as though he’d just seen an old acquaintance. “My boy, I’m only ever as certain as one can be on matters of the unknown.” Noting that his response failed to calm his student, he smiled deeply. “Yes, I am resolved on the matter. And I will be fine.”
hopping on the bandwagon of pre-tournament writing, have a short mini-chapter (and in the correct thread this time)
Le Début
So this is Eviera then, Imilia thought as she scanned the crowded market square, a look of vague disgust on her face. The square was packed with people, as was customary for a Sunday afternoon, and it teemed with life and sound. Vendors hawked their wares, children shrieked as they ran about, and some drunkards laughed loudly from a table next to an impromptu musical performance. Imilia found it all rather… distasteful.
She pushed her way through the crowd, ducking and weaving to get through the tighter spots in between the market-goers. It made her feel dirty, rubbing up against the town’s proletariat. No civilized nation would have a consul wade through grimy tradesmen to get to where she needed to be now, would they. Imilia made a note to speak to someone about that later. But for now, she just had to get to the capitol, where the tournament was being held. At the thought of the tournament, she couldn’t help but break her composed facade, and she grinned. The smile never reached her eyes.
Trouble Towards the Capital
Arha pulled her cap further over her eyes as she walked through the market day crowd. She knew no one would care about an elf coming from the docks - that wasn't strange, by any stretch - but she'd prefer to pass unnoticed before the tournament. Besides, the cap had let her get a look at the citizens of Eviera, Lisakdonian and Stelladoran alike, on her overland travel to the capital.
Let's just hope the tournament doesn't escalate things, she thought. She paused before adding, Too much.
"Hey, miss! Looking for anything?"
Arha looked up. A vendor was smiling at her from a nearby stall. When he noticed the elf looking at him, he beckoned her over.
"Sorry to bother you," he said, "but you looked a little lost."
Arha rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "Is it that obvious?"
The vendor held up two fingers a bit apart. "Just a little. Need a hand with anything? Maybe an item to remember your stay by while you're at it?" He gestured down at his wares, still smiling a little.
"You wouldn't happen to know a good route to the capital, would you?" Arha asked. "Quick, too."
The vendor's smile grew, and he nodded conspiratorially. "Going to watch the tournament, eh? I've seen plenty like you...although few elves," he added after a second. "Would you know anything...about..." His eyes drifted behind Arha, and he stopped talking.
As Arha began to turn, a tall human stepped between her and the vendor. He nodded coolly to the elf before saying to the vendor, "Your money's due, Kon." The vendor, Kon, stammered a few incomprehensible sentences while fidgeting with his wares. The tall human stood, quietly watching.
Finally, Arha had had enough. She cleared her throat and tapped the tall human on the back. "Excuse me, but I believe we were just-"
"This doesn't concern you," the tall human said before turning back to Kon.
Arha blinked. Then she sighed, spoke a word, and put her hand on the tall human's back. He began to turn and say something angrily, but the petrification magic Arha had used was already in effect.
"Not to worry, it's only temporary," Arha said to the shocked Kon. "Now, about that route to the capital."
Kon nodded, nervously explaining while Arha took a couple of notes. Then Arha pointed to a necklace and asked, "How much for that?" She glanced at the tall human. "And for that?"
"Five silver for the necklace," Kon said. "Ten gold for him."
"Hmm." Arha reached into her purse and handed Kon thirteen gold coins. "Keep the change. It's probably not enough for your trouble, but it will have to do for now. Tell our friend here I ran off after I froze him." She smiled at the vendor before walking back into the crowd towards the capital.
Burning memories
"Snip... Snip..."Iseabel moved her fingers through the grey wet hair feeling its length.
"Snip... Snip..."
Strains of hair fell down on Steaphan's grey shoulder or directly into the water of the wooden tub.
"Snip... Snip..."
Iseabel put down the scissors on a table beside an oil lamp and a sealed envelope. The smell of burning oil was almost impossible to smell, but Iseabel felt it all too well. She moved her hand across Steaphan's hair one last time looking for any uneven parts.
Steaphan was dead, but Iseabel could not allow him to decay. She used her powers to force his body and cells to work as if he had been alive. He did not rot and his hair and nails grew. It was not much that gave Iseabel warm feeling anymore but taking care of his brother's hair like he had done for her so many years ago, it was able to make her smile.
She reached her hand into the water of the tub and grabbed a sponge. She began to scrub Steaphan's shoulders, neck, back, chest, arms. When she got to the hands she stopped for a moment. She looked at the hands covered in old burnt scars. She could hear a couple of children scream and laugh outside. In her head the screams and laugh turned to cries and groans as her memories took over.
The rain was pouring down. The mud was deep and thick, preventing the wagons from getting out of the city gates. Smells of mud, vomit, a sick cow and oil filled the air. A bunch of sick and starving children stood in a line, holding each other to keep themselves warm in the rain. A soldier was handling out old dry bread to the children. One child fell to his knees and threw up the entire content of his stomach. The captain of the guard ordered a man to get the boy into one of the wagons. A soldier, Steaphan, took the boy and led him beneath a roof at the wall were he could warm up beside a fire. The boy fell down again and vomited. Steaphan stayed by his side until further orders were given.
Iseabel sat with an older man beneath an outpost not far from the gates. She held the man's right arm in her hands. The wrist and large part of his inner arm had turned almost completely black. Iseabel took out a knife from her pocket and held it over a candle beside them. The man watched in fear as the blade moved from the flame towards his arm. The man clenched his fist and his breaths grew faster and faster.
Iseabel did not even look into the man's eyes before she pushed the blade into his arm.
The grinned his teeth as blood and pus poured out of his arms. It turned to scream as Iseabel down along the arm. Tears was pouring out of the man's eyes.
"Hey! Check the children's clothes!" the captain of the guard shouted. The captain was looking straight at the boy beside Steaphan. His coat was reflecting light from the fire in a colorful pattern. The soldier who was giving out bread grabbed a child's arm and lowered his nose towards the coat. He only smelled once before he raised his head. "Oil!" he yelled. The captain did not get time to give further orders before one of the children further up the line forced her way forward past the soldiers. She reached up, grabbed a lantern from the wall and threw it towards the rest of the children. The lantern shattered as it touched a large boy.
Iseabel and the old man were thrown down into the mud as the inferno spread like in an explosion. There were no time for the children to scream between being freed from whatever spell they were under and before the flame swallowed them. Wood shattered as wagons were blown out of the mud. Stone cracked as burning oil crawled into the cracks. Men, women and cattle screamed as the fire was eating into them. Iseabel rose from the mud and looked in terror. The city gate stood ablaze and soon it fell apart as the fire spread across the wall. Only a few long seconds later, a screeching sound reached her ears from the darkness behind her. The screech grew louder grew louder and in number. They are coming. They are hungry.
Iseabel snapped out of her memories. She looked at Steaphan's hands, she had scrubbed them so that the skin had almost fallen off. She dropped the sponge and so she could hold his hands between hers to heal them. When she was finished, she grabbed a towel and began to dry him. When finished, she grabbed the envelope and opened it.
TIKA/TIKTAALIK
Deep within the dry forests of western Eviera, a small herd of deer rest over the dried-up bed of a long-gone river. These deer won't have long to rest, however. A rift forms in the river's bed, and the deer quickly scatter to the near shore. However, this rift was unlike the abyssal faults that have plagued the region in that it seemed to bubble with water instead of the black void of the underworld. Soon, the rift split open as a giant salamander-like creature emerged from it. The waters that filled the rift soon spilt forth, overflowing the dried river's banks. The beast looked around, examining the new environment she found herself in. The primeval creature then dived into the river, and soon what looked like a young adult elf emerged at the edge of the waters. Tika brushed herself off and ventured deeper into the dessicated woods. She soon found an abandoned pamphlet on the Tournament of Champions. After thinking for a few minutes, she decided she had nothing better to do and began to trek out of the woods.Backstory:
Tika is the pseudonym (or more accurately nickname) of a antediluvian salamander-like creature from the plane of Alcheraguda, an ancient world dominated by the cyclical patterns of the natural world. Tiktaalik is the harbinger of the wet season, and her arrival beckons seasonal rains and floods. Tiktaalik herself has a role in the shift, being able to gulp down or exhale massive volumes of water. However, while she's not managing the seasonal ebb-and-flow of water levels, Tiktaalik walks among the humanoids as an elf named Tika. Tiktaalik has recently been transported to Eviera through a one-way rift and has no idea how to go back.Personality:
Tiktaalik is a wild child, no matter what form she's in. She is impulsive, blunt, and energetic, and can get quite bored staying in one place for long. Tika is very emotional, and can't really hide her emotions that easily... which makes her effective hiding of her true nature quite unexpected. Being a giant amphibian and possibly a natural embodiment of rain, Tiktaalik appreciates nature and opposes any attempt to exploit it, especially in regards to the natural cycles of the weather. However, Tika's naivety and sheer bluntness can get the better of her in social encounters. If you mess up, Tika will be sure to point it out. However, if you learn to live with Tika's quirks, she's a very loyal friend.Tika is a very voracious eater, seeming to have the metabolism of a teenager on steroids. Being a salamander can do that sometimes.
Combat Abilities:
In her elf form, Tika is a dexterous fighter capable of both quick strikes and the occasional spell, which is usually associated with either storms, deserts, or amphibians. She prefers to fight in this form, occasionally summoning friendly frogs to assist her in battle. Only when she is down does she reveal her full power. Tiktaalik's physical attacks are nothing to scoff at, but her most powerful ability is her use of water. Tiktaalik can breath or spit out water as powerful beams, large balls, or extremely hot steam, and she can also use this water to partially flood the arena. However, these powerful abilities are limited to the water she can access. After completely using up her water, Tika typically changes back to her elf form until she recoops her lost water.Assorted Stats:
Age:
Gender: Female
Race: Elf/Salamander
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Occupation:
Hobbies: Swimming,
Height:
Noticeable markings:
Personal Goal:
(WIP)
@Everyone - This tournament is now closed for draft elimination, where the best 16 heroes will be chosen to play in the game! That means; entries posted after this comment won't be taken in for the draft and cards which were submitted on time aren't allowed to be edited or replaced with new ones.
I believe I have put all approved entries here in a single set. It helps me during the elimination process, since all entries are within one place, where they can be accessed easily. I ask that everyone who posted their entries check out this set, and please let me know if your entry is missing, I'm using wrong cards as entries, or if there's any other problem. (Non-mtgcardsmith entries can be found from the set's disqus comments.)
ToC4 Entries
The draft elimination process will last for a day or two. When it's over, the 16 fighters will be announced, you'll get to meet your hosts and your fellow contestants, and finally we can move on to getting your heroes to the place where the first tournament matches will be hosted.
@FourEyesIsAFish - You can add additional info about your characters, but don't change any info you've already posted about them.
when do you think the draft will be finished?
Minor Mischief - (Series)
Card by @TenebrisNemo ^^^
Tournament Healer: Casper, I can't keep giving you supplies. I will run out of them for the tournament participants.
Casper: I know...I know. I have quite a reputation here after all.
Tournament Healer: Alright Casper what's the excuse this time? If its good enough I'll not charge you for the healing.
Casper: Well you see, the strangest thing happened today...
*Flash Back*
Casper had seen his fair share of weird in all his years in Avelaide and he had heard stories of past tournaments and all the time distorting wizards and demon musicians that came along with it. On top of it, abyssal creatures roamed the outskirts of Avelaide so he had truly thought he had seen it all.For the first time in a while Casper was actually sober, and he decided that it would be nice to rest under the shade of a nearby oak tree that had stood in Avelaide for as long as he remembered when a stranger approached him.
Arn: Hello there fine gentle lad of this strange lands, hath thee seen my cat? The little ruckle likes to shamble all over the area.
Casper: Ah..Im sorry uhm sir? I don't think I have...
Before Casper could finish his sentence, it was interrupted with a distant and very distinct purring coming from the oak tree he was sitting under. A cat the size of thumb jumped on his shoulder.
Casper: (I am pretty sure I did have anything to drink today) Casper thought to himself.
Arn: Snuggles!!! I found you you little devil, now lets get you back to your normal size.
Arn: Oops!
Arn said as Snuggles grew, then grew and grew, and finally grew some more.
Arn: Well I suppose I won't be able to take that home now. I suppose you can keep him now.
Arn vanished into thin air leaving a residues of magic glittering in the air. As for Casper he had bigger problems to worry about.
Flashback End
Casper: After that I passed out after I tripped and hit my head on a stone while running from the cat. An that is the story of how I got this black eye.
Tournament Healer: You would be so convincing If I didn't know you Casper. Do me a favor and lay of the drinking in the future.
Casper: But I'm telling you, it really did happen.
Tournament Healer: Say I believe you, then where did the cat go?
Casper: I.. I don't know, but
Tournament Healer: Casper, you have to promise me.
she interrupts Casper mid sentence in the tone of a mother scolding a child.
Casper: Fine. But only if you stop treating me like a child, I'm 21 you know.
Casper says in a defeated tone.
Conclusion.
Two
The Chosen Contestants
It had been three weeks since the tournament was announced. Since then, leaflets were spread across the worlds. They attracted the most peculiar guests to a city named Seastnan at the southern shores of Eviera's mainland.One day, a man in a pompous tunic and ruff collar walked past the registration table and approached the judge. He stopped once he was within a talking distance with the judge. He didn't want to get too close, since the guards seemed bigger the closer they were standing. The pompous man bowed deeply before speaking. "Good day, your honor! My name is Brogan Kameron, and I have come here to join your world-famous tournament! I have a request, if I may! During these uncertain times, certainty is as valued as gold, silver, or any other treasures of the world. So hear this," he kept straightening his black whiskers with his two fingers in vain over and over again while talking. "Reserve a place for me in the tournament, and I will pay you most handsomely. Sounds good? I'll have a ridiculous sum of money once I get in, and I am willing to share it with you, judge!"
"This tournament is a contest of skill and mind, not of fame or wealth," the judge said in a rough, dismissive tone. "Your attempts of bribery are wasted. I have no need for your coin."
"Please, your honor," the man pleaded and took a step closer to the judge, who looked down on him. "Just put me into the game! I don't have the money right now, I made many a wager before coming here, and I need only to get into this competition! Let me fight in a match or two! Everyone needs money, who are you to reject my offer? Be sensible, good man! I'll give you twenty percent of the money! That's reasonable, right? Or would you rather have twenty-five percent? Fifty percent, final offer!"
"Get this fool out of my sight," the judge ordered and waved his right hand. Two tournament guards next to the desperate man grabbed him and escorted him out of the building while the man, in denial, tried to get a position in the tournament by shouting offers to the judge even when he was no longer within the hall. The guards threw the man out, and after rolling down the street stairs, he fell onto the dirty road, and the people around him stared in wonder and slight amusement. He quickly left the city after that incident.
#toc4_story
You have been chosen...
(In no particular order.)
Noah, the Lonely - @CassZero
Aiko, Renegade Succubus - @Fallen_Lord_Vulganos
Sturgar, Alloyed Blademaster - @theirintheattic
Lyuben, the Bittersweet - @shadow123
Conscience Reveera - @ChoyBoi
Arha, Knight of the Basilisk - @SpellPiper2213
Iseabel Rathais - @Jonteman93
Arn, the Ageless Prankster - @Tonysparks
Kaigan of Kher Keep - @DrakeGladis
Dr. Cypherous, Aether Mage - @WarriorCatInAhat
Damien the Stoic - @Lujikul
Hadid, Portal Master - @DomriKade
Ytsix, Lost Chronologist - @Tommia
Imilia, Witch Consul - @Usaername
Nilfi, Blood Alchemist - @Red_Tower
After the announcement, sixteen letters were sent, one for each of your heroes, wherever they were at the moment of the announcement. The messengers of the tournament provided them for you.
You are one of the 16 fighters who have been chosen to compete in the 17th Tournament of Champions! On the morning of the 23rd day of this month, you will travel with tournament guards and hosts from the city of Seastnan to the Werther Fortress, where you will fight until 8 contestants are left. More information will be given at arrival!
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