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=EC 2025= Fountain Arena

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7/19/2025 20:58:00   
  Starflame13
Moderator


 Curls of dawn fully parted to a sky filled with brilliant blue. Sunlight streamed forth, its rays seeking and catching on each glint of adorned armor that it could find. For all the brightness, Bren’s shadows lay ever deeper, pockets of shade offering rest and respite for those who lingered long enough for a moment of stillness to only themselves. From strangers to old friends, visiting nobles to lowly cutpurses, lone travelers and full caravans - all were enveloped by the Arena’s embrace.

Power hummed under the excited babble, a solemn call that resonated throughout the entire city. Its purpose - stark and bold - dragged the crowd onward. Through the gleaming city gates and across twisted streets of shops and inns. Past grimy alleyways and grand courtyards and all the houses that stood between. Up and over the final bridge to follow in the footsteps of Champions past, treading along the well-worn cobblestones of Supplicant’s Way. Onward, until the Complex itself stood before them; a looming gateway that swelled to meet the rising tide that surged towards it.

Here, the horde parted. Hundreds of spectators streamed towards the stands, shoving and jostling against each other in the hopes of achieving better seating. The handfuls of hopefuls instead found themselves alone. Whether by hired officials, their own finely-honed instincts, or by unseen magic itself, the Arena tugged them forward to their fate. A destiny written in bloodshed and carnage. A chance for one to stand victorious. A hope of earning a boon.

All that stood in their path now was the Arena itself - and the greatest fighters this world had to offer.

Chilly curtains of thick mist draped themselves across the halls, trailing damp and probing fingers over the passing competitors. A series of suspended orbs glowed against the ceiling to light the way, their gleam shifting ever so gradually from ephemeral to eerie as the glow tinged blue and green. Salt stung in the air as rivulets of dark, nearly black water flowed through deep chasms along the pale walls, carving out chunks of soft stone that tumbled to litter the final few steps of the path leading to a vast, silent wall of water that blocked the way forward.

Oppression. Enthrallment. Trepidation. Terror. The currents envelop all who enter the Fountain.

With a hushed sigh, the deluge of inky blackness parted to allow passage into the room beyond. A mirrored ebon floor stretched out across the expanse, in stark contrast to the roughened and pockmarked walls of bleached-white coral, twisted about like claws and fangs of cracked, gnarled bone. Salt stung at the nostrils, mineral deposits clinging at the crevices in the bones of the dying reef.

A single droplet of water fell from nothingness, its echo resounding about the empty room. Then another, and another, until a flood of water poured down from above. Pressure slammed in from all sides, water filled the eyes and lungs, and naught could be seen but faint winks of white light that flickered and vanished as soon as they appeared.

With a rushing roar, the water receded - filling the ceiling with an ever constant shift of roiling waves. Currents of water flowed along sections of the walls, revealing a teaming river of colorful, thriving life. Pillars of ocean remained in the wake of the surge, the currents slowly circulating about them to send the drifting, flickering lights bobbing along amongst the sable sea.

A smooth whisper curled about the room, soft and sibilant and sinister to reach all within its grasp. “And so begins the Trial of the Submerged Fountain. Fight or Die, adventures, but let the Elemental Championships begin!”
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 1
7/23/2025 22:45:47   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 “No claw nor ink nor streambed stone--”

“Our lives are writ in root and bone.”

The elder’s voice clipped each syllable with practiced efficiency as he began the chant, his wrinkled face betraying not the hope and fear that Marrow knew flicked within him like gnats. Marrow savored each sound as xe echoed xyr reply; the dance of xyr lips, the sharpness of each stop. Xe bent xyr head to the elder, cupping xyr deer-skull mask gently in xyr hands to bare xyr face. Elder Braum’s trembling fingers shuddered across xyr forehead. The dirt he smeared was cool against Marrow’s skin, still holding onto the evening’s rain. Xyr pale eyes flicked along the well-trodden dirt of xyr village entrance, its edges laced with Ulvenne’s thin, pointed roots. Their texture against Marrow’s feet always comforted, grounded. Grief flickered in the depths of xyr mind, the first droplets that heralded a flood Marrow must hold back. Xe would miss them more than xe could express.

There is still time to choose another. Ulvenne’s words ran deep through Marrow as xyr mind gave language to the god’s meaning, although he spoke with no voice. Many in our clan are capable. It does not have to be you.

Marrow shook xyr head once, just enough movement to feel the featherlight tickle of xyr hair against xyr neck. You know that is not true. The Favoured did not have to think in words for the god to understand, but for xem it was better to focus on language, the sound and shape of it in xyr head. Only I know you fully, completely. Only I would find the answers we seek. As Marrow turned from the elder, xe filled xyr head with images of the beasts. Their jowls, dripping with drool, unhinged a breath too far. Their claws, a seed-pit too long, digging into roots and stone as easily as dirt. Their rupturing howl, the deep tone that echoed beneath it like a quake, like Ulvenne. The god of Forest’s Roots knew, like the rest of the town, that the beasts they had begun sighting at night were no normal werewolves. It only took the hunters a single shot to know-- and a second to confirm-- the magick of Ulvenne could not fell these creatures. Not yet.

Marrow turned from the elder, xyr eyes locked on the last glimpses of sun. “I will be back as soon as I can. Hold fast. Ulvenne will protect us both.” Marrow spit the sour taste from xyr mouth, xyr saliva mixing with the last droplets of rain to feed Ulvenne’s roots.

The further you get from me, the less I can do so.

I know. Marrow answered shortly, xyr hand brushing over the jagged root across xyr liver. The god was bound to the forest; once xe left his domain, Marrow would have only the power and pieces of the god Ulvenne had left within Marrow’s own body. It will be enough. Xe bit xyr lip, a twinge of fear bleeding through xem before the sharp taste of xyr own blood grounded xem once more. You are always enough.

The god seemed pleased with this answer, and spoke no further. Marrow let xemself fall into the soft comfort of the wet roots under xyr feet, the ripple of the bark as xe traced xyr heartroot back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.



The child of bone decided xe quite liked oranges.

That’s what the woman at the stand referred to them, at least, when Marrow asked. Perhaps she saw xyr foreign coin and decided to make a joke out of xem. Marrow didn’t particularly mind either way. Xe chewed happily, tracing the thick, reptile-leather skin with xyr tongue as xe spun the other half around in xyr palm. Bren was busy, and bright, which Marrow found both pleasing and insufferably annoying, as a headache had developed soon after xe arrived and had not deemed sleep sufficient for its removal. Though waking up this early in the morn was certainly not helping the Favoured. No werewolves in Bren meant the city slept peacefully during the night, which some of his clan might deem an envious privilege, but which Marrow found unnerving. Xyr dark cloak was meant for the moon’s glow, not the sun’s glare.

Please be safe today, kessan.

All of Marrow’s attention snapped to xyr god. Xe could not help the tangle of simmering emotion that arose at his words and trickled through their connection. He was nigh indistinguishable this far from Ulve.

If you mourn, kessan, then turn back. There are other sources to grant me power.

No. Marrow clamped the trickle shut, layering the tangle over with hope and love: memories of xyr hand tracing over forest roots, murmuring soft prayers, resting xyr forehead against the rough bark. I can do this. I must.

Marrow felt a gentle touch in return, tracing down xyr spine, prickling xyr nerves across the root that sprouted there. Xyr own touch in Ulvenne’s memories. Xe bit down hard on the scale-skin of orange between xyr teeth.

Just come back safe. I cannot lose you.

Xe bit down harder and caught xyr cheek. The sharp tartness of the orange could not mask the taste of dirt and bark within xyr blood.



Marrow afforded only a glance at the massive Arena complex, feeling bile rise quickly to xyr throat if xe focused for longer. Xe turned xyr attention instead to the paper before xem, its soft yellow certainly from a kind of tree, though not one of Ulvenne’s. The man in charge of the paper had fingers too large for his nails, and an accent that lilted like swallows in flight. He pushed a quill and inkwell towards Marrow, pointing roughly to an empty box. Marrow was meant to sign.

No claw nor ink…

Instead of laying quill to paper, Marrow slipped it quickly between xyr lips.The ink was slick on xyr tongue, a bitter tang similar to the liquid xyr clan used to shine their metals. Xe slid the quill out quickly, rubbing it against xyr lips to ensure it was cleaned before spitting the ink onto the grass. Xe tipped xyr head as the man opened and closed his mouth, wearing an expression mixed with surprise and disgust. This was simply the easiest way to clean it.

Marrow reached under xyr dark cloak into a pocket on xyr waist. Xyr hand met mostly empty leather, save for the cool, smooth touch of a berry against xyr pointer finger. The last Dusk-holly berry. Unfortunate; Marrow was hoping to have it as a treat, but this would have to do. Xe held the berry out and punctured it, bright red juice oozing out onto the quill’s tip. The man finally found his words, incredulous. “Hey, what in the Lords are you doing?”

There was no need to respond. With a quick flick, the Favoured signed xyr name on the paper, the scarlet juice bleeding out in fine lines. Marrow of Ulve.

Xyr cloak billowed as xe turned and stepped towards the arena complex. Xe felt Ulvenne’s presence still, in the back of xyr mind, god and mortal both holding their breath.

Our lives are writ in root and bone.



The god’s Favoured let out a shallow exhale as Bren’s sunlight quickly disappeared. The air around xem thickened, reminding Marrow of the forest’s still, full belly just before a storm. Dampness crept through xyr cloth shoes, and xe smiled at its chill, the way it felt as if xyr feet were pressed even closer to the ground. Soft, dim light danced above like a moon’s sliver through clouds, and Marrow lowered xyr hood from xyr head to get a better glimpse, letting pale blues and greens reflect across xyr bared face. Xe had left xyr deer skull mask in xyr room at the inn. A promise to return; and an offering if I do not, xe had told xyr god. The lights were like large fireflies, in a way, or willow-wisps, but somehow more beautiful. Marrow let them lead xem through the darkness, two fingers on the left wall, feeling a trickling current kiss xyr fingertips.

The Favoured felt xyr roots tighten upon xem as xe grew further and further from open air. A flash of hurried footsteps echoed in Marrow’s ears; a sour, seeping wetness xe recognized as blood wormed into xyr spineroot. Ulvenne was anxious, or as close to it as a god could be, and it was bleeding through. After almost two decades, it seemed the god had as little control as Marrow did on the information that passed between them. Marrow focused as strongly as xe could, trying to push xyr determination through the link that weakened with each step. Thoughts of Ulvenne’s strong roots rising to smash through leagues of werewolves, the weapons carved of his wood cutting through hardened flanks with ease.

The god did not have enough hold to reply.

The Favoured’s soundless steps drew to a halt as xe faced a waterfall, utterly silent despite its current. Crumbled rocks arched under xyr feet. The threshold. Marrow could only hope the god had sensed what xe wanted him to. Past this, Ulvenne would sense nothing.

The water parted. The Favoured hesitated.

“I love you,” xe whispered aloud. One of the few things xe weren’t sure xe’d ever put to language. The words were too silly; the god knew already in ways so much more meaningful. But… xe meant it. No matter anything else; xe meant it.

Tendrils of something sour wrapped through xyr chest, and xe leapt across the threshold before Ulvenne could catch it.

Feet slid across smooth granite; Marrow’s mind and body emptied.

Xe tried to catch xyr bearings, to draw xyr focus to the harsh salt that stung at xyr nose, or the chaotic white walls that might be bone. But xe clutched xyr heartroot and stumbled, breath fleeing from xyr lungs. For a moment, xe could not tell whether Ulvenne had left or Marrow had. It was as if xyr soul had been hollowed from xyr chest in a massive scoop, leaving a fleshy husk behind. The undercurrent of feeling, the constant exchange between god and mortal that ran quietly beneath every living moment, was deafening in its silence. Marrow knew Ulvenne could not reach xem here— had been counting on it— but xe did not think that would feel like becoming… half of xemself. Less.

Water swept xem from the stone, and Marrow let it, xyr eyes already bunched shut from the loss. It soaked xyr thick clothes and tickled at the crossbow that lurked, firmly latched, under xyr cloak. Xe drew xyr focus to the water, its touch that danced across every inch of the Favoured’s skin, ran across the ripples in xyr roots, pulled at the hair on xyr skin.

By the time the water left xem— placed xem gently back onto dark stone ground— Marrow could breathe again. Deeper than xe had in many moons.

Four dark, calm waterfalls began to flow eerily quiet around xem, identical, as if a silver mirror stood at the center of the arena. Marrow pulled xyr hood back over xyr head, obscuring all but the sharp dusk-pink of xyr eyes. The arena was dim, lit unnaturally in white by the same wisps that had guided xem here, but they provided little compared to sunlight. Good. Just another hunt. Almost.

The child of bone reached behind xem and pulled xyr crossbow from xyr back, the magic of xyr cloak letting the weapon flow through it with ease. Marrow instinctively clamped down xyr thoughts as a sour tide whispered at xyr mind. The curve of Ulvenne’s roots was present in every inch of the crossbow, its lovingly carved wood always flexing slightly, as if it still breathed with xyr god.

But xyr god could not see xem here. Not even through the bow. They released the clamp; just a little. The tangle gnawed ever so slightly at xyr stomach. As the priests of the arena chanted their prayer, Marrow named the tangle, gave thought to it, and it felt like a gust of frigid air after months of burning.

Guilt. Xe was guilty. Because xe had lied.

“I am Marrow of the forest of Ulve,” xe whispered, to only the gods of this place. “I come because I need you to kill a god.”

Post #: 2
7/24/2025 20:09:59   
Starstruck
Member

Calamitina Explodinita shuffles through the doorway, dressed in over-the-top finery. Most notable is an entirely too gaudy headdress, decorated with dozens of strings of gold beads. Close examination doesn’t reveal whether it’s real gold or not, but if it is, the thing must weigh over three hundred pounds.

“Aaaaah, my darlings!” cackles the old elven witch, extending her leathery gray arms with a flourish to all of the unseen people behind the camera. “Of course, of course, it is I, Calamitiiiina!” If smugness could kill, Calamitina’s expression would be utterly lethal.
“Calamitina!” screamed Hotrodrigo at the top of his lungs, bursting through the doorway with a crumpled piece of parchment in his hands. “Calamitina, come quick! It’s…why, it’s unbelievable!”

Calamitina spun dramatically, her fire amber earrings gleaming in the dim torchlight. “Who dares disturb my important work?!” she exclaimed, looking up from the basalt rose she was delicately chiseling into the rock. “The ORBBBBB, the most particular and discerning ORB, would have told me if such a disruption were necessary!”

Hotrodrigo knelt over, clutching his side as he took great gasping breaths. “My apologies, High Priestess of the almighty, incredible, incendiary ORB! But everyone agrees, you must see this parchment, for it is something called a ‘Flyer’ made of ‘paper’-”

Calmitina scoffed. “Foolish child! I have lived 777 years! I know all about papers and flyers!” She knelt and lifted the gigantic, red, polished glass orb from its prized velvet cushion, stroking it gently and making small shushing sounds. “Give it to me here!” She snatched it with a wizened claw, holding it up to the fire and accidentally igniting the corner. Slapping the hungry flames away, she squinted and hermed and mm-hmmed her way through the flyer before slapping it none too gently against the surface of the gigantic orb.

Hotrodrigo shuffled uncomfortably as the orb flashed with an eerie light. Calmitina stroked the hairs on her pointed chin, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the commands of the orb she custoded.

“Yesss…..yesss…….YES!” All at once she was a flurry of motion, darting about the room. Hotrodrigo watched in astonishment. “We have got to send a Champion, my dear, for the ORB, the most wise and precious and ambitious ORB, it craves but one thing.”

The silence went on for just a bit too long with no explanation. “High Priestess, what is the one thing?” ventured Hotrodrigo carefully.

“FOOL!” screamed Calamitina shrilly, causing Hotrodrigo to wince and pull back. “I cannot tell you this one thing, for if I mention it….” She spun to glare at Hotrodrigo, venom in her eyes. “....The wish will NEVER come true! This is the first rule of wishing, my boy!”

Hotrodrigo shuffled his feet. “But…I’d have to know it…so that if I won the tournament…”

Calamitina looked at Hotrodrigo, stunned. “If you-” Then she guffawed, kicking her legs with laughter.
Calimitina looks incredulous. The beads on her headdress clack together as she chuckles with a hint of derision in her voice.

”This fool thinks that because he’s the tallest elf in the village, that he’ll just…just punch the other competitors to death? All the way dead? Truly, displays a lack of wisdom. Hotrodrigo - such an idiot!"

She takes a sip from her mug of boiling hot coffee. The camera switches to Hotrodrigo, sitting quietly in a corner. He sniffles, looking like he is about to cry.

”I just…thought…” Snot runs pitiably down his chin.
"No, no, NO, Hotrodrigo! You would be torn to bits! You have no sword, no powers, nothing!”

“But-” protested Hotrodrigo, humiliated and confused. “But Calamitina, if not for me, then who-”

“I shall enter this grand tournament of elements!” proclaimed the High Priestess, the amber bangles on her wrists clacking about as she gesticulated. “For only I may bear the almighty, heavenly, incredible, ORB!!!!!”

The preparation for travel took barely an hour, and soon Calamitina was waving goodbye to all the little ones. As she settled in for the long carriage ride, she gently polished her orb with a soft cloth.

“Soon, O thou beauteous one, soon...”

The town of Bren bustled with activity as Calamitina’s carriage rolled up to the arena door. The door opened on its own. One ancient, gnarled leg creaked into position. A red gleam sparked in the dim carriage…and then Calamitina burst forth all at once, the orb nearly dropping to the packed dirt road as she lunged to get beneath and catch it.

“Close one!” she screeched with a cackle as she lumbered towards the open entrance, yawning like the mouths of the volcanic tunnels she knew so well. It was almost like a dream as the sounds of water surrounded her, until -
”I hate water. Hate it! It mutes the sound, plunges the lovely fire into darkness, and I cannot hear the voice of my love, the hypnotic, the ever-eternal ORB!!!”

She sneered at her coffee, steam still rising from the cup. “Get me another, darling. This one is ice cold, it is no good to me now.
And as soon as the water arrived, it was gone. Calamitina coughed and stumbled onto the polished black glass of the arena, salt-stung nostrils flaring and claws scraping across the shining floor. “Wh-” she began, then silenced herself. Three competitors shone in the soft-lit gloom, their reflections scattering across the polished floor. Some hooded figure, a tall armored, and...
Calamitina crosses her arms in a huff.

“I don’t like her face. I don’t like her hair. I don’t like her clothes. I don’t like anything about her. Ooh, look at me, I have a cannon on my back and I'm sooo pretty! I hate her so much I could spit!”

She does. The glob of spittle begins to hiss and pop where it hits the table. A voice off-screen argues that they should not have let her have the lava-flavored chewing gum for THIS reason and that someone is definitely getting fired over this.
Stiflng her rage for now, Calamitina eyed the arena carefully. Pillars of water soared into the sparkling ocean ceiling, and salty flumes hissed along the bleached-coral walls.

The Orb sparkled in the dim light, fairy lights twinkling across its immaculately smooth surface, and Calamitina’s posture shifted subtly. “Yes..yes that’s the ticket indeed…” Hunched and lurching, her gait unbalanced by her precious cargo, she made her way to the closest pillar. The thrum of magic and rush of water hissed about her body. She lifted one wizened claw and ran it through the ocean water, the spray gently misting about her face and hissing off the orb she bore.

“My, my, how very interesting...” she mused. “A true natural ocean…I never thought I’d see the day.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll have to see how I can use this to my advantage today.”Editing with permission!

< Message edited by Starstruck -- 7/29/2025 6:10:06 >
DF MQ  Post #: 3
7/24/2025 22:30:10   
Oddball
Member

A spark.


Physical in that a spark is formed as sword meets scythe. Again.
And again.

Metaphorical in that a spark is what both combatants felt as their ideals clashed against one another. A fleeting moment that both had sought for their entire lives.

“Finally… Someone to-”

“-Fill the void.”



The larger of the two, a man nearing 8 feet tall, thrust his weapon out to point towards his rival… His mirror. His friend. He bore a wicked, twisted, grin as he raised his voice, cutting through the mutual silence the pair had settled on.

“Isn’t it about time you drop all of your pretenses hero? Surely we are both aware of what you are really here for.”

“...Please. Enlighten me.”

Usually, she wouldn’t have given him the time of day. This man had been a thorn in her side for so, so long and now she was just a hair’s breadth from finishing him for good…
So for the “Hero” to stay her weapon and humor this lunatic? Well, she had skipped breakfast. Perhaps that was the reason behind her hesitance.


“I’ve seen it, you know? That look you wear when we clash. When you bring your blade up to fight something that you know to be a powerful foe. You can choose to believe that you are here for such arbitrary reasons as “It’s my duty.” but you and I both know that this isn’t the whole truth.
Your duty as a Hero isn’t why you sought me out this day, is it? Nothing as selfless as such a reason would have brought you here.
You are here for your own pleasure, are you not? You do not enjoy your title as “Hero” for positive reasons. You do not wear your title on your chest as a showing to those around you that there is a light to follow… No. You wear it for entirely selfish reasons. You know that introducing yourself as the “Hero” will attract all kinds of life, good and bad. Through the multiple attempts on your life I have noticed one constant… And it’s the fact you enjoy the thrill. Not knowing if you’ll see the ‘morrow is something that excites you to no end-”

A laugh. From his mirror, a laugh. Had she found his statement a joke? The shorter of the two cleared her throat, giving this annoyance the response he deserved.

“You really are crazy, aren’t you? I suppose when combat is all you know, it’s easy to impose your own beliefs onto others.”

“...Then why, pray tell. Are you grinning, Hero?”

“You’re delusional. There’s no way I would be.”

It was the taller man’s turn to laugh. A maddened cackle born from a life of stagnancy that had finally found its spark

The hairs on the Hero’s neck stood to attention.

Her grip on her weapon tightened…

Her grin widened.

And as it did? Allysciel’s opponent just couldn’t help but vocalise his joy.
“That’s it! THAT’S the expression I wanted! You can deny it all you like. But I know the truth. I know you.”

“You know nothing Rathazel. You only understand the version of me you’ve crafted in your demented fervor.” The Hero spat back in defiance. She couldn’t let him get to her… She couldn’t.

“...Still trying to play your role to a fault. I understand if you’re too scared to admit our similarities. You can’t help it. It’s in your nature, after all.”The larger man quickly brought his scythe up to clash against the Hero’s sudden assault, their blades locked in struggle as their faces rested inches away from one another.
With one more infectious cackle from her adversary, the Hero felt her involuntary smile widen even further, her deep pools of amber shaking in an unknown revelry.

“I’m nothing-”


“-You’re just.”


“-”Like you.”
“-Like me.”




The pair lay a few feet from each other, their weapons had long been discarded in favour of their bare hands. Their conflict had ended, the Hero had triumphed! She had finally managed to overcome her greatest foe.

A cause for celebration, if there ever was one.

But as her vision began to fade, and the wet warmth below her began to encompass her being…
She hardly felt like celebrating.

“...Never have I understood those around me.”
The villain spoke suddenly, through sharp inhales and heavy exhales.
“Beiseged by banality, the world was a mire of tedium…”
“But in these…fleeting moments. There is a spark.” He paused, he knew she had felt it too, despite her claims.
“What of you, my mirror? Born into this world, bestowed title, the world’s weight bearing on your shoulders.” His arm reached out towards the only friend he had ever known. The only person who shared his love for the one thing that had brought him joy.
“Did you…Find fulfillment?
“Was this life a gift..?”
“...Or a burden?”
“I…” An exhale. A few serene moments passed, but there was no inhale to follow.


A spark.

Physical in that a spark was formed as sword met scythe. Again
And again.

Metaphorical in that a spark was what both combatants felt as their ideals clashed against one another. The fleeting moment that both had sought for their entire lives.

And as the Hero watched the spark in her adversary’s eyes fade, she finally understood him.

That spark.

Gone, too soon.



Allysciel took a long, deep breath, uttering a quiet prayer for the departed soul that lay at her feet. Another fool seeking glory by taking her head… She had lost count as to how many had been sent to their unfortunate end by her hands. Many more were sure to follow, from all sorts of life.

The Rich.
The Poor.
The Good.
The Bad.

All were equal before her blade, as long as they stepped within her grounds.

She took a handkerchief out from her breast pocket and carefully cleaned off her sword. The bandit had tried to take advantage of her being out of her armour while performing routine maintenance on her equipment, believing it would somehow give him an edge. She spotted a pair of vultures circling overhead as she moved away from the body. It was inevitable, after all, with the number of deaths behind her.

Returning to her campfire, Allysciel expected all to be as she had left that morning. But as a shuffling came from her tent, the Hero quickly readied her blade. If something was attempting to rob her, they would have better luck in finding valuables by traversing through the city sewers.

Allysciel stalked forwards, ready to pounce at the first sign of danger. And as the rustling came to a stop, what appeared before her wasn’t another attempt on her life… It was a dog…And it was wearing a scarf. She paused for a moment, arm still locked mid-swing, before she sighed, bringing her arm back down to her side and dropping her sword. She knelt down and extended a hand, the dog happily accepting her offer as it made its way over to her.

As Allysciel carefully ran her hand through the dog’s fur, she took the edge of the scarf in her other hand and flipped it over, finding a note attached.

”If found, please return to Eris in Bren!”

“Bren’s at least a few days’ travel from here… You’re an awful long way from home, pup.”

As much as she didn’t want to… she couldn’t decline the pleading eyes of a lost animal.

Picking up her blade from the ground, she reunited the sword with its sheath before she stamped out the embers from her campfire. With a whistle, she gestured for the dog to follow her, quietly murmuring to herself.

“I suppose a trip to the City wouldn’t hurt.”



“...The what?”

“The tournament! It’s hosted every year and it’s arguably the biggest event Bren has”

“I…Didn’t know. I’m not from around here and I don’t venture out very often…”

Barely minutes after Allysciel had returned the dog to its owner, she found herself cornered by someone who felt half of her size. Who simply decided to ramble to Allysciel about things that the Hero couldn’t particularly find herself caring about. The response from the larger woman seemed to put a dampener on the girl’s spirit, who half-heartedly kicked her foot against the ground.

“I just thought with those weapons you were carrying, that you were participating.”

“I’ve got other things that require my full attention.”

She lied.

“Oh…I see.”

The girl paused, her gaze had solidly met the floor, but she kept stealing glances up through the same pleading eyes that had granted the dog a first-class escort back to its home.

…What kind of hero would I be if I declined here?

As much decay as her soul had been through, Allysciel was still The Hero. She couldn’t just ignore the pleas of a young girl whose hope had not been crushed by the world. So, against her better judgement…

“...How do I sign up?”

Those words re-lit the fire in the girls’ eyes, and she quickly began explaining everything as she led the much larger figure through the crowds. Allysciel’s massive form pulled attention from all sides, but she simply kept her focus on her guide, even after she caught a conversation that mentioned her by name.

”Ignore them, Allysciel. You know why you’re still here.”

Her duty. The burden that tethered her to life. Her sole reason for existing.

She was The Hero.

And even a world that had only ever known peace still needed its Hero.




“Your name and element?”

The building that she had been guided to sat close to the middle of the city, with a much larger building behind it that Allysciel could likely determine to be the arena that this tournament was taking place in. Banners were placed in any and every location that could possibly hold a banner, and the streets had been a cacophony of jovial sounds that had helped drown out the few voices that had called to Allysciel.

She paused as the clerk asked for the most basic of information. She debated on whether or not she should go under a pseudonym. As far as she was from home, her story was known across the continent, and using her real name would pull far more attention than she wanted.

…But this was also her chance.

She could prove here and now, that she was still needed. That she was still capable.

“...Allysciel Stranz. Light.”

The clerk paused for a moment as the quiet ambiance of the room dropped to silence. Many of the figures in the room weren’t aware of the weight that name held, as was obvious by their confusion.

But for those who did? They silently watched as the clerk nodded a few more times than what was likely necessary, scribbling the name down of somebody who should have been long deceased. The clerk’s earlier friendliness had all but vanished, replaced by a little bit of awe… and an overwhelming sense of fear.

“O-okay… Miss Stranz. You’re free to continue.”

“Thank you. May the rest of your day be pleasant.”

Allysciel gave the clerk a short, polite bow before quietly moving through the room. Allysciel’s departure was backed by damning whispers, whispers of her simply using the name for shock factor. Or, perhaps, some were commenting that someone like her didn’t belong in their city. Clearly, her presence in Bren was not a particularly welcome one.

It mattered not.



Allysciel knelt alone in a darkened room. She had expected the opposition to have joined her while she donned her holy plate, but the room had remained a sanctuary that only she may lay her eyes upon.

“A hero’s path is rife with strife. It is a sisyphean task, and many may scorn you. You must not falter, you must not waver, and you must not fall. Only when your duty ends, may you find your rest.”

Allysciel’s eyes crept open, her surroundings having morphed into a deep passageway that was accompanied by a curtain of mist. The Hero pushed herself to her full height, taking confident steps through the moist blanket that clung to every surface in a vain attempt at slowing the figure daring to breach its halls. The further she continued, the more it felt as if the building itself was attempting to force Allysciel to turn back. The mist grew thicker, and the once pleasant sting of salt had grown to an almost unbearable degree…

But she pushed on.

No matter what strange magics this arena decided to subject her to, the promise of battle was in front of her.

The promise of something, or someone

Reigniting her spark.


The walls relented, the mist that had been clinging so desperately to Allysciel’s form had finally conceded its defeat, and Allysciel found herself standing in front of a wall of water, guided through the haze by an array of blues and greens. She breathed one final, deep, breath. And as she prepared to step forwards, to take the plunge through the wall. It parted. Inky tendrils of blackness gave way to allow safe passage into the room that they were guarding so very tightly.

In any other circumstance, Allysciel would have loved to marvel at the submerged arena; she had scarcely seen such brilliant architecture in the last half a millenia, or so. But she would have to find another time to appreciate the contrast between the reflective surface of the blackened floors and the haunting paleness of the coral-lined walls.

As the forms of her opponents came into view, Allysciel’s focus flickered between them. Despite the sudden fullness of her lungs, and obscuration of her view from a sudden deluge, her gaze remained strong. Any of these three opponents could be the one.

They could revive her love.




AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 4
7/25/2025 8:48:47   
nield
Creative!


 The Amber Dawn swayed viciously in the roiling waves to a backdrop of distant lightning flashes and the near-constant rumble of thunder.

“Captain! Three ships aftward on the port side!”

Jezara raised her head and slowly opened her mismatched eyes, before striding to the ship’s side and staring into the distance, where she could just barely make out the distant ships.

“Flags!”

She barked out a single word, quickly receiving a response.

“Black!”

“All hands ready!”

In response to this order her first mate began ringing a bell, its clear peal sounding above the storm’s frenzy, leading the ship to bustle with activity.

“Helmsman, hard aport!”

“Hard aport aye!”

The Amber Dawn crashed through waves as it turned broadside to the oncoming ships.

“Captain! I can see Bloodbilge!”

Jezara clicked her tongue and let out an aggrieved sigh through her nose.

“James Avoy… persistent sea roach.”

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. She cleared her throat and made some test noises, then once more took a deep breath and opened her mouth to belt out the Anthem of Lightning and Thunder.

But as before, silence was the only note to emerge. Her eyes widened and shook before she shook her head and opened her mouth to instead sing the Dirge of the Maelstrom. As no sound emerged once more, Jezara put a hand to her throat and clenched her teeth.

“Captain… what’s wrong?”

Alzero, her first mate, came up to her, concern writ across his face.

“I can’t Sing! Neither the Anthem nor the Dirge!”

“What about the Symphony? The Hymn?”

Jezara shook her head and wiped her hand down her face. Taking several quick yet deep breaths she readied herself to sing one more time.

“O Winds that blow…”

Jezara’s voice came out soft and smooth, as the roaring winds died down. With a flash in her eyes, she took Stormshot from her back and aimed it at the enemy ships as she continued to sing, the enemy ships coming to a relative halt as their sails went slack.

After a few moments the cannon in her arms fired, flying over and bursting in midair, shredding the other ships’ sails.

“Helmsman, hard a-starboard! We’re leaving the bounds of the Evertempest!”

“...A-Aye, Captain!”


“Alzero, what news?”

In the inn of a small port town, Jezara sat with her legs crossed and placed on the table before her.

“Nothing.”

She grunted, knowing what words he’d say next.

“There’s really only two choices left. Either you-”

“I’ll not go back there. Never.”

She spat vehemently before she sighed as she uncrossed her legs and set her feet back on the ground and leant forward.

“So. Tell me about Bren.”


Jezara breathed deeply as she walked through the hallway, taking in the familiar scent of the ocean as she came to a stop in front of a wall of mist that soon parted, allowing entry into the room beyond.

She strode confidently inside, glancing around, but didn’t have time to take in her fellows before the deluge began, seawater crashing against her body.

Other than standing steady so she wasn’t forced off her feet however, Jezara simply calmly breathed as the water overcame her and forced itself into her lungs, a small smile on her face.

As swiftly as the water arrived, it departed with similar alacrity, leaving behind four pillars.

“Submerged Fountain… Ah, what I could do with the Dirge here…”

Shaking her head with a bitter smile to shake off the what-if, Jezara looked around at the others in the arena.

She frowned as she looked to the right, where a decrepit crone waddled forth.

“...In areas where men die young, beware children and the elderly…”

Whilst muttering to herself she drew her gaze back across the arena, alighting briefly on the heavily armoured foe direct across her, before continuing on to the hooded figure on her left.

“You’ll do. O Winds that blow…”

Jezara grabbed her cutlass with her right hand as her left pulled a dagger from her coat and held it in a reverse grip, before breaking out into a sprint directly for the hooded figure.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 5
7/27/2025 23:10:16   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 I am here to kill my god.

The confession tasted like sulfur and smoke on xyr tongue, the sharp whisper of xyr voice echoing like a hunt-bell in xyr skull. Marrow’s hand hovered near xyr quiver, feeling the brush of sunsparrow feathers against xyr fingertips. If there was even a thorn-prick’s worth of consciousness still shared with Ulvenne, lurking somewhere the Favoured could not sense…

But xe felt no angry grasp of xyr roots, no flash of dripping teeth through xyr mind to show Ulvenne had sensed the betrayal. Marrow’s thoughts were truly, only, xyr own.

It was as if the strings of xyr net had been cut. The child of bone sparked into action, a hunting cat freed from its leash to give chase. Pinky and ring finger squeezed the shaft of a smooth, short arrow, and slipped it from its quiver at Marrow’s waist. Xyr eyes flicked quickly at the first sign of movement. A humanoid figure, tall, her cloak flapping behind her as she charged at xem, blade in hand. The blade’s silver surface shone faintly with warm reflections of the wisps that dotted the ceiling and central pillars. Like moonlight on a werewolf’s claw. Perfect. Marrow broke into a run away from her towards two of the wisps’ pillars, faintly tracking the blade’s glow as xe moved. Track the eyes and you’ll find the wolf; track the claws and you’ll find your life.

Xe flicked xyr wrist, catching the small metal lever that dangled from xyr right glove. Its acid etch darkened its surface and warded off the moon’s glow, just like the tips of xyr arrows. Marrow felt its coolness dance across xyr exposed fingers as xe used the three that did not hold the arrow to click the lever into its place on the crossbow. With a rough push, the catgut string jerked backwards and hooked behind its latch, drawing a curl of satisfaction from Marrow’s lips. Over two decades xe had hunted with this crossbow. Xe still couldn’t get enough of it. Xe bent xyr two furthest fingers and slipped the arrow they held into its groove with ease.

Another flash of movement, this time from xyr left. This one was easier to track in Marrow’s periphery, their entire body flickering with wisp-light. Metal armor. Marrow had seen such people on xyr travels to Bren, mostly city or church guards. It made some sense against other humans-- plate was useless for those of Ulve, who would either get mauled or bitten hard enough to puncture-- but Marrow could never give up the speed xyr cloth afforded xem.

Marrow planted xyr feet and took aim, squaring xyr back towards the closest pillar of water. To get to xem, the armored foe would have to run through the water, or appear again in Marrow’s periphery. Marrow balanced the crossbow in xyr right hand while dropping xyr left towards the line of six daggers at xyr waist. Gifts from smith Ruin in Marrow’s tenth year as Favoured. “From the goldbirch outside my shop,” he’d said of the handle, presenting them to Marrow before the night’s hunt. “Willow helped. A new root emerged a few nights ago, uprooting a chunk of antler with it. I knew then it was meant for you.” He’d sealed a fleck of antler within each handle. They must have taken over a week.

Marrow did not take xyr eyes off their charging, cloaked target as xe flicked xyr wrist and flung a dagger around the pillar towards where xe’d last seen the armored one. A warning; a distraction. Even if it only afforded xem a few breaths, those breaths made all the difference when fighting a pack. Xe grasped xyr crossbow’s body firmly with both hands, left finger holding the trigger. Xyr target was catching up quickly, its blade’s light steadying as it readied for a blow. Breathe out; fire.


Post #: 6
7/28/2025 21:59:14   
Oddball
Member

A slow, amused hum came from Allysciel as she began to creep forwards, wrenching the chimeric blade off of her back. Her iron grip allowed the weapon no freedom as it trailed behind the imposing figure, occasionally skipping off of the obsidian flooring with a low twang.
From what the girl had told her, this was to be a grand battle. Spells slung in every direction, the clashing of swords overtaking the raucous chants of the crowd. A place where one could just let loose. A place to forget your inhibitions, your mission… And just fight

So.

Was this it?

Her grand battle?

A pirate, a scoundrel, confident that this would not be her last voyage.
A rogue..Draped in drapes. Hiding from the world, or xemself?
A crone. Old as Allysciel felt. Death must not have wanted this one in its glorious halls.

Her thoughts gave her pause. She was not to underestimate her opponents, doing so had caused many deaths over her countless years. She was to treat this like her final battle, the finale she deserved…

“...I should have died all those years ago.”

Mumbling to herself, Allysciel continued her slow march. Her gaze fell to the crumbling sword that loosely swayed at her hip. Would he have enjoyed this? Would this have satisfied his craving?

”Hero. You send these strangers to me, straight to their demise. Has your cowardice finally driven you mad?

Allysciel softly shook her head. Of course not, he was only satisfied after she had finally snuffed out the final wick of his life. She had fought many people in her life. Some had found the chance to plunge their blades into her blackened heart. Some had fought her bravely, and without regret. Some had snuck into her camp during the night and slit her throat.
All fell, eventually.

He was the only one who claimed to understand Allysciel. To know her wants, her desires. It was his death that claimed her spark… And it was his name that she remembered.

Allysciel grumbled as the grip around her weapon tightened somehow, the grasp that he had on her thoughts was a mere annoyance, a fleeting moment before she would focus on her opponents. That’s all it was…

That’s all it was.

One of her prey, the scoundrel, had moved first, rushing to meet the rogue with cutlass and dagger in hand. She could aim for the pair; eliminating two in a single bout was completely within her limits. She could shrug off a few deaths, she would be fine. The crone, however, had other ideas besides fighting. Allysciel turned to where she would be, only to witness the magic user appraising the nearby pillar of water.

Where did she think she was?

It wouldn’t take long for Allysciel to come to a decision, as a knife thrown by the rogue harmlessly scraped the side of her helmet. A volunteer. Excellent.

Pulling up her free hand, Allysciel pointed towards the crone with a pair of fingers, her body lurching backwards as the accursed magic slithered through her veins like sand. This was to be a wake-up call, to get the last of them interested in fighting. With a roar, she unleashed the arrow towards the old woman, before she pulled herself forwards, rushing to meet whoever might stand before her in the center.



AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 7
7/29/2025 8:46:18   
nield
Creative!


 As she ran, her voice soft and sonorous as she sang, Jezara kept her eyes focused on the hooded fellow as they ran to put their back to one of the water pillars. Jezara raised an eyebrow and smirked as the fellow loaded their crossbow. Well, time for a slight change in plans…

As she drew close, the hooded figure aimed, calmly and methodically, showing great familiarity, while sending an errant dagger off at the heavily armoured one, before focusing purely on her.

Under the effects of the Hymn, it was all too easy for Jezara to read the figure’s actions and at the critical moment, dart a wide step to the side, causing the bolt to fly harmlessly past her.

Not letting up her speedy approach, instead of switching into a combat stance, Jezara spread her arms wide, crashing into the figure and sending them both into the pillar of water the figure had been so kind to put their back to.

Jezara stopped singing the Hymn as she breathed in the water, then swiftly kicked her feet, swimming up the inside of the pillar, before looking down at the hooded fellow. Biting her bottom lip slightly, she hesitantly opened her mouth to let out the mournful notes of the Dirge of the Maelstrom, but only silence emerged.

Worth a shot… Taking a deep breath, she folded on herself and shot downward, bringing her cutlass forward to strike as she drew close to her target.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 8
7/29/2025 18:22:11   
Starstruck
Member

Calimitina had an expression she liked to wear whenever she’s feeling particularly wise. And as she examined the dancing lights in the massive pillars of water, a very wise feeling came upon her. So she pulled the mask from her belt, carefully balancing the very important Orb on her knee as she fixed the mask to her face.

First, the closest. That tall jezebel with the striking eyes, bearing the weight of the cannon she bore with a practiced ease familiar to Calamitina’s long history of a similar sort of burden. A servant to it, or a master? More weapons gleamed beneath the long coat, marking her a threat at any range. Ooooooh, how she loathed the young and beautiful! One must only hope that she was just as much an idiot as that gabby-lips Flamingina Brominini back at home!

Next, the swiftest. The hooded figure’s cloak rustled as their body pressed against the pillar opposite Calamitina’s, and her eyes narrowed - not from curiosity or anger, but instead from just trying to make out details at such a distance. Most would focus on making out details of the strange person’s anatomy, but the Prophet of the Holy Incendiary Orb was far more concerned with counting the ammunition for that sizeable crossbow on their back. 6 bolts, and some throwing knives. Blast! Calamitina thanked her lucky stars that young Hotrodrigo was in the stands and not here on the floor. The empty-headed hothead would have been a pincushion by now.

Finally, the strongest. Easily twice Calamitina’s height, covered in shining armor, and….slow. This one wouldn’t survive a week at Mount Krakaboom. If she didn’t bake in her fancy schmancy armor from day one, she’d boil as the rivers of lava wrapped around her legs and pulled her into the red-hot ooze. But they weren’t at Mount Krakaboom, they were here with a shiny black mirror for a floor and nothing to trip on. Yet.
”Please, say your name and who you’re rooting for and you’ll get a chance to win a fabulous prize!”

Hotrodrigo looked up at the camera with a smoldering smirk, and pulled the band out of his long, flowing red hair. With a practiced shake, he loosened the curls and stared directly into the camera.

“I am Hotrodrigo, and I carry important news for Calamitina Explodinita. You see...there is something she must know, something that I learned this morning and traveled here to yell to her when the fights begin…”

Suddenly, a high-pitched, shrill call came from behind the camera. The cameraman swung, startled by the noise.

“HOTRODRIGO VOLCANINO! I SAW YOU SNEAKING AROUND WITH FLAMINGINA BROMININI!”

It’s Gesplodentfolken bombshell Beautifilla Katrina - but she’s a total mess! Her beautiful blonde hair is full of sticks and shrubs, her firesilk dress is ripped and torn, and she’s missing an earring!

“I-I swear, Beautifilla! It’s not what it looks like!! Flamingina discovered something important, something that I’m here to tell Calam-” Hotrodrigo protests in vain before Beautifilla is upon him, ripping at his hair and wailing like a banshee.

“I don’t care!!! You horrible hog! You conniving canary! I’ll kill you!”
Footsteps set Calamitina to high alert. Her mask’s expression switched to idle boredom as her practiced eyes flicked to each competitor, looking at their eyes and hands to anticipate their actions. Though it was hard to see at this distance, Calamitina could tell that each competitor was monitoring her. Each in their own way. The cloaked thing broke the line of sight with her, putting a pillar between them - no, not of indeterminate gender, something else? something darker? - and the armored giantess. The cannoneer was running and…singing? Her voice soared in the echoey gloom, forming eerie harmonies that coated the sounds of footsteps and breathing like tar.

The beautiful cannoneer brute-force slammed into the hunter, dodging a loosed bolt (FIVE) and carefully noting the thrown dagger (FIVE). The pair tumbled into the pillar and separated, the tall hideous horrible creature opening her mouth to the sound of absolutely nothing. Douse the singer, silence the sea serpent. And I’ll bet my pinky claw that her gunpowder won’t ignite after this. She must have another plan.

But no time for that now. The armored idiot had raised her long, sturdy arm, and light gathered dimly about the fingertips of her gauntlet. With a loud bang that even that gormless himbo Hotrodrigo could have reacted to, she discharged a magical arrow of light. Or something.

“Time to go!” Calamitina chuckled cheerfully, as the brilliant, baneful projectile flew towards her, and quick-stepped into the pillar.
Beautifilla looks horrible. Ruby red mascara streaks down her rosy, pale-gray cheeks as her enormous lashes blink away fat tears. But as Hotrodrigo whispers in her ear, betrayal and anger turn to shock and fear.

“No…No! It can’t be! But…how did Flamingina find out about this? That dumb cow couldn’t solve a two-piece puzzle! The only talent she has is for breaking up marriages! I hate her so much I could spit!”

She does. The bleachers sizzle on impact, but it’s unclear as to why. She was not chewing lava-flavored bubble gum.

Hotrodrigo clutches Beautifilla’s hands to his chest and kisses them. “It’s true. She could never compare to your beauty and intelligence, Beautifilla. But she is also very talented at gossiping! And if this information is true…then Calamitina is in danger! We have to save her”

Beautifilla bites her lip and looks down at the arena scrying pool. “We’ll have to get closer. I think I know a spell that might work. How does my hair look?” [I]She pulls out a contact mirror and wails. “Oh no! It’s HORRIBLE! I have to go!” She quickly dashes to the ladies’ room, leaving Hotrodrigo behind.
Silence enveloped Calamitina. For the first time in a long time, the Orb felt weightless, and the crackling of her joints and the hiss of her breathing was replaced with nought but bubbles and serenity.

A flash of light seared past behind her, barely brushing the pillar. She could see the disappointment on the armored foe’s face as she pushed through the pillar, each step labored even as the Orb moved of its own power through the pillar. Water turned to steam across the underside of its surface as it pulled her along, conjuring bubbles that popped and sparked against her mask. The heat intensified, filling the pillar with steam and masking the sounds of the Magnificent, Most Incredible, EXPLOSIVE, CALAMITOUS ORBBBBBB! as it charged a deadly Fireball. Bubbles flew from the holes in the mask as its expression creaked to twisted, reckless, excessive joy.

Carefully - quickly - with perfect timing. Calamitina stepped from the pillar and directed the gigantic sphere at her target. No, no, not the armored brute. At the pillar.

“OBOTE KALAMA POPI-ITLA!” she screeched with wild abandon. "Catch this, my DARLINGS!! A gift from Calamitina and the most Holy, Magmatastic, Powerful, Incredible, Noble, Violent, Deadly, …”

The Orb’s surface gleamed like fresh lava, and a concussive burst erupted from its forwardmost point. The superlatives chanted by the high priestess were drowned out by the menacing thrum of the Orb’s fire magicks and the sizzle of hot air and steam. Streaking like a meteorite and glowing red-hot, the Fireball blasted across the center of the arena, ready to slam into the occupied opposite pillar with incredible force. The recoil blasted Calamitina back into the pillar behind her, which caught her gently and lovingly but didn’t absorb her frail body all the way. Salt spray soaked her scraggly gray hair and splattered across the floor as she gleefully watched the missile crackle and pop in its flight.
DF MQ  Post #: 9
8/1/2025 22:03:03   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 Marrow’s body swayed as the crossbow fired, a branch snapping back as its tip is released. The crossbow’s tiller bucked against its perfectly-carved home in Marrow’s shoulder; a shine of barklike patterns flickered from the trigger down Marrow’s finger as if they were one branch. Joy surged through the Favoured, true and unhidden. Xe waited for Ulvenne’s wave to rise and match it, to complete it, this delightful wholeness that filled xem when they were one.

Ulvenne did not respond, of course, and xyr joy died in xyr throat, empty and bitter.

The hunter’s bolt, too, did not find its mark. The woman’s voice was soft and sure as she sang, her feet darting away quicker than Marrow had seen any Ulve dancer move. Magick-- like a prayer. Marrow spit on the ground below almost on reflex. But there were no forests to return xyr essence to here, no roots to be sustained. It meant nothing. Marrow raised xyr crossbow to deflect the singer’s shining blade as a gentle wind tostled xyr cloths.

Xe would show everyone xe did not need a god to win.

But instead of a blade, the singer’s own hand met Marrow’s shoulder, her fingers tangling deep into xyr cloak. Her body was upon xyrs instantly, forcing air from xyr lungs and sending xem tumbling backwards once more into water. Marrow’s clothes dropped against xyr limbs with extra weight as xe caught a struggled breath within the water. The hunter squinted xyr eyes open and met the multitude of wisplights swirling around xem in every direction. It was too much to keep track of. Xe could see xyr opponent’s shirt-- a gleaming scarlet against the softer tints of water and light-- as she swam towards the top of the pillar and began to turn. But xe could not tell which glimmer was her blade, and which was just a wisp’s reflection in the water’s curves. Marrow’s feet brushed the floor at the water’s bottom, and found xyr gaze drawn to a light slightly different than the others, more orange, and--

growing.

“Shard, run!” Marrow’s voice cut through the sounds of earth and night, xyr eyes locked on two fire-bright dots through the trees.
They zigzagged erratically in the darkness, but their rhythm was constant, the up and down of four paws, getting larger. Closer.

Shard turned back to glance at Marrow, his still-boyish freckles dancing across his face in the gleam of the moon.
Marrow’s feet itched to move: one set of eyes heralded more, and two alone was not enough to match a pack.
But Shard stood strong before xem, and as he followed Marrow’s gaze, his feet only planted further into the ground.
“There he is!” His voice teemed with excitement, rather than the fear that shook Marrow to xyr bones. His axe was
newly carved, full of Ulvenne’s magick. But Ulvenne’s strength could not make them invincible; could not make
victory of a slaughter.

“Don’t make that face, Marrow!” Shard’s orange, tousled hair leapt into the air as he lowered his hood. The Favoured
ran forward and grabbed his wrist, but he yanked it free. “Have faith, Favoured!” Marrow did, but not faith like this:
manic, feverish, blinding. Xe felt each sound like a thunderclap as Ulvenne drank deep of the boy’s words, savoring each
syllable like a bite of a duskfig. But words meant nothing to life and death. “Ulvenne,” Shard cried, readying his oaken
axe as two lights became four, became six, “grant us your--”


Run!

As xyr foe darted downwards towards them, blade outstretched, Marrow jammed xyr crossbow into the ground. The impact sent xem streaking backwards through the pillar. Blade met flesh, scraping down Marrow’s arm as xe moved, sending a glimpse of earthy russet into the waters.

Crisp, clear splashing rushed through Marrow’s ears as xyr body met open air once more. Xe held xyr crossbow in front of xem, its tip still at the water’s edge, to make it difficult should xyr foe try to follow.

With a clap like thunder, the pillar exploded backwards, showering Marrow in the same water xe had just left. Hot droplets from its sides singed at Marrow’s cheek and burnt small holes in xyr cloak. The hunter leapt backwards, a sting shooting up xyr right arm as xe pulled xyr crossbow with xem. In the corner of xyr eye, the bright reflection of the armored foe blazed like a full moon. Xe reached a hand to xyr knives as xe watched her, xyr gaze drawing up across bloodstained plate to rest on the claw-like slash that ripped through her helmet. Behind it, a single eye lurked, a white void. This woman-- this thing-- had lived through many deaths.

Marrow had heard stories of such things, outside of xyr forest, where roots did not hang like a cage over their graves. Xe slipped xyr fingers around two daggers, gripping xem both in one hand with xyr crossbow firm in xyr other.

Undead.

In a single hand it held a large weapon— heavy, disjointed, as if it wanted to be too many things at once. Marrow had only heard stories of what might kill an undead. But fingers, hands, grips, would always be weak if you hit them hard enough. The child of bone ducked as xe ran forwards, raising the crossbow so its limb brushed at xyr hood, xyr arm’s wound burning against its weight. A puff of breath left xyr lips as Marrow dropped into a slide and hefted the crossbow towards the foe’s grip.

Post #: 10
8/2/2025 21:19:10   
Oddball
Member

With her attention barely aimed towards the witch, Allysciel couldn’t quite make out what the crone was screeching about. But it would be remiss of her not to, at least, make an effort to see what was coming her way. As The Hero turned her head towards the witch, she witnessed the end of the orb’s crackling power, as a fireball was sent hurtling towards the trio…

Or, at least Allysciel thought it was coming for her. She watched, amused, as the fireball’s course made itself clear. Straight for the pillar of water that sat beside her. A few steps to the side would likely free her from any damages… But where was the fun in that?


Alas, the fireball crashing into the pillar did little to deter Allysciel’s path forwards. Over her many years, her Holy plate had protected her from much worse than a simple inferno. A hot splash of water was still just water, at the end of the day.

Movement in her peripheral wrenched Allysciel’s attention sideways, the Rogue was after her now, the previous combatant wasn’t enough it would seem. The Hero’s smile would go unseen as her opponent broke out into a sprint towards her. A quick glance at xyr eyes would tell Allysciel all that she needed to know about her target’s intent.

After my weapon, eh? Bold. Too bold.

Allysciel counted the steps that the rogue took as she gleefully awaited her target’s strike. She would not move, could not move until it was right. And as her target was mid-strike with xyr heavy crossbow, Allysciel finally sprang her trap. With a quick step back, Allysciel committed to a half-pivot. With this, the blow would likely either miss or strike a part of Allysciel’s armour that would easily take it.

But that wasn’t her plan.

With the rogue distracted by her full movement, it would be much too late for xem to realise Allysciel’s weapon was thrust forwards. A flash of light enveloped Allysciel’s weapon as her radiant energy surged through her arm. It burned. It burned hotter than the peak of a smith’s forge. But the Hero grit her teeth, and followed her strike through. A crunch would soon follow as the hilt of Allysciel’s blade intimately met the face of the rogue. Too caught off guard to raise a proper guard, the back of xyr head almost came crashing down against the obsidian flooring.

Allysciel finished her pivot, watching as the rogue managed to correct xyr balance and whip xyr head back towards Allysciel. The eyes were focused again. This rogue wasn’t nearly as fragile as the rest that she had encountered…

Good. That would be boring.

Allysciel shifted her grip on her weapon, forcing her fused weapon to face forwards. Her free hand rested softly on the hilt of a weapon on her hip. It was his, and Allysciel was certain he would want his sword to see a little bloodshed.

”Just remember the cost of using my blade, Hero."

Allysciel rolled her one good eye, the one hidden from the world.

Of course she knew what the repercussions were… She felt it in her gut every time the sword shattered. But she would be damned if she let a small setback like that stop her from rekindling her spark.

Allysciel raised her weapon, its point fixed to the rogue. She briefly humoured a speech, but decided against doing so. It would likely take her too long, and that would certainly not impress the crowd. So with a heavy swing back down to her side, and a bow born from habit, The Hero readied herself for the rogue’s next trick.

And like the previous? It would fail.
AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 11
8/3/2025 8:21:37   
nield
Creative!


 Jezara’s figure cut down through the water, her outstretched cutlass glinting as lights flickered in the water. The hooded fellow, perhaps unsure of their ability to move naturally in the water, slammed their crossbow against the ground to move themself back and out of the pillar, but not without staining the waters red as blade sliced flesh.

Jezara pushed her body flat, to break her momentum and looked up where the figure had retreated, her eyes widening as a malevolent orange glow rapidly approached the pillar she was floating in. Gritting her teeth, she swam backwards, her body unceremoniously floundering to the ground as she escaped the pillar of water, right as a resounding boom echoed.

Jezara picked herself up and spat to the side as her expression darkened. She secured her cutlass and dagger once again as she reached behind her and drew her cannon, Stormshot, into her hands. ”O Winds that blow…” She began to sing once more, the winds coalescing into the cannon as she stalked around the pillar of water, which bubbled and steamed, though ultimately did not seem to lose much of its volume for long.

As she came around the pillar, she saw the hooded fellow confronted by the armoured one. Was it you? Her gaze shifted off the armoured one to spy the crone, half embedded in another pillar. ...Well, it doesn’t matter. What better an armament to crush a knight’s armour than a cannon?

Jezara pointed Stormshot straight at the armoured one and as the Hymn reached a high point the cannon unleashed the ball of winds condensed within.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 12
8/3/2025 16:07:42   
Starstruck
Member

Hotrodrigo and Beautifilla raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Their long, well-conditioned hair flowed in the breeze. The sun glared through their long legs as they took huge, slow-motion leaps.

Beautifilla lit a massive bonfire at the entrance to the arena as Hotrodrigo set little trinkets that he had stolen from Calamitina’s room. A little shrunken-head doll, the jawbone of a volcano whelp, a gold coin, two linked rat tails, and a shattered shard of fire amber were set at the points of the pentagram. Beautifilla extolled the Fire Lord, commanding it to communicate her message to Calamitina’s mind.

“OH LORD OF FIRE AND FLAME, WE BESEECH YOU. The orb she bears has led her falsely! We have learned of its true nature, and its true wish! It wishes to KILL Calamitina and trade her life to incubate its transformation into a gigantic evil fire dragon that will reign terror over our home!”

But nothing could penetrate the wards of the Arena, for fairness in blood-sport is more sacred than truth, justice, and Calamitina.
Calamitina cackled, blissfully unaware of the threat she bore in her own two hands. The Fireball spell had gone exactly as planned, slamming into the pillar of ocean water and creating a mesmerizing show of splashing water, steam, and sprawling combatants. Perfect!

And things could not have gone any better for her. The big armored lug was striding towards her tiny opponents, and they were engaging the big one in combat, leaving Calamitina un-aggressed with the most powerful, most dangerous, largest, most interesting thing in the room. THE ORB!! Perhaps because they hadn’t felt the power of its Fireball directly, they thought it was a weaker attack - the metal-coated idiot representing more of a direct threat despite her lack of speed and agility. Oh well, Calamitina supposed, that’s how they die.

“OH ORB OF MIGHT AND POWER, your most explosive, burstiest, hottest, most powerful…” Gosh, she had a set of lungs on her! The eyes on the mask flashed and sizzled as she locked her gaze upon the gorgeous burnished plate armor that the giantess wore. As she waddled closer within range, waves of heat rippled through the air. The enchantment set to work immediately, heating the metal of the breastplate by several degrees at a time.

Boil and bake in your armor, fool! thought Calamitina gleefully, watching the metal begin to glow. Remove it if you dare!

Retaining some distance, however, she stroked the polished surface of the Orb. The tall cannoneer had just fired a massive burst of wind towards the armored giantess. If they were to just…get a bit closer together…then there could be a truly explosive opportunity for Calamitina to curry her Lord’s favor…
”Calamitina? Can you hear us?” Beautifilla dropped to her knees.

“Oh no…Hotrodrigo, it didn’t work!” Tears rolled down Beautifilla’s cheeks. “How can we save her? If she gets the Boon for the Orb, it’s all over for us! For our people!”

Hotrodrigo grasped Beautifilla bravely in his arms. “Calamitina Explodinita is the wisest woman I know. Surely she can discern the fiendish true nature of the Orb and thwart its dastardly plan. And if she can’t…well, then I suppose the two of us shall have to be ready to defend our home from the giant evil dragon attack without her.” Beautifilla gasped, looking at her handsome boyfriend, overcome with positive emotion, not realizing that Hotrodrigo was just a colossal moron and would definitely not be able to fight off a gigantic evil fire dragon.
DF MQ  Post #: 13
8/5/2025 20:39:06   
roseleaf320
Creative!
The undead pivoted away from Marrow as xe slid, its glinting scarlet boots shifting backwards with the bitter screech of an owl. The hunter curled xyr hand inwards, folding both daggers carefully close to xyr arm. Xe pushed xyr knuckles into the ground to change course, cringing as skin met hard rock, inhospitable and unyielding. Marrow missed xyr forest, the soft dirt, the roots that melded to xyr touch. None could navigate Ulvenne’s land like his Favoured.

But Marrow was not in the forest. Xe was here, on unwelcoming stone, fighting undead and humans. Xe readjusted xyr bow, xyr eyes focused on the undead’s scarlet-stained boots in case it were to move again--

Marrow’s world splintered.

Once, on a night where the moon did not shine and the not-quite-werewolves grew bold, Ulvenne’s largest oak had splintered. A root, risen up to protect a hunter, was burst clean through, slinging shards at wolf and woman alike. It had shattered across their connection and brought the Favoured to xyr knees, as if Marrow’s own bones had burst within xem. Xyr cry had joined Ulvenne’s, both feeling for the first time the breadth of Ulvenne’s agony.

As metal met flesh in the darkness of Fountain, Marrow’s head erupted just the same, as if xyr brain was a root twisting within xyr skull and it had shattered. Weed-roots of pain sprouted from xyr enemy’s fist on xyr forehead and pierced across Marrow’s scalp, xyr forehead, xyr temples. And Marrow cried out in xyr mind, but Ulvenne was not there to join it.

Xyr body skidded to a halt, both fists scraped raw from slamming into the ground, from keeping Marrow’s skull above the harsh floor. Xe turned, blinking splinters from xyr eyes, cicadas from xyr ears. Salve. Xe needed salve.

“I don’t need that nasty thing! I’m big and strong! Like you, Mar!” Mouse whined with all the strength of their three years,
yanking their knee from Marrow’s grasp.
“That’s nonsense,” Marrow tutted, spitting the salve into xyr hands. “I use this all the time. It’s what makes me big and strong.”
“But U-benne chose you! You’re invincible!” The child’s ash-gray hair bounced as they leapt from their seat. Marrow felt Ulvenne’s
pride within xemself, an upturned chin, a smug nod, the roots across xyr body pulsing.
“I am no such thing.” The Favoured furrowed xyr brows. “Come, litt. I won’t say it again.”


Xe turned xyr head to xyr shoulder, thoughts catching on the memory of Mouse’s curls, fending off the fog that inched at xyr mind. Salve would not seal xyr bones, would not perform miracles, but all xe needed was a focus, a painkiller. With a strong bite, Marrow caught one of the leafy bundles laced into xyr shirt and pulled it roughly into xyr mouth. Xe heard the rough clank of the undead’s plates, the whistling of vicious winds, but not at xem, not close enough to hurt. Marrow tipped xyr head towards the sound as xe unraveled the outer leaf with xyr tongue, hoping the other combatants couldn’t see xem reeling.

The first bite of salve was always the worst; pungent sharpness that burst across Marrow’s tongue like a blister, but Marrow liked it the best for its strength. It brought Marrow’s senses to focus quickly; xyr skull already clearing as the bitter, stinging herbs diffused through xyr sinuses. Xe picked each herb out xemself, Ulvenne’s guidance always unfolding the best blooms while wilting the leaves that were about to sour. With each herb crushed between xyr teeth a new image bloomed-- orange firemoss dotting a birch, the deep scarlet of peonies dotting a field, chamomile buds hiding among the thorns. With each image, the ash-gray splinters of xyr vision pieced back together, each splinter returning to its place in the root until the arena was clear again in xyr gaze. Xe brushed xyr tongue along the bolus, noting when the texture of the herbs just started to meld together, when the sharpness and tang and sweetness all blended into one. Ready. Xe dropped xyr crossbow and spit the herbs into xyr emptied hand, the aftertaste simmering on xyr tongue. Xyr fingers moved quickly, smearing the mess across xyr forehead, down xyr nose, xyr cheeks, spit and herbs mixing with too-dark blood. They afforded a single swipe before grabbing xyr crossbow once more. Xyr eyes once more caught the reflection of the undead’s armor, heard the catty screeching of a new foe from afar. Xe did not have the time to be gentle as xe was with Mouse.

Marrow spared a glance: the one who shouted was entirely alone, a large sphere raised and glowing crimson in her hand. Her face was turned towards Marrow and the undead, two bright eyes piercing through the arena’s shadows. Like a wolf. The way she held the sphere, forwards and above as if an offering… either it was tied to a god, or some other kind of magick. Her words rolled like a caravan through the air, every other word filled with a grandiose emphasis that made each lose meaning on its own. Something about… explosions. Shut up, Marrow thought, and xyr voice is sharp in xyr head, a single tone without its echo.

Marrow took a breath and snapped back into motion, the sharp lines of pain fading from xyr head with the salve’s touch. Daggers outstretched, xe slid again past the undead foe, slashing under the crook of its armor where legplate met boot. Xe did not stop to see the undead’s reaction, instead leaping to xyr feet and dashing around a second pillar of water. Xe rounded the pillar well away from the foe’s front, willing the darkness of xyr cloak would keep xem from drawing her gaze. The object within her hand shone with the wisps’ reflections, revealing black flecks like egg-spots on its otherwise pristine surface. Marrow locked xyr eyes on it and raised xyr left hand, aiming one dagger at the object and the other at its bearer’s upper arm. I wonder which you find more important, the hunter thought, as xe flicked xyr wrist and sent both daggers flying, your magick’s body or your own?
Post #: 14
8/7/2025 4:32:59   
Oddball
Member

”Will this one satisfy me?”

The Hero sized her target up, sword held tightly in her grasp as she awaited the rogue’s action.
She was beginning to sound like him.

Her tense legs almost sprung forwards, before the loud unmistakable crack of cannonfire snapped her attention elsewhere. The pirate! She had managed to creep closer without Allysciel’s notice…She had nowhere to go, and the weight of her armour left her without any chance of avoiding the blast. She simply braced for impact.

Even with her armour’s denseness, Allysciel had to will herself to stay on her feet as the blast made direct contact with her. Her teeth found themselves grinding against one another as she struggled to keep her balance.

But this was but the first assault, as the Hero’s armour quickly began to rise in temperature. No doubt an attack from that screeching crone. She had dealt with heat before… This would be nothing to her. Nothing.

”You’re sweating, Hero.”

The heat was bearable. But it had distracted her long enough for the rogue to strike. Xe sprinted past Allysciel’s distracted form, running a dagger across the back of her foot like one was opening a letter. Her leg almost buckled from the pain, but the Hero remained on her feet. Her armour, now hot enough to begin blackening her skin, remained worn.

It would appear that all three of her opponents wanted the glory of ending her… So be it.

It was fairer this way.

”ENOUGH!”

The Hero’s first spoken word cut through the arena, the surface of the nearby pillar rippling under the force of her voice. She stood firm, despite her armour attempting to cook her alive, before her free hand gripped the rotting plumage that sprouted from her helmet.

“If you three wish for the removal of my armour that badly, I shall gladly comply. But heed this-”

With a mighty pull, Allysciel wrenched her helmet free, revealing her snow-white hair. Unraveling, her hair falls behind her in a singular braid, untouched by battle. Her arm falls to her side, helmet dangling by its worn string as her grip tightens.

“I was not wearing it for my protection."


With her warning spoken, Allysciel wasted no time in launching her counterattack. She wound the arm holding the helmet backwards, wasting little time to aim before her arm suddenly snapped forwards. As her arm arced, Allysciel released her iron grip on the helmet’s plumage, launching the headpiece forwards towards the rogue.

The Hero, not in the business of checking if her impromptu projectile struck its mark or not, turned her attention towards the wielder of the cannon. The scoundrel who had previously been preoccupied with the rogue.

With a dash forwards, Allysciel’s plate peeled from her body like a burnt layer of skin, freeing its owner from its incredible weight. Under it, she wore a rusted chainmail shirt. Half of the chainlinks were missing, and the other half looked like they were soon to follow suit.
Allysciel’s half-eye caught movement on the corners of her vision, and she casually lowered her stance to let the object harmlessly pass above her.

During her sprint, she pulled her weapon up to her chest as it glowed a sickening green. She lay her hand over the middle of the weapon before suddenly pulling a scythe from the patchwork blade.

Maybe this one would fill the void.
AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 15
8/7/2025 6:58:33   
nield
Creative!


 The ball of winds crashed directly into its target, the heavily armoured foe staggering, which allowed for the hooded fellow to slit their blade into the joint of the armoured one.

Oh? Still standing are we? Well let’s see if I can… Oh?

“Enough!”

The armoured foe spoke for the first time, resolute and firm, even as the faint smell of sizzling flesh began to clash with the briny scent of the Arena.

A gauntleted hand reached up to tear the helm from the woman’s head, as she spoke further. Jezara’s eyes narrowed as she sneered inwardly.

Not wearing your armour for your own protection? Are you stupid, lady? That’s the whole point of armour.

The armoured woman’s arm snapped backwards as she hurled her helmet towards the hooded fellow, who was closing in on the crone.

But Jezara had no time to consider how matters fared for others, as the still-armoured woman’s eyes, the one dead, the other damaged, came to rest on her.

She considered quipping about how the woman was still in her armour, but she simply exploded forth, her heavy armour seeming to simply disintegrate off her form, bringing her weapon close to her, and pulling a scythe out from it.

Jezara clicked her tongue and slung Stormshot behind her back once more, opting to grab her cutlass with her right hand while her left once more fished a dagger out from her coat.

She briefly paused her song to take a deep breath, though the familiar scent of the sea remained tainted by the smell of overdone meat.

Well, somewhat different to fight without the violent sway of the deck underfoot… but I’ll make do.

As she resumed her song, she swept forward, bringing her cutlass in a wide arc to test how her foe moved now she had emerged from her chrysalis.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 16
8/7/2025 15:11:32   
Starstruck
Member

A musical jingle plays.

“Do your feet smell like a buzzard’s feast?
Have your loved ones made excuses not to meet?
If your body smells just like rotten meat -
It’s time to buy from Dr. Impeet!”

“Now in a store near you - Try Dr. Impeet’s Anti-Decay, Anti-Burning Flesh, Scent-Erasing Deodorant!”
Calamitina’s eyes glowed fiendishly as she chanted, barely making sense as she started just sort of making up words.

“Fragulous, Bombalicious, Oppabomious…”

The giantess shed her armor, taking great strides in a lot less time than she had started with. Calamitina’s joy at cooking the fool in her own kettle quickly turned to unpleasant ash in her mouth as the plate cracked, crumbled, and fell off, revealing light and flexible chain mail. The tall woman took the brunt of all three competitors’ attacks full force and peeled off her helmet, revealing her battle-scarred countenance and some long, gorgeous hair in a thick braid. Calamitina’s mask soured with jealousy and reprobation.
”I’m not jealous. Her hair is ugly anyway. And she stinks. She needs deodorant.”

The camera zooms in on Calamitina’s dry, wrinkly head. All forty of her hairs are going in different direction. It’s clearly visible that there is healthier, thicker hair in her nose than on her head. Her expression screams jealousy.
Well, the best-laid plans. Calamitina was not above being called a blithering idiot if she deserved it. And the shouting of the giantess (she wasn’t paying attention, too busy extolling the virtues of her Orb) might as well have been as such. From an enemy, the only good sound is a final breath.

The rogue booked it cross-wise, revealing xyr wits and awareness. Calamitina was almost proud. It’s what she would have done in her younger days. But a wizened crone knows that pride is folly, and only a complete stupid-brain with no sense would ever hand too much of anything to one’s enemy. So, new plan.

One step, two steps, fire gathered about her feet. Then she was off the ground, accelerating fast in a vertical arc towards the cloaked rogue. Two daggers whizzed by below her, aimed squarely and fairly at her old location. Calamitina never fought squarely and certainly never fought fairly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the giantess duck beneath her own helmet, and - WHAM! She was landing already, cursing herself for losing concentration on the only important target. As the large glass Orb connected with the rogue’s body, the purpose of xyr movement became ugly-clear. The heavy crossbow xe held had finished its arc and was held far away from xyr center of mass. Although xyr body was being knocked down by the force of Calamitina’s high-speed impact, the crossbow itself herk-jerked and slammed into her leg…and bent it the wrong way.

“OWWWW!” screeched the crone, and then “AAAAAH” she screamed again, as the fire jet changed its angle and sent her spiraling through the air. Up, down, around, unable to make sense of her surroundings, she tumbled. Her left leg would not obey her, dangling uselessly but still spewing white-hot flames with aggressive force.

”SNAP TO IT, THOU BLATHER-BRAINS! THIS IS THY FIRST TIME IN A SCRAMBLE?”

The acrimonious voice of Calamitina’s mother echoed in her brain. Her neck cracked as she twisted it this way and that, seeking her bearings even as coral, ocean, and mirror exchanged places and dazzled her senses. The wall of ocean that represented the ceiling of the arena rose to meet Calamitina at high speed, but she took a deep breath and kicked her left leg with her right. Her back scraped against the still surface, dazzling motes of light blurring as it disturbed and distorted. With jets of blue flame forcing her downward, the droplets of water seemed to lazily wiggle through the air, falling at a slower speed than the volcano-elf witch.

Through the flailing of her left leg and the sickening lurches of her jerking acceleration, Calamitina spotted her target. The two big stupid girls were having a little swords party, clashing together with a crash that no doubt shook the ground and pleased the Elemental Lords who would grant the Orb’s greatest wish.

I’ll give the Lords something else to celebrate, thought Calamatina gamely, and ceased the burning of her foot-jets.

Gravity took over.

“OH BLING BLONGY, BOMBAGOMBY…AW, WHO CARES, WHATEVER, FIREBALL!” she yelled. As she dove directly for the swords-locked pair, the Orb began to heat up in a familiar fashion…
“Is that…Calamitina?? Wait, Calamitina! Wait up! It’s us!”

Beautifilla and Hotrodrigo gasp as they see Calamitina shuffling through the streets, holding her giant red Orb. They rush to her side, checking her for wounds, and giving proper deference to their High Priestess. The camera shakes as it follows them.

“Oh Calamitina, is the Championship over already? Did you make your way to the next phase?”

Calamitina raises her head. “Yes, yes children. I have been chosen by the Lord of Fire, and will fight for him to receive his boon!”

Beautifilla takes her hands gently. “But we have news for you, Calamitina. The Orb has deceived you! The boon it seeks is to kill you and use your power to transform into a gigantic evil dragon!”

Calamitina gasps theatrically, gazing into her Orb. “My gods…it would be impossible to refuse the invitation from the Lord of Fire now! Oh Hotrodrigo, Beautifilla, this is horrible! I have served this Orb for eight hundred years, how can I betray it now?! But I have a plan! Hotrodrigo, get me a magi-fibulator, and Beautifilla, I need a hexamometer! Quickly, there is no time to lose!”

As the young couple dash off in different directions, the camera zooms a slow smile crept across the old crone’s face. She sets the fake Orb down in the dirt, sitting on a little chair as she waits for the young volcano elves to return. “Hee hee hee, they fell for it!” says Calamitina’s evil twin, Catastrophina Explodinita! “And with that magi-fibullator and hexamometer, I will have everything I need to become the master of that gigantic evil fire dragon!”
DF MQ  Post #: 17
8/9/2025 23:23:01   
roseleaf320
Creative!


 Track the claw...

Metal glinted in Marrow’s peripheral, scarlet flickering as it soared through the air. Instinct brought xyr crossbow upwards, straining to keep xyr grip tight as metal met wood. The crack echoed through Marrow’s ears, tracing roots around xyr wrist and up xyr forearm. Rose-gold eyes traced its path as the object flew, its twist revealing a familiar fissure. The undead’s helmet. As it soared over the foes’ heads, xyr gaze caught on its owner, white hair like snow flowing down its back. At the edges of xyr thoughts, a voice whispered, familiar, though Marrow knew the memory was not xyr own.

“What do we name it?”


The god’s memories did not come as Marrow’s did, full and round with sense; xe felt only flashes, movements, glances. The pearly glint of xyr mother’s teeth as she smiled; the weight and warmth as she placed the child’s small body against their home’s small oak. The glare of moonlight against xyr hair, filling Ulvenne’s focus. A root’s shift; the flicker of bone within the dirt. And xyr mother’s voice.

“Marrow.”


The child of bone grit xyr teeth, the memory unwelcome, the love it elicited souring on xyr tongue. Once, Ulvenne and Marrow had shared in that love, the pride of xyr name and the shard of deer bone Ulvenne had unearthed to give it, like so many other children of Ulve. But now, Marrow felt the knowledge like a bar in a cage, claiming mine, mine, mine, as if Marrow is just a pet, or a jewel, or--

Marrow crumpled as weight slammed into xem. Back met hard stone, and xyr pieced-together head bloomed with shards anew. The weight was warm and awkward against xem, alive, less pouncing on xem like a wolf and more falling onto xem like an old cat. Marrow swung xyr crossbow towards the body on reflex, folding xyr arm inwards to curve its path towards xyr center. Panic laced xyr throbbing skull, pulsed tight against xyr heartroot, echoed through the god’s empty void in xyr mind, louder for his absence.

A sharp crack, and two weights lifted: the body and the hunter’s crossbow.

Xyr free hand shot to xyr right wrist as a searing crack arched from it, pain like dark splinters crawling up xyr arm. Broken. Marrow bit down on xyr lip as xyr world spun around xem, trying to keep track of the foe xe’d just been freed from. The magick user; a pitiful screech reached Marrow’s ears as she flailed in the air, clinging desperately to her trinket. Marrow looked away quickly as nausea rose in xyr stomach, xyr eyes catching on xyr crossbow as it skidded to a halt at the arena’s edge.


The spear skid across the grass, finally coming to a stop wedged in the ferns flourishing at the east end. Marrow
stepped towards it, bare feet cool in the morning’s dew, before Marigold’s voice called xem to a stop. “I don’t know, Sil--
Marrow,” she groaned. Marrow’s heart twinged at the hint of xyr nickname that leaked through despite the decades since she’d
used it. Since xe’d become Ulvenne’s Favoured. “I’m just so used to the sword.” She shook her head, autumn curls shimmering
in the sunrise, and though she continued talking to xem, she looked away when Marrow tried to meet her gaze. “I don’t know if it
will… if I can do this.” If it will work, Marrow knew she meant, if the wood will be enough. But she couldn’t say that in front of xem.

Marrow’s lips parted, an offering soft on xyr lips. Just use the sword, then, xe wanted to say. It matters more what
you can do with a weapon than how much of it is made from our god.

But no words left xyr lips. Xyr throat felt nothing but the barest hints of a root, slowly breaking through the skin of xyr neck.
Ulvenne’s grip, tightening, as confidence that was not xyrs soared in Marrow’s chest. It will be enough, the god
thought, and though Marrow alone could make clear Ulvenne’s words, xe felt the god push out toward Marigold, willing her to
feel their meaning.

You will win a thousand hunts with my root, my strength, in your hands. I am killer, protector, creator. You need nothing else.

And Marrow watched, frozen, as Marigold nodded, as if thinking something over, deciding something for herself. As she walked over to
the spear and ran her hands over it, irreverent, and when Marrow’s voice was released, something strange and vile curled in xyr chest.

She was killed three nights later. Her spear, shattered in two, was given to the Favoured for blessing. Xe returned it to the
ground with love, and with each handful of dirt, xe imagined scooping out a burrow in xyr mind, a den to hold the things Ulvenne
should not sense. And within that den, xe imagined walking up to the discarded spear, as it lay whole beneath the ferns, and setting it alight.


Something vile curled, blossomed, burst within the Favoured’s chest.

And perhaps it was the dizzyness of xyr jostled head, or the searing numbness across xyr arm, or the thought that even now, xe yearned for the comfort of xyr god. But within xyr mind, Marrow yanked open xyr den, turned to the void, and screamed.

Your roots are choking us. Marrow turned from xyr weapon, ignoring the wrench in xyr chest as it disappeared from view.

Your pride is killing us. Marrow found sight of xyr foe, who was gliding like a hawk towards the undead.

And you have the nerve to call it love! Marrow’s heart ached with the word, with the wellspring of care that went far beyond it, that Marrow had felt in Ulvenne’s depths and echoed the same. And xyr heart flamed with the fury that sprouted from it. Xe dashed towards xyr target, hood fallen from the earlier impact, bone-bright hair flickering behind xem.

And when their prey landed, Marrow was on her like a dog, like a wolf, hands jamming into her shoulder, foot slamming into the orb she so desperately treasured. Xe screamed, and every shard in xyr head, xyr arm, xyr foot, screamed with xem.

So if the Lords don't kill you for me, I will find a way to do it myself.
Post #: 18
8/12/2025 23:09:56   
  Starflame13
Moderator


 Within the fervent screams and crashing metal, light dimmed. First one floating orb went out. Then another, then another, and then the rest in a great cascade of oncoming darkness. The last remnants of flight flickered in the reflection of the black stone before they, too, vanished, and plunged the arena into absolute black.

The single droplet fell with a soft, echoing plink.

And the sky burst. Deluge upon deluge of inky ocean slammed downward as if released from a dam. It drove the combatants to their knees, subsuming them in a great roiling maelstrom that spun and spun, a vortex that wrenched them from all sides until naught could be seen, could be heard, could be felt but the freezing waters against their skin.

Then, the floods stilled - and vanished. Sunlight poured in from above through a cage of bleached coral, spindly legs connecting the ceiling to the bone-white walls surrounding them. Curtains of water receded to frame the gateways, the soft bubbling of gentled brookes guiding the way to the known world beyond. But such a path was not for everyone, as some of the competitors had been swallowed by the maw of the ocean’s tides.

The Paragons were chosen; the fight for Champion was at hand.

Sunlight trickled through to the Trial of Submerged Fountain.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 19
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All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Role Playing] >> The Championships >> =EC 2025= Fountain Arena
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