"I haven't seen you since yesterday's match," Killian said, standing in sunlight. The assassin put the stone into a pocket and sheathed the dagger into his right boot's hidden scabbard before standing up.
"The Judge asked me to prepare for tonight's escape," Rodolf said and stretched his legs. "And I figured you'd rather spend time with the contestants or the lady knight. All is set and ready for our long journey, so no need to worry about that anymore! No, there' no need to thank me!" He waved his hands as if declining from a hug, but the knight just crossed his hands over his chest.
"You did it all alone, even with that arm of yours?" Rodolf's smirk vanished when Killian mentioned it.
"Come on, still thinking about it?" The assassin sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for my reaction yesterday, but that sickness doesn't bring up any happy memories. You should understand that more than anybody else around here." The knight nodded while looking away for a moment.
"I just don't remember it being that bad last time we met," Killian said, then looked at his own hands. "Yet it doesn't get any better with time. But I am always ready to listen if you ever want to talk about it, and what you've dealt with." A huge cloud slowly blocked the sun in the sky, darkening the courtyard a bit. Rodolf scratched the back of his head, then put on his hood.
"Alright, friend," he said silently as he walked past the knight and patted his shoulder. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Today we finish this match and then celebrate." The assassin went to his prepared horse, and Sir Killian watched as one of the young soldiers brought Rusty from the stables. The brown horse waved his ears when he saw his rider, then the soldier gave the reins to the knight. Killian stroked Rusty's head before mounting and riding next to the wagons. The aetherborn, the noble girl, and the healers were inside, so the tournament caravan was ready to travel for one final time. As the gates slowly opened, Sir Killian noticed the female knight of yesterday at the other side of the wagons, mounted on her white horse with large black spots. He walked Rusty right next to her horse before the caravan started moving through the open gates.
"Hestia," the hunter knight greeted the ashen knight.
"Sir Killian," she responded from within her helmet. The cloud revealed the sun in the sky, bathing the whole caravan with its warm light, yet cold gales swept over them and the following crowd, which had gathered from the market. The two knights rode silently for a while until Sir Killian broke the silence.
"You traveled here with the abyssal warrior? Where is she now?"
"She went north," Hestia said, then paused momentarily. "According to a messenger who came to the fort yesterday evening, a group of Led' Vegrins were spotted nearby a northern village the day before. They passed without conflict, solely focused on coming somewhere in this region. Grizel left immediately after hearing about it, and has probably found them by now."
"Or they have found her," the hunter knight said gravely, but then relaxed. "In both cases, she must have given them a flashy welcome." The ashen knight raised her shoulders.
"She wields wicked powers, gets the job done, and moves on to the next without rest. I know she is the enemy of our enemy, but still, merely being around her makes my skin crawl."
"A quality which the servants of Terrodus all seem to share," he said, then they both chuckled a bit. "So what do you plan to do now?"
"Travel with you, of course," Hestia said without doubt. "You're all irresponsibly reckless for hosting a tournament during these dark times, so I've decided to watch over you and the contestants until this whole mess has been dealt with." A small smile formed in Killian's lips.
"Well, glad to have you along, ashen knight Hestia," he said while nodding. Hestia nodded back, then both fell silent and focused on the road ahead. After passing many fields of green foliage that danced with the howling gales, the caravan reached the forest again. Riders dismounted from their steeds, opened the wagons, then everyone followed the hidden path that led to the arena of the third match. Through the cliff wall entrance they entered the library once more, which was as dark as last time, even though brighter daylight beamed from the windows and the holes of the roof. The aetherborn and the noble girl walked to their positions in the middle of the hall while the old scholar's statue silently watched them. People walked up the stairs and took their places in the wooden stands. Like always, Judge Gaspar, witch Mimosa, and spellsmith Rezar had the highest row. Guards walked to their positions, set up the healers' tent, then abyssal priest Kara approached the two contestants.
"I believe you know my purpose at this point," the bald and blind priest whispered to them before facing Cypherous for a moment, but did nothing. "I can not give you the mark, I sense no suitable canvas on your body." Then he turned towards Conscience. She offered her left hand to the priest, then gasped from the surprising tingling pain that came from the symbol as Kara drew it into her palm with his fingers. Once it was finished within seconds, the priest hurried to take his place in the highest row of the stands. Captain Rheinallt walked to the balcony of the library's highest floor, cleared his throat, then he raised his hand while his loud voice echoed around the hall.
"Welcome to witness the eighth and last match of this tournament's first round! On our left we have an aetherborn from a legendary city of inventors; Doctor Cypherous, Aether Mage!" After a loud applause, Rheinallt raised his other hand. "On our right we have a merchant's daughter with great savings in the vault of ambition; Conscience Reveera!" Another echoing ovation filled the library, then Captain Rheinallt looked at both contestants, smiled, and raised both of his hands.
"Bring it on, sentient rug," Conscience insulted once the match's start was announced. Cypherous immediately raised his glowing gauntlets and responded with a screeching bolt of lightning. Reveera crouched behind a boulder, and the sparking spell violently scratched its surface, leaving behind a red glowing trail. When Conscience was about to peek, the aetherborn shot a new bolt at the boulder with his outstretched hands, blinding the soul mage for a moment. With a groan, she ran behind another boulder while yet another flash of bolt flew right next to her in a blink of an eye. Cypherous soon realized his opponent's tactic. Conscience kept approaching him, taking cover from boulder after a boulder until she would get close enough to engage in melee combat. The aetherborn snorted, then kept circling around the hall with his spells prepared, making sure Conscience would never reach him. Each time she ran behind a cover, Cypherous's lightnings tried to catch her, his aim and anticipations slowly becoming more accurate.
After numerous lightning strikes, silence filled the hall, as Conscience seemed to be hiding behind a boulder somewhere for longer than before. Cypherous stretched his hands, which seemed to recharge his gauntlets with streaming sounds, turning their blue lights brighter, then he pointed them towards a boulder which his opponent was most likely using for cover, silently circling around it from a safe distance. Clack! The sound of a falling rock echoed from Cypherous's right side, and he quickly turned to look, but saw nothing but a small cloud of dust around the thrown rock. Someone ran behind him, and the aetherborn cursed himself for being fooled. He turned around, but wasn't able to do anything as Conscience quickly put her palm onto the aetherborn's mask, and with a quick whisper, placed a magical debt onto him. Purple aura surrounded her hand and flowed around Cypherous, who in turn began to glow in bright blue light. Reveera couldn't escape from the sudden burst of lightning that surrounded the aetherborn. It threw the soul mage many meters away, then she crashed onto the hard rocky floor.
Cypherous touched his mask, then he examined his body, but couldn't see or feel anything amiss. He looked around and saw as paralyzed Conscience laid on the floor for few seconds before she quickly got up and hid behind yet another boulder. The aetherborn was getting tired of his opponent's constant hiding, so he climbed onto a stone book pile at the feet of the scholar's statue. From there, he could keep his eyes on Conscience at all times. With a flick of his wrists, Cypherous began charging more power into his gauntlets, then unleashed thunderous lightning strikes at the soul mage. A tingling sensation in Conscience's skin warned whenever a lightning was about to hit her, so she quickly dodged each spell as well as she could. Cracking explosions broke rocks and boulders all around her for a short moment until Cypherous suddenly stopped. The aetherborn fell onto his knee, then watched as the blue sparking energy from his gauntlets and body began to fade away. The debt magic was draining him, flowing the mana into Conscience. Even though her body had bruises and first-degree burns, she felt more invigorated than before. With Cypherous defenseless, smirking Conscience began waving her hands, channeling grey mist-like energy into a large orb above her, which wailed eerily. But then her eyes widened as black mist spread within the spirit orb, and the echoing voices became monstrous. The crowd gasped, Sir Killian grabbed the hilt of his sheathed shortsword, Hestia closed the visor of her helmet, and even Judge Gaspar looked slightly surprised.
"Oh no," witch Mimosa whispered with a rare hint of fear. "It's happening again." The orb began to vibrate violently, even though Conscience concentrated all her power into keeping it steady. Cypherous hid behind the book pillar, expecting the worst, and tournament guards marched in front of the wooden stands with shields raised. Wind whirled around the hall, and while gritting her teeth, Conscience tried to aim the moving orb somewhere else except the audience. Sir Killian kept watching from the edge of the arena, still gripping the shortsword. Rodolf hurried next to him from the shadows.
"The girl can't control that thing," the assassin shouted as the wind grew stronger, then prepared his shortbow and arrow. "I'll kill her and end this before she kills us!"
"Wait," Sir Killian yelled and pushed the bow away without removing his eyes from the black orb. The voices had begun to resemble the vengeful beast which attacked during the journey to Werther Fortress. Conscience did not give in. With a loud scream, she threw the orb at the scholar's statue, causing it to explode. Pieces of the torso, book, quill, and the head flew crashing through the window behind him, at the pillars next to him, and finally onto the floor below. Cypherous, who was hiding behind the stone books, couldn't escape from the falling rocks. Crumbling sounds and a cloud of dust filled the bookless library, causing everyone to cover their eyes.
A moment passed until no more rocks fell. Cold howling gale blew through the broken window, taking the dust cloud with it. Everyone looked at each other in the audience. The explosion did not harm the spectators, hosts, healers, or the guards. Then they looked at the arena. Conscience was standing alone, her fixed eyes looking through the window for a while until she suddenly started blinking and coughing. She saw the statue; its upper half reduced to rubble around the feet. A blue aether mist came from the rubble before vanishing. While breathing rapidly and gulping once, Conscience looked around, but instead of cheers, she was met with suspicious frowns. Captain Rheinallt walked to the balcony and announced the winner with a surprised tone. No one clapped.
Cypherous had an amazing first impression, but his character didn't develop much after that. Conscience, on the other hand, has interacted with other characters and I am eager to see where the path she now treads leads.
@ChoyBoi - Conscience blew her way to the second round! You may create a new version of her or a new signature/companion card, but this time the maximum mana value of those cards is increased to 5!
@WarriorCatInAhat - Cypherous has died, but you may write what happens to his soul, then post any cards you had planned for his story.
Half an hour after the eighth match was over, the tournament caravan traveled back to Werther Fortress. Afternoon sun colored the sky orange, and the winds had calmed down a bit. Before the people returned to the market, Captain Rheinallt wished to announce something. Tournament guards placed a wooden podium in front of the fort's bridge, and while clearing his throat, the old soldier walked onto it. "Ladies and gentlemen! As earlier stated, this was the last match of the tournament's first round! We now have eight fighters left in this grand competition, and naturally, things won't get any easier for them! Tomorrow they travel to a city, where they fight in its famous arena! In that very city, many champions of old have fought until only four remained! And that's what will happen this year as well!" The people cheered, then chattered and asked questions from each other for a moment before Captain Rheinallt got their attention again with his energetic voice. "In celebration of the first round's conclusion, the halls of Werther Fortress are open tonight for you, dear audience of the tournament! On eight o'clock, a feast will begin, and everyone are welcome! Plenty of foods, drinks, and songs will await you in our humble fort, so bring your friends with you!" Applause surrounded the Captain, and he smiled brightly with his grey beard while waving. "We'll meet again tonight in Werther Fortress," he shouted joyfully before stepping down from the podium and climbing back into the carriage. The guards put the podium into one of the wagons, mounted onto their horses, then the caravan ventured through the gates of the fort, which then closed behind them.
As the remaining contestants returned to their rooms in the fort's sleeping quarters, they noticed a sealed envelope on their desk. After opening the envelope, your hero read its contents...
Letter Contents
Well done, crazy bastard! You're one of the eight contestants who reached the second round. Perhaps you really are tough, or just lucky? In any case, enjoy your victory tonight, but don't drink too much. We'll leave before the morning sun rises. When you hear two silent knocks on your door, take only your essential stuff with you, then come to the first floor of your sleeping quarters quietly! It's that easy. We'll lead you out of the fort from there.
~Rodolf
P.s. Don't mention this letter to anyone.
After about fifteen seconds from opening the envelope, the letter crumbles into dust.
Oh dear... I have a lot of stuff I need to do here still, but I have a lot of writing I need to do for final school projects... I know it's a lot, but can we not leave for like.... a week and a half real time please? I was kinda hoping you'd actually be taking longer on this Tenebris.
Imilia slowly drifted into consciousness, and forced her eyes open, causing flakes of dried blood to drift from her eyelashes and into her lap. Ignoring the pain in her limbs, she raised her arms just high enough to peel her hair away from her eyes. As her eyes traced the room, she gasped.
almost every inch of the room was covered in jagged spikes of polished, smoky black glass. She stood up slowly, looking in wonder at the eldritch landscape her room had become. She took a step, but her unsteady legs caused her to trip, and she could only put out a forearm to stop her fall. Bracing for the pain of a hard impact, she was surprised to instead find that her forearm had instead cracked the wooden floor.
Could it be? No... She lifted herself from the floor, and looked at her forearm. Near imperceptibly thin black lines weaved themselves just under the skin. Imilia laughed as a humorless smile spread across her face.
Spinning where she stood, she launched a full force kick at one of the posts on her bed. Her foot went straight through the post, sending wooden splinters bouncing across the room. Her foot stung slightly, but it was unharmed, and after the ordeal she had just put herself through, the pain was negligible.
Whirling again to face one of the larger glass spikes, she swung a wild punch at it, and it shattered into countless pieces, each clattering off other spikes like a cacophony of wind chimes. The skin on her knuckles was shredded, but her fingers remained unbroken, and no blood was drawn.
As the realization of the results of her spell truly dawned on her, Imilia's laugh grew in intensity as her smile widened. A visage of pure sadistic glee.
She threw herself at the rest of her room, punching and kicking her way through the glass. Despite the skin of her hands and feet being violently torn away, she paid no mind. She could not, for until she had destroyed every last spike of glass, she could think of nothing but destruction.
When all the spikes had been destroyed and her breathing had slowed, Imilia turned her attention to the true purpose of her spell. The fly corpses lay seemingly untouched where the sigil had stood, but when she picked one up, she knew it felt much heavier and somewhat harder than a normal fly.
She pinched the fly between two fingers, and it didn't break, instead biting deep into her fingers. She tossed the fly aside and reached for the jar. It too felt slightly heavier than before. Imilia looked at it skeptically, before violently hurling it across the room, where it bounced off the stone wall and came to rest, unharmed, at her feet.
On 1st of May 20.00 Central Standard Time, the feast begins in Werther Fortress, then your heroes leave right before dawn and journey to an eastern Evieran city where the Second Round will be hosted! The journey will take approximately a week, so you have one week time to create a new card for your hero or a new companion/signature card! Whichever card you decide to create, it's possible maximum mana value is now 5! This doesn't mean it HAS to have mana value of 5, the only requirement for the new card is that it emphasizes your hero's growth in any way you like.
@DrakeGladis - I'm technically super late, I had planned to finish this round couple of weeks earlier, and I'm not sure if other contestants want more delays. There is still time before Round 2 starts, and even if we leave today, you can write flashback chapters for your hero, which would tell what they did when they were still in Werther Fortress. But if others really don't mind staying in Werther Fortress a bit longer, then I could give more time until the departure. It would also help me prepare even better for the upcoming events of this story. Let's hear what others want first.
yeah I was expecting to lose on account of how little fleshed out cypherous was. conscience was definitely a better developed character. thanks so much for hosting anyway, tenebris. it has been a very fun experience. I'll be watching the tournament until it ends, and I hope I can redeem myself in the next one.
Sturgar breathed a sigh of relief. The aetherborn was gone. Yes, any death was to be mourned, but some more than others. Sturgar didn't have anything personal against the doctor, but he had feared him. With Cypherous eliminated, little could stop him. That noble girl seemed to leech away the magical essence of her foe, but Sturgar didn't have any of that. Oddly enough, this began to bother him. His dream shot violently into his mind. He looked down at himself and for one, mind shattering, horrifying moment, he saw his gleaming armor begin to liquify and melt. He quickly shook his head, blinking. When he looked once more, he was normal.
What if, he reflected, he was to combat an incorporeal foe, made of water or air? Or perhaps one with such impenetrable armor his weapons would be all but ineffective? He thought for a moment more. It was highly unlikely, but what if there was one more physically capable on the field of battle then himself? One that could best him, despite over two decades of training, a fully metal armored body, four arms and incredible mechanically augmented strength and reflexes? The though scared him. Never yet had he met his match, yet seeing the power among the contestants of the tournament, he began to realize that might soon happen. And what if his opponent was not only his match, but his superior? What if he was killed? He couldn't fail Nartheus like that. The man had many enemies, and Sturgar was the only one equipped to keep him safe. No, he wouldn't let that happen. He had trained obsessively since arriving at the fortress, but maybe that wasn't the answer. Learning magic was out of the question, he didn't know remotely where to start, and time was not on his side. That left him one option.
As they returned to the fortress, he pulled Nartheus aside, heading for the market.
"Sturgar, what on earth are you doing? Do you need something, because really, there is no need to rush-" Sturgar hurried the duke into Zordroth's workshop, slamming and bolting the door behind him.
"Hello there, you in a rush?" Zordroth looked up from his mug of coffee, slightly perplexed. "You uhh... need repairs? Or..."
Without wasting a second, Sturgar grabbed a pencil from the smith's design table and a piece of parchment and scribbled away.
Second round starting soon. Powerful opponent. Uses magic. Advanced self regeneration and capable in armed and hand to hand conflict. Need to be stronger.
As soon as he finished, he threw the parchment at the black smith and lay down on the table, waiting. Nartheus pulled up a chair, watching with a bemused expression on his noble face. He had never seen Sturgar so agitated and obsessed before, and it intrigued him.
"Well, then." Zordroth set down his mug, tied his apron round his back and cracked his knuckles. "You got money? It's not a charity here."
"Indeed." The duke tossed an unbelievably fat sac of gold at the smith, who caught it mid-air, smiling.
"You know, this is probably why people try to mug you on the streets."
Nartheus smiled, gesturing towards Sturgar, prone on the table. "They can certainly try."
Zordroth turned towards Sturgar, collecting his tools from his belt. "Alrighty then, let's see what I can do."
Here is my next card. It's a companion card, as I'm saving my "master design" of Sturgar in case I win my next match. Here's Zordroth:
Lyuben awoke in the back of a carriage with Ayden unconscious on top of him. The whole compartment was rocking back and forth as the carriage passed over a rocky path. Lyuben pushed himself up to a sitting position, letting Ayden’s head rest on his lap so that the messenger could continue sleeping. Lyuben tried to reach out towards the window, but his arms felt too heavy to do anything.
Ugh...what spell did Arin put on me?
The carriage halted abruptly. Cecilia opened the door to the back of the wagon, and climbed into Lyuben’s compartment. She sat across from the two boys.
“Hello, Lyuben,” Cecilia smiled evilly.
“I can’t believe you,” Lyuben spat, “You out of all people. I trusted you…”
“Your parents are waiting for you at home. They’ve...missed you.”
“You fully know what their intentions are! They’ll torture me.”
“They want to correct some wrongs.”
“Which are..? I thought you believed in me!”
“Yes, I believed in you. A short conversation with your mother made me realize my mistakes. I care for you Lyuben. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Lyuben rolled his eyes. “You know that my parents will hurt me! You know the pain I felt with a disapproving father.”
“Yes, but-”
“But?! What more is there to this? My parents betrayed me. Now my best friend did too.”
“There was no betrayal, Lyuben.” Cecilia scooted to the edge of her seat, coming closer to Lyuben, “Only a delusional boy who can’t see that his parents are trying to protect him!”
“From what, exactly?”
“I- I don’t know…”
Cecilia got up shakily and moved to Lyuben’s bench.
“Look, Lyuben-”
Lyuben clenched his fist.
“Get any closer and I’ll kill you,” Lyuben shouted to Cecilia. Even in his anger, he could feel a tear forming in his eye.
Cecilia moved back to her original seat. “Lyuben, we’re trying to protect you…”
“Then tell me! From what are you trying to protect me?”
“The abyss.”
The carriage stopped again, allowing Cecilia to exit and move back to the front compartment. The carriage continued forward on the rocky road.
I wish...I could be at the tournament again...with Imilia. Maybe she’d have found a way to get me out of this mess.
“He just doesn’t understand,” Lyuben heard Cecilia sigh to Arin and Ryan, “He needs his parents' protection just like I need mine. I was wrong to ever help him and his boyfriend in the first place.”
“You can’t hold the boy back forever you know,” Arin said, “I’ve seen and killed mages like him before. You can’t stop the abyss.”
“So, then we must restrict his freedoms. Hjordis knows what to do. She has conquered the forces of the abyss before.”
“Only for them to resurface back in her life,” Ryan added.
“All I’m going to say is, you can’t hold the boy back forever.”
“Then, each of us must do what he can. His father told me to take Lyuben to the dungeons upon arrival. That way there is no chance of an escape from their new castle.”
“And the other boy?” Ryan asked.
“He will be dealt with by Hjordis.”
Lyuben wiped the tear away from his eye and tuned out the voices in the front. The weight of betrayal hung heavy on Lyuben’s shoulders. He couldn’t escape. Not this time. Lyuben looked at Ayden, who still seemed asleep, then shifted his gaze out the window to the dry landscape. There was lots of sand and many small shrubs with an occasional tree in the distance. Lyuben spotted a clear stream that ran through the desert, like silvery tears that streaked across one’s face.
Why, Cecilia? I thought you cared. I thought you wanted to help me. Why is it that every person I’ve loved turns on me? What is it about me? About love?
Finally, after many long hours cooped up in the wagon, the scenery around the wagon changed once more. It was raining lightly in the area and they were now travelling on a narrow cobblestone road that ran between tall brick buildings. They had finally arrived in the heart of Malterra. They continued down the quiet street for a few minutes, then passed through grand black gates into a familiar courtyard. The castle Lyuben had destroyed was almost nearly rebuilt to its majestic state except for the west hall where he could spot hundreds of workers.
“Home. I- I’m home…”
“This is your house..?” Ayden was clearly in awe. “It’s huge! You left all of this behind?”
“Oh! You’re awake,” Lyuben smiled weakly, “And yes. I left all of this behind.”
“Why? I mean, yeah, your parents and all, but still!”
“Let’s say, money can’t buy me the freedoms I wanted. The freedom to love. The freedom to be myself. And now in a few moments I’ve lost the freedoms the tournament granted me.”
“We’ll find a way to get out,” Ayden reassured the prince, “I promise.”
The carriage stopped one final time. Three guards flung the door open. Two grabbed Lyuben and the other seized Ayden, who was now weaponless. Both the boys were dragged out. Standing in front of them was his mother: Hjordis.
“Ah, Lyuben...it’s so nice to see you again.”
Lyuben only glared at his mother. He didn’t want to hear her cold voice. He didn’t want to be in Malterra. Just then, the king walked out next to Hjordis.
“Our people will be so happy that our prince has returned,” the king paused dramatically, “Now, guards, take the prince to the dungeon!”
“What about this boy?” the man holding Ayden asked.
“Lady Hjordis will deal with him. You can take him to the hall outside the dungeon with the queen.”
“Yes, sir.”
The guards marched Lyuben and Ayden to the dungeons. Lyuben was thrown down a flight of stairs into a dark room. Then he heard a door slam shut. Lyuben hurried up the stairs and tried to break open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He listened to the voices behind the door.
----
“What should we do with this boy?” one of the knights asked.
Hjordis circled around him. “You’re a messenger, aren’t you?”
Ayden nodded.
“Yes, yes. I know your family. I’m surprised you of all people would side with Lyuben. It’s a shame, really.”
“Wh-what’s a shame?” Ayden inquired nervously.
“Fetch Arin. Tell her to kill this boy. We have no need for him here.”
No no no no no…
Lyuben heard footsteps outside the dungeons. Arin and Ryan hand entered the hall.
Walk [1/2] [Sometime before match 7] (In collaboration with @DrakeGladis - thank you for working with me!)
Kaigan swished his tail experimentally, flipping the hems of his new tunic as he breezed across the grounds of Werther Fortress. He happily patted its various pockets and tugged at the sash tied around his waist. The fresh attire lifted his spirits in spite of the week’s uncertainties. He touched the spot on his chest where Steaphan’s sword had pierced him, tracing the phantom wound. There was still much to process but it was good to relish the lighter moments.
As he passed through the courtyard, he saw the old professor - Hadid, he’d said his name was - walking along a trail around the perimeter of the grounds. I haven't had much chance to talk to him yet, the kobold thought. Kaigan altered his course toward the mage and waved broadly.
Hadid looked up and returned the greeting. He indicated the path with an open hand. “I’m taking a stroll to clear my mind. You’re welcome to join me… if you’re not too busy of course.”
“I was gonna talk to Rezar, but I’ve got all day. Thanks.”
The two started off in step along the dirt walkway, the old man’s deliberate pace matching the kobold’s smaller strides. Kaigan tilted his head toward the mage. “Good job against Damien. I’m not sure what was up with him but at least it was a quick fight and he didn’t have to do too much. He said he was a pacifist and I think he meant it.”
Hadid looked away, scanning the treeline. “Damien is… remarkable in his own right. We are all gifted differently, but his greatest strengths will likely be realized off of the battlefield.”
Kaigan nodded solemnly. “I hope he finds peace.” A bird call echoed in the distance. “He offered to teach me to read, you know. Up in his room.”
The corners of Hadid’s eyes wrinkled in a smile. “That sounds like him. He’d be great at it too - you should take him up on it if the opportunity arises.” He glanced down at the kobold. “And congratulations to you as well! Your martial prowess spoke for itself against Iseabel.”
Kaigan sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks. I hoped that she would surrender like Noah did. Her death -” His breath caught in his throat. “Well, I don’t understand it. I’m not sure I want to at this point either. She chose it, I just have to live with… well, living. If I’d taken the sword instead she’d still be alive.”
Wind whistled through the nearby branches as the duo walked. Hadid scratched his chin as he studied the ground. “I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but may I offer a thought?” Kaigan nodded and Hadid continued. “We all like to believe that we have some great grasp on the world around us, that we’re masters of our destiny or some such. However, experience proves otherwise. There are events that are beyond us in scope and outside our hold, like what happened to Iseabel. It wasn’t your fault that she died. She made a choice, as you did.”
Hadid turned to the kobold. “Embrace the things that you impact greatly, Kaigan. Seize the moments you do have control over.” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “Sorry to get preachy. Long-winded today.”
The kobold smiled gently, though his countenance remained sad. “Oh, I will. And you’re right, I’m just… having issues. I’m sure I’ll eventually lay these worries to rest.” He cleared his throat as they continued walking. “So, why exactly does a mage enter this sort of competition? Most of the people so far don’t seem to be here to do much besides measure their skill, represent someone else, or they’re trying to use this for, like, political stuff.”
“That’s part of why I’m out here today,” Hadid said as he gestured at the open air. “I originally came for a more… academic purpose, but now I feel that I could potentially change things.”
He paused for a moment as his booted feet crunched against pebbles on the pathway. “The Tournament is seeking a Champion, one who can stand against incomprehensible forces and fight for a better world. Perhaps it’s idealistic, but what a capstone it would be for a lifetime of study. There’s no better culmination of years of theory, practice, and preparation than to use it for a cause larger than yourself.”
Kaigan stopped abruptly and looked up at the mage. He spoke softly. “You realize that’s the first time someone’s told me that they’re here to help people?”
Hadid turned toward the kobold, momentarily at a loss for words. Finding his composure, he smiled sadly. “Damien did say he’d help you learn to read, right?”
“Yes, but I mean the contestants here now.”
Hadid’s expression darkened. “The Tournament does seem to be a powerful platform for motives beyond the event itself, doesn’t it.”
“Yeah… I honestly don’t think there’s much in the way of ‘good winners’ for the kingdom.”
“What about you? You’re still among the contestants.”
Kaigan “Actually, I came here to help people too. Maybe it was naive of me, but I thought I could make a difference. Make this more like my home - peaceful. When I first arrived, I started by defending a coach that was being attacked by highwaymen. The driver and I fought them off and he helped me get here. I want to continue helping, even if it’s as small as stopping robberies and murders…”
Hadid nodded thoughtfully. “Small victories are still victories. And if hope makes you naive then we can be naive together.”
Kaigan giggled and kicked at a stick on the trail. “So yeah, do you think any other winner will be good for the people?” He quickly waved his hands, flustered. “I, uh, don’t mean that I’d be the only winner who is good! I meant more like, well, of the other contestants, who of them would genuinely help?”
“I suppose it’s hard to say.” Hadid motioned to a bench beside a large pond. Its wooden planks creaked as the two settled onto it. “The remaining contestants are all powerful and resourceful, no question about it. What concerns me is that though they are skilled, some harbor malice, brutality, a misguided sense of duty…” He gestured dismissively as the thought trailed off.
Kaigan fished in one of his pockets and produced the end of a loaf of bread. He crumbled bits between his fingers and tossed them toward the pond. Inquisitive birds began circling and descending to collect them.
Hadid turned in his seat to face the kobold. “Kaigan, you have accomplished much already. You have bested a strong opponent, befriended darn near everyone on the fortress grounds, and you’ve done it all with an indomitable spirit. You have the heart of ten men and the zeal to match. But…” The mage shifted slightly as he weighed his words. “Are you ready to be the Champion?”
The gathered birds chittered at one another as they pecked at the bread pieces. Kaigan’s brow furrowed with thought as he watched them. He took several deep breaths before he answered.
“Prepared? No. I don’t think I am.” He gazed intently across the pond. “I don’t think anyone is. Being the Champion is huge. There’s like… thousands. Thousands of people out there and each of them looks to you for comfort, safety, and protection. Anyone who says they’re prepared for that is either lying or doesn’t know what they’re getting into. But someone has to do it. And while I may not make the perfect, ready champion, and I’d definitely make mistakes - if I even get there - I’d still do it. I’d still want to.”
Crumbs scattered as Kaigan punctuated his thoughts with his hands. “I’m not the most competent person in this tournament. Yes, I can swing a spear with skill and parry blows, but I don’t know how to do magic. I don’t even know how to read. I only know that I want to help and this is a chance for that. The people here need someone. Anyone.”
Kaigan’s tail twitched and he clicked his claws together. “So am I prepared for everything that will be thrown at me? No. Am I ready to give it my all anyway if I make it? Yes.” He turned to the mage with a steely expression. “Are you?”
Hadid met the kobold’s gaze, eyebrows raised in admiration. “Eloquently said.” He folded his hands and settled back on the bench. “Based on your wise words, I certainly don’t want to be a liar or delusional, so... I suppose not. Though in many ways this is what I’ve spent my entire career preparing for. Maybe that’s a start.”
The two turned back toward the pond. The birds began to disperse, sensing that they had excavated all that was edible. A few chirped disappointedly as they glided across the water back into the trees. A few moments passed in silence before Hadid spoke again.
“Your passion is commendable, Kaigan. When the time comes that we must fight each other, I will face you not as a destroyer but as a protector, defending those that need it. In that moment, we will be adversaries.” He stood and held out his hand to the kobold, smiling warmly. “But only for that moment I hope.”
Kaigan hopped up and firmly accepted the handshake. “Very well. And if you win, know that I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines, then I’ll see what difference one kobold can make alone.”
Hadid watched as Kaigan turned and began walking back toward the courtyard. He couldn’t help but think that the monk’s posture was a bit straighter and his head was held higher than before. He carried himself not as a lost kobold, but perhaps as a Champion.
Hadid hummed to himself as he resumed his walk. You’ll never be alone, Kaigan. Your bright spirit draws others in and warms them like the sun.
The sun was setting behind the distant forests of the horizon, and the evening sky was hued in dark blue and orange. Many people of the market were on their way to Werther Fortress, following lit torches which were placed next to the long dirt road from the dam all the way to the stone bridge and the open gates. Majority of the visitors were the spectators of the matches, donned in more colorful and fancy clothing for the occasion. Old and young adults, lots of humans, bunch of elves, dwarves, and a couple of more uncommon travelers walked through the large gates. The young soldier boys guarding the gates and doorways welcomed them with bright smiles, and the dancing girls offered them white flowers which they picked along their way, decorating their grey platemail armors and spears. Older people laughed and shook their heads while recounting the most memorable events of the matches and comparing them to earlier tournaments.
Many were amazed by the sight of the great dining hall, which was warmly illuminated by candles, torches, and a fireplace. Countless smells of delicious meals lingered in the air; porks, beefs, chickens, rabbits, and vegetables of nearby farms and forests, accompanied with sauces and spices of distant lands. Large barrels of different drinks were placed nearby each table; ale, cider, and mead mostly. Colorful tapestries depicting the godlike caretakers brought life to the grey stone walls, even more so when the minstrels played and sung old songs dedicated for them. Before the visitors took their places from the long wooden tables, the servants at the hall's entrance washed their hands with warm scented waters, then dried them with white cloths. The cutlery consisted of metal knives, wooden spoons, and large plates which were made entirely from bread. Visitors picked food from platters onto their plates, and ate mostly with their hands alone. The bread plates absorbed juices and gravies of their meals, but eating the plates was frowned upon, as it was meant to be given for poor people when the feast was over. Another proof of Captain Rheinallt's wealth and unparalleled generosity.
High table at the end of the hall was for the tournament hosts, where Captain Rheinallt, Judge Gaspar, witch Mimosa, and spellsmith Rezar were eating. Tournament healers, contestants, and guards donned in their civil clothing were on the table in front of the hosts. Only six of the eight contestants were present; Kaigan, Hadid, Imilia, Nilfi, Tika, and Conscience. Lyuben and Sturgar were nowhere to be seen. Sir Killian, who was equipped with his platemail armor and swords, walked through the busy hall to the contestants' table. The clatter of his armor caught their attention, and one of the middle-aged guards turned to look at him. "Sir, why don't you join us?" the bald man asked after taking a swig from his tankard. "Even a hunter knight's got to eat, no?" Killian raised his right hand in a rejecting manner.
"Though I'd like to, I can't join the fun just yet," he said while looking at the empty spots of the table. "I didn't expect to see Sturgar here... but where is Lyuben, the young priest?" The guard coughed and wiped his mouth with his shirt's sleeve.
"That pretty boy? None of us has seen him since morning, when he left the market with some girl in a scarlet dress. They seemed to know each other... Oi?" Sir Killian had already left before the guard could finish talking. He was on his way to the contestants' sleeping quarters until he noticed two familiar people standing in front of the corridor that led there; Hestia and Rodolf. The ashen knight had hatched from her black armor, put her long dark brown hair into a ponytail, and was donned in bright red dress with orange patterns that resembled dancing flames. The assassin had brushed his usually messy, light brown hair and changed his darker, protective clothing into more eye-catching attire; blue tunic with branch-like patterns, white sleeves, knee-high leather boots, and red pants. Even though Rodolf had permanent black spots around his eyes, he had decided to look his best while accompanying Hestia for the feast. The two were talking about something until they heard Sir Killian's approaching heavy steps.
"Well look at you," Rodolf chuckled when he saw the hunter knight. "We're supposed to have a jolly feast, but here you march around, prepared for war!" The assassin's tone turned a bit more serious once he recognized the ominous look in Killian's face which he has seen before. "What's wrong?"
"Absent contestants," the hunter knight sighed. "I think I know where the dragonborn is, but the young priest has been missing since morning."
"We were just talking about that," Hestia said while holding her chin thoughtfully. "Lyuben is the only one who hasn't opened Rodolf's message. The boy hasn't been in his room since going to the market, and some of his belongings are still there."
"I eavesdropped him and his contestant friends a few times," Rodolf whispered, his spy instincts kicking in. "Heard some talk that he is a prince of Malterra. Perhaps he had a change of heart and wanted to return home." He shrugged. "Or maybe he was kidnapped; in the end, it doesn't matter where he is right now. If he won't come back in time for his match, the opponent wins by default."
"But that's not how champions are made," Killian said in a bit frustrated tone. Rodolf raised both of his hands and rolled his eyes.
"What can we do? He is too far away at this point, and we are leaving with the others tonight." The assassin poked the hunter knight's chestplate. "Not even you can uphold your promises all the time, so get rid of your heavy burdens for tonight and let's have a couple of drinks!" Hestia looked into Killian's eyes while nodding a little, agreeing with what Rodolf said. The hunter knight took a deep breath while he rubbed his eyes and waved his other hand.
"Alright, but you two paradise birds can go on ahead... there's one more thing I need to do." Rodolf had his usual smirk as he patted Killian's shoulder, then the assassin offered his right hand's elbow to Hestia, and she held it while the two walked into the dining hall. When left alone, Sir Killian looked outside through the corridor's window. First stars of the night were glittering in the darkening sky and the courtyard was illuminated by countless torches. The knight walked outside while passing the line of arriving guests, almost bumping into an old traveler who was carrying a wooden device which resembled a large violin. "Sorry," Killian said quickly while on his way to the training grounds. The traveler grabbed the wheel fiddle even tighter with his prosthetic right hand.
"Hesiodos, that was the hunter knight," the noble lady with frilled blue dress said next to him. "Sworn guardian of the contestants. I wonder why he had such a hurry?" The faerie minstrel made a small sound with his mouth as if he was saving his voice for later. Like countless others, he and the lady arrived to the dining hall. The servants washed their hands, even Hesiodos's prosthetic one, then they quickly found a place from the tables. They sat down right next to each other, and servants brought them two tankards of ale. The faerie looked at the musical troupe while slowly taking a swig from his tankard, and the lady did the same. "Oh Hesiodos, will you tell us a story tonight?" she asked while wiping foam from her nose with a handkerchief. The faerie nodded, placed his tankard onto the table, stood up, and approached the troupe. After sharing a few words with them, they stopped playing, then prepared their instruments for a new song. Hesiodos cranked the wheel of his instrument, and its peculiar melody turned many listeners' heads.
"Friends of the tournament," the old faerie said audibly with his raspy voice, and more instruments joined the song one at a time. "Let me tell you a story from over twenty years ago." He glanced at the contestants. "Of a man who fought in the first..." He looked at the smiling lady. "The one who became... the first champion." A pause, only the drummer's beats echoed in the hall. "Hear the story... of champion king... William!" People clapped and whistled for a moment before they quieted down when the troupe played even louder. Hesiodos flicked his thin wings, cranked the rosined wheel of hurdy-gurdy against the strings, pressed its wooden keys, and sang, his voice flowing with the splendid melody.
Man with merciless fate Days darkened by undying hate All taken by the Abyss's might Save for his burning will to fight
As the song was being performed, Sir Killian found Sturgar in the training grounds, just outside the dining hall's walls. The dragonborn was sharpening his weapons until he noticed the hunter knight, who unsheathed his greatsword.
Called by the Goddess's love Chains of destiny are gone Into heat of war he rides For the name of loyalty dies
Killian smiled when Sturgar readied his weapons, then they both charged at each other while the song echoed from the open windows. People of the dining hall didn't notice the sounds of their intense sparring match.
Countless opponents, one victory With his blade, carved history Final breath, for uncertainty Embraces the prize of eternity
Art: Manthos Lappas
Standing in lonely battlefield Sickness of mortality healed The fate of those who defy Their doom, he will deny
Landing a blow after a blow on each other between numerous dodges and parries, Sir Killian and Sturgar fought until the hunter knight received too many light injuries to go on. Genuinely smiling, he fell onto his knee while leaning his right hand onto the greatsword.
Ascends to the hall of his Goddess Found what was missing; solace Her champion for all times William, his name forever shines
A loud applause surrounded Hesiodos and the troupee when the song was over. After a deep bow, the faerie joined the lady on the table, where she was clapping and giggling. They bumped their ale tankards and took a long, rewarding swig. The old faerie couldn't remember the last time a drink tasted so good.
Sturgar offered his lower right hand to the exhausted knight, and Killian gladly took it. After helping him get up, he sheathed his greatsword, wiped sweat away from his forehead, and winked before making his way to the healing chamber. The healers treated his wounds as quickly as possible, then Killian went into his room, prepared for the feast, and joined Rodolf and Hestia. They celebrated for approximately an hour longer before Captain Rheinallt asked everyone to join his prayer, which announced the end of the feast. Visitors left the fort, soldiers prepared for night patrol, and the rest went to sleep in their rooms.
*Looks at the amount of text* Hmm, I wonder why I am late again?
No worries, your heroes will leave Werther Fortress and begin their long journey to the tournament city very soon! That chapter won't have as many moving pieces as this one did.
MTG Cardsmith Community Forums
Comments
First Round
Eighth Conclusion
Signature // Arena // Signature
Eighth Result
Cypherous had an amazing first impression, but his character didn't develop much after that. Conscience, on the other hand, has interacted with other characters and I am eager to see where the path she now treads leads.
@ChoyBoi - Conscience blew her way to the second round! You may create a new version of her or a new signature/companion card, but this time the maximum mana value of those cards is increased to 5!
@WarriorCatInAhat - Cypherous has died, but you may write what happens to his soul, then post any cards you had planned for his story.
The Tournament Bracket has been updated!
Nine
First Round's Conclusion
Letter Contents
~Rodolf
P.s. Don't mention this letter to anyone.
So sorry for the inconvenience.
Sang de Feu, Part 2
Imilia slowly drifted into consciousness, and forced her eyes open, causing flakes of dried blood to drift from her eyelashes and into her lap. Ignoring the pain in her limbs, she raised her arms just high enough to peel her hair away from her eyes. As her eyes traced the room, she gasped.almost every inch of the room was covered in jagged spikes of polished, smoky black glass. She stood up slowly, looking in wonder at the eldritch landscape her room had become. She took a step, but her unsteady legs caused her to trip, and she could only put out a forearm to stop her fall. Bracing for the pain of a hard impact, she was surprised to instead find that her forearm had instead cracked the wooden floor.
Could it be? No... She lifted herself from the floor, and looked at her forearm. Near imperceptibly thin black lines weaved themselves just under the skin. Imilia laughed as a humorless smile spread across her face.
Spinning where she stood, she launched a full force kick at one of the posts on her bed. Her foot went straight through the post, sending wooden splinters bouncing across the room. Her foot stung slightly, but it was unharmed, and after the ordeal she had just put herself through, the pain was negligible.
Whirling again to face one of the larger glass spikes, she swung a wild punch at it, and it shattered into countless pieces, each clattering off other spikes like a cacophony of wind chimes. The skin on her knuckles was shredded, but her fingers remained unbroken, and no blood was drawn.
As the realization of the results of her spell truly dawned on her, Imilia's laugh grew in intensity as her smile widened. A visage of pure sadistic glee.
She threw herself at the rest of her room, punching and kicking her way through the glass. Despite the skin of her hands and feet being violently torn away, she paid no mind. She could not, for until she had destroyed every last spike of glass, she could think of nothing but destruction.
When all the spikes had been destroyed and her breathing had slowed, Imilia turned her attention to the true purpose of her spell. The fly corpses lay seemingly untouched where the sigil had stood, but when she picked one up, she knew it felt much heavier and somewhat harder than a normal fly.
She pinched the fly between two fingers, and it didn't break, instead biting deep into her fingers. She tossed the fly aside and reached for the jar. It too felt slightly heavier than before. Imilia looked at it skeptically, before violently hurling it across the room, where it bounced off the stone wall and came to rest, unharmed, at her feet.
Perfect
To be continued...
On 1st of May 20.00 Central Standard Time, the feast begins in Werther Fortress, then your heroes leave right before dawn and journey to an eastern Evieran city where the Second Round will be hosted! The journey will take approximately a week, so you have one week time to create a new card for your hero or a new companion/signature card! Whichever card you decide to create, it's possible maximum mana value is now 5! This doesn't mean it HAS to have mana value of 5, the only requirement for the new card is that it emphasizes your hero's growth in any way you like.
@DrakeGladis - I'm technically super late, I had planned to finish this round couple of weeks earlier, and I'm not sure if other contestants want more delays. There is still time before Round 2 starts, and even if we leave today, you can write flashback chapters for your hero, which would tell what they did when they were still in Werther Fortress. But if others really don't mind staying in Werther Fortress a bit longer, then I could give more time until the departure. It would also help me prepare even better for the upcoming events of this story. Let's hear what others want first.
thanks so much for hosting anyway, tenebris. it has been a very fun experience. I'll be watching the tournament until it ends, and I hope I can redeem myself in the next one.
goodbye!
Sturgar breathed a sigh of relief. The aetherborn was gone. Yes, any death was to be mourned, but some more than others. Sturgar didn't have anything personal against the doctor, but he had feared him. With Cypherous eliminated, little could stop him. That noble girl seemed to leech away the magical essence of her foe, but Sturgar didn't have any of that. Oddly enough, this began to bother him. His dream shot violently into his mind. He looked down at himself and for one, mind shattering, horrifying moment, he saw his gleaming armor begin to liquify and melt. He quickly shook his head, blinking. When he looked once more, he was normal.
What if, he reflected, he was to combat an incorporeal foe, made of water or air? Or perhaps one with such impenetrable armor his weapons would be all but ineffective? He thought for a moment more. It was highly unlikely, but what if there was one more physically capable on the field of battle then himself? One that could best him, despite over two decades of training, a fully metal armored body, four arms and incredible mechanically augmented strength and reflexes? The though scared him. Never yet had he met his match, yet seeing the power among the contestants of the tournament, he began to realize that might soon happen. And what if his opponent was not only his match, but his superior? What if he was killed? He couldn't fail Nartheus like that. The man had many enemies, and Sturgar was the only one equipped to keep him safe. No, he wouldn't let that happen. He had trained obsessively since arriving at the fortress, but maybe that wasn't the answer. Learning magic was out of the question, he didn't know remotely where to start, and time was not on his side. That left him one option.
As they returned to the fortress, he pulled Nartheus aside, heading for the market.
"Sturgar, what on earth are you doing? Do you need something, because really, there is no need to rush-" Sturgar hurried the duke into Zordroth's workshop, slamming and bolting the door behind him.
"Hello there, you in a rush?" Zordroth looked up from his mug of coffee, slightly perplexed. "You uhh... need repairs? Or..."
Without wasting a second, Sturgar grabbed a pencil from the smith's design table and a piece of parchment and scribbled away.
Second round starting soon. Powerful opponent. Uses magic. Advanced self regeneration and capable in armed and hand to hand conflict. Need to be stronger.
As soon as he finished, he threw the parchment at the black smith and lay down on the table, waiting. Nartheus pulled up a chair, watching with a bemused expression on his noble face. He had never seen Sturgar so agitated and obsessed before, and it intrigued him.
"Well, then." Zordroth set down his mug, tied his apron round his back and cracked his knuckles. "You got money? It's not a charity here."
"Indeed." The duke tossed an unbelievably fat sac of gold at the smith, who caught it mid-air, smiling.
"You know, this is probably why people try to mug you on the streets."
Nartheus smiled, gesturing towards Sturgar, prone on the table. "They can certainly try."
Zordroth turned towards Sturgar, collecting his tools from his belt. "Alrighty then, let's see what I can do."
Here is my next card. It's a companion card, as I'm saving my "master design" of Sturgar in case I win my next match. Here's Zordroth:
Chapter Sixteen - Return to Malterra
Lyuben awoke in the back of a carriage with Ayden unconscious on top of him. The whole compartment was rocking back and forth as the carriage passed over a rocky path. Lyuben pushed himself up to a sitting position, letting Ayden’s head rest on his lap so that the messenger could continue sleeping. Lyuben tried to reach out towards the window, but his arms felt too heavy to do anything.
Ugh...what spell did Arin put on me?
The carriage halted abruptly. Cecilia opened the door to the back of the wagon, and climbed into Lyuben’s compartment. She sat across from the two boys.
“Hello, Lyuben,” Cecilia smiled evilly.
“I can’t believe you,” Lyuben spat, “You out of all people. I trusted you…”
“Your parents are waiting for you at home. They’ve...missed you.”
“You fully know what their intentions are! They’ll torture me.”
“They want to correct some wrongs.”
“Which are..? I thought you believed in me!”
“Yes, I believed in you. A short conversation with your mother made me realize my mistakes. I care for you Lyuben. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Lyuben rolled his eyes. “You know that my parents will hurt me! You know the pain I felt with a disapproving father.”
“Yes, but-”
“But?! What more is there to this? My parents betrayed me. Now my best friend did too.”
“There was no betrayal, Lyuben.” Cecilia scooted to the edge of her seat, coming closer to Lyuben, “Only a delusional boy who can’t see that his parents are trying to protect him!”
“From what, exactly?”
“I- I don’t know…”
Cecilia got up shakily and moved to Lyuben’s bench.
“Look, Lyuben-”
Lyuben clenched his fist.
“Get any closer and I’ll kill you,” Lyuben shouted to Cecilia. Even in his anger, he could feel a tear forming in his eye.
Cecilia moved back to her original seat. “Lyuben, we’re trying to protect you…”
“Then tell me! From what are you trying to protect me?”
“The abyss.”
The carriage stopped again, allowing Cecilia to exit and move back to the front compartment. The carriage continued forward on the rocky road.
I wish...I could be at the tournament again...with Imilia. Maybe she’d have found a way to get me out of this mess.
“He just doesn’t understand,” Lyuben heard Cecilia sigh to Arin and Ryan, “He needs his parents' protection just like I need mine. I was wrong to ever help him and his boyfriend in the first place.”
“You can’t hold the boy back forever you know,” Arin said, “I’ve seen and killed mages like him before. You can’t stop the abyss.”
“So, then we must restrict his freedoms. Hjordis knows what to do. She has conquered the forces of the abyss before.”
“Only for them to resurface back in her life,” Ryan added.
“All I’m going to say is, you can’t hold the boy back forever.”
“Then, each of us must do what he can. His father told me to take Lyuben to the dungeons upon arrival. That way there is no chance of an escape from their new castle.”
“And the other boy?” Ryan asked.
“He will be dealt with by Hjordis.”
Lyuben wiped the tear away from his eye and tuned out the voices in the front. The weight of betrayal hung heavy on Lyuben’s shoulders. He couldn’t escape. Not this time. Lyuben looked at Ayden, who still seemed asleep, then shifted his gaze out the window to the dry landscape. There was lots of sand and many small shrubs with an occasional tree in the distance. Lyuben spotted a clear stream that ran through the desert, like silvery tears that streaked across one’s face.
Why, Cecilia? I thought you cared. I thought you wanted to help me. Why is it that every person I’ve loved turns on me? What is it about me? About love?
W̷̘̔h̴̥͗ė̸̲n̴̟̋ ̴̹̚y̸͝ͅo̷̺̓u̶̗̿ ̴̘̄c̸͚͑a̸̯͐ñ̸͖'̷͓̕t̸̝̄ ̵̺̓ŕ̸̫e̷͕͋l̷̳̃ẙ̵̯ ̶̲͝o̸͈̊ņ̷́ ̷̗̊á̶̦n̵͚͊y̴͕͗ō̸̱n̷͓̈́e̴̮͑ ̵͍̏e̵̛͙l̵̂ͅs̴̤̈́e̶̳͒,̴̢͝ ̷͉̀s̵̪͠ḷ̷̏o̴͔͝ŵ̵̖l̸̻̎y̸̳͂,̵͉̋ ̴̗̾y̷̘̋o̸̧͠ű̵̥'̴̯̐l̶̒ͅl̶͙͝ ̴̝̓l̸͔̓e̵͚̍ä̵̙́r̵͉̅n̸̞͒ ̷̰͑t̸̰̒h̸͎̆é̶͙ ̶̘͐c̸̰͂o̷͖̅m̶̮͑f̸̩̋o̵̗̅ṙ̷̪t̴͎̐ ̸͍͊o̸͚͆f̵̠̀ ̵͕̀ț̵͂ȟ̶̟é̶͔ ̶̮͌a̸̪̚b̶̪͝y̶̰̌s̷̫͐ș̸̅
Shut up! I don’t want to hear your stupid advice!
S̸̟͒o̷̗͆ ̶̣͛y̴̺̒ô̵͇ṵ̵͠ ̴̗̿k̵͗ͅn̷̙̐o̸̰͐w̶͚̒ ̷̼̓I̷̻̾'̶̄͜m̶̹̾ ̶͉̅r̴̄͜i̴̝̋g̶͎͛h̸̺͊t̷̜͐?̶͈̔
Finally, after many long hours cooped up in the wagon, the scenery around the wagon changed once more. It was raining lightly in the area and they were now travelling on a narrow cobblestone road that ran between tall brick buildings. They had finally arrived in the heart of Malterra. They continued down the quiet street for a few minutes, then passed through grand black gates into a familiar courtyard. The castle Lyuben had destroyed was almost nearly rebuilt to its majestic state except for the west hall where he could spot hundreds of workers.
“Home. I- I’m home…”
“This is your house..?” Ayden was clearly in awe. “It’s huge! You left all of this behind?”
“Oh! You’re awake,” Lyuben smiled weakly, “And yes. I left all of this behind.”
“Why? I mean, yeah, your parents and all, but still!”
“Let’s say, money can’t buy me the freedoms I wanted. The freedom to love. The freedom to be myself. And now in a few moments I’ve lost the freedoms the tournament granted me.”
“We’ll find a way to get out,” Ayden reassured the prince, “I promise.”
The carriage stopped one final time. Three guards flung the door open. Two grabbed Lyuben and the other seized Ayden, who was now weaponless. Both the boys were dragged out. Standing in front of them was his mother: Hjordis.
“Ah, Lyuben...it’s so nice to see you again.”
Lyuben only glared at his mother. He didn’t want to hear her cold voice. He didn’t want to be in Malterra. Just then, the king walked out next to Hjordis.
“Our people will be so happy that our prince has returned,” the king paused dramatically, “Now, guards, take the prince to the dungeon!”
“What about this boy?” the man holding Ayden asked.
“Lady Hjordis will deal with him. You can take him to the hall outside the dungeon with the queen.”
“Yes, sir.”
The guards marched Lyuben and Ayden to the dungeons. Lyuben was thrown down a flight of stairs into a dark room. Then he heard a door slam shut. Lyuben hurried up the stairs and tried to break open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He listened to the voices behind the door.
----
“What should we do with this boy?” one of the knights asked.
Hjordis circled around him. “You’re a messenger, aren’t you?”
Ayden nodded.
“Yes, yes. I know your family. I’m surprised you of all people would side with Lyuben. It’s a shame, really.”
“Wh-what’s a shame?” Ayden inquired nervously.
“Fetch Arin. Tell her to kill this boy. We have no need for him here.”
No no no no no…
Lyuben heard footsteps outside the dungeons. Arin and Ryan hand entered the hall.
“Kill him.”
No no no no no…please don’t die!
W̴̹̏ḧ̷́͜ȧ̷̙t̴̞̓ ̵̺̚a̶̚͜ ̷͙̄s̸̪̿h̸͖̒a̷͇̔m̸͕͆e̸͍͑.̷̹̏.̴̳̑.̴͖͠â̴̪n̸̮͊ǒ̸̫t̵̳͝h̷̠͆ȅ̸̮r̸̯̚ ̵̤̊ľ̵̞ö̶̮́v̶̗̕e̸̛͈d̴͇͘ ̴̧́ö̵̟́n̴̞͊e̷̡̎ ̴͎͝ĝ̴̹ô̶̹n̴͙̕ë̸̼
Energy crackled in Arin’s palm loudly.
“Goodbye, Ayden,” Arin whispered mockingly, “We won’t miss you.”
Ayden’s scream pierced the air.
“AYDEN!!!!”
he truly was best boy
;(
but honestly, there isn't much of a chance...
Walk [1/2]
[Sometime before match 7]
(In collaboration with @DrakeGladis - thank you for working with me!)
Kaigan swished his tail experimentally, flipping the hems of his new tunic as he breezed across the grounds of Werther Fortress. He happily patted its various pockets and tugged at the sash tied around his waist. The fresh attire lifted his spirits in spite of the week’s uncertainties. He touched the spot on his chest where Steaphan’s sword had pierced him, tracing the phantom wound. There was still much to process but it was good to relish the lighter moments.
As he passed through the courtyard, he saw the old professor - Hadid, he’d said his name was - walking along a trail around the perimeter of the grounds. I haven't had much chance to talk to him yet, the kobold thought. Kaigan altered his course toward the mage and waved broadly.
Hadid looked up and returned the greeting. He indicated the path with an open hand. “I’m taking a stroll to clear my mind. You’re welcome to join me… if you’re not too busy of course.”
“I was gonna talk to Rezar, but I’ve got all day. Thanks.”
The two started off in step along the dirt walkway, the old man’s deliberate pace matching the kobold’s smaller strides. Kaigan tilted his head toward the mage. “Good job against Damien. I’m not sure what was up with him but at least it was a quick fight and he didn’t have to do too much. He said he was a pacifist and I think he meant it.”
Hadid looked away, scanning the treeline. “Damien is… remarkable in his own right. We are all gifted differently, but his greatest strengths will likely be realized off of the battlefield.”
Kaigan nodded solemnly. “I hope he finds peace.” A bird call echoed in the distance. “He offered to teach me to read, you know. Up in his room.”
The corners of Hadid’s eyes wrinkled in a smile. “That sounds like him. He’d be great at it too - you should take him up on it if the opportunity arises.” He glanced down at the kobold. “And congratulations to you as well! Your martial prowess spoke for itself against Iseabel.”
Kaigan sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks. I hoped that she would surrender like Noah did. Her death -” His breath caught in his throat. “Well, I don’t understand it. I’m not sure I want to at this point either. She chose it, I just have to live with… well, living. If I’d taken the sword instead she’d still be alive.”
Wind whistled through the nearby branches as the duo walked. Hadid scratched his chin as he studied the ground. “I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but may I offer a thought?” Kaigan nodded and Hadid continued. “We all like to believe that we have some great grasp on the world around us, that we’re masters of our destiny or some such. However, experience proves otherwise. There are events that are beyond us in scope and outside our hold, like what happened to Iseabel. It wasn’t your fault that she died. She made a choice, as you did.”
Hadid turned to the kobold. “Embrace the things that you impact greatly, Kaigan. Seize the moments you do have control over.” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “Sorry to get preachy. Long-winded today.”
The kobold smiled gently, though his countenance remained sad. “Oh, I will. And you’re right, I’m just… having issues. I’m sure I’ll eventually lay these worries to rest.” He cleared his throat as they continued walking. “So, why exactly does a mage enter this sort of competition? Most of the people so far don’t seem to be here to do much besides measure their skill, represent someone else, or they’re trying to use this for, like, political stuff.”
“That’s part of why I’m out here today,” Hadid said as he gestured at the open air. “I originally came for a more… academic purpose, but now I feel that I could potentially change things.”
He paused for a moment as his booted feet crunched against pebbles on the pathway. “The Tournament is seeking a Champion, one who can stand against incomprehensible forces and fight for a better world. Perhaps it’s idealistic, but what a capstone it would be for a lifetime of study. There’s no better culmination of years of theory, practice, and preparation than to use it for a cause larger than yourself.”
Kaigan stopped abruptly and looked up at the mage. He spoke softly. “You realize that’s the first time someone’s told me that they’re here to help people?”
Hadid turned toward the kobold, momentarily at a loss for words. Finding his composure, he smiled sadly. “Damien did say he’d help you learn to read, right?”
“Yes, but I mean the contestants here now.”
Hadid’s expression darkened. “The Tournament does seem to be a powerful platform for motives beyond the event itself, doesn’t it.”
“Yeah… I honestly don’t think there’s much in the way of ‘good winners’ for the kingdom.”
“What about you? You’re still among the contestants.”
Kaigan “Actually, I came here to help people too. Maybe it was naive of me, but I thought I could make a difference. Make this more like my home - peaceful. When I first arrived, I started by defending a coach that was being attacked by highwaymen. The driver and I fought them off and he helped me get here. I want to continue helping, even if it’s as small as stopping robberies and murders…”
Hadid nodded thoughtfully. “Small victories are still victories. And if hope makes you naive then we can be naive together.”
Kaigan giggled and kicked at a stick on the trail. “So yeah, do you think any other winner will be good for the people?” He quickly waved his hands, flustered. “I, uh, don’t mean that I’d be the only winner who is good! I meant more like, well, of the other contestants, who of them would genuinely help?”
“I suppose it’s hard to say.” Hadid motioned to a bench beside a large pond. Its wooden planks creaked as the two settled onto it. “The remaining contestants are all powerful and resourceful, no question about it. What concerns me is that though they are skilled, some harbor malice, brutality, a misguided sense of duty…” He gestured dismissively as the thought trailed off.
Kaigan fished in one of his pockets and produced the end of a loaf of bread. He crumbled bits between his fingers and tossed them toward the pond. Inquisitive birds began circling and descending to collect them.
Hadid turned in his seat to face the kobold. “Kaigan, you have accomplished much already. You have bested a strong opponent, befriended darn near everyone on the fortress grounds, and you’ve done it all with an indomitable spirit. You have the heart of ten men and the zeal to match. But…” The mage shifted slightly as he weighed his words. “Are you ready to be the Champion?”
Walk [2/2]
The gathered birds chittered at one another as they pecked at the bread pieces. Kaigan’s brow furrowed with thought as he watched them. He took several deep breaths before he answered.
“Prepared? No. I don’t think I am.” He gazed intently across the pond. “I don’t think anyone is. Being the Champion is huge. There’s like… thousands. Thousands of people out there and each of them looks to you for comfort, safety, and protection. Anyone who says they’re prepared for that is either lying or doesn’t know what they’re getting into. But someone has to do it. And while I may not make the perfect, ready champion, and I’d definitely make mistakes - if I even get there - I’d still do it. I’d still want to.”
Crumbs scattered as Kaigan punctuated his thoughts with his hands. “I’m not the most competent person in this tournament. Yes, I can swing a spear with skill and parry blows, but I don’t know how to do magic. I don’t even know how to read. I only know that I want to help and this is a chance for that. The people here need someone. Anyone.”
Kaigan’s tail twitched and he clicked his claws together. “So am I prepared for everything that will be thrown at me? No. Am I ready to give it my all anyway if I make it? Yes.” He turned to the mage with a steely expression. “Are you?”
Hadid met the kobold’s gaze, eyebrows raised in admiration. “Eloquently said.” He folded his hands and settled back on the bench. “Based on your wise words, I certainly don’t want to be a liar or delusional, so... I suppose not. Though in many ways this is what I’ve spent my entire career preparing for. Maybe that’s a start.”
The two turned back toward the pond. The birds began to disperse, sensing that they had excavated all that was edible. A few chirped disappointedly as they glided across the water back into the trees. A few moments passed in silence before Hadid spoke again.
“Your passion is commendable, Kaigan. When the time comes that we must fight each other, I will face you not as a destroyer but as a protector, defending those that need it. In that moment, we will be adversaries.” He stood and held out his hand to the kobold, smiling warmly. “But only for that moment I hope.”
Kaigan hopped up and firmly accepted the handshake. “Very well. And if you win, know that I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines, then I’ll see what difference one kobold can make alone.”
Hadid watched as Kaigan turned and began walking back toward the courtyard. He couldn’t help but think that the monk’s posture was a bit straighter and his head was held higher than before. He carried himself not as a lost kobold, but perhaps as a Champion.
Hadid hummed to himself as he resumed his walk. You’ll never be alone, Kaigan. Your bright spirit draws others in and warms them like the sun.
Ten
The Feast
Days darkened by undying hate
All taken by the Abyss's might
Save for his burning will to fight
Chains of destiny are gone
Into heat of war he rides
For the name of loyalty dies
With his blade, carved history
Final breath, for uncertainty
Embraces the prize of eternity
Art: Manthos Lappas
Sickness of mortality healed
The fate of those who defy
Their doom, he will deny
Found what was missing; solace
Her champion for all times
William, his name forever shines
No worries, your heroes will leave Werther Fortress and begin their long journey to the tournament city very soon! That chapter won't have as many moving pieces as this one did.