Quest at your own pace. This thread must be completed by January 12th, 2014 at 12:00 AM EST. If you finish early, please submit it for judging per usual.
Quest at your own pace. This thread must be completed by January 12th, 2014 at 12:00 AM EST. If you finish early, please submit it for judging per usual.
Holding the worn map in front of his face, Victor Valentine was once again, lost. Twigs cracked like bones under his worn brown boots. His head bobbed to avoid the many various branches that stretched down to scratch him.
The woods in the middle of Salvar were like the woods in the rest of Salvar. Dead trees stretched towards the sky like once living tombstones. Grumbling added to the song of the birds and beasts, all of whom avoided the red-eyed man. Victor traced a dirt covered finger over trails and paths, the names of which had long since faded from the old map.
He fell, face forward, as something rolled through the leaves and dirt. The map fluttered with his darkened brown coat before dirt flew up. The moans coming from under black hair were muffled by the ground, while Victor ate dirt. Propping himself on elbows, he cursed.
"Who's the dead man?" Victor growled, twisting his head to find meet the cupid for his date with the ground.
A boot, attached to ripped pants and a freshly murdered corpse greeted the ex-soldier. Victor and landed on his behind, scurrying away from the scene. Arrows, short and long daggers riddled the man, who sat propped against a tree. Victor could make out the expression on his face, but scared or pained was not what he saw. A slight smile, and enamored eyes staring into an unmoving hand.
"It was just a joke," Victor sighed, "no need to take it so seriously. . ."
A fist sized purple ball found itself nested in the ridged fingers of the corpse. Even in the dim mid-day sun, the ball seemed to glow. A vibrant purple light seemed to live and move in its core. Like a caged bird, the light flickered almost like it wanted to escape. Like an inert magnificence, stifled, and anxious to get out.
"Oh?" Victor eyed the orb curiously, "well that's interesting."
Red eyes were fixed on the small purple ball. The red-eyed man hid the old map on the inside of his jacket absentmindedly. He moved on hands and knees, kicking leaves and dirt up as he neared the purple wonder.
The ex-soldier paused, momentarily, to acknowledge the dead man. The living man could not help but notice the love in the dead-man's eyes. . . If dead eyes could express it. He scowled, nodding condolences.
"Sorry buddy," Victor took the orb in his hands, a supernatural warmth, an energy almost moved up his arm. "Hope you won't mind."
Just as he finished his dialogue with the dead, the corpse stirred. Its head fell first, butting Victor's brow, and the rest of its form landed on the man. As though it were not ready to let the orb go, even in death, the cadaver fell on it, eliciting an endearing scream from Victor and a kick to rid the scene of the body.
Standing, Victor put his hand on a tree, feeling the hard, brittle, bark chip away. As the gray skin fell, footsteps broke the hurried rhyme of the red-eyed man's frantic breath. He pressed his back against the tree, feeling the sharp edges pressing into his coat.
The red-eyed man held his breath, listening for anything that would be of use. He could hear the mumblings of someone or something approach. A red eye peered from around the tree, yet nothing crossed his gaze. No shadows, no forms, not even the flutter of wings stirred where the noise had come from.
"What are we looking for?" a gruff voice asked, inches away from Victor's ear.
A brief shriek, followed by a jump and a frantic scurry left the man starring at the giant form before him. The individual towered a full foot above Victor, but his red-eyes were fixed on the stranger's massive, pink, bush of hair.
"I think. . ." Victor sighed, raising an eyebrow and pointing up, "there's something on your head."
“My head?” I asked, scratching my sideburns as I thought about this strange man’s antics, “Oh! No sir, that’s just my hair!” I laughed, my hands upon my stomach as I did so. I had been busy exploring the snowcapped Salvic forest when I had heard the panic of this mysterious person. By the time I had arrived, the stranger was busy trying to rid himself of ‘deadbeat’ (I’m so clever sometimes).
“Would you like some help?” I offered looking to the crimson eyed man with a weak smile upon my face. He shifted his gaze back and forth for a moment, as if he were trying to find anyone else to help him. When he finally nodded, I grabbed the ribs of the deceased, pulling with all of my strength in order to release the odd stranger. The body let out a loud cracking sound as I tore the poor adventurer’s body from his hand. Whatever it was this guy had been holding onto, he wanted it something fierce.
I held the body for a moment with my arm around the waist of the dead. The rigor mortis had set in which caused the body to remain upright in my huge arms. I could smell the dead man’s released bowels, a stench that caused my nose to crinkle in reaction. I set the body down, much to the enjoyment of various flies that seemed to swarm around the corpse. I turned my attention back to Red-Eyes, my head tilted to try and gain a better view of what he was holding.
The severed hand blocked most of my vision of the object, but I could make out the faintest of purple glows. My eyes widened a bit, a hand reaching into my giant tuft of pink and scouring about. My new acquaintance paused for a minute, an eyebrow rising upon his features. “What are yo---“
“Searching,” I said plainly, feeling something solid and pulling it from my hair. Such a thing would probably be painful to most, but my own Mystic hair had become so exposed to various chemicals over the years that I had managed to lose all feeling in the oddly colored bush. The advantage to being exposed to these same chemicals also allowed by head to become in and of itself a bag of infinite holding of sorts. As the object left my hair, I pulled it down in front of my face to see what I had managed to fish out.
It was my burn box, an invention I had created in which people would put bread in one of the two burn slots, and cook their toast. I had tried to pitch the idea to people, but it seemed that nobody thought the burn box was a good idea. I scratched the back of my neck and shook my head, placing the burn box back atop my head while searching for my true goal. When my palm wrapped around something sphere like in nature, I smiled and removed it, the purple ball letting off the same glow that I had seen from behind the disembodied hand.
“There we go” I said with a smile and a hand upon the stranger’s shoulder, “I got one of those too! Twinsies!”
Victor held his breath, weary of the jolly pink-topped giant. His eyebrow was locked in a questioning stare. With an exhale, Victor scratched his head, taking another look at the oddly glowing purple sphere. Now that the two orbs were near each other, their luminescence seemed to grow.
"So uh," Victor began, lifting the orb to eye level and looking through it, "What's the deal with these things anyway?"
"No clue," the pink haired stranger smiled, sharp canines riddling his mouth. Victor stared into his mouth, like the imposing jaw of a hungry monster, but the man's eyes told a different tale. The humanity in the large man's eyes betrayed his mixed nature, an orcish skin-tone, almost olive gave the man a formidable impression. As if his rippling muscles were not enough, the orc-like traits added just the right amount of intimidating primal power to the eccentric man.
"Wonder- Twinsy powers!" the man yelled, "Activate!" With no pause, the olive-skinned man slammed one purple sphere against the other. In an instant, their consciousness' were flying. All of Salvar was open before them, the entire country from an aerial view. As if they were on the back of a giant, invisible eagle the wilderness sprawled out before them. Mountains were like small sandy mounds, riddling the landscape like wrinkles on an old face. From the base of one mountain, a bright purple light shot into the sky, brighter than the sun. Its light washed over the lands, connecting with two smaller lights that sprung up from the forest.
As if they were in two places at once, the strange giant and Victor could see the orbs in their hands, and Salvar from above. Their vision zoomed on the brighter light, diving down towards the ground at break-neck speed. Pulling up, right above ground level, the vehicle of their cognition twisted and turned towards a now towering peak.
A fortress of steel and rock burst through from the foot of the range. From inside the heavily fortified walls an army stood, ready to defend or to attack. Weapons in hand, each soldier worked against the other, sparring and fighting. Hundreds of armed men practiced in the wide courtyard.
But the two flew passed, ascending to a wide horizontal window. On a small table, in a room filled with strange writings and odd weapons, were five other purple orbs. The two men were mesmerized, their gaze unwillingly fixed on the table and its contents. The combined magics seemed overwhelming, like a power to change or destroy the universe wrestled to break free.
My orbs, a sinister voice echoed, you have the rest. . . I will have them soon. . . And then, the world will be mine. . . A terrible laughter filled the room, and breaking free of the magic of the spheres, the two men locked onto two evil-filled eyes.
Like being pulled out of a terrible dream, the two men awoke in the forest. Both looked slightly taken aback, unsure if the other had seen the same thing. Victor tossed the ball into the air, catching it again and holding out his other hand for his olive-skinned acquaintance.
"Victor Valentine," the crimson-eyed man sighed, "magnet for all things clichéd and stupid."
“Steppenwolf Orlouge,” I said, taking the hand offered by Victor, “A stupid cliché.”
I looked down at my free hand towards the orb that had given us the vision. My mind had been quickly filled with information involving these spheres. At one time I had thought these balls to be mere trinkets; a fancy looking apparatus that served no real purpose outside of being aesthetically pleasing. I had come to find out in just the span of a minute that these were in fact legendary items known as ‘Thayne Orbs’.
“So,” I spoke to break the awkward silence between the two of us, “Whoever collects all seven of these Thayne Orbs has a wish granted unto them by the Thaynes, right?” My eyes shifted to meet Victors who was unsurprisingly nodding at my clarification. “Well, I have one and you have one. That place in the vision had five, right? That makes seven in all. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s probably a good idea if we don’t let the deep, evil sounding voice of terror acquire all the orbs”
Victor nodded as I looked back down at my own Thayne Orb, placing the item back into my hair. “I think it would be best if we held onto our own individual Orbs, that way if that militia finds us, they have to catch us both to get all seven. “ I looked towards Victor once more as he again nodded in agreement with me. “Did you notice that insignia on their uniforms? It was the symbol for the Yellow Lily.”
“Yellow Lily?”
I nodded, “The Yellow Lily is a group of extremists who worship a demi-Thayne. At one point, they were on the verge of conquering all of Corone before my brother lead a counter-force to stop them. He did with thirty men what the Imperial forces could not do with three thousand. I thought after the rebellion was quelled, they disbanded, but I guess not.”
I scratched the back of my head awkwardly as I tried my best to explain the situation. When Sei had fought the Yellow Lily Rebellion, I was still in my self-imposed exile to the harshest corners of Salvar. I only heard about the deed that would make Sei Orlouge the ‘Protector of Radasanth’ months later when I came into town for supplies.
Victor jarred me out of my reflection, “So you have any idea where these Yellow Lilies are?”
“As a matter of fact,” I said, the corners of my lips forming into a Cheshire grin, “I do.”
It felt like a month had gone by as the pair trudged through the woods. With the strange olive skinned man leading the way, Victor could only mutter his disdain to himself. The path they walked, if it could even be called that, weaved through the forest like the scribbling of a blind epileptic.
"I don't know why I keep doing this to myself," Victor muttered beneath his breath, dragging his feet. What the hell is the point of this, I hate lilies and magic. These yellow lily bastards are stupid. They're ugly and stupid and I just want to go back to that crappy little town and sit at the bar. . ."
The forest medley of birds and trees gave the walk an enchanting ambiance. The leader of the expedition seemed lost in a world all his own, pointing out interesting details in the forest and diverging towards them. The entire time he rambled, sometimes to Victor, and others to the trees or himself. The red-eyed man would respond absentmindedly, nodding his head and walking on. The pair paused occasionally, where Steppenwolf talked about the object of his interest.
And so they walked, circling and veering. Through deep sighs and groans from the black-haired man, they pushed to the top of a hill. Leaves crunched under their boots, twigs breaking and cracking as the pair reached the peak. Steppenwolf crouched, a seemingly pointless gesture as anyone looking towards the hill would see an absurd pink bush, arousing suspicion anyway. Victor had not noticed the move and walked forward, almost stepping off the edge, where he would have plummeted to his death.
A quick move from the Orlouge saved the red-eyed man. Victor nodded his thanks and the pair looked on. A large fortress, carved into the base of a valley, waited in the shadow of the cliffs. Men moved like ants, their yellow garbs were a stark contrast to the ominous visage of the base. Bright yellow banners flew, the wind caressing them lightly. Victor sighed.
"I guess this is the part where we sneak in?" the red-eyed man asked.
"Is that what you want to do?" Steppenwolf countered, his olive hand disappearing into the pink void on his head.
"I'm not crazy about subtlety. . ." the red-eyed man sighed.
"That's good. . ." the Orlouge stood, smiling a sharp toothed grin, "they're here to meet us"
"Oh good," Victor turned, nonchalantly, unsheathing 'the Bastard.'
An armed squad of soldiers, wearing yellow tabards held their weapons out. More than twenty men stood at the ready, as a tall man broke through the ranks. His armor was dark, sleek metal reflected light elegantly. The only yellow thing on his body was a scarf that poked out of chest-plate. The man's skin was as dark as his armor, and his voice as smooth as silk. He was calm when he talked, entirely in control.
"My name is Sergeant Black," the dark-skinned man introduced himself. "I have been ordered to retrieve those balls you carry."
"Sorry pal," Victor picked his nose, "I've carried these balls all my life, and I couldn't bear to part with them now."
The black man cringed, "you are disgusting, men, have at th-" but was cut off by the dull silver pommel of a sword. Victor's blow grounded the sergeant. As he stood, the men around him gasped, holding their breath.
"If you want to run, now is the time. . ." the red-eyed man whispered.
"I don't know why they would," Steppenwolf added, still rifling through his hair, "they're friends are coming up the hill to help."
"Why would you say that?!" Victor turned with a yelp. A hand gripped his boot, as sergeant Black's cries were muffled underneath. His other hand twisted in the air, signaling his men.
And with a resounding battle-cry from the yellow lily army, the brawl was on.
I laughed nervously as I looked at the soldiers starting to climb the hill. Though I was pretty confident in my abilities, I was almost certain that the Yellow Lilies would use Victor against me. This was a guy who panicked at the sight of a skeleton, after all. I did not have the utmost confidence that my partner was one to handle himself well in combat.
“Whats the plan?” Victor asked, his creepy red eyes darting towards me.
“We surrender.”
“Ok then I’ll take the three on th---wait, what?” Victor’s head turned towards me now, his eyes wide with shock.
“Think about it, how else are we going to get those other orbs? If we spend all day and night fighting here, they’ll win. They have more numbers, and a camp to recuperate their fallen. If we give up, we’re right in the heart of the situation. What’s taking a beating or two in order to make sure we have the orbs?” I laughed for just a second before covering my mouth, trying to stifle the merriment of my brilliant plan.
“….Fine” victor whispered, though I was sure by now he was questioning my sanity.
We raised our hands in unison as the soldiers approached, dumbfounded and weapons at the ready.
“Well then gentlemen, I suppose we give up.”
"Well then gentlemen, I suppose we give up," the red eyed-man nodded his head. The human and orc stood stoically, waiting for bonds of imprisonment. When the iron shackles came, Victor knew he had not chosen the lottery most agreeable. He knew a fight was what he wanted, but a fight would lead to defeat.
With the sage-like wisdom of the family Orlouge, there could be little room for error. Victor kept a stern eye on the olive warrior. Waiting for any move towards freedom.
Playing with blood, the pair gamboled their lives on the roll of the dice. The pair made their way through a crowd, letting rotten fruit and rock guide their way. A door was salvation, allowing, Victor and Stephon, an escape from the plethora of men ready to take their lives.
A vicious medley, like a well sharpened blade cut through meat, resounded through the air. Such was the music the pair made, once their captors had had their way. Every inch of flesh, every ounce of skin was the play-thing of the yellow-lily army.
But even then, death was not to be their end. In the coldest depths of the dungeon, did the pair find their reprieve. No rest was as jubilees as that which paused the pain. In chain and pain, the two men lay in wait, bidding their time to take action. Torture was the path we chose. And yet, there could be no other. In the den of lions our prize awaited, and only there could we find our goal. It was the Thayne orbs we desired; it was the remaining Thayne orbs our hearts craved. And only those spheres could appease the thirst of our souls.
"What is it you would like?" the torture would ask, like a song for birds. "How would you like me to end this?"
And each time he answered, the olive knight would say, "take me and let my friend go."
It took hours, but finally his call was answered; by the general of the yellow lilies himself. Stephen was carried away, much to Victor's dismay. But in the darkness of the dungeon, the red-eyed man found his escape. In the ignorance of the torturer and the weakness of his captors, Victor Valentine could hear the call of the orbs.
I felt a vicious punch into my gut; one of many that I had suffered. Had it been days? Weeks? In the darkness of the cellar, time became an obscure concept. The only light I would ever see was the faint torches when my room opened for another torture session. Every time I was beaten and prodded I was asked to give up Victor’s location, and what his intentions were. Every time I told them to go yellow fuck themselves. They never liked that, and every time, the torture got more severe.
It got to the point where I thought I would die in that blackened room.
I wondered often about Victor, about whether or not he managed to acquire the other Thayne orbs. Despite the Yellow Lilies best efforts, they could never find my friend. They questioned why I would defend a man I had only just met recently. Fr all I knew, he could have been some sort of vicious murderer. I stood vigilant, making sure I never let a single detail of what little I knew of Victor slip.
Then, I finally broke.
When the door opened, I could see a flame being held in the hand of my torturer. His black burlap mask covered his features save for the dual blue orbs that shined through the eye sockets. My pupils took several minutes to dilate under this new light. If they had brought magic here, it only meant one thing; they had sent an executioner in to kill me. Without any words, the large man before me threw the flame at my beaten form, quickly shutting the door.
With nobody to see me, I smiled, allowing the flame to hit me square in the chest. Rather than incinerate me, however, the fires were absorbed into my skin. I smiled as the heat from my arms melted away the shackles at my wrists and ankles. The flames within my body were hot, but they were causing me to be a walking fire myself. I could feel my insides starting to char when I released the fire straight at the wooden door before me, effectively blowing my would-be executioner and several guards against a nearby wall.
I walked out of the cellar, placing a hand over my eyes with a grin. I had come in as Steppenwolf Orlouge, but the Yellow Lilies were about to taste the justice of The Breaker.
As I transformed into my super hero persona, I had a single thought. I hope Victor got the other orbs… I grinned, remembering passing my own mystical object to the wanderer just before he left.
It took hours, but finally the effects of the drugs wore off. As though waking from a alcohol induced hallucination, Victor stirred in his chains. His captors knew not who he was. Nor who his friend was. But it would only take minutes longer for the entire yellow lily army to learn exactly who the 'Raukorad,' was. A drunk, yellow tabard wearing soldier walked through the doors. A blade, it's edge wet with blood, shone in his hand like a desert mirage; promising sweet relief.
It was only then that the red-eyed man realized he had been covered in small, shallow wounds. The blood slipped loosely from his wounds like maple from a tree. The soldier stumbled from the door way, the blade swung with his every step.
The yellow lily soldier was sure the advantage was his. The prisoner was reaming from the drugs still coursing through his system. The chains could hold two men, let alone one covered in wounds. There was no way anything could go wrong.
Famous last words.
The chains broke with a dull snap, as the torturers blade plunged for Victor's side. The red-eyed devil dodged his would be torturers attack and with a snap of his wrist, knocked the dagger out of the soldier's hand. The chain swung loose from his wrist, but time was short. Victor felt his clarity slip, he knew the short period of lucidity would flee soon, and there would not be a chance like this again.
Wrapping the chain around his torturers throat, Victor pulled, turning the man around and choking the life out of him, one arm still bound to the wall. When the body dropped Victor worked quick. He tore his remaining restraints from the wall, and went to work, changing his clothes. He dawned a yellow tabard and lifted the dead soldier on his back. The man could scarcely pass for Victor, but now was not the time to worry.
Swaying and stumbling through the halls, hoisting a dead man would have been difficult enough without the serum regaining its influence.
"What the hell do ya think yer doin?!" a surly voice called out. Victor turned, words coming out of his mouth like a jumbled combination of grunts, moans and shots of spit.
"Oh, Kinley," the gaurd sighed, "just throw him out with the others and for thayne's sake, get some sleep."
Nodding was the only response withing Victor's arsenal, and it sufficed. He waddled down the cold corridor and dropped body down the first stairwell he could find.
"Thayne's dammit, Kinley, not again!"
Victor grunted and moaned, turning into a doorway and dropped to his knees. Sticking a finger down his throat was all he could do and the vomit flowed freely like a river. His body knew what to do. Expelling the toxin was the only thing left. It took the better part of half an hour, but the red-eyed man stood once more, covered in puke.
"Wow Kinley," a voice drew attention from the side, "well at least you're a sight better than yesterday. No shit this time. . ."
"Just what kind of fucking guy was he?!" Victor yelled, tossing the used helmet at the yellow lily soldier and taking the puke stained clothes off.
The Raukorad drew a blade, and took to the hallways. His pace and determination left no room for foolery. The man ran until he could find his blade, 'the Bastard' hung in a storage room for garb and blades alike.
"Now then," Victor sighed, catching his breath, "I believe I have a date with a general."
It only took minutes for Victor to find the general's quarters. After all, he had been here before.
The lavish red carpet led to two glass doors. Ornate dragons and demons woven into the design told a tale of endless bloodshed and carnage. Just the kind of place for a final boss. . . Victor thought to himself.
"Enter," a dark voice sailed as the doors opened on their own. Victor entered a large, ornately decorated war-room. A large desk stood in the center with a spread out map of Althanas on it, knives keeping it set. Racks of weapons and armors adorn the walls, just below a mural, which ran the entire length of the room.
"The stained doors told the start of the tale, but the mural finished it. Demons, men, monsters and dragons; all fighting for the sake of seven orbs. Hosts of the inestimable power of the Thayne's, these seven orbs can shatter the foundation of our reality as we know it; and they grant three entire wishes."
"You would be the general then?" Victor sighed.
"I will be the ruler of this dimension, and every other once I am done!" the yellow lily general cried. His arms flew out and the balls on the table behind him lit up. There was an unnatural wind that blew open all the windows and doors. The wind started, in concert with the trees and animals, a woeful song. The yellow general began to chant, light poured from the orbs like light from bright flames.
An explosion from below woke Victor from the magic of the scene. As the light took shape outside the window of the room, the red-eyed man walked behind the general and pushed his blade through his heart. All as once the magic died.
"JUST WHAT KIND OF HERO ARE YOU?" a godly voice asked.
"Well I never really said I was a hero. . ." Victor picked his nose, "but does this mean I get three wishes?"
". . . I GUESS. . . IT IS NOT LIKE I HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO."
"First!"Victor yelled, as though trying to force drama into the scene, "I wish for my friend, Steppenwolf Orlouge to be healed and sent wherever his heart desires!"
"DONE."
"Next! I want a new set of clean clothes, but just like my old ones!"
"ALSO DONE, ANYTHING ELSE?"
"Umm. . .I don't know. . ." Victor sighed, scratching his head.
"YOU CAN LITTERALY HAVE ANYTHING YOU COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE. LITERALLY. ANYTHING."
"I WANT A PAIR OF WOMAN'S PANTI- wait!" Victor stopped himself from committing a copyright's infringement. "I want Kinley to be remembered fondly by everyone who knew him that will survive the slaughter that's about to happen!"
"ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE THE GOOD GUY HERE?"
After a short pause, Victor cleaned the inside of his ear and shrugged, "nope."
And the bout began.