@Jonteman93 I made a small update to fix my "companion" card. I also fixed my submission to use the new version, but I'll link the card here too in case that's more convenient.
Champion: Companion: Kraig's Statistics: Race/Species: Lightning Dragon. Age: 290 (Adult dragon). Gender: Male. Height: 12' 5". Weight: 1050 lbs. Alignment: Neutral. Personality: Intelligent, quick, and calm. Occupation: None, sometimes bounty hunter (To practice combat skills and to enlarge hoard). Plane of Origin: Eldraine.
Backstory: As a hatchling, Kraig showed an unusually strong affinity for magic. It all started when one day evil wizards were trying to capture him and keep him as a pet. They tried to cast a capturing spell. Instead, Kraig absorbed the magic, grew stronger, and was able to destroy all of them but one, who fled. Another time, he was sparring with a hatchmate, and the hatchmate cast a lightning bolt, thinking he would win, but Kraig absorbed the magic again and ended up winning the match. As an adult, he moved to a mountaintop lair, where he hoarded magic items. He worked as a bounty hunter several times, only hunting difficult quarry and for large bounties, insisting to be paid mostly in magic items so he could be in the presence of more magic and absorb it if he was attacked in his lair. One of his former quarries was Rowan, which he fought for a while, absorbing all her magic attacks, until King Kenrith's knights intervened, and they ended up being friends. Searching for even harder quarry, he found a "Tournament of Champions", which he joined wanting to test his skills against other "champions" and maybe even prevail and get stones of heaven to add to his hoard.
@kaoz42 Just to let you know, the artist for Kraig's Lightning is Michael Komarck. (I don't know about the artist for Kraig himself, I just recognize the instant's art from Hearthstone)
“I love you grandma!”
I eargerly run up to her and place a flower in her lap. One of the big yellow-petaled ones, the kind
I know she likes. I bounce in place
eagerly, expecting her to laugh and pick me up like I normally do when I bring
her a small gift.
She picks up the stem slowly, observing the flower’s
drooping face. Her face has anything but joy on it. Her wrinkled hands trembled- the first time I
saw her showing her age.
“Oh honey,” She sighed. “Why did you pluck this oguera bloom?”
I hesitate. Something
in her eyes tells me I messed up. The disappointment
in them somehow registered in my little mind.
“Be-cause I know you like them?” I offer this explanation
up, but it sounds small, empty in the face of her looming solemnity.
“I do love them Ravina.
I love them. I love you, and I know you love me.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m disappointed
though. By plucking this flower, you
killed it.”
“I…. killed it?”
“Yes honey, you killed it. Not only that, I cannot go see it
each day now that it is plucked. It will
wilt and become brown and ugly now.”
My eyes start to tear up at the thought. My grandma nods to herself, then hugs me
tight.
“Hush little one. It’s ok.
Just… Promise me you won’t kill things, even for people you love.”
The first time I manipulated earth…. Well, it was an
accident. It’s something I knew I might be able to do. All the kids did. Most of us wanted it; the typical impulsive
desire to be special, to be Chosen™ by the universe for a special fate.
We were playing a game. It wasn’t important what the game
was, we just wanted to play. There was a
sheeps bladder being kicked around; inflated and tied off with twine it served
our entertainment well. It was chucked
to me. I dived for it, and it sailed
over my head. I was foolish and in the
moment wanted nothing more than to catch the ball. And….. I did.
Well, I kind of did. I created a
hand and it caught the bladder for me.
Not that it mattered.
The game effectively ended as soon as it happened. I was surrounded by the rest of the kids. I enjoyed it, a moment in the sun as they
envied me and were wowed. The hand just….
Felt like a third hand to me. Weird, of
course, but also entirely under my control.
It didn’t last for long, and it
didn’t do much, disappearing back into the ground with a little wave. The adults were told about it, and then. Well, my life as a child ended. Our shaman took me in and made me grow up
fast.
My first time killing someone else? It was at 15.
We were shepherding outside of a major city in one of the Vassal
States. It doesn’t matter which, they’re
basically the same. Anyway, the humans
inside came up with some reason or another, and they attacked us.
It wasn’t a battle, it was a
raid. If we had a few less defenders, it
would have been a slaughter. Half our
sheep died or were stolen, and no family was left without a casualty. My grandmother died there. I wasn’t there to protect her, I was out trying
to protect the flock. I didn’t just kill
one man that night. I killed three. With the hands of dirt, it was too easy. I don’t know their strength still, but they’ve
crumpled chestplates before. I don’t
know which died first, my promise to my grandma or her. A foolish promise, but I hope that she was
dead before I broke it.
My family is safe now, as safe as they can be at least. My friends and their family, and everyone
else I care about? We’re hidden, up in
the mountains somewhere. Or, rather,
they are. I trust that they can defend
themselves and the sheeps from the cold.
I won’t say more than that.
I’m not sure why I’m down here. I know that there are stones that grant great
power being found, and I believe that I am in a unique space to leverage their stuff.
I am looking for them, or rather, searching for traces of them. I try to feel under the earth just as much if
not more than above it, praying that one is buried in dirt or rock for me to
find.
Age: Ravina is somewhere in her early 20's; she stopped counting after her childhood ended.
Height: She's a bit short for humans, but fine for saytrs at 4'9"
Weight: 96 lbs
Power: Ravina is trained in traditional shamanistic practices. She has a wide array of minor magics she can do, most of them healing or protective of both the body and soul. Additionally, she has massive terramancy powers that she's still getting used to. It is something that isn't unheard of in her tribe, but there isn't any proper training for it so it's more of a blunt instrument of instinct than anything else.
Speed: Mostly normal. Hypothetically, she has a burrow speed as well, but it's never been tried.
Range: High. Mainly due to earth-based powers, the limit to range of attack is farther than a bow in most situations, although it's mitgated if the attacker is on water or in the air. Projectiles can still be launched at them, but they cannot be as easily hit with the hand attacks.
Durability: Low. Ravina herself is as frail as any standard mortal. Her shamanistic magics are best suited to the protection of others, and her earth powers allow her to not take hits that might kill her, but stripped of her powers she would be easier to kill than a number of humans.
Precision: Mid at best. Ravina's had little practical use with her earh magics. It's instinctive, but their attacks are mostly of the crushing or smashing variety, rather than precise manipulation. She can reliably hit a person if they are melee with their hands, but at range it's literally a toss-up.
Potential: Pretty high. As she is now without any stones, she could become a powerful earth mage, but the odds of that in another circumstance are low. Now that she is out in the wide world she could get far more powerful-if nothing happens to her first.
Ravina wishes to aquire the Lava Stone for herself to hopefully compliment her earth powers, if it was not clear. I believe that is Stone 3.
Personal details can be found out through interactions!
[Space reserved for intro segment, I don't know exactly what I want to do for it but figure I should probably get my entry in before it's too late. Also I'm leaving for 4th of July weekend and will have limited time to attempt to make an entry if I don't do it now.]
Introducing Berrymore and Thorn, an unlikely duo of cat and mouse forced together after invaders destroyed their homeland. After hearing rumors of the powerful Stones of Heaven, the two of them have begun their journey to collect the stones in hopes of using their power to retake and restore the home that they lost.
Berrymore Race: Mousefolk Age: 21 Height: 3'4" Gender: Male Abilities: Adept with a variety of weapons, very dexterous, has a connection with Breeze, his moth companion. Fighting Style: Knows he usually can't overpower opponents, so usually uses his nimbleness and small size to outmaneuver them instead. Tries to keep the opponent occupied so Thorn has the opportunity to cast his ranged spells. Personality: Quite serious and formal, likes to do things by the book and stay as close to his morals as possible. Lawful Good alignment.
Thorn Race: Catfolk Age: 25 Height: 4'5" Gender: Male Abilities: Is a talented necromancer, able to use necrotic spells to damage his opponents as well as get information from the dead. Fighting Style: Tries to stay further away from the opponent, using magic to provide covering fire for Berrymore. Also has the ability to call on the spirits of the area's deceased to aid him in battle. Personality: Is somewhat of a wild card, likes experimenting with strategies and ways of doing things. Is quite likely to take risks, and is not especially tethered to what would generally be considered the "moral" thing to do. Chaotic Neutral alignment.
Your heroes are not the only ones who pursue the stones of heaven. There are other out there who have a desire to claim the sunstone for themselves, either for those they serve, or for themselves. There might be hundreds or even thousands of them, each trying their luck, skill and wits to overcome the challenges to claim stones. Most will not even be able to claim a single stone but some are believed to make it all the way to Solastir.
One of the more popular ones is the guest prince of Stellastir, the third son of the royal family in Evali but whom will be left without an heritage from his father. He is Prince Amir, a swordsman whom proved to be more skilled with controlling his sword than actually handling it. He uses magic to channel spirits from the nether whom takes control of his blades and strike down his enemies from the shadows.
He is a noble prince even though he is not destined for a throne of heritage, though he do seek the throne Evali, he seek another throne - a throne of a far greater city. The prince has gathered a strong following in the republic of Qaran as he spent much time of the war trying to defend the city of Stellasir when the Dormanian attacked with their fire breathing dragons - but to the overwhelming enemy even he could not turn the tide of battle, and he had to flee letting the enemy claim both the city and the stone of the stars. Ashamed of the loss he could do nothing but flee south where he would find out that the Shambakin of Solastir have lifted the barricade towards Solastir to anyone who can prove themselves worthy.
It was when the young prince stayed for the night in a small village where he would first be recognized as a great contender to enter the ancient city of Solastir and claim the sunstone. Sadly not for his own merits but for who's shadow he stand in.
Prince Amir is the son to a woman who's father is known as the greatest warrior of Alsolamon to ever have lived. Perhaps the greatest warrior of the entire world. There was no beast nor any man or monster that Bhamun Sahul Salagin could not beat. Yes - that was his name - the great Bahamun, the undefeatable, the immortal, the demigod. He had many names and titles but even more achievements to his honor. Even his very existence reformed the armies of Viserus, Opala, Qaran and so many more.
One day, Bahamun left and traveled north-east to a land that was unclaimed by man. Since then he had never been seen as decades past and his fame turned to legend. Now his grandson seek to stand in his shadow no longer, but beside him as his equal - as king and restorer of Solastir.
Prince Amir Salagin Nassour is pursuing the 10th stone of dust in Karaktus.
Please note that any of the following, no matter how big or small, is changeable if it steps on the toes of the existing world - if any detail doesn’t make sense for the setting, I will change it as soon as possible.
Seven hails from the alternate plane of Tyris, a world created with the bare minimum of magic and having more WW2 themes than Avelaide. It’s at some point in the timeline of this world that they begin to notice abyss rifts forming, allowing spirits out and in the form of dangerous creatures. Hence, the formation of the Vae’vyn, ten warrior automatons powered by spirit fragments gathered by the researchers of Tyris.
The seventh Vae’vyn had the role of a defender, able to cross the battlefield quickly to put a shield between an ally and an incoming strike. This shield is like no other, however - through a wonder in spirit engineering, it holds the ability to store the energy of attacks which hit it to be released in the form of kinetic energy. This kinetic energy manifests in the form of the automaton’s momentum, allowing for it to travel quickly between incoming strikes.
It was then on one attack appearing to be from a larger rift that a blast of pure abyssal energy hit the Vae’vyn. Programming stepping in, the seventh of the warriors dashes to the front of the group to have the shield take the attack. However, the amount of energy it absorbed was too great and had to be released immediately. The defender was shot directly into the abyssal rift by its own uncontrollable momentum.
Whilst in the abyss, the shield continued to gain energy, with the automaton continually accelerating. With no reference for how much time passed, the energy absorbed was enough for it to reach incalculable speed. However, the shield was not the only part of the seventh absorbing the abyss’s energy.
The soul fragments powering the construct absorbed enough energy to become aware, forming three distinct minds - (Zeal), [Fury] and {Hope}. Together, as emblazoned on their shared body and shield, they call themselves Seven.
Eventually, Seven’s momentum is so large that they break the barrier between the abyss and Avelaide, ejected unceremoniously through time and space into the ground.
tl;dr: Seven is a fast shield-bearing construct piloted by three souls.
Stats
Age: ??? Height: 2.5m (8’2”) Weight: 100kg (~220lbs) Gender - None, but “they” is used to refer to the multiple souls
Power: Seven was built for defence, not offence, but a heavy fast-moving construct is likely to pack a blow. Speed: Potentially limitless, although in practice variable as momentum increases as the shield absorbs kinetic energy. However, being built for speed, Seven is often incredibly quick by most standards. Range: Seven has no range whatsoever, making up for it in the ability to close the gap between them and a target Durability: Being built as a defensive automaton, Seven is very durable, especially when the shield can absorb attacks. Precision: Seven’s lack of range or method of attack aside from charging leaves their precision low. Potential: Seven’s potentially unlimited momentum allows for great potential - the full power of the shield is yet to be found.
Fighting Method Being build for defence, Seven doesn’t have any obvious means of attack. However, the spirits’ hunger for speed isn’t misplaced in terms of a means of combat. Seven will accelerate over the course of a fight and charge into an enemy when the time is right. The shield is physically integrated into Seven’s body, able to be quickly manoeuvred to the direction of an incoming attack.
Personality and Motivations The souls’ consciousness is new to the world and guided by the remnants of the Vae’vyn programming and whispers of the experiences of the fragments that make them up. (Zeal) embodies the need to forge a path out of the newfound existence and to find meaning in it. [Fury] embodies the vengeful spirit, unrelenting in a path towards power. {Hope} embodies the drive to continue on in pursuit of purpose and an optimism that one exists to be found. Together, they’ve decided that the one clear memory they share of hurtling through the abyss must be their reason for being so pursue power as a means to become ever faster. When acting towards this goal, their will is as one.
Contenders of the stones 2 - Tzhubala, Seeker of Zul
The southern part of the continent has not always been unified in a cause, to be honest, it is rather the opposite. War has teared the region of Zumbala for hundreds of years, both small and large.
There are many reasons for the kingdoms of Zumbala to wage war against each other - minerals of the earth such as gold and silver, divine water from wells deep inside the jungles, lands and riches, people and cultures. The strong wins the battle, the wise outlives the winner - and there are none as strong and wise as the divine spirits of the jungles that has been given form of elephants.
The people of Zumbala never had a reason to hate their northern neighbors more than their so called "brethren" until one day long ago when the northerners came to hunt, and what did they hunt for? Well elephants of course, but not just any elephants - the white elephants. This was seen an act of war, and it unified the people of Zumbala against a common enemy - at least for a short time.
It does not matter whom you are, be it human or giant, a warrior of the eastern savannah or a merchant of the great cities of the west, a druid from the jungles of Zundat, or a royal prince from the shattered kingdom of Zimaque. What defines the people whom call themselves Zumbala is not culture, the way of living, language or land, not even skin color. Those that came for the white elephants where themselves black of skin from Sabrah and Zalan. No it is their eternal respect for the elephants whom host the spiritual essence of their ancestors among others.
Many great people of Zumbala have dedicated their entire lives for the elephants, some even grow special connections to them. One of these warriors is a man of common birth from Bughyra by the name Tzhubala, caller of the ivory king. Yes - the ivory king, Katto. That is whom Tzhubala grew a connection to. A huge grey elephant with tusks that glow at dawn and dusk, a king he is called by the people.
With the fires of war burning ever hotter, Tzhubala led a campaign of warriors together with their new allies from a place very far to the north called Dormania, into Khozu. There he would find out about a stone of heaven that was being kept in a fortress in Terdion. After further investigation, Tzhubala would get to know of the other stones, specially the sunstone whose mere existence in the hands of the people of Alsolamon was a great insult towards Zumbala where the sun was at it strongest.
Tzhubala made up his mind, he would pursue the sunstone and bring it home where it belong, and with it bring balance to Zumbala. He gathered a small following and his partner, Katto, and he set off for the city of Terdion.
At the start of this contest, Tzhubalu has pursued and already collected the stone of echo from Terdion. He now sets off deeper into enemy land seeking clues for the next stone.
The game begins in 16 hours. Then you will all be given a stone to pursue. Those who have requested a stone will pursue said stone. Everyone else will be provided a random stone.
Contenders of the stones 3 - Alissa, the Red Knight
For some, pursuing the stones of heaven and the sunstone do so for honor and fame. Others pursue the stones for power or wealth. Some pursue them so they can study them. Others so they can win the war. Then there is one whom seek the sunstone for revenge.
From the north they came taking cover in the dark shadows of the sky. A silent and calm night. It was so silent that not even the spirits could have thought that this night would be the start of the most terrible war to come. They had expected an attack from Dormania, but they had never expected this kind of force. One moment the men saw shadows descending in the dark from the northern sea. They did not even have time to think of what it could be before a barrage of dragon fire covered their ships and fortifications. Panic ran amok among the men. Some tried to raise their guns and cannons towards their attackers but they were quickly baptized by flames for a cruel and not quick enough death.
About one hour later, the flames had reached the great city of Stelladora who had been given time to prepare - but nearly enough. Like a tsunami of flame the walls of the city where tested to their limits within the first moments of the war. The city's defenses were strong but its fate was decided in the first night. The remaining days it took for it to fall where only to prolong its end. Words of the attack had now spread through the entire continent and Asolamun marched out to war.
Among the ranks of the Dormanian dragon riders where a woman with red hair who rode upon one of only a dozen almost mythical black royal dragons. This dragon of hers was extra special for it was the sister to the dragon who's death had started this war to begin with. Alissa, having the kozhava bond with her dragon treated the death of her dragon's sibling like it was her own sibling. Something which she would not allow to go unpunished. Thus when she found out about the sunstone, one of the other two celestial stones to the one that had been captured in the city, was not in the hands of their enemies, she decided to investigate further.
She found out that if Dormania captured the sunstone, the shambakin would be forced to surrender to the demands of Dormania. It would be the perfect opportunity to shatter the powerful empire once and for all, and maybe one day the dragons could return to this continent where they once where hunted to extinction.
Alissa is chasing stone 12, the stone of mirrors, which is being located in Khartom.
A white dove with a broken wing sat in a glade, ready to die. It sensed as something huge and unfamiliar closed by, stomps on the forest ground drawing near. Sunlight shined upon its dirty feathers, showing all the world how vulnerable it was. A twig snapped right behind, and it turned its head to look.
Whatever it saw was much taller than a fox or a cat. The large shadow was enough to make the bird desperately flutter its wings in vain. The being got hold of the dove, but it didn't sink claws into its body. Instead it gently stroked its head and feathers. A soothing voice of a young woman sang in elven tongue:
Hush now, little one Ahead yet awaits life This storm will soon be gone And we shower again in sunlight
The dove stopped rocking from side to side as it calmed down and looked at the elf. Its eye met vibrant blue eyes under vivid red hair, covering half of the pale elf's smiling face. She kept stroking and humming as she opened her satchel and slowly placed the dove inside. Upon closing it, she looked around the forest with a focused eye. Her smile faded as she heard the howling of wind and that of a distant wolf. She put on a hood of her green cloak and quickly left the glade.
Hour of walking later she found a path, and followed it south. The silence which accompanied her for a long time was broken by heavy footsteps as a large man in untended leather armor walked from behind a tree to the middle of the road, purposefully blocking the elf. The bald and bearded man whistled silently as he was carving a piece of wood in his hand with a dagger.
"These roads are dangerous, lass," he said in a deep voice, still focusing on the wood carving. "Dangerous for caravans..." piece of wood fell from the carving. "... for merchants ..." another loud carve with the dagger. "... and especially for lone travelers."
The blade rang with the last slice, and the middle-aged brigand slowly turned to face the hooded elf. The unfinished carving resembled the elf herself, and upon that realization she slowly backed away from the man until she heard more footsteps from behind. Two more leather-armored brigands stood on the road, carrying chipped hunting swords and grinning under their threadbare hoods.
"I see you've come from far away," the bearded man said in a mockingly friendly way. "But this forest is our home. We do everything we can to survive, and uhh..." he rubbed his thumb and index finger together. "kind donations are very much appreciated."
"I've no money to give thee," the elf said, and continued even though the younger brigands were amused by her way of talking. "And I'm not passing through thine home either. One of my kin had last been seen in these lands. If thou help me find him, I'm willing to give thee anything I carry."
"One of your kin, eh?" the bearded man smiled as he flipped the carving in his hand. "I'm afraid the only elves I've met here have had their ears cut off and left to hang from their necks." His delivery made the younger brigands laugh. The dove in the elf's satched moved around, and the elf placed her hand onto it to stop it from shaking.
"If you don't want to end up the same way," he put the carving into a belt pouch and pulled another dagger from its sheath. "hand over everything you got, right now."
The three brigands slowly walked towards the elf, who grunted and wrapped her fingers around her sheathed longsword's elaborate handle. Her hand shook as she glanced at the approaching men one at a time, not sure whom would attack first.
"Move out of the way," someone said audibly further back. Everyone stopped moving, the elf and the three brigands. Then they looked at who talked.
Monastir - the city of the moon. Sitting across the Mona river that reaches from the Mona lake to the great eastern sea, the city has grown to become one the greatest cities in the entire world. Being home to more than 3 million people no other city outside of Ephanieriora could match its size and power nor its beauty.
(art by Styoo)
From behind the palm trees, the sun is burning bright in the sky. But the air is not very hot, the contrary actually, it's quite chill. Temperate winds blow in from the Muna river and from the long and complicated networks of man-made contraptions and rivers leading water through the many farmlands outside of the city. Turning towards the huge city that almost shining a diamond in the sunlight, huge sculptures and buildings would cross the horizon and reach towards the sky in the midst of the city. Among the huge constructions, one would draw the eyes anyone who looked the city. A bright light of blue and white was shining from the very top of a complicated building decorated in blue gold and white silver with paintings covering the walls and towers. The temple of the moon - the seat of the Shambakin, had stood for decades, and would for decades more.
Entering the city the streets quickly became filled with people seeking to make trade in the large forum market, one of twenty-two such ones around the city. Moving past the market one is almost overwhelmed by smells of fresh food, fruits, vegetables, fish, meat and spices but also wines and mead. It is said that if one wanted try everything there was to taste in the great city of the moon, one would become old and wrinkled before accomplishing it upon which they would have forgotten the firsts tastes so they would have to start anew.
Fountains, oh so many fountains. It is as if every building and street corner has their own fountain. These people do not just call themselves the masters of water - they seek to prove it as they have spread it everywhere. They even made the water work for them as the water would make contraptions move to lift entire platforms far up above the ground. Other times they use steam for the purpose.
Moving across the market and further into the city, one is met by many people of different cultures and oh so many colors. If one would have known less, one would think that black, grey and brown colored clothes where illegal or something. One continues past many people interesting enough to be given multiple paragraphs of text to describe them, but there is no time - there is only time for everything.
One finally arrives at a large villa standing in the middle of a great garden with palm trees, flowers and strange bushes all around in controlled patterns. A guard dressed in blue and silver welcomes you and opens the door into the academy. As you enter the hall you are greeted by a scholar dressed in white and green. The man welcomes you out into the garden as a servant offers you both a glass of wine.
Saamir is the name of the man who takes you on a tour around the garden to watch the delicate decorations and the architecture. As time passes and you make it through the great garden and around the house, Saamir leads you to woman dressed in blue sitting beside a fountain. In her hands she is holding book that absorbs both her eyes and mind. Saamir sits down beside the woman who keep her eyes into the text for a moment longer. Then she puts a feather into the book, shuts it and puts it aside.
"But you are not
here to look at stones and fountains no? You are here to learn of a
distant time, a time great conflict, tragedy, suffering, rise of heroes and legends. Let us tell you a story that is not only worth remembering, but to tell." The woman, Saahira, took out a book from a pocket of her dress and opened it. "We'll begin at the beginning." she said as her eyes fell onto the first page.
Since we have 9 players there won't be an elimination in the first stage.
This means that everyone will succeed in pursuing the stones which have been designated to you but there is no fight (unless that is how you choose to solve the challenge, or if you include a fight in the story).
What you are supposed to do now is to write how your hero deals with and solves the challenge to claim the stone. This will be important for determining the winner in stage 2.
You have all been given the stone that you desired, with one exception. The rest have been given a stone at random from the remaining ones. Since there is 8 stones and 9 heroes, an additional stone will be included. More of that further down.
The stones and their pursuers are:
Stone 1 - The spirit stone. Pursued by: theirintheattic with Id, the Wandering Vessel.
Stone 2 - Gemstone of illusions Pursued by: kaoz42 with Kraig, the Relentless Thunder
Stone 3 - Lava stone
Pursued by: DrakeGladis with Ravina, Grasp of the Earth
Stone 4 - Sky amulet
Pursued by: Usaername with Neseas, Intrepid Chronicler
Stone 5 - Mist stone
Pursued by: Tonysparks with Godara, Thudering Feet
Stone 6 - Forge stone
Pursued by: AxNoodle with Seven, Last of the Vae'vyn Since two had chosen stone 3, Seven was given stone 6 to pursue instead.
Pursued by: TenebrisNemo with Sara, Runaway Princess
Stone 9 - The stone of the wilds
Pursued by: Aggroman15 with Berrymore, Hope of the fields.
In my next update (in about 22 hours) I will give a bit more information regarding the challenge which you face for the stones as well as providing you with the 9th stone.
You may already now begin writing your hero's journey to claim the stone.
Deadline to commit said story and solution is 1 - 2 weeks.
I will begin posting the stones for stage 2 in about 1 week or so (depending on life circumstances). You will be allowed to claim one of those stones after you have provided a short text how your hero solved their challenge for the current stone.
Failing to provide a solution to the challenge will lock you out of claiming a stone.
Failing to provide a solution before the encounter in stage 2 will penalize your hero severely.
At the foot of the mountains at the border between Sivali and Maz'orun rests a jungle. This jungle is not of great size nor is it ancient like the jungle of Zundat, no it is actually a very young jungle. One hundred years ago there was a barren savanna here with barely a single tree.
Then one day, a merchant came traveling on his wagon to make trade in the neighboring kingdom. As he navigated the somewhat barren terrain one wheel hit a boulder in the soil that shook the entire wagon. The merchant woke up from his pseudo slumber and looked around to see what had happened. After a moment he continued down the path without him realizing that he had dropped something - an orange stone.
As the year passed, the land began to grow wild with grass and animals, and before long an entire jungle had grown in its place. Most travelers avoid the jungle for they speak of an orange eye watching them from the shadows of the trees. Some speak of ferocious animals that stalk in the night around the jungle, preying on anything that come too close.
There is not a single correct way to solve the challenges. How you solve them is up to you and your hero.
Stone 1 - The spirit stone.
The ancient king might be dead but his armor is controlled by the spirits of the dead, and they won't give up without a fight. The armor makes the king almost invulnerable to to any damage that you can deal to him with the equipment you carry. But the king is not the obstacle, the armor and the spirits are. The king is controlled by the armor which is controlled by the spirit. Deal with one of them and the king shall fall.
Stone 2 - Gemstone of illusions
Illusions. Nothing is real. Swimming in the water will only lead to you drowning in the sand. Perhaps the water is not the solution but merely a bait?
Stone 3 - Lava stone
The stone is protected by a band of miners and soldiers, a band of mercenaries. They have spent much time and money to reach the stone and will not let go of it easily without av fight. But perhaps there is another way to claim the stone without a fight?
Stone 4 - Sky amulet
A bird protected by a hawk who's loyal to his death protecting the life of the princess. A hawk should be an easy target, but what the stories fail to mention is what kind of hawk he is. The hawk is big, very big. Standing on his legs he stand as tall as three fully grown men. Even dragons would be vary of threatening the princess with him around to protect her.
Stone 5 - Mist stone
The island is covered in mystery, traveling in the mist from place to place. Or does it?
The mist is suspected to make those that stay too long in it it to become confused and delusional. Perhaps the stories of a traveling island of death is just them being unable to separate what's real and what is a dream. Staying on the island for too long make them unable to find food for themselves or perhaps they just don't feel hunger?
Stone 6 - Forge stone
The stone is very straight forward being kept in a weapon factory. With the weapons around and the many workers, a direct attack would probably be unwise. Or perhaps that is exactly what kind of distraction one would need.
Stone 7 - The stone of the twin snakes
The man is not a warrior, but killing him might not be as easy as assumed. The man has power over life and death after all, and a large number of soul shards resides within him. A different strategy is probably needed.
Stone 8 - The gem of song and beauty.
A crowd of a thousand slaves to her song and beauty. They are weak, fragile, but they are many and with no sense of self preservation they won't think for a second to keep themselves safe - as long as the song and beauty continues to embrace their malnourished hearts - or what is left of them.
Stone 9 - The stone of the wilds It is not only the jungle that have grown large by the stone. In its shadows a great tiger is guarding the stone like a mother guarding her egg. How would one separate the mother from her egg, and disappear before the smoke clears?
"Never before had I witnessed such an abundance of freedom and life concentrated in a single place. It dawned on me that in our pursuit of perfection within the monastery, we had failed to appreciate what truly mattered. Although we were granted liberties and opportunities to socialize with our fellow monks, we were constantly driven to outdo ourselves. Not that self-improvement is inherently negative; even now, I acknowledge the need for personal growth.
In this desert city, which I now call home, I have discovered solace and tranquility. It has been quite some time since I arrived here, and even longer since I first heard whispers about the upcoming tournament—a gathering shrouded in rumors of an invincible beast and an ancient relic. As I traversed the scorching sands of this city, a task made bearable by both the warm-hearted inhabitants and my rigorous training, I gradually shed the remnants of the anger I once possessed as a monk. However, a new fire has been kindled within me—a fire I hesitate to label as rage, but rather a fierce determination.
Legends speak of the relic, concealed within an intricate web of deceit and guarded by an indomitable serpent—its ebony scales reflecting darkness, while its countless heads defy comprehension. Countless souls have perished in pursuit of this artifact. Yet, perhaps by obtaining this mysterious relic of the mists, I can prove my worth not only to the people of this land but also to my master, once and for all. I long to show him that he misjudged my abilities and that I am far from weak. Now, I pause my journey to Monastir, redirecting my path toward the fabled islands, where my rightful destiny awaits."
They say war is a ravenous beast, insatiable for territory, riches, and beliefs. As Godara sets foot in the lands of Kazar, this truth becomes increasingly evident. Archaic contraptions of steel and fire ravage the battlegrounds, engulfed in a seething conflict. Godara witnesses the unfathomable machinery and weapons that have never graced the lands of Godara, decimating the masses. Wherever peace is absent, remnants of under-industrialized cities lie in ruins, overshadowed by towering monoliths of oligopolies. As Godara edges closer to the self-proclaimed capital, Salamon, the horrors of war intensify.
Days have passed since Godara embarked on this perilous journey—an expedition that would have been swifter had he possessed knowledge of the land. Nevertheless, what matters now is that Godara has persevered, relying on a mixture of speed, fortune, and the occasional hitched ride with caravans, which consumed far more time than anticipated. Now, seated on his final caravan, accompanied by armed soldiers and a guide—a comforting presence in Godara's thoughts—he nears the culmination of his odyssey. The jingle of coins signals the moment of parting as the caravan bids farewell, leaving Godara within the confines of Salamon.
As Godara steps foot into the city, opulence greets him. Compared to other locales ravaged by this relentless conflict, the affluent inhabitants of Salamon live in blissful ignorance, shielded from the grim reality. Military personnel escort captured rebels, and amidst the chaos, a man's voice pierces through, declaring, "This is not a war; it is a massacre!" Ignoring the comment, Godara remains impartial to both sides of the conflict, fully focused on his quest to obtain what he came for. He makes a beeline for the bustling port of Salamon, wasting no time lingering in this city.
Aware of the intricately designed machinery that dominates the landscape, Godara realizes that earning a living here will prove challenging compared to other places. Laborers and skilled workers are not in high demand. After hours of persuasion and negotiation with various port authorities and sailors, Godara finally encounters a reclusive hermit willing to undertake the task. Boarding the weathered vessel, far removed from the grandeur of the modern motor ships that have progressed beyond the hermit's reach, Godara sets sail toward the enigmatic isles that await him.
Nightfall shrouded the sky, blurring the boundaries between water and heavens. The encroaching darkness, an unfamiliar sight to Godara in the realm of reality, bore an eerie sense of familiarity. The old man's lantern cast a feeble glow, reflecting upon the inky vastness of the surrounding waters as well as the tattered rags that adorned his weathered frame. The wooden boat came to a jolting halt, swaying violently. Unlike most, Godara remained unfazed by the tumultuous sea, his training back in his homeland granting him immunity to seasickness—an attribute that earned him the boatman's respect.
"You're not the first, son," the old man remarked, his voice weathered and wise. "But you're certainly the bravest, or perhaps the most foolish. Most men succumb to cowardice, and I make a tidy profit from that. Some drown in their futile attempts to swim toward the ever-shifting isles—victims of cold, their inability to swim, and hallucinations. I'm afraid this is as far as I can take you, young man. The waves beyond become treacherous, and I've managed to survive this long by avoiding foolishness. My advice to you is this: Whatever lies beyond those isles, it isn't worth it. Armed with this knowledge, do you still wish to proceed? I won't judge you if you choose to turn back, nor will I charge you. But once you step off this boat, you're on your own."
Godara stood tall, surprising in his resolve, as he looked the old man in the eye and uttered his first words throughout the journey, "I appreciate your concern, but I am no ordinary man." Sadness clouded the old man's gaze as he replied, "Perhaps you are, and perhaps you are not." With that, Godara's body ignited with static energy, propelling him forward at breathtaking speed, leaving the boat behind, swallowed by a veil of mist. The fading orange light served as a poignant reminder of the vessel and its captain.
Zigzagging through the water with astounding agility, Godara skillfully maneuvered past various obstacles, including jagged rocks jutting from the depths. As he neared the isle, putrefied corpses bobbed on the water's surface—a gruesome and macabre testament to the fate of the unprepared. Eventually, Godara reached the island's shore, saltwater washing away the residue of exploded biomass that had clung to his skin during his lightning-quick run. Skulls crunched beneath his feet as he closed his eyes and entered a meditative state, relying on his mind rather than his eyes to navigate. Aware that his superhuman speed offered no advantage on this desolate isle, he employed it judiciously while approaching the stone that held his prize.
After hours of relentless searching, Godara arrived at an open expanse within the island—an ethereal space enveloped by thousands of softly glowing stones suspended in mid-air. Their pale, bluish aura cast a gentle illumination, while the mist here grew thicker than in other parts of the island. It suddenly struck Godara that there was no hydra—only adventurers' tales of half-truths, spun from their own encounters with personal trials. Those who survived the isles, the scarce few, perpetuated stories of a savage hydra guarding the isles, drowning those foolish enough to venture forth. Perhaps the old man had once been an adventurer himself, now cautioning others about the illusory creature. Godara reached out for a stone, but it disintegrated into mist. Legions of mist coalesced around the stones, transforming into ethereal warriors that moved with the grace of ninjas. Godara, ever vigilant, countered the first assailant with blinding speed, only to watch his fist pass through it as it dissipated into mist. Thousands more warriors materialized, attacking Godara relentlessly. He dodged, weaved, and fought back with unparalleled martial prowess, dismantling the mist warriors as swiftly as they arose. But for each defeated illusion, several more emerged, their misty forms assuming the guise of formidable foes. Their blows felt real, yet left no lasting wounds. No matter how fast Godara moved, they matched his speed; no matter how hard he struck, they hit even harder; and regardless of his skill, they proved more cunning. Exhausted and on the brink of death after hours of battling something and nothing simultaneously, Godara experienced a revelation. He came to a sudden halt, closed his eyes, gathered his energy, and disregarded the illusory warriors. In a moment of blazing focus, more fluid than water, softer than butter, and quicker than lightning, he surged forward, seizing the true mist stone and obliterating the phantom warrior. As Godara grasped the stone, the mist surrounding him grew gentler, and he settled down to meditate before preparing for the arduous journey back—an expedition that would likely involve a great deal of running. For now, an invaluable lesson had been learned—a reminder that not all conflicts are resolved through physical violence, but that some battles are fought within the recesses of the mind.
@Jonteman93 I'm afraid I won't be able to contribute much or at all to the story for two weeks starting now, since I will be out of town, most likely without internet access. I don't mind my character getting penalized for this, since even after that I will be very busy with work and school, but I just thought I'd let you know before I go awol for a while.
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Companion:
Kraig's Statistics:
Race/Species: Lightning Dragon.
Age: 290 (Adult dragon).
Gender: Male.
Height: 12' 5".
Weight: 1050 lbs.
Alignment: Neutral.
Personality: Intelligent, quick, and calm.
Occupation: None, sometimes bounty hunter (To practice combat skills and to enlarge hoard).
Plane of Origin: Eldraine.
Backstory:
As a hatchling, Kraig showed an unusually strong affinity for magic. It all started when one day evil wizards were trying to capture him and keep him as a pet. They tried to cast a capturing spell. Instead, Kraig absorbed the magic, grew stronger, and was able to destroy all of them but one, who fled. Another time, he was sparring with a hatchmate, and the hatchmate cast a lightning bolt, thinking he would win, but Kraig absorbed the magic again and ended up winning the match. As an adult, he moved to a mountaintop lair, where he hoarded magic items. He worked as a bounty hunter several times, only hunting difficult quarry and for large bounties, insisting to be paid mostly in magic items so he could be in the presence of more magic and absorb it if he was attacked in his lair. One of his former quarries was Rowan, which he fought for a while, absorbing all her magic attacks, until King Kenrith's knights intervened, and they ended up being friends. Searching for even harder quarry, he found a "Tournament of Champions", which he joined wanting to test his skills against other "champions" and maybe even prevail and get stones of heaven to add to his hoard.
Don't let the Series die people!
“I love you grandma!”
I eargerly run up to her and place a flower in her lap. One of the big yellow-petaled ones, the kind I know she likes. I bounce in place eagerly, expecting her to laugh and pick me up like I normally do when I bring her a small gift.
She picks up the stem slowly, observing the flower’s drooping face. Her face has anything but joy on it. Her wrinkled hands trembled- the first time I saw her showing her age.
“Oh honey,” She sighed. “Why did you pluck this oguera bloom?”
I hesitate. Something in her eyes tells me I messed up. The disappointment in them somehow registered in my little mind.
“Be-cause I know you like them?” I offer this explanation up, but it sounds small, empty in the face of her looming solemnity.
“I do love them Ravina. I love them. I love you, and I know you love me.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m disappointed though. By plucking this flower, you killed it.”
“I…. killed it?”
“Yes honey, you killed it. Not only that, I cannot go see it each day now that it is plucked. It will wilt and become brown and ugly now.”
My eyes start to tear up at the thought. My grandma nods to herself, then hugs me tight.
“Hush little one. It’s ok. Just… Promise me you won’t kill things, even for people you love.”
“I promise Grandma.”
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The first time I manipulated earth…. Well, it was an accident. It’s something I knew I might be able to do. All the kids did. Most of us wanted it; the typical impulsive desire to be special, to be Chosen™ by the universe for a special fate.
We were playing a game. It wasn’t important what the game was, we just wanted to play. There was a sheeps bladder being kicked around; inflated and tied off with twine it served our entertainment well. It was chucked to me. I dived for it, and it sailed over my head. I was foolish and in the moment wanted nothing more than to catch the ball. And….. I did. Well, I kind of did. I created a hand and it caught the bladder for me.
Not that it mattered. The game effectively ended as soon as it happened. I was surrounded by the rest of the kids. I enjoyed it, a moment in the sun as they envied me and were wowed. The hand just…. Felt like a third hand to me. Weird, of course, but also entirely under my control.
It didn’t last for long, and it didn’t do much, disappearing back into the ground with a little wave. The adults were told about it, and then. Well, my life as a child ended. Our shaman took me in and made me grow up fast.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
My first time killing someone else? It was at 15. We were shepherding outside of a major city in one of the Vassal States. It doesn’t matter which, they’re basically the same. Anyway, the humans inside came up with some reason or another, and they attacked us.
It wasn’t a battle, it was a raid. If we had a few less defenders, it would have been a slaughter. Half our sheep died or were stolen, and no family was left without a casualty. My grandmother died there. I wasn’t there to protect her, I was out trying to protect the flock. I didn’t just kill one man that night. I killed three. With the hands of dirt, it was too easy. I don’t know their strength still, but they’ve crumpled chestplates before. I don’t know which died first, my promise to my grandma or her. A foolish promise, but I hope that she was dead before I broke it.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
My family is safe now, as safe as they can be at least. My friends and their family, and everyone else I care about? We’re hidden, up in the mountains somewhere. Or, rather, they are. I trust that they can defend themselves and the sheeps from the cold. I won’t say more than that.
I’m not sure why I’m down here. I know that there are stones that grant great power being found, and I believe that I am in a unique space to leverage their stuff. I am looking for them, or rather, searching for traces of them. I try to feel under the earth just as much if not more than above it, praying that one is buried in dirt or rock for me to find.
Champion
https://mtgcardsmith.com/view/berrymore-hope-of-the-fields
Companion
https://mtgcardsmith.com/view/thorn-sneaking-skullcaster
Introducing Berrymore and Thorn, an unlikely duo of cat and mouse forced together after invaders destroyed their homeland. After hearing rumors of the powerful Stones of Heaven, the two of them have begun their journey to collect the stones in hopes of using their power to retake and restore the home that they lost.
Berrymore
Race: Mousefolk
Age: 21
Height: 3'4"
Gender: Male
Abilities: Adept with a variety of weapons, very dexterous, has a connection with Breeze, his moth companion.
Fighting Style: Knows he usually can't overpower opponents, so usually uses his nimbleness and small size to outmaneuver them instead. Tries to keep the opponent occupied so Thorn has the opportunity to cast his ranged spells.
Personality: Quite serious and formal, likes to do things by the book and stay as close to his morals as possible. Lawful Good alignment.
Thorn
Race: Catfolk
Age: 25
Height: 4'5"
Gender: Male
Abilities: Is a talented necromancer, able to use necrotic spells to damage his opponents as well as get information from the dead.
Fighting Style: Tries to stay further away from the opponent, using magic to provide covering fire for Berrymore. Also has the ability to call on the spirits of the area's deceased to aid him in battle.
Personality: Is somewhat of a wild card, likes experimenting with strategies and ways of doing things. Is quite likely to take risks, and is not especially tethered to what would generally be considered the "moral" thing to do. Chaotic Neutral alignment.
The seventh Vae’vyn had the role of a defender, able to cross the battlefield quickly to put a shield between an ally and an incoming strike. This shield is like no other, however - through a wonder in spirit engineering, it holds the ability to store the energy of attacks which hit it to be released in the form of kinetic energy. This kinetic energy manifests in the form of the automaton’s momentum, allowing for it to travel quickly between incoming strikes.
It was then on one attack appearing to be from a larger rift that a blast of pure abyssal energy hit the Vae’vyn. Programming stepping in, the seventh of the warriors dashes to the front of the group to have the shield take the attack. However, the amount of energy it absorbed was too great and had to be released immediately. The defender was shot directly into the abyssal rift by its own uncontrollable momentum.
Whilst in the abyss, the shield continued to gain energy, with the automaton continually accelerating. With no reference for how much time passed, the energy absorbed was enough for it to reach incalculable speed. However, the shield was not the only part of the seventh absorbing the abyss’s energy.
The soul fragments powering the construct absorbed enough energy to become aware, forming three distinct minds - (Zeal), [Fury] and {Hope}. Together, as emblazoned on their shared body and shield, they call themselves Seven.
Eventually, Seven’s momentum is so large that they break the barrier between the abyss and Avelaide, ejected unceremoniously through time and space into the ground.
tl;dr: Seven is a fast shield-bearing construct piloted by three souls.
Stats
Age: ???
Height: 2.5m (8’2”)
Weight: 100kg (~220lbs)
Gender - None, but “they” is used to refer to the multiple souls
Speed: Potentially limitless, although in practice variable as momentum increases as the shield absorbs kinetic energy. However, being built for speed, Seven is often incredibly quick by most standards.
Range: Seven has no range whatsoever, making up for it in the ability to close the gap between them and a target
Durability: Being built as a defensive automaton, Seven is very durable, especially when the shield can absorb attacks.
Precision: Seven’s lack of range or method of attack aside from charging leaves their precision low.
Potential: Seven’s potentially unlimited momentum allows for great potential - the full power of the shield is yet to be found.
Fighting Method
Being build for defence, Seven doesn’t have any obvious means of attack. However, the spirits’ hunger for speed isn’t misplaced in terms of a means of combat. Seven will accelerate over the course of a fight and charge into an enemy when the time is right. The shield is physically integrated into Seven’s body, able to be quickly manoeuvred to the direction of an incoming attack.
Personality and Motivations
The souls’ consciousness is new to the world and guided by the remnants of the Vae’vyn programming and whispers of the experiences of the fragments that make them up.
(Zeal) embodies the need to forge a path out of the newfound existence and to find meaning in it.
[Fury] embodies the vengeful spirit, unrelenting in a path towards power.
{Hope} embodies the drive to continue on in pursuit of purpose and an optimism that one exists to be found.
Together, they’ve decided that the one clear memory they share of hurtling through the abyss must be their reason for being so pursue power as a means to become ever faster. When acting towards this goal, their will is as one.
Seven pursues stone 3.
Those who have requested a stone will pursue said stone. Everyone else will be provided a random stone.
The Master Returns - Part I
Ahead yet awaits life
This storm will soon be gone
And we shower again in sunlight
Pursued by: theirintheattic with Id, the Wandering Vessel.
Pursued by: kaoz42 with Kraig, the Relentless Thunder
Since two had chosen stone 3, Seven was given stone 6 to pursue instead.
It is not only the jungle that have grown large by the stone. In its shadows a great tiger is guarding the stone like a mother guarding her egg. How would one separate the mother from her egg, and disappear before the smoke clears?
Chapter One - Whispers of Serpent's Chains
"Never before had I witnessed such an abundance of freedom and life concentrated in a single place. It dawned on me that in our pursuit of perfection within the monastery, we had failed to appreciate what truly mattered. Although we were granted liberties and opportunities to socialize with our fellow monks, we were constantly driven to outdo ourselves. Not that self-improvement is inherently negative; even now, I acknowledge the need for personal growth.
In this desert city, which I now call home, I have discovered solace and tranquility. It has been quite some time since I arrived here, and even longer since I first heard whispers about the upcoming tournament—a gathering shrouded in rumors of an invincible beast and an ancient relic. As I traversed the scorching sands of this city, a task made bearable by both the warm-hearted inhabitants and my rigorous training, I gradually shed the remnants of the anger I once possessed as a monk. However, a new fire has been kindled within me—a fire I hesitate to label as rage, but rather a fierce determination.
Legends speak of the relic, concealed within an intricate web of deceit and guarded by an indomitable serpent—its ebony scales reflecting darkness, while its countless heads defy comprehension. Countless souls have perished in pursuit of this artifact. Yet, perhaps by obtaining this mysterious relic of the mists, I can prove my worth not only to the people of this land but also to my master, once and for all. I long to show him that he misjudged my abilities and that I am far from weak. Now, I pause my journey to Monastir, redirecting my path toward the fabled islands, where my rightful destiny awaits."
They say war is a ravenous beast, insatiable for territory, riches, and beliefs. As Godara sets foot in the lands of Kazar, this truth becomes increasingly evident. Archaic contraptions of steel and fire ravage the battlegrounds, engulfed in a seething conflict. Godara witnesses the unfathomable machinery and weapons that have never graced the lands of Godara, decimating the masses. Wherever peace is absent, remnants of under-industrialized cities lie in ruins, overshadowed by towering monoliths of oligopolies. As Godara edges closer to the self-proclaimed capital, Salamon, the horrors of war intensify.
Days have passed since Godara embarked on this perilous journey—an expedition that would have been swifter had he possessed knowledge of the land. Nevertheless, what matters now is that Godara has persevered, relying on a mixture of speed, fortune, and the occasional hitched ride with caravans, which consumed far more time than anticipated. Now, seated on his final caravan, accompanied by armed soldiers and a guide—a comforting presence in Godara's thoughts—he nears the culmination of his odyssey. The jingle of coins signals the moment of parting as the caravan bids farewell, leaving Godara within the confines of Salamon.
As Godara steps foot into the city, opulence greets him. Compared to other locales ravaged by this relentless conflict, the affluent inhabitants of Salamon live in blissful ignorance, shielded from the grim reality. Military personnel escort captured rebels, and amidst the chaos, a man's voice pierces through, declaring, "This is not a war; it is a massacre!" Ignoring the comment, Godara remains impartial to both sides of the conflict, fully focused on his quest to obtain what he came for. He makes a beeline for the bustling port of Salamon, wasting no time lingering in this city.
Aware of the intricately designed machinery that dominates the landscape, Godara realizes that earning a living here will prove challenging compared to other places. Laborers and skilled workers are not in high demand. After hours of persuasion and negotiation with various port authorities and sailors, Godara finally encounters a reclusive hermit willing to undertake the task. Boarding the weathered vessel, far removed from the grandeur of the modern motor ships that have progressed beyond the hermit's reach, Godara sets sail toward the enigmatic isles that await him.
Chapter Two: Veils of Illusion
Nightfall shrouded the sky, blurring the boundaries between water and heavens. The encroaching darkness, an unfamiliar sight to Godara in the realm of reality, bore an eerie sense of familiarity. The old man's lantern cast a feeble glow, reflecting upon the inky vastness of the surrounding waters as well as the tattered rags that adorned his weathered frame. The wooden boat came to a jolting halt, swaying violently. Unlike most, Godara remained unfazed by the tumultuous sea, his training back in his homeland granting him immunity to seasickness—an attribute that earned him the boatman's respect.
"You're not the first, son," the old man remarked, his voice weathered and wise. "But you're certainly the bravest, or perhaps the most foolish. Most men succumb to cowardice, and I make a tidy profit from that. Some drown in their futile attempts to swim toward the ever-shifting isles—victims of cold, their inability to swim, and hallucinations. I'm afraid this is as far as I can take you, young man. The waves beyond become treacherous, and I've managed to survive this long by avoiding foolishness. My advice to you is this: Whatever lies beyond those isles, it isn't worth it. Armed with this knowledge, do you still wish to proceed? I won't judge you if you choose to turn back, nor will I charge you. But once you step off this boat, you're on your own."
Godara stood tall, surprising in his resolve, as he looked the old man in the eye and uttered his first words throughout the journey, "I appreciate your concern, but I am no ordinary man." Sadness clouded the old man's gaze as he replied, "Perhaps you are, and perhaps you are not." With that, Godara's body ignited with static energy, propelling him forward at breathtaking speed, leaving the boat behind, swallowed by a veil of mist. The fading orange light served as a poignant reminder of the vessel and its captain.
Zigzagging through the water with astounding agility, Godara skillfully maneuvered past various obstacles, including jagged rocks jutting from the depths. As he neared the isle, putrefied corpses bobbed on the water's surface—a gruesome and macabre testament to the fate of the unprepared. Eventually, Godara reached the island's shore, saltwater washing away the residue of exploded biomass that had clung to his skin during his lightning-quick run. Skulls crunched beneath his feet as he closed his eyes and entered a meditative state, relying on his mind rather than his eyes to navigate. Aware that his superhuman speed offered no advantage on this desolate isle, he employed it judiciously while approaching the stone that held his prize.
After hours of relentless searching, Godara arrived at an open expanse within the island—an ethereal space enveloped by thousands of softly glowing stones suspended in mid-air. Their pale, bluish aura cast a gentle illumination, while the mist here grew thicker than in other parts of the island. It suddenly struck Godara that there was no hydra—only adventurers' tales of half-truths, spun from their own encounters with personal trials. Those who survived the isles, the scarce few, perpetuated stories of a savage hydra guarding the isles, drowning those foolish enough to venture forth. Perhaps the old man had once been an adventurer himself, now cautioning others about the illusory creature. Godara reached out for a stone, but it disintegrated into mist. Legions of mist coalesced around the stones, transforming into ethereal warriors that moved with the grace of ninjas. Godara, ever vigilant, countered the first assailant with blinding speed, only to watch his fist pass through it as it dissipated into mist. Thousands more warriors materialized, attacking Godara relentlessly. He dodged, weaved, and fought back with unparalleled martial prowess, dismantling the mist warriors as swiftly as they arose. But for each defeated illusion, several more emerged, their misty forms assuming the guise of formidable foes. Their blows felt real, yet left no lasting wounds. No matter how fast Godara moved, they matched his speed; no matter how hard he struck, they hit even harder; and regardless of his skill, they proved more cunning. Exhausted and on the brink of death after hours of battling something and nothing simultaneously, Godara experienced a revelation. He came to a sudden halt, closed his eyes, gathered his energy, and disregarded the illusory warriors. In a moment of blazing focus, more fluid than water, softer than butter, and quicker than lightning, he surged forward, seizing the true mist stone and obliterating the phantom warrior. As Godara grasped the stone, the mist surrounding him grew gentler, and he settled down to meditate before preparing for the arduous journey back—an expedition that would likely involve a great deal of running. For now, an invaluable lesson had been learned—a reminder that not all conflicts are resolved through physical violence, but that some battles are fought within the recesses of the mind.
A new Contest
Welcome back! Long time no see.