Blots of Light

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Fedlund rose from the bushes he had fallen asleep in just off the road. A small caravan of horse drawn carts carried vegetables from the outer lying farmlands into Radasanth. A farmer held the reigns of each horse and various portions of each family rode in the back of the carts. It was a remarkably quaint scene and Fedlund couldn’t help but marvel at the simplicity and rightness of it all as they approached the crest of the hill he stood on. He waved to the first of the three farmers.

“Hello there, chap. Fine morning, mind if I catch a ride?”

The horse clomped on and Fedlund tried to backpedal as the farmer looked at him on his way by, issuing nothing more meaningful than a “Hrmph..” Fedlund shot a perturbed glance at the back of the first farmer’s head as he turned his attention to the next. He raised his hand to wave, just like the first, but before he gets a chance to speak, the farmer interrupts him in a gruff voice, distorted with a heavy country drawl.

“Yeh don’t look like such a bad fellow…bit strange…but not a bad fellow.”

Again, Fedlund tries to backpedal to stay facing the farmer.

“Ah yes…thank you I appreciate that, but I was wondering if I mig…”

Again the cart rolls on, leaving Fedlund muttering to himself.

“Well if I’m not a bad fellow you could have at least offered me a ride.”

He turned his attention to the final cart, his last hope of avoiding a long walk. He repeats his actions one more time, hoping to put his eloquent speech to good use, but is once again interrupted.

“Nope…not a bad fellow at all. Sure…wees can give you a ride. ‘Op on the back ‘er.”

The cart slows slightly as Fedlund tosses his gear into the back, careful to not disturb the fruits and vegetable piled within, shaking his head as he realizes that each of the three farmers seemed to function as a part of one, rolling, bumbling, vegetable selling unit.

“Must be blamed difficult to have a conversation with just one of them without the other two to add their third. Strange people…”

The cart bumped on as Fedlund took a moment to sit back and marvel at the strange ways of humans.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
It didn’t take long in Radasanth for Fedlund to learn of the Citadel. He was told that local champions and traveling warriors tested their mettle against one another. Fedlund’s interest was piqued. The hare had made some money and friends during his travels in non-lethal, friendly sparring against local champions. A few rounds of sparring, usually resulting in a farmer being dumped unceremoniously on his pants from a well placed kick of Fedlund’s powerful paws, followed by a few more rounds of drinks at the local pub. A good experience for all involved. As the lunch crowd breaks up, Feldund heads out the door, asking the first passerby how to get to the Citadel. Following the directions, the Noble Hare heads off, hoping for a similar, good natured experience.

Arriving at the steps of the Citadel, Fedlund pauses for a moment for a healthy bit of gawking. Scores of warriors, ranging from the absurd to the clearly viscious, surround the massive building, leaving Fedlund somewhat alarmed at the prospects of entering. He mutters to himself as he walks slowly up the steps, glancing nervously at each grunt and clatter.

“Well now…I’m not quite sure this is what I was looking for. That fellow over there…”

Fedlund glances at a heavily scarred giant of a man, eight feet tall and carrying a battle axe Fedlund could only picture coming from a terrible nightmare. A grim, unhappy scowl directed at the hare causes Fedlund to stumble on the steps and complete the thought in his mind, wary of being overheard.

….why, he looks like he would take a great deal of pleasure in simply ripping my fine ears clean off. Not at all like Abrams, that fellow back in Digerytown.

Abrams was Feldund’s last opponent in a bout that had resulted in more comedy than ferocity as a farmer’s cow decided that the middle of the fight was the opportune time to bolt from his pen and start a solo stampede through the village, straight into the midst of the exhibition. Abrams, accustom to such things, had niftily mounted the charging beast, while Fedlund was nearly run over and only managed to save himself by wrapping his paws around the bovine’s neck and going along for the ride. Laughter ensued and drinks were had. Fedlund wondered if the scarred behemoth he saw now had ever laughed.

However, it would be a show of cowardice to turn back before at least giving a proper exploration, and Noble Hares were never cowards, easily startled, as all hares are, but never cowards. Fedlund pushes on, looking for someone who might be in charge.

In a flurry of words and motion, an overly verbose monk appeared at Fedlund’s elbow and began pushing him toward a door, talking the whole time.

“Ahh…a fascinating creature. I don’t think I have ever seen someone like you before. You will make a fine entry into the Citadel annals, added to the library for your first fight as the representative of your kind, assuming you are here for a fight. Well of course you are, why else would you come to the Citadel?... everyone is here for a fight. Don’t worry I have a great one lined up for you.”

The monk takes a breath, his first to this point, and Fedlund tries to get a word in sideways.

“Actually, my wordly endowed friend, I was wondering…”

“Now be careful, the opponent I have lined up for you looks quite dangerous. He carries a large...oh what is it called...never mind. But it does have two massive spikes on it, I imagine they would have no trouble impailing such a lithe creature as yourself, leading to a certain and painful end for you. But don’t worry, you’ll do fine. And if you don’t…well…that happens sometimes to. What can you do? Here we are, there is the door just ahead, we’ll have you started in just a moment..oh, you won’t be needing these.”

In a flash, the monk has craftily removed Elencia and Fedlund’s pack of extra gear while leaving the quiver of lances in place. Fedlund is now quite worried and attempts to pull away from the monk. Somehow the monk always seems to be in position to continue bustling Fedlund toward the door, but the distraction does give Fedlund a chance to speak.

“Hold there friend, I fear a mistake has been made. Did you say “impail?” You can’t tell me this is a fight…”

The door is upon them and Fedlund is desperate to avoid what he perceives to be near certain death. Before the monk can open the door, Fedlund plants his foot on the door and, using the monks hands as a pivot, executes a not-too graceful backflip off the door, landing behind the monk.”

“…to the death??”

Just as quickly, though Fedlund can’t quite figure out how, the monk opens the door and is once again behind him, renewing his involuntary path toward the door, the incessant mouth continuing to run at breakneck pace.

“Well of course it can be to the death. Doesn’t have to be, the whole thing will end when all involved want it to be, but that often doesn’t come until one or the other is dead or maimed beyond recognition or the ability to continue.”

The cheerful manner in which the monk talks about brutal maimings now has Fedlund absolutely convinced that his short life will be over if he takes one step through the doorway in front of him. Eager to avoid such an occurrence, Fedlund plants all four paws on either side of the doorframe, pushing against the monks insistent urgings for all he is worth, howling at the monk while grunting with effort.

“By all the carrots in Radasanth I will not be involved in such an undertaking!!”

The monk, seemingly without effort and certainly not effecting his ability to talk, continues to push Fedlund, winning the struggle with the greatest of ease.

“I don’t see why you are so worried, we will of course restore you to full health following the conclusion of the contest. Its not like dying is the end of the world or anything. Most of what you encounter in there comes from your mind anyway, it isn’t actually real. Just enjoy yourself.”

Trying to sort through what the monk has just said, Feldund’s concentration on avoiding entry is broken and he tumbles through the doorway onto a hard, neutral floor.

“Not real…oh…that explains a great deal.”

The weak words are lost in the inky darkness. For the briefest of moments, Fedlund’s spirits lift as he recalls the friendly, booming voice of the All Powerful Allower in the darkness.

Perhaps this is another one of his tricks…

Strange gurgling, scraping, and howling sounds from the darkness squash the hope quickly, racking Fedlund with fear. A strange light, slightly orange in color, appears around Fedlund. Looking at his feet, Fedlund knows he is standing on a floor but cannot make out what the material is. The orange glow, coming from no apparent source, expands outward until a fifteen foot circle of light surrounds the hare. Fedlund takes a step toward the darkness, hoping to spot something, and the circle moves with him, keeping him centered in the ring. From all around, foreign and frightening sounds filter through the air as Fedlund stands frightened, uncertain of what to do.

Gabzat…I do believe I have gotten myself into quite a quandary.

Here is how the arena works. Each being in the room, including each of our characters, has a ring of light around them that corresponds to their size. You can only see what is in your ring, the only sensory input from outside your area is sound. If two rings touch, both rings become visible to both occupants. Fedlund and Djakara are currently separated by some distance and ANYTHING (terrain, monster, weapon, trap, absurd or terrifying) can be in the darkness. Inanimate objects will only be visible if you get close enough to them for your circle of light to pick them up. Some of the noises are definitely creatures of some type and they are not all friendly, although they can be if you like.

[Djakara]

Djakara didn’t care much for battles. He had never sought glory the way it seemed many residents of Althanas and his old homeworld did. Unlike all these warriors who would go out of their way for honor and a cheap parlor trick, Djakara couldn’t have possibly cared less unless there was power or wealth attached in some way. Thus, it was particularly odd to see him at the Citadel. The building was a testament to everything he didn’t care about. In fact, he must have been the most apathetic person to ever walk into the building.

As Djakara made his way up the marble steps, he was surrounded by nervousness. Children his age who had just turned their ploughshares in for swords were coming to the Citadel in droves, their faces white from their apparent nervousness as it seemed as if their hearts were about ready to pop right out of their chests. Djakara despised these young peasant sons, these kids who had no idea what they were leaving behind. Lives of tranquility were about to be wasted, just for the sake of throwing a few weapons around and pretending that they were something more than they were. It bordered on pathetic.

Thus, Djakara had no intention of staying in the Citadel any longer than he had to. He had come for a business meeting with a dark elf from Alerar. The dark elf had explicitly solicited Djakara by letter, though had insisted that their meeting take place here in the Citadel, away from Alerarian influence. Djajara was a bit skeptical, but he had still arrived. Now, he saw the dark elf waiting right in the middle of the lobby, dressed not in fighting gear but a dark brown cloak. Djakara grinned. He didn’t want to waste any time with a battle.

“So, you called for me?” Djakara said, offering his hand out to the drow. “I’m Djakara Fraye…”

The dark elf frowned. “How many dark elves do you think there are in Corone?”

Djakara stammered, put off by the question. “Many I guess?”

“So how do you know I’m the one you want?” the dark elf asked rhetorically.

This made Djakara a little uneasy. He didn’t like people who started off by putting him on the defensive, they were often the people who had something to hide. ”Lucky guess,” Djakara replied, trying to sound as cold as he possibly could.

The dark elf nodded. “Alright then, I have a lot of money to offer us both just as long as you’re as smart at finding me as you are at what you do… You make weapons right?”

Djakara nodded. “I do now,” he said.

“Well I’m going to need an order from you,” the dark elf said. He slipped a certificate for three thousand gold coins into Djakara’s pocket. “I have to test your mettle first before I tell you what it is…”

With a sigh, Djakara looked at the gold certificate, wondering if three thousand coins were worth walking away from this dark elf that truly annoyed him. After a brief calculation, the one time refugee remembered he loved money more. “What room?” he asked.

“Seventeen,” the dark elf replied.

-x-

It took a bit of effort for Djakara to find the room, and from the moment he entered, he regretted it. The boy could see little more than six feet in front of him, though the room itself seemed a great deal darker, and a great deal louder than it should have been if there was just one opponent.

“HELLLLLLLOOO!!!” he called out. Today was going to be a long day. That three thousand in gold coins had better have just been the initial offer.

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Perhaps somewhere in the darkness, Djakara’s greeting reached the ears of Fedlund. But, mixed and muddled with the conglomeration of noises from the dark, it blended meaninglessly into the cacophony of sound.

After a moments pause, Fedlund realizes there is nothing to do but strike out and hope for the best. A few tentative steps in one direction reveals nothing too terrifying or dangerous, so Fedlund begins striding more boldly into the darkness. At the edge of his ring of light, a copper bird bath (http://yardofeden.com/images/1814.jpg) slides into view.

The hare approaches cautiously, wary of the screeches and howls that continue from the darkness, knowing full well that anything, including a fairly innocuous bird bath, could be the source. However, upon approaching the water filled basin, nothing terrible happens and Fedlund relaxes. A small placard, mounted to the pillar of the pedestal, catches Fedlunds eye. He crouches to read the sign: “RIPPLE POOL.”

Ah..now this isn’t so bad after all. I see, you touch the water to create ripples. With that nicely burnished copper, it should make for a rather aesthetically pleasing appearance.

Fedlund stands over the pool, looking at his reflection in the mirrored copper beneath the water. He gingerly reaches out with a single claw, pricking the surface of the water to create the tiniest of ripples. The image in the reflects a distorted smile as the ripples twist and turn the noble face of the hare.

At this point, things begin to perform rather abnormally. Rather than rebounding off the walls of the basin, the ripple CONTINUE on their path, rippling to the underside of the copper basin and down the pedestal. Fedlund stumbles backward with an audible gasp as the ripples move through the floor toward him, increasing in size as they progress. A slight bounce into the air accompanies their passage under the paws of the hare, only a few inches, but the ripples continue to grow as they pass outside of Fedlund’s circle of light and into the darkness.

Fedlund stands frozen, waiting for something more to happen, expecting something terrible, but aside from a few screams piercing the air, nothing has changed. The hare mutters to himself as he tries to deal with what has just happened.

“It seems I will have to be more careful what I get my paws into around here, it is as if nothing is as it should be. Next thing you know I will grow wings and turn into a pelican.”

Fedlund grimaces and begins reaching for his back, praying he will find no strange growths. With a sigh of relief, no pelican wings are discovered and he begins walking once again, straining with his sensitive oversized ears to sort through the sounds coming from the darkness.

That monk outside said I had an opponent waiting, but this sounds like a collection of beasts and terrible, unthinkable things. I don’t even know who I am looking for, except that he has two large spikes with which to impale me. I suppose there is nothing to do but keep searching.

Fedlund continues his pace, straining his ears and eyes for any sign of the other inhabitants of the room.

[Djakara]

Djakara’s call first echoed throughout the room. However, the echo was not normal, but instead his voice was perverted as it rebounded around the room. First it sounded brave, then nervous, until it finally sounded mocking. Nervously, Djakara unsheathed his spear-scythe, wishing that he had actually thought to prepare for a battle. The boy had never really been a warrior, but there were things he could have done in order to have been ready.

“So, this room has echoes and voice distortion of some sort,” Djakara thought. “There’s no reason yet to overreact, the Citadel monks are supposed to have the ability to heal in most cases…” He wondered exactly what this battle was supposed to prove; How well he could see in the dark? How much tolerance he had for idiots? Either case, Djakara did not like the setting. Whatever tricks the monks were using, they weren’t conducive to getting rich.

Regardless of what lay ahead, Djakara doubted that there would be anyway out but through. With his weapon ready, he began to move judiciously making sure that he would be ready to face any challenge coming his way. However, as he moved through, he began to notice a number of things that seemed out of place in a battle. First he found a marble statue (http://crazyuglycool.com/public_html/img/storepics/aw2k/LotImg624.jpg) of a bird. The beak was roughly the same size as the rest of the body. Djakara poked at it for a bit, just to make sure it wasn’t a golem, but he found out soon enough that it was just a statue for no reason. Next, Djakara found a wall, with a thousand decorative items (http://www.laymusic.org/pictures/urinal.jpg) that most resembled toilets in the men’s rooms back in the Republic.

None of it made any sense. It was almost as if this battle was a test of his sanity. Perhaps it was even an elaborate trap. Though he wanted to remain as silent as possible in the dark room, Djakara’s breath began to sound heavy. He wondered what kind of sight his opponent had. Though he cared little for these kinds of battles, Djakara still wanted to survive. His instincts didn’t know that Citadel battles were just pantomimes, and even if they were, no part of his body relished at the thought of pain. Given the fact that the monks would not intervene until the battle was over, Djakara wanted to win. His life may not have been at stake but there would be a good deal of pain that could be avoided if he managed to fight his way through.

The only problem was Djakara had no idea who or what his opponent was. There were all kinds of things running around in the battle. Some of them, like the small little white insects (http://www.epestsupply.com/images/bugs/cockalb.jpg) that crawled the walls near the lavatories, were mostly harmless. However from some of the footprints that the boy had witnessed, he knew there were going to be dangerous creatures in the battle as well.

“They have every damn thing here but a door,” Djakara mumbled to himself. For a moment, he wondered if he shouldn’t just stay where he was. He could let the monsters take care of his opponent, and then get out of the battle that way. However, Djakara soon realized that was a risk he couldn’t afford to take. A powerful monster was just as likely to run into Djakara as it was his opponent.

Thus, knowing nothing, Djakara pressed on. He tried to ignore the beating of his heart and the unexplained growls that seemed to be surrounding him. Despite his misfortune of circumstance, the boy knew he was going to have to press on.

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

It takes a few moments to sift through the sounds, but Fedlund soon becomes transfixed on one.

*THUMP*scriiiiitch*THUMP*scriiiiitch*THUMP*scriiii itch*

The noise is definitely getting closer and is accompanied by a slight, gurgling and moaning sound. Fedlund faces the sound, shifting his weight nervously and glancing about with growing apprehension.

Suddenly, a second ring of light bursts into view as it intersects Fedlund’s. The flash of light, along with the terrifying appearance of its occupant, kick in Fedlund’s hare instincts. Dropping to all fours, Fedlund takes four rapid bounds away from the creature before skidding to a halt.

Breathing hard, more from fear than exertion, Fedlund slowly backtracks his steps, drawing his twin hand axes from his belt in the process. The noise continues, unchanged, but definitely moving closer. This time Fedlund is ready for the flash of light as the new occupant of the room comes into view.

Undead…I have heard of such things, but hoped never to face one. This appears to be the classic, a zombie. If I recall correctly, they are not particularly bright, nor quick.

The creature standing before the hare is most certainly a classic zombie. A broken, decomposing body covered in ragged clothes lurches across the circles of light. The body probably belonged to a farmer at one time, based on the clothing, but was now displayed the mindless, glazed look of the undead. Its right foot drags behind a twisted leg, as it has evidently done for quite some time. The leather covering the steel toe of the boot has long since worn away, producing the horrible scratching sound.

With its lurching step, the zombie closes to within an arms length of the hare. Pulling back, it takes a full body, arcing right hook at Fedlund. The attack is painfully obvious, a child could dodge it, and a short skip away is all that is necessary to avoid damage. Undeterred, the zombie lunges forward again, repeating the attack with enough force to shatter bone, but with such a lack of strategy that Fedlund’s counterattack is elementary but effective.

Skipping to the side, then spinning quickly around the zombie, Fedlund attacks with both axes. Two sharp “thwacks” accompany the severing of the zombies head. Of course, as is well know, severing the head of a zombie is insufficient to cause death, but it does greatly reduce their ability to find an opponent and the body now stumbles blindly.

“Sorry about that old chap, but I can’t have you bludgeoning me to death, t’wouldn’t do at all. Perhaps you will find something more to your liking over this way.”

With a flick of a hind paw, Fedlund launches the decapitated head, a small sphere of light flashing briefly as it crosses the border into the darkness. Without hearing or vision, the body lurches harmlessly away, searching for its better half.

As the zombie moves off into the darkness, Fedlund begins to feel a bit of confidence. With the first foe easily dispatched, he replaces the axes in his belt and once again begins walking.

Do I dare to call out to my opponent? Surely he is looking for me just like I am looking for him. It wouldn’t do at all for both of us to be made into lunch for some great beast. Yes…I will call for him, then we can get this thing started properly.

The hare fills his lungs with air in preparation for a hearty bellow when a flash of light to his right signals a new creature in the vicinity.

“Euurgh…”

The planned bellow comes out as a weak gasp as Fedlund dives forward to avoid the probing stinger of an oversized wasp (http://static.flickr.com/27/59396660_6c0355b9a9_b.jpg) bearing down on him. Hitting the floor, Fedlund scrambles onto all four and begins running. Unlike the zombie, the wasp’s agility is equal to that of the hare and is quickly on his tail. Fedlund kicks into a full sprint, darting and dodging.

As he flies through the arena, flashes of light to either side reveal a host of bizarre scenes, each of which Fedlund veers hard away from. A beetle the size of a house produces a massive circle of light as it strives to defend itself against a host of immense ants. A lion chained to a heavy wooden stake roars and snaps at Fedlund as he careens into a tight turn to avoid the wasp. The cat nearly catches a paw in its jaws before Fedlund speeds away. A knight, dressed in full battle regalia and accompanied by a splendid charger stands before a beautiful maiden, both seemingly unaffected by the chaos around them.

Fedlund avoids each of these, staying low to the ground as his legs pound the floor beneath him. The wasp matches his every step, closing quickly before giving ground with each cut. The hum of the wasp’s wings close in once again and Fedlund knows he will not be able to keep this game of cat and mouse up forever. His mind is racing, searching for another option, when directly in front of him a pool of light appears and the creature in it turns to face Fedlund. On an unavoidable collision course with a gigantic spider (http://kaweahoaks.com/html/spi_salticidae_phidips_jf2.jpg), Fedlund takes the only option left, splaying all for legs and sliding along the floor. His ears, protruding above his head, brush the underside of the jumping spider as it leaps, not at Fedlund, but at its natural prey, the wasp pursuing him. The two old foes collide midair and tumble out of Fedlund’s pool of light as the hare scrambles to get his legs under him and takes off at a run once again.

After a few seconds of sprinting, Fedlund is convinced the wasp is truly gone and slows his pace, standing up on two legs once again. Out of breath and seeking some respite, Fedlund is happy to find a chair (http://www.whittlepainters.com/images/avalon/black%20avalon.jpg) in his path, sitting there, doing nothing dangerous. Suspicion fill his mind, but a close inspection reveals nothing amiss, so Fedlund cautiously sits down.

Nothing terrible happens, but a slight grinding sound emanates from the floor in front of Fedlund. A slot opens and a simple lever, slightly resembling a broom handle, rises from the floor. A sign attached beneath the handle reads “SWITCH.”

Fedlund, now accustom to the strange occurrences in this unstable environment, doesn’t move a muscles. Slouched back in the chair, he stares at the sign, contemplating his next move. He sits and he stares and he stares, nearly frozen with indecision as he recalls his experience with the ripple pool.

[Djakara]

As Djakara carried on, he could feel the tension mounting in the room. Already, he could hear sounds of battle, and he assumed that his opponent had been less fortunate than he in the creatures that had been encountered. Still, that just made Djakara more nervous, as his already pale skin grew paler and the hairs on the back of neck began to stand on end. Furtively, the boy began to take quick glances behind him, just to make sure that there was nothing creeping up on him.

“Not that it’d make a whole lot of difference,” Djakara thought to himself. Any kind of a beast would be able to get within six feet of him before Djakara had any sense of where the creature was. The boy only hoped that his opponent didn’t have better vision and a crossbow, he would be doomed if that were the case.

Djakara began trying to plot out his course. His instincts were compelling him to move forwards, as opposed to moving back, but otherwise there was little incentive for him to move in any particular direction. He had seen the toilets on the wall to his left, but otherwise, the boy was moving blind. However, just as the boy began contemplating his next move, a little bit of water came and lapped up against his boots.

“There’s something there…” Djakara realized. “Either some kind of water demon, or my opponent…” For a moment, Djakara wondered what he should do. His best chances stood with waiting out his opponent, especially since he didn’t know their levels of relative skill. The sounds around him suggested that his opponent had already found an enemy, so Djakara thought it best then to just stand where he was, at least for the time being. By that point, Djakara’s opponent would have been beaten and the battle would have ended, or he would have a weak opponent to finish off. Feeling relatively secure, Djakara held his ground, planning to go on the reactive.

However, the boy’s plan soon went afoul. There was a voice, calling out from the left. “Excuse me sir, you dropped something, step over to the right…”

Djakara frowned. It was either his opponent, or a trap. In either case, the boy had no intention of obeying the order. For a moment, he contemplated using his electric magic for a bit of illumination, but ultimately decided against it. The electricity would create light, and Djakara not only feared giving his position away to his foe, but also attracting any insect based monsters that would have been drawn towards it. Thus, Djakara reached into his pocket for a gold coin. He hated to waste money, but there were few other options. He threw it towards the right, and listened as the sound of a giant metallic object clamped down hard.

The boy scowled, livid with rage. There was something to the left that was out to get him. His hands nervously clutching his spear scythe, Djakara turned to the left, the weapon held out in a ready position as he waited onerously for the strange creature to attack him.

However, all he heard was the voice again. “I wouldn’t step forwards if I were you,” the voice claimed. There may be some more of the traps.”

Djakara scowled and moved forwards anyways. He moved carefully, however, holding his spear scythe not at a ready position, but below him so it would catch any traps before he were to step into them. Soon enough, Djakara found the creature talking to him. It was nothing more than a particularly mischievous mouse. The creature scurried away, cackling wildly.

Figuring survival was more important than revenge, Djakara opted not to give pursuit. This mysterious room had too much hidden in it for the boy to be able to concentrate on anything other than his survival.

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Fedlund continues to stare, spinning endless possibilities through his mind as to the purpose of the ominous “SWITCH” before him. In a rare bout of inactivity, the hare remains stock still.

Noble Hares, of which Fedlund is a classic example, can be called many things. Noble, for example, is an obvious trait. Intelligent, charming, genial…the list could go on. Some of their traits, curiosity for example, are held over from the Common Hares of the four legged, hop around the field variety. These basic instincts sometime take precedence over a Noble Hare’s better judgment. Such was the case in this moment.

In a flurry of fur and with a yelp of decisiveness, Fedlund springs from the chair and delivers a quick tug to the lever, shifting it to its alternate position. The effects are dramatic and instantaneous.

The darkness around Fedlund evaporates into a harsh, nearly blinding light. It is as if a white sun had suddenly burst into existence with the arena as its core. A scathing glare makes clear sight impossible. Shading his eyes, Fedlund strains to see through the brilliance.

After the initial flash, the light fades slightly and eyes adjust, allowing for limited sight. Before any of the scenery is evaluated, dark, roving blobs catch Fedlund’s attention. A quick bit of deductive reasoning suggests that pulling the lever has indeed “switched” the conditions of the room. Now, rather than darkness blinding the occupants of the room, each creature can now see out of its own sphere, but not into the others. Each half-sphere of darkness contains some type of creature, its size defined by the relative size of the sphere, but more than that is impossible to tell.

For a moment, Fedlund marvels at the phenomenon, but he is ripped back to reality as he realizes that the blobs are moving, mainly toward one another, and several are closing in rapidly on his position.

No time for a leisurely ramble about in here now, old hare. Safety first, then I’ll take the tour.

With a quick glance, Fedlund does his best to spot an open area where the density of the black bumps is lowest. His best prospect seems to be the base of a blocky step pyramid (http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/CORPOD/CB015537~Step-Pyramid-at-Chichen-Itza-Posters.jpg). A lone sphere of darkness sits perfectly still atop the pyramid, but the path to the base seems relatively clear.

With two especially large creatures, based on their “shadows,” closing on him from his right and left, Fedlund slams the switch back to its original position, flooding the arena once again with darkness, and bolts toward his objective.

From close behind Fedlund, probably near the "SWITCH," a rumbling growl and a piercing shriek ring out as the two beasts that sought Fedlund find one another instead.

Glad I am not in that mess. Although, I suppose, there is no guarantee that where I am headed will be much better. All well, I suppose the monk DID say it wasn't all real, though that hardly makes me feel better at this time.

All across the arena the sounds of gnashing teeth, clashing weapons, and howling pain increase as the occupants, given a moments orientation, increase the frequency of their encounters.

[Djakara]

As the lights suddenly changed, Djakara realized that he was surrounded by three blobs. Perhaps none of them had seen him originally, but now that the setting had changed, they all pounced on him to attack. Unfortunately, they adjusted to the light much better. One of them hissed, and took a bite right out of Djakara’s shins as another fired a small pellet that nipped the boy’s ear. The last lunged forwards, only to be stopped by lucky reflexes and a quick lunge from the scythe end of Djakara’s weapon.

Now, he blinked, knowing he was going to have to get into the action even though he had no desire. The blob that had bit at his ankle was attacking again, slithering along the ground. Djakara had no idea what it was, except for the fact that it seemed to only be able to go after his ankles. That was of some consolation, but not nearly enough.

“Got to move higher,” he thought, deciding that he was going to have to run. The creature with the pellets seemed mostly harmless, but he wanted to find some way to get to higher ground. The boy searched quickly, finding a pyramid. There were a few blobs near it, one at the top and a few others near the base, but it was the only high ground that Djakara could see. He didn’t know how long that this change in lighting would last, and so he decided to make the best of it.

Thus, the boy began to run, the two blobs after him in tow. The one fired pellets almost randomly, and though a few hit Djakara, none of them did anything more than sting. For his part, Djakara was just concerned about staying out of the way of as many blobs as possible, watching now as everything changed back into dark.

“Shit!” Djakara thought. He slowed down immediately and caught his breath. The pellets seemed to stop, at least in terms of the area he could see. The boy still thought he heard the snapping sound of the creature that had been at his ankles, but it seemed like neither of them could see him any more. Conscious of the fact that he now needed to be quiet, the boy suppressed a sigh and began moving again towards the pyramid. Using his weapon like a walking stick, he measured out his path in advance, making sure that there were no more traps like the one that he had almost been tricked into falling into before. Now, his ankles ached and he hoped that creature who had bitten him didn’t possess any poison. Not that Djakara would really have had to worry about poison, the way that blood was falling out from his wounds, any poison probably would have been washed away.

For a moment, Djakara wondered if he shouldn’t bandage it somehow. He was loathe to give up movement, but he feared that if he didn’t bandage himself somehow, then he would create a trail of blood that would lead creatures to him. He knew stopping was the rational solution, but even then, Djakara couldn’t bring himself to do it.

With a sigh, he continued moving, though now he was looking for the pyramid blindly. He also had no way of knowing if any more creatures had gathered there. He began to wonder how it could have happened. Had it been meant by the monks as a way of helping him locate his enemy, perhaps driving him to the pyramid so they could finally have a fight? If so, why did the monks stop before they met? Was it his opponent, better prepared for the battle and somehow able to change the nature of things? If so, could Djakara call out and ask for the light to be restored? Or would calling out and threatening that his opponent should never do that again be a better solution? “It could also be one of these damned monsters,” Djakara realized. “Just trying to fuck with my head…”

Seeing as he had no explanation, the boy pressed on forwards, until he suddenly spotted a button. It was on the floor, bright red and labeled with big white letters. In Elvish, Drow and Common, the button carried the instructions that it should not be pressed in case of emergency.

Djakara sighed. If this wasn’t enough of an emergency, then he didn’t know what was. He pressed it. Suddenly, the entire battlefield was surrounded with a green haze. Mist began to shoot up from the floor and bats seemed to appear out of nowhere to fly up around the haze.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a slender man dressed in a particularly elaborate white suit ( http://us.inmagine.com/168nwm/dynamicgraphics/vc005/vc005068.jpg) appeared behind Djakara and tapped him on the shoulder. The boy turned around, both nervous and confused.

“I vant to suck your blood!” the suited man cried. With that, the man lunged at Djakara, with no apparent weapon other than the bluntest set of teeth that the boy had ever seen.

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

The short sprint through the revived darkness is interrupted by the green-shift lighting. Slung low to the ground on all fours, Fedlund receives a healthy blast of mist (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/mist)to the face as it boils out of the floor, somehow pouring through the seemingly solid floor despite a lack of apparent orifices for its expulsion. The hare leaps into the air, for a moment sailing above the cloudy mass rising from the floor. Not far off, a ladder stretching out of sight into the green light catches Fedlund’s eye.

That may be the ticket, a vantage point above this dratted brume (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/brume). Hopefully it will even provide a bit of protection from any roving monsters.

Fedlund lands on two paws, peering upward through the thinner portion of the fog (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/fog), honing in on the blurry streak slicing upward, all that is visible of the ladder. Reaching the ladder, Fedlund springs onto the rungs and begins his ascent. For a few moments, the plan works beautifully. His steps carry him above the soup (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/soup), affording an unobstructed, albeit very green, view of the arena. The pyramid is off to his right and a small disturbance in the fog at its base is the first visual evidence he has of his opponent. Just beneath the haze (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/haze), Djakara confronts the white suited man. Of course, Fedlund doesn’t know this and chalks the disruptive swirl up to another, unknown creature.

Reaching rung over rung, Fedlund scrambles further up the ladder to escape the climbing . The floor disappears into the murk below him. His efforts are fruitless as the vapor rapidly overtakes him. He redoubles his efforts, the wooden steps flying past his vision. Conceding futility, he stops and hooks his arm over a rung, resting for support.

I must be at least forty feet up, but outracing that gas is a lost cause. Fortuitously, it does not seem to effect any impairment upon my breathing, which is most beneficial indeed in my winded state. At least I have left those wretched creatures far belo…

Just as Fedlund congratulates himself on his escape, a swarm of bats bursts through the cloud, their ultrasonic navigation unimpeded by the swirling smaze (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/smaze). The bats hone in on the hares face and ears. Twisting to avoid their teeth and claws, Fedlund’s paws slip from the rungs and he plunges into the murkiness.

Fedlund closes his eyes, anticipating a long fall with a very sudden stop, his thoughts strangely turning to his still mysterious opponent.

It would have bee…

-THUMP-

Much sooner than expected, but still later than what is preferable, Fedlund hits the ground. Dazed, slightly bruised, but generally uninjured, Fedlund stumbles confusedly to his feet, talking to the muddlement (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/muddlement).

“Why…I couldn’t have fallen more than…more than a hair over my ears. Not complaining, I suppose, but I am certain…yes, quite certain that my efforts should have carried me much higher.”

Curiosity kicks in once again and Fedlund climbs the ladder a second time, carefully counting each rung. After twenty five rungs, the floor blurs out of sight once again. Restarting his count, he now descends the ladder.

“Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, elev…WHAT??!??! Why…there is the floor, just beneath my paw. ILL TEMPERED INCANTATIONS!!! Nothing works as it should in this beetle-boozled barnyard. I really must be going now, as soon as is harely possible.”

Indeed, the ladder is another of the profusion of tricks found in the room. Frustrated at his inability to make sense of anything, Fedlund stalks off in the direction of the pyramid.

“I shouldn’t be surprised if it grows rhinoceros legs and runs off as soon as I reach its stairs. Shouldn’t surprise me the width of one hair.”

Surprisingly, upon reaching the base of the pyramid, Fedlund finds it to be nothing more than simple stone blocks and a mundanely solid staircase. Not to be disappointed, Fedlund keeps his hopes for normalcy low as he begins plodding up the stairs.

[Djakara]

There were all kinds of shouting and growling around the room, as practically everyone except for the white clad man seemed confused by the sudden appearance of a green hue throughout the room. The mist made it so Djakara could barely see in front of him, in fact, he may have even been better off when there were only blots of light. “At a point like this, I guess its better to escape somehow,” he thought. There was pandemonium in this room, and the boy couldn’t help but wonder if the sudden urge by the Citadel monks to create a battle this nonsensical was their reaction to the seemingly inexplicable civil war going on outside. There seemed to be no other explanation. With all of Corone suddenly embroiled within an inexplicable conflict, Djakara had expected the dark room to be almost minimal. The fact that it was so elaborate seemed to be an incredible waste of resources.

As Djakara attempted to make sense of the goings on, the man in the white suit attempted to bite him three times, each to no avail. Djakara could feel the pressure, but this creature’s teeth were so round they couldn’t have pierced through anything. The man tried again and again, and it was only by the third attempt that Djakara even bothered paying any attention.

“You’re not very successful at that,” the boy said. He broke into a bit of laughter, unable to cope with just how incredulous everything around him seemed in the green haze and mist. It could have been very dangerous, but even then, Djakara didn’t fear it. “You should just as well give up…”

“I AM A VAMPIRE!” the man in the suit insisted. He stamped his foot so as to make his point.

Djakara just shrugged and turned to head back towards the pyramid. “Whatever,” he said. He knew very little about vampires, other than piercing their hearts with wood was lethal, and that they were supposed to have sharp teeth. The man in white was just annoying, not a vampire.

As the boy tried to navigate his way through the mist, the self proclaimed vampire grabbed him. Djakara turned around angrily, and the white clad man merely stated his intention to suck blood again. Djakara sighed. Not only did this vampire possess unbelievably dull teeth, but roughly had the strength of a child as well.

“Leave me alone,” Djakara insisted as he pushed the offending hand off his shoulder.

The self proclaimed vampire replied with a slap to Djakara’s back. Irritated enough to act on that, the boy spun his spear-scythe around so that he held the wooden end farthest from his body. “If you’re a vampire, eat this,” Djakara replied irritably. He shoved the weapon straight into the heart of the white clad man.

As if he really was a vampire, Djakara watched as the man who had been little more than a mild irritant suddenly dissipated into dust. Sighing a bit, the boy continued on towards the pyramid, wondering whether or not things could get any more strange.
After moving a few feet, Djakara was surprised to find that suddenly all the bats, fog and green lighting had disappeared. Not that it really mattered, but the boy was left only with the vision of what was directly in front of him. Before he could react, Djakara felt someone tapping his shoulder.

It was the vampire. “I vant to suck your blood,” the creature insisted. Only now, his teeth were just a little bit sharper.

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Fedlund has reached 107 in his count of the stairs passing beneath his feet in the green mugginess when Djakara spikes the pseudo-vampire on the other side of the pyramid. Moments later, green is replaced with what Fedlund now considers “normal,” a bubble of light surrounding him. Strangely, it is all beginning to feel remarkably familiar and the return to the original condition is unexpectedly comforting.

Well, this isn’t so bad. I don’t even hear any vile beasts closing in on me. Up this way things seem positively calm. I can even take a moment to think, maybe figure this backward place out a bit. Lets see, a pool that sends rippling waves into the floor, a switch that changes the lights, an overpowering sense of green and a never ending ladder. My particular actions triggered most of those, but I suppose my opponent is most likely responsible for the green cloud. In each case things changed a great deal, but nothing too terribly catastrophic seems to have happened. If none of this is actually real, as the monk indicated, I suppose there is no reason to hesitate in activating whatever cockamamie contraption I come upon next. For now though, it is these stairs. I hope they are not never ending like the ladder, my poor paws are nearly beat.

Indeed, the stairs had continued longer than anticipated and Fedlund long ago lost count. He is about to turn back and test the ladder theory when his ring of light intersects the motionless one previously spotted atop the tower, revealing the top of the pyramid.

Fedlund whips out his hand axes, expecting some sort of attack. Instead, all he spots is a strange statue in the middle of a square plateau measuring four meters to a side. Staying on the steps, Fedlund scrutinizes the statue from a distance. Four heads split off from the body of a massive viper of some sort. Each head looks off toward one of the corners of the landing where ten foot columns mark the boundaries of the crown of the pyramid. The heads all look similar, clearly meant to represent snakes, but the ornamentation on each is quite dissimilar. One bears a sunburst (http://www.geocities.com/canadian_sf/pages/gifs/sunburst.jpg), another lightning (http://www.bigfoto.com/themes/nature/sky/lightning-2a7z.jpg)bolts. The third appears to have a mane of foam and water (http://www.free-pictures-photos.com/water/water-jxz6.jpg), while the final head has clouds (http://www.srh.noaa.gov/key/IMAGES/Gulf%20storm%206.27.04.JPG)surrounding its head.

For some reason, Fedlund feels a strong inclination to talk to the statue, reasoning through its possible functions.

“Heydiddle ho, I do wonder what you do. You seem to be a fairly fixed figure, but given the way things have been acting in these moments of my life, I don’t trust you one bit. I swear by the cranberry crumpets I saw one of those great black bubbles situated just here, which makes me think there must be more to your four headed likeness than just rock. Nope, no fooling a Noble Hare, I have you figured out and won’t be tricked.”

Triumphantly in his deductions, Fedlund steps onto the platform and leans agasint against one of the columns, seeking relief for his tired paws. His back brushes a stone adornment on the column and he feels the rock slide into the pillar with a click.

“Uh oh…”

The hare jumps away from the column, surveying the damage. An sculpted section of the pillar, matching the foam and water on the nearest snake head, has been depressed. From that head a distinct crackling and glowing breaks through the mineral façade enclosing the head. The head snaps to life, shaking loose the crumbling encasement and opens it mouth wide. In a great gushing stream, water pours from its mouth in a powerful jet. The head flails for a moment, nearly blasting Fedlund from the top of the pyramid, but quickly calms and sends a steady stream of water off the platform. Far below, invisible in the darkness, the water reaches the floor and sets off a chain reaction of bubbling streams of water flooding from the floor. All across the floor of the arena, the water level begins rising steadily.

Far above the ground, Fedlund contemplates the implications of the statue producing water. Recalling his earlier resolve against hesitation, he steps across the platform and confidently depresses the button associated with the sunburst snake. The snake repeats the breakout performance and, rather than spewing water, blasts a roaring ball of fire skyward. Even before it exits the circle of darkness, the ball expands noticeably. For a moment it is lost in the darkness and Fedlund frowns in disappointment at his experiment. A moments more patience and he is reward with a dramatic result as the new born sun blasts into is full grandeur, burning away every hint of darkness and illuminating the arena as bright as day.

Fedlund twirls a quick circle, taking in the view as quickly as possible. No dark bubbles roam the landscape, a landscape quickly transforming into a waterscape. The water, now a foot deep, stretches as far as the eye can see. The number of odd structures and even more fantastic creatures is beyond number. The blazing sun reveals no ceiling or sky, only a blankness to be filled with the whims of whatever has created and is creating this world within The Citadel.

Stepping to the opposite staircase, Fedlund looks down and his eyes focus on the one goal he has sought since entering this circus.

Two spikes on a shaft. We will meet at last, my foe and I. I wonder if he is a decent fellow? If so, he must be as confused with all this mind muddling madness as I am. With the water rising like it is, I suppose he will have to make his way up here soon enough. I suppose I will take a jaunt of rest while I wait for him.

Careful to not set off any more environmental changes, Fedlund settles himself against the cloud pillar facing the stair he anticipates Djakara will come up. He unslings the noble lances and slides them between his back and the pillar, pulling one out of the quiver and resting it in his paws. For the time being, he relaxes, restoring a bit of energy to his fatigued muscles. His eyes start to droop slightly as he awaits what is certain to be the climax of this drawn out battle.

[Djakara]

With the vampire near him, Djakara took a wild swing with his spear-scythe. He was now scared and confused. “I had killed the damn guy… even if he wasn’t a vampire, driving wood into the heart of anything should have done them in…” the boy realized. He noticed now that the vampire not only had sharper teeth, but that the creature was more agile as well. Djakara’s blow might have decapitated the vampire earlier, but now the white clad man was able to step out of the way with the vaguest sense of dexterity.

“Look,” Djakara said, wondering if it wasn’t this man in the leisure suit that was his opponent. “I didn’t come in here to play games. Suck my blood, start a fight, whatever you want, but this ends now…”

What it was that Djakara was referring to was lost even on him. The boy was just uttering an understandable amount of frustration at the situation, disappointed in that there was nothing that he could do to change what was quickly becoming a riddle beyond his comprehension. By this point, Djakara was certain that the dark elf he had met with earlier just wanted to toy with him, someone who was envious of his newfound position within Alerian nobility.

The vampire dodged a second blow without launching into any offense of its own before the battle was interrupted by a thundering roar. Djakara could barely see beyond the vampire, and had no idea of the creature charging towards him before it spewed out a sudden rush of fire, burning the vampire to a crisp. Completely shocked, Djakara screamed. The light in the arena suddenly turned on, and the boy now saw a giant green creature before him, uglier than anything that the boy had seen before. The water level was beginning to rise, and the only place that Djakara knew he was going to have to get to the pyramid.

“Maybe its just survival that counts,” the boy thought. “That’s why that opponent of mine keeps respawning.” He began to run towards the pyramid, figuring that he would rather take his chances with the armed rabbit at the pyramid top than a fire breathing lizard and rising tides of water. Fortunately, the lizard seemed to be able to move only as fast as Djakara, and the boy doubted that the creature would be able to climb up the pyramid steps.

The worst part of the water was that Djakara could no longer use his electric magic until he was up on the pyramid. Even if he’d wanted to reach out and shock the lizard, he knew it would have been in vain. Thus the boy waded through the water, despite the fact that his calves had begun to tighten with fatigue. Moving through the water that quickly was making his legs so heavy he could barely even feel the pain in his ankle anymore.

Soon enough, he managed to escape the water. By now, the first three steps of the pyramid were coated in water, but Djakara was able to climb up a bit higher before his legs could go no more. Seizing the advantage, the boy shot a burst of electricity, electrocuting the lizard and harming other creatures in the general area. Now, in full brightness, the boy could appreciate the complete and utter chaos of the room. There were monsters everywhere, some of whom seemed perfectly content to swim through the water, such as an eel like creature that breathed a greenish mist.

With a sigh of relief, Djakara was glad that the only other creature present on the pyramid was a rabbit. If this rabbit was anything like the ones from his home planet, it would be timid and run away as he came near. Given how tired he was, he didn’t want much more of a fight. Especially since he had to maintain his energy for the next incarnation of the vampire, the boy knew it would only be a few more minutes before he heard the “I vant to suck your blood” cry again.

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Djakara’s predictions are not far off. Bleary eyed and tired from the exertion of multiple sustained sprints, Fedlund is not the epitome of combat readiness. Djakara appears on the platform, clearly in the flesh, and Fedlund’s tired mind attempts to discount his existence as a will-o-wisp, the illusionary creation of the demented arena. It takes a moment for the hare’s mind to slide back into a method of rational thought and determine that the Feraiaeran, his opponent, is in fact standing just on the other side of the platform. With this mundane but surprisingly profound revelation, Fedlund snaps awake in something close to a panic, rodent instincts screaming for him to run while his more Noble side informs him that there is nowhere to run, as the water is now only a few meters below the edge of the platform.

The compromise is to spring to his paws, ready the Noble lance in a throwing position and try to put distance between himself and the spike wielding warrior by taking a step back. In the waking and springing, Fedlund has forgotten that another dramatic shift of the environment is just at his tail, literally, and his puff of a tail depresses the cloud emblem on the pillar to his rear. Immediately, the third head crackles to life and clouds roll in at an unnatural clip, darkening the sky as the winds pick up, forcefully whipping Fedlund’s ears back as they blow. Over the howl, Fedlund calls to Djakara.

“Good day to you sir. I do not mean to be rude, but it is my understanding that we are to engage in combat and I see no time to tarry with introductions. I suspect this madhouse will be the end of us both if we do not hasten our own activities. HAVE AT THEE!!”

Fedlund gives a minute bow of the head and, having fulfilled the minimal obligations of propriety, as a Noble Hare would always be certain to undertake, he flings the lance with as much power and accuracy as possible in the conditions. As such close range, there would be little time to react. However, the high winds make any type of accuracy suspect as the light weight lance is buffeted by the squall.

As the lance speeds across the distance, the Storm-Snake, for that is the creature encased within the statue, takes its transformation into its own hands. The Water-Head swings its jaws toward the remaining inert pillar of the Lightning-Head. A jet of water streams from its mouth, depressing the stone lightning bolts of the pillar and bringing the final head to life. Not surprising, lightning rains down from the sky, coursing through the water and illuminating the sky.

Fortunately, the water has ceased its swelling, leveling off at the top of the pyramid to create a twelve-by-twelve foot stone island. And this small area has now become very crowded, for the Storm-Snake, with the animation of its fourth head, has come fully to life, the full length of its body breaking through the stone shell and coming to life. The two nearest heads, Cloud and Water, turn toward Fedlund while the opposite each give their attention to Djakara.

Fedlund, now fully awake and seized by adrenaline, pulls his axes into action without waiting to see the success or failure of his projectile attack. The Cloud-Head snaps at him, drawing nothing but air. It is clear the Storm-Snake is not at all pleased to have been awakened from its slumber and intends to remove the two nuisances from its presence.

[Djakara]

The moment Djakara heard the battle call, he wasn’t sure whether to curse his luck or exclaim with delight. His opponent was the rabbit, and a particularly well mannered mammal at that. However, the boy knew well enough not to overestimate an opponent, especially one that was able to rest up while he had struggled his way to the pyramid. His legs were strained and heavy, the cuffs of his pants soaking with water, and the boy was even wondering if he had enough blood left in him to fight anything substantial. The wounds he’d sustained weren’t too severe, save for the fact he had bled out for so long.

The boy’s pessimistic side was correct. Not only did a throwing lance bounce off of his heart plate, but now it seemed like the rabbit was not alone. The entire pyramid began to rumble like a giant egg as a serpentine creature burst out of it.

“A summon!” Djakara panicked. He was tired and weary, and he hadn’t come to the Citadel for a fight at all. It had been business that had brought him there, and now he wondered what in the entire possible world could the dark elf had hoped to accomplish by pitting him against someone that powerful.

“CALL YOUR SNAKE AWAY!” Djakara shouted. His voice seemed hurried and panicking, but there was nothing he could do. His actions may have been a bit unseemly, but the boy no longer cared how he looked for the drow, whatever the test was, he was certainly willing to fail if it meant that he would be able to come out of it alive. Sweat beaded off his forehead, loose hairs clung desperately to his face. The serpentine creature’s mouth opened widely, revealing a sharp and sinister pair of teeth.

In all the mayhem, the serpent’s roar and the undying din of the battle below, one unwelcome noise pierced through the air with all the timing of a familial black sheep.

“I vant to suck your blood…” came the cry of the generally inept, but oddly improving vampire.

Djakara shook his head. “Not now…” was all he muttered as he managed a quick burst of electricity to send towards the snake. The boy had barely been able to turn around and look at his white suited nemesis before the vampire’s teeth bit into his neck. Now, the vampire was much stronger, and Djakara could manage little more than a pathetic flail as he felt the incisors penetrate down into his skin.

With eyes that were weary and tired, the boy fell down to his knee just as he was released from the grip of the vampire. Triumphant in his task, the white suited vampire laughed, and Djakara was left to brace himself for both the snake and rabbit. His head was swimming in dizziness and confusion, and knowing that he couldn’t yet stand, Djakara summoned up what he could to present a screen of protection against the next attack.

The only problem was Djakara didn’t know what it was. Within a few minutes, he could be killed by snake, hare or vampire, or otherwise drown.

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Fedlund’s concentration is fixed on the striking serpents before him and he struggles to understand the boys call without losing a paw or more to the gaping maws flashing at him. For such a verbose creature as Fedlund, thinking is a great deal more difficult than explicating aloud, so thoughts turn quickly to words and, given the chaos, he feels the need to shout most of them to hear himself think over the boisterous gale.

“MY SNAKE??? You are quite misled if you think this, ugh…”

Fedlund’s narrow evades a strike from the Cloud-head, but does not allow the distraction to hinder his speech aside from a grunted pause.

“…wretched abomination is any of my doing. I can assure you, my worthy, yeek…”

The distance to great for continued attempts at biting the hare, the Cloud-head opens its mouth and lets forth a powerful blast of wind, nearly propeling Fedlund off the platform into the perilous waters. Still, he only raises his voice and continues yelling as he tries to regain his footing.

“…opponent, it destruction is a keen a desire of mine as it is yours. OOOOmph!!”

The assailment, originating from the Water-head, is a solid stream of high velocity water slamming into Fedlund’s chest. Not only is this enough to fling him over the edge of the platform, it even succeeds in bringing about the cessation of his ramblings. Both hand axes are lost, one spinning off toward the water, where oddly enough it embeds itself in a floating table of giant’s proportions bearing a bottle with the words ‘DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large letters. The other, fortuitously, tumbles from Fedlund’s paw and remains on the platform.

Truthfully, Fedlund cares little about his assorted weaponry at the moment. With a small dose of quick reflexes and a much larger share of luck, he has managed to rap his paws around the corner pillar, but his grip is rapidly slipping under the duress of the windstorm and high-powered dousing.

It is at this moment that Djakara, intentionally or not, saves Fedlund from more dire harm. The blast of electric energy thrown haphazardly in the direction of the snake arcs into the Water-head as it blasts away at the pillar-strung hare. While Fedlund feels a slight tingle as the voltage passes through the water into his paws, the Water-head of the snake feels the full load of its power, coursing through its water filled innards like lava through a field of butter on a hot day. The Water-head is fried, fang to spine, and flops over like a limp, well steamed rag.

The momentary disruption in the Storm-Snake’s attack is sufficient for Fedlund to scramble back onto the platform. Scooping up his remaining axe and pulling a Noble Lance from the quiver still left by the pillar, Fedlund flops himself bodily toward the Storm-Snake, Lance spearing and axe swinging.

In his moments clinging desperately to the column, Fedlund had considered the remarkable characteristics of the beast the two combatants were faced with. Each head seemed to produce a substantial change in the environment and featured a similarly based personal attack ability. Thus, the Cloud-head spewed wind and the Water-head a stream. Fedlund reasons that the Sun-head and Lightning-head could be assumed to put forth fire and lightning respectively. As these seem a great deal more worrisome than wind, Fedlund is willing to risk a nip from the Cloud-head to end the greater threat of fire and lightning.

His quick thinking seems to pay off. The Noble Lance, much longer than the axe, penetrates the back of the Sun-head, the gleaming head punching through the back of the throat out the mouth, presenting a gruesome, yet satisfying end to the fiery quarter of the monster. The hand axe, unfortunately, does not swing so true. Fedlund lands a blow, of that there is no doubt, but it is not a death dealing strike. Enraged at the pain, the Lightning-head lets loose with a massive discharge of electric energy in the direction of Djakara and the white-suited vampire. Swinging from an awkward, bent position across the Storm-Snakes quadratic back, Fedlund manages several more hacks at the Lightning-head, finally severing the skull with a crunch.

With the other three heads destroyed and the body greatly weakened, the Cloud-head is a much reduced threat. Managing a gust that would threaten only a birthday cake’s candles, the elemental danger is removed. However, Fedlund’s woefully exposed backside presents a readily accessible target and the last gasp of the head is to sink its fangs painfully into lepusian rump.

Howling in pain, Fedlund rolls off the snake and onto the stonework floor. This succeeds in removing the fangs from his backside, but also does a considerable bit of tearing at their removal. The Cloud-head is far worse, however, barely holding itself erect but stubbornly persisting in assaulting Fedlund with a gentle breeze.

Using the hand axe as a short crutch, the water soaked and windblown hare, who now resembles a half-drowned rat, rises to his knees to survey the condition of his opponent and the white-suited man whose origins are still unclear to Fedlund.

“Hello old chap, did we make it through this to beat on each other in a well mannered mano-e-mano as I am certain we both anticipated?”

[Djakara]

Having barely survived the sudden burst of electricity from the serpent, Djakara was in no mood for a battle against the rabbit. The vampire, it seemed, had been rendered dead once again, only this time it was not through the stake or fire, but it seemed that Djakara’s blood had brought the creature to his fate. “He wears white, nothing vampiric kills him but blood does,” the boy realized, finally piecing everything together. “I wouldn’t have thought, but this is one of the oddest creatures that I’ve ever faced…”

With the serpent and vampire defeated, the whole idea of a battle now seemed completely and utterly hollow. The rabbit creature still wanted a fight, but Djakara didn’t want to waste any more time. The water level was rising, and there would soon be creatures that would be large enough to travel up on to the pyramid. It seemed now, whatever the intentions were when the dark elf had put him in the battle, Djakara had more than satisfied the conditions. He was bloody, tired and impatient, above all, the boy just wanted the nightmare to end.

For a moment, he considered calling a truce, but stopped himself short. “Maybe this is one of those tests where he wants to see if I can survive,” Djakara thought. “It might not matter if I win against this rabbit, as long as I say to fight.” The boy now wondered if the creature’s words were nothing more than a test.

Just before Djakara could agree, his mind was filled with a frustrated rage. “If he wanted a battle, he could have came before my ankle got nipped to shreds and a vampire gouged into my neck,” he thought irritably. “A damn battle wouldn’t take place in a room straight out of a torture chamber, without enough light to barely see in front. I’m sick of these blots of light, sick and tired of wondering if the whole room is suddenly going to go green or otherwise end up covered in a dense fog…” Perhaps he was being tested on perseverance, but if he was, Djakara didn’t want to pass.

If there was any lesson he was going to learn, it was that there was little point to continuing through with a hopeless situation. The blood from Djakara’s neck was only abated by a constant stream of pressure from the boy’s hand. If he were to start up a battle, it would only start up again and he would wind up dead. A losing battle may have seemed heroic to the thousands of farmboys who came to the Citadel every year to escape the drudgery of their ploughs, but Djakara was made of more intelligent stuff. The threats, such as they were, no longer existed. There was no reason to go on.

Djakara decided to say no.

“I’m sick and tired of this shit,” he replied. “I’m hurt and I need medical attention. Does it look like I want to continue?”

Unsure whether the rabbit would be able to understand the subtleties of rhetorical question, Djakara answered himself cattily. “No,” he insisted. “I don’t. So for what it matters, you won. Be very proud of yourself.”

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Fedlund can tell immediately, simply by the appearance of his opponent, that two things are certain. One, Djakara’s experience in the room had been less favorable than his own. Two, the battle was finished, the arena had taken too heavy a toll on the boy before him for the fight to continue.

With some effort, the hare rises to his feet, water dripping from every appendage. His glorious ears resemble dish rags, his proud fur a matted carpet. While the grandeur of his appearance is lost, the vibrancy of his spirit is not. He distractedly bats away the Cloud-head of the snake, still straining for victory despite its impotency. In the calm, Fedlund has his first chance to consider the experience with his opponent to factor in.

Look at him…he is no more than a lad. These hair-headed humans strive for glory and power, even at such an age as this. I came for camaraderie of arms, not such bloodshed as this. What would draw one such as this to encounter as we found here today?

Several weary steps carry Fedlund to the opposite side of the platform and, for a moment, he pauses over his weakened opponent, axe in hand, and realizes he could strike at his opponent. The words of surrender are spoken and the attack would be devastating, unwarned and thoroughly unwarranted.

Fedlund shudders all over, squeezing shut his eyes as if to force the thought from his mind and memory.

That would be the foulest, most reprehensible act of my life. Even a rabble-rousing rabbit would not stoop so low. What manner of a place is this that would cause even a Noble Hare to have such thoughts?

Instinctually, he had hurled the Noble Lance at the boy’s heart. Now, he wonders if he could ever have landed a blow if his opponent were up for a fight. Human blood and severed snake heads litter the ground about him, more violence than he had ever intended to bring about. Sucked into the situation, he had responded, but given the power to end it, there was little question the direction Fedlund would take. His decision made, a door appears on the platform at the head of the staircase behind Djakara, signaling the end of the trials. The hare leans over, extending a paw to the foe he barely had.

“My name is Sir Fedlund Overby, my unfortunate and worthy opponent. Winning is of little consequence. The pride comes from survival. Many ages ago, my race learned that. You do not have to be the strongest or best, only the one who sticks around to see the sun rise the next morning. Come, I never wished that this would proceed to such a bloody mess in the first place. We have survived this prodigious puzzle box of a menacing vault together. No need for us to go off into a much ballyhooed show of bravado and numb-skulledness now. We have both proven ourselves today.”

[Djakara]

The rabbit let me bunny him. Get it, I made a pun!

Djakara welcomed the rabbit’s words and aid. There was something that appealed to the boy about the way that this opponent of his had reacted. “It’s like he cares about this big box of widgets just as little as I do,” Djakara thought appreciatively. “Kind of makes me wonder why he’s in here, but I really just don’t care…”

He took a deep sigh, gathering as much energy and balance as he could manage to get himself up to his feet and be in a position where he could accept the rabbit’s aid. The two of them hobbled out of the room, Djakara leaning needfully on the rabbit’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he mouthed, as he tried to keep his mind away from the pain he was feeling. For a bit, he tried scanning other dimensions for a diversion, but opted to conserve his strength instead.

The words of the rabbit stuck with him, particularly the mention of survival. While the boy hadn’t cared to contradict someone who was being so magnanimous with aid, the fact was that he couldn’t have disagreed with the sentiment any more. Survival was something that the boy had experienced for sixteen years, and by the end of that, it was survival that was killing his soul more than anything else. It was transcendence that had always mattered to Djakara, it gave the boy direction and even defined who he was. Whether it was a search for profit or just a life away from the Republic and thugs, Djakara needed to strive for something more. However, with the considerable pain he was suffering, the boy couldn’t manage to put his thoughts into words.

It was only once they had managed their way out from the curiosity of a battlefield that Djakara offered any more words. “Without survival you can have precious little else,” he said knowingly. “But you’d be very surprised sometimes at what you might trade for it.”

Without it, life would have been exceedingly dull.

-x-

Soon after the boy was patched up and making his way out of the Citadel, Djakara was accosted by the dark elf who had brought him in to the battle in the first place. “That battle did not go exactly as planned,” the drow said, dispensing with the formalities that normally preceded conversation. “But it gave me a good test of who you are anyways…”

Djakara was not in the mood, even though he had remembered the three thousand coin note that had been placed in his pocket originally. “I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned for you…” the boy said sarcastically as he turned to face the drow. “Let me assure you, after dealing with that jackass vampire I’m really upset for your loss…”

There were a few moments of awkward silence between the two men. Djakara, feeling a bit more uncomfortable than the drow, spoke again. “If you learned anything, its that I don’t put up with shit…” he said, before tearing up the bank note and throwing it in the drow’s face.

The dark elf remained emotionless. “It was counterfeit anyways,” he replied. “You think I’d give that kind of money to an untested good? Perhaps you’re not as smart as I think you are.”

Despite his resentment, Djakara had to appreciate the logic there. He let out a bit of a guffaw despite himself.

“Tell you what,” the drow said. “I work a few businesses here, I have connections that can help you. I’d be happy to make sure that any uhh… surplus that you have finds an interested buyer here…”

Djakara wasn’t sure whether to be nervous or pleased by this. It was his intention to create a bit of “surplus” on the side, but he didn’t know that knowledge of his plans was that obvious.

“I’ll give you two thousand gold coins for a crate of cho-kho-no,” the drow continued. “We can negotiate the up front.”

Two thousand gold coins was enough to even make a skeptic like Djakara warm. “Three thousand…” he replied. “And I want a good share up front…”

The drow smiled. “All in good time,” he said. “All in good time.”

spoils=gold

[Sir Fedlund Overby]

Fedlund did not get a chance to reply to Djakara before the Ai’Bron monks separated the two for their various treatments, Djakara for healing, Fedlund requiring only some rejuvenation. The door closes with a click behind Djakara just as Fedlund realizes that, despite their strange experience together, he had never learned the boys name. He flings open the door that has just shut.

“Wait good sir, your name?...”

His voice trails off as the door opens to a very empty hallway. The tricks of The Citadel extend even beyond the confines of the arenas. Disappointed, Fedlund is left with nothing more to ponder than one brief statement.

“But you’d be very surprised sometimes at what you might trade for it.” Why, I cannot fathom what he might have meant by that. Without survival…trade for it…? This is most vexing, baffling my brains. Perhaps with a nice nap it will make more sense.

But a nap, complete with a delectable vegetable juice provided by the monks, did little to clear up the confusion. Hares live a life of caution, speed, and blessed forgetfulness: caution of those that might harm them, speed when they appear, and blessed forgetfulness when the danger has passed. Hares enjoy every moment free of duress and flight to such an extent that the terror of a moment past is easily swept away by the bliss of the life of the moment. It would take much constant suffering to turn Fedlund from these ingrained ways of old, but this world of humans, greed, and power threatens his simple-minded good humor. And the world has changed greatly since Fedlund first set paw in Radasanth this morning as tidings of civil war sweep through the city.

Spoils: Don't know if this warrants it, but a cool spoil would be for the Noble Lance that I shoved through the Sun-head of the Storm-Snake to be enhanced with the fire element. If not that, judge can pick whatever they please. Fun fight.

[AdventWings]

Hello, you two! Sorry for the wait, so here is the battle readout for this very unsual battle thread.

Sir Fedlund Overby

Story
Continuity - 5
Setting - 7
Pacing - 4
Writing Style
Mechanics - 4
Technique - 4
Clarity - 4
Character
Dialogue - 5
Action - 5
Persona - 5
Misc.
Wild Card - 7

Total - 50

Overview and Suggestions

For SFO, I notice there are substantial cases of typos, run-ons and general mechanical errors along the major parts of the story. Most notorious - and glaringly obvious - is the abrupt switch from Third Person Past tense to Third Person Present Tense between post no. 3 to no. 5. Again, this happened in post no. 9 right at the first paragraph, in which the tense change was in two adjecent sentences. And again in post no. 11 where you actually accomplished this in the very first sentence.

Watch out for run-on sentences such as those in Post no. 1. Sometimes, things like this can be explained in better, shorter sentences than in one long sentence.

Also, as a sidenote... Hares are not rodents. They belong to the family Lagomorpha and are considered Lagomorphs. Rodents have extended upper and lower incisors. Lagomorphs only have the extending upper incisors.

---

Djakara

Story
Continuity - 7
Setting - 6
Pacing - 4
Writing Style
Mechanics - 6
Technique - 7
Clarity - 6
Character
Dialogue - 6
Action - 7
Persona - 7
Misc.
Wild Card - 7

Total - 63

Overview and Suggestions

An interesting battle of writing style between you and Sir Fedlund Overby, that I will say. Some of the story and action details were vague and fleeting, however, so I believe there should be a bit more on what Djakara interacted and reacted to the environment around him. Try to find different ways to detail the atmosphere and circumstances than merely telling them in a straight-forward fashion. It is a path worthy of investigation, so I leave it to you to seek it out.

The following advice goes for both of you as well. In writing, the writer does not always have the luxury of adding "linked" images from the outside to enhance their story-telling devices. The links to pictures provided here are... Nice, but barely needed at all. A brief description would be sufficient already, unless there was an unterior motive for their addition here that I completely missed. Also, the linked meaning of the different words for describing the greenish gas is somewhat unneeded, so please don't do that anymore. The reader can look it up themselves unless they don't know how to use the dictionary...

Extra points to both of you for making a very interesting read and prove that a battle does not have to be a 1-on-1 combat-oriented conflict all the time.

---

Sir Fedlund Overby receives 250 EXP and a Noble Lance imbued with a fiery touch of the Sunburst Serpent's enchantment. However, the enchanted Noble Lance seemed to only be enhanced by a small touch, enabling only a slightly hot sensation on contact. Nothing comparable to a glowing brand and more like a touch of ember against skin.

Djakara receives 1,925 EXP and 750 GP

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added! Djakara levels up!