Gisela City (Location D)

A chorus of booms had quickly filled the town of Gisela. All of the townspeople had locked themselves in their homes and were peaking out of their windows to catch a glimpse of the spectacle that had befallen them. Even the tourists, caught in the allure of the Gisela Open tournament, had taken shelter in local inns and pubs. Everyone's eyes were on the army that marched across Gisela's streets.

The army had arrived by ship no more than thirty minutes ago. They bore no recognizable colors or flags, and were not registered in the legendary tournament. The army moved with precision and discipline. They said nothing to the citizens as they passed, nor did they say anything to one another. Knights, at least 100 strong, led the march into the city. They were followed by at least 200 additional horseless soldiers and mages. Some of the mages wore black robes, and others wore silver. Behind them were carriages, and cannons.

But compared to the other armies that had marched through the town at the start of the tournament, this army itself was rather unimpressive. What had caught the eyes of the citizens were the three people walking in step at the head of the army. The figure in the center was very familiar to the citizens of Gisela. He was Drax Piston, the winner of the previous year’s tournament. He was a brash young man that many people still compared to a younger Max Dirks. He wore his long blonde hair in a ponytail. His PSG-1 sniper rifle was strapped to his back. To his left hunched a very frail old man. The man seemed to struggle with every step that he took, though the others paid this no mind. On Drax’s left stood an equally mysterious man, clad in a dark trenchcoat. He was middle aged, and handsome.

Shortly thereafter, the booms suddenly stopped. A lightly clad elf ran towards them from the outskirts of the city. He stopped when he arrived and bowed lightly. “My lord, I bring news.”

Drax turned his body away from the elf and looked at his army, “Go on.”

“There are three armies in the vicinity. One to the north across the bay, one to the northeast and one to the east. I’m prepared to dispatch additional scouts to each of the areas…”

“That won’t be necessary. Have your men prepared to scatter along the east side of the Dragon forest.” Drax interrupted.

“Yes, Sir.” The elf responded. However, he did not move from his place. He continued to look at Drax. Unaware that the elf had not departed, it took a low cough from Drax’s handsome lieutenant to catch the general’s attention.

“Is there something else?” Drax asked impatiently, while turning to face the elf.

“Rakarth leads the army in the east.”

At this, Drax’s eyes fell onto his lieutenant’s. The two shared a glimpse then Drax dismissed the elf with a flick of his wrist. Once the elf was out of sight, the middle-aged lieutenant spoke, “This is most fortunate. He must be brought to the city. I long to meet him.”

“If Thoracis Rakarth comes to this city, Ressurrecter, it will be with malice and ice. Lot’s of ice,” Drax momentarily trailed off. “Thoracis is of a rare breed in this tournament. Since the fall of his army in Alerar, he has lived ONLY for the power and the glory associated with these tournaments. He is here to fight, and to win, and will treat us no differently than any other army in Gisela.”

“Then perhaps we should make the visit worth his while.” The man responded.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Drax asked?

“It’s quite simple really. We simply need to feed his curiosity to bring his desires outside of the tournament.” Drax twisted his face at Ressurrecter’s rhetoric, however, Ressurrecter just smiled. The old man, who had stayed idle during the entire conversation grunted as Ressurrecter lifted a staff off the ground. He lifted the staff from the ground and tossed it to Drax.

“What is this?” Drax asked as he caught the weapon. Drax lifted the staff into the air. It felt weightless.

“This, my friend, is the staff of Mazrith of Alerar, an old acquaintance of our friend.”

The old man grunted again, and suddenly the staff passed through Drax’s hand. He turned to the old man, and then back to Ressurrecter. “Impressive, but what if Thoracis is cunning enough to tell the difference between reality and an illusion?”

Resurrecter just smiled. “If I recall correctly, the last time Rakarth saw his old friend Mazrith, he received a bullet in his forehead. A bullet,” Ressurrecter reached into his cloak and pulled out a small weapon, “that was shot from this gun.”

Drax immediately recognized the weapon as a Beretta 950. Only one person in Althanas had ever used this gun. He moved to Ressurrecter and took the gun into his right hand. When he tried to aim the gun at a nearby building, Drax found that he could not aim the gun properly without tilting it slightly to the left. “Signaturized? How did you get this gun?” Drax was noticeably angry.

“That is a story that will have to wait for our guest.”

Drax fumed, but held his tongue. Drax turned to his army and motioned for the lead knight to approach.

“Your command, Sir?” The knight asked.

“Move the entire army into the forest.” Drax said, while carefully looking over his shoulder at Ressurrecter.

“Excuse me, Sir?” The knight was caught by surprise.

“You heard me. Split the army across the wetlands and advance on the forest.” The knight nodded and Drax continued. “Go in waves, as you will be accompanied by your doubles.”

“Sir, there are two armies to the east. Is it wise to split ours for any purpose?”

At this, Drax scowled. “Are you questioning an order, Soldier?” Drax demanded, but before the knight could respond, Drax continued, “Besides, this is a war. Do they honestly think they are protected by the umbrella of a tournament?”

The knight did not respond, he merely nodded his head and rode off.

Shortly thereafter, the army began to split, with soldiers darting off in every direction. There was no chorus of booms. To the citizens of Gisela, the order and discipline that commanded the army’s entrance was lost to the chaos that ensued. The army had split to avoid being followed or scouted, but they were all making their way across the wetlands to the forest where they would regroup as necessary. Soon all that was left in the street was a carriage.

“Come along, Phagan,” Drax said to the old man as he climbed into the carriage. “I have to deliver this invitation personally.” As Drax and Phagan rode off, Ressurrecter smiled.