Round 1: Inkfinger Vs SirArtemis

[Silence Sei]

You have 2 weeks to complete this battle. May the best man win!

[SirArtemis]

"Artie, come on, don't lose hope! We can sell this stuff, we just have to find the right audience."

Artemis frowned, his eyes meeting Jay's. He noticed her small comforting smirk as she tucked a lock of silver-violet hair behind her ear. Her appearance always intrigued Artemis, her icy blue eyes contrasting with the rich lavender of her skin.

"I just don't want to let Bazzak and Nalin down. If we don't sell all this stuff and make enough money, we'll never be able to rebuild the forge."

"Don't worry so much about that, Artie. We'll be just fine no matter what. Selling the built up stock is to help with the rebuilding, that's all. It'll get done one way or another." She smiled at the vagabond, lifting his chin up with her delicate hands and scratching gently at his scruff. "I hear there's going to be a tournament down in Radasanth. It's being hosted by the Citadel. Why not try to set up a stall nearby? There's bound to be high traffic, both from the contestants and the audience."

Artemis placed his hand on Jay's and smiled back at her. "I suppose we should try. With Knife's Edge a mess, we have no option but to do our best until the Norlonds and the others finish building. Home is where they make it, literally." Artemis said and Jay laughed warmly.

_______________________________________

The pair arrived at the Citadel only to see a massive crowd filling the area around the massive stone structure, the heat of the Corone sun bearing down on them. Countless stalls were already set up and the pair faced trouble finding a spot of their own.

"I suppose others had the same idea," Artemis frowned, cynicism creeping back into his voice.

Jay, realizing that they would need to do something different, felt she had a wonderful idea. "Artemis, why don't you enter the tournament?"

"What?" Artemis asked, looking incredulous.

"Well, what better way to showcase our wares than to have you display their quality in the tournament? If you fight, and if you win, people will slowly become your fans, and the farther you make it through the tournament, the more we will sell!"

Jay clapped excitedly at the prospects, her dark elf frame bobbing up and down. Artemis, however, just glared at her, thinking she was mocking him.

"Oh come on, Artie. You get some practice fighting and we get some extra sales. Besides, no one would want to buy from a depressing looking person like you. You barely smile!"

Artemis spread his lips wide to show his teeth in a mocking smile. "How's this?"

Jay stopped bobbing and suddenly looked serious. "Terrible," she said, grabbing Artemis by the shoulders and turning him to face the front steps of the Citadel. "Think of Bazzak and Nalin!"

Artemis began walking up the steps as Jay pushed him. "That's just not fair," he moaned, slowly making his way up to the registration table.

"Life's not fair. Now go make us proud!" She gave him one last slap on the behind and returned to the stall, leaving him to his fate.

After making his way up the steps and to the registration table, a Citadel monk looked up at him with almond-shaped brown eyes, warm and welcoming. He brushed a lock of gray hair out of his eyes and smiled. "How may I help you, young man?"

"I'd like to sign up for the Serenti." He choked out the words reluctantly.

"Any preferences with respect to opponents or arenas?"

Artemis just shook his head. "Not really. Just give me something where I can use my daggers and show what they're made of." He smirked, satisfied with his little joke.

[Inkfinger]

“Did you know,” Îdhdaer Bireth’s voice rang abrasively loud in the midday silence of the il'Jhain Abdos offices. The elf paused, no doubt for dramatic effect, something completely wasted on his lone audience member.

Cael Stranddsen looked up from his paperwork questioningly, wiping the sweat from his eyes. No matter how many times we get this place spelled against the heat, he found himself thinking as he smeared the sweat off on his pants, so as not to smudge the intricate swirls on his parchment, it’s just going to wear off again. Might as well get used to it.

“Did I know what?” he prompted when Îd showed no sign of continuing, despite having his undivided attention.

The elf’s teeth flashed bright in the low light as he resumed, “Did you know that you’ve been under my employ for a full two years now?” He produced Cael’s battered and stained enlistment papers from the massive stack of missives on his desk, displaying it proudly. “According to the handbook, that means you’re entitled to a month’s vacation!”

…he never ceases to amaze me.

“Oddly enough,” Cael replied, mildly, though inside he was happily fantasizing about tying his boss’s intricately braided hair into a gigantic knot, “I did know that! I also know that my two year anniversary happened t’fall, oh, two months ago?” Îd winced, theatrically, and Cael leaned his chin against his knuckles. “And, I see. You know that as well. Fancy that.”

“Hey, Cael, you’re my only reliable-” The elf stopped when he saw the look on Cael’s face, something halfway between disgust and disbelief. “-only trustworthy-” Again, the look must have clued him in that Cael was not buying any inch of this. “-alright, alright, I held off on letting you know because I need your help.”

“…y’need my help, and y’think holding my vacation over my head will make me go along with whatever damnfool idea you’ve got goin’ this time?”

“No,” Îd said, voice plaintive, “I need your vacation. Or, rather, I need you during your vacation.”

“Wait, what?” Cael half-stood, wincing when the old scars on his hip seized and he had to grab the desk to keep from falling on his face. “Îd, that doesn’t-”

“In fact, I need your help about as much as you need this job.” That came out a lot less like begging, and a lot more like an open threat. Îd ignored his open glare, polishing his nails on his tunic. Cael sighed, waiting for the feeling to return to his thigh so he could move again, fingers clenched into fists against the desk.

“…I hate you, y’know that?”

“Love you too, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

*

Darkness.

Cael couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. The black shifted beneath his too-big boots in a feeling like mesh, or a net made of metal. He bent down to touch it, setting his naginata by his knee as his fingers investigated. They met the wall disconcertingly quick, quested up to find more of the mesh, wide enough that he could slip long fingers between the links, curl them, and give the mesh a tug. It shifted, but didn't open.

…a cage?

Why would they need a cage? He was here by (admittedly against his better judgment) choice; he'd agreed, however reluctantly. Îd – boss, occasional friend, and now, apparently, sponsor – had done it again. Last Cael had checked, vacations did not involve tag-a-long bosses, being dragged into drinking contests, or…

“Good day.” The voice that broke the silence, abruptly, was female and cool, devoid of any recognizable emotion or source. Cael jumped, regardless, shoulders suddenly pressed against pliant metal. He blinked, realizing that his vision was returning – slowly, as if he’d just gone inside after spending hours in the snowy fields of home. He couldn’t see beyond the mesh, but he could see clearly enough to confirm that it was, indeed, a cage.

“I am here,” the voice continued, “to explain to you the rules.”

What rules? It’s a battle. He kills me, or I kill him…

However temporarily.

Cael kept his mouth firmly shut as the cage shuddered. He still couldn’t see anything past the mesh, but the air was gradually growing muggy and thick - practically solid enough to chew. It was full of sounds: the hum of insects, the chirping songs of birds…something that sounded like the gurgling rustle of running water, far off in the distance. There was something unfamiliar and wild beneath the smell of moldering leaves and flowers, something that tickled the sides of his noise, caught in his sinuses and promptly turned them to fire. The longer he stood there, the more it hurt, and he finally rubbed at his nose, trying not to sneeze.

“There is a bridge out there, somewhere,” The voice resumed. A bridge. Is that why I hear water? “I’m sure if you look long enough, you’ll find it. There is also a gateway out of this realm. The one who reaches it first is considered the winner…”

Realization dawned abruptly, bringing a faint hope with it. It wasn’t a battle, per say. It was a race. He could survive a race…right?

Just don’t think about your gimpy leg and you’ll be fine.

“Of course, there easiest way to make sure you’re the first runner to get there is to make sure you’re the only runner.”

The front segment of the cage fell away with a mechanical clatter. Cael took a step towards the opening, fingers curling more tightly around the smooth shaft of his naginata, eying the edges of the cage.

Of course. Death by ambush, three feet into the arena. Brilliant. Îd’s going to lose every bet he ever made, and I will lose my job forever…

“But that,” the voice said, a moment later, seconds after Cael allowed himself to think it was done, “would be too easy, right? Remember, you’re just here to have...fun.”

He took another step, and his boots crunched on leaves as color burst out of the darkness: maroon flowers, yellow vines, and trees that grew in riots of green and gold, brown and black and tan. They were thick trees, old trees, the kinds that refused to grow in Salvar. Their branches and trunks towered above him, spreading towards the…

Well, that’s not unnerving at all.

The sky was a maelstrom of clouds, blowing white flakes and grey billows of what was most certainly snow. Every now and then, as he watched, lightning flashed, arcing across the clouds moments before the thunder split the air, loud enough that he could feel it in his bones. As he scanned the tree line, he couldn’t help but notice the scorched treetops scattered throughout the vibrant green. He turned to look back at the now-opened cage, eyes widening somewhat at the sheer drop into lightning-filled clouds, mere feet behind it.

There is more here than meets the eye… He thought, and then, But then there's always more than meets the eye here... And then, finally, ...supposing my opponent takes that voice seriously? A branch snapped in the woods ahead of him and to his right -

And Cael took off like a startled, if limping, rabbit for the left, not even glancing back.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis followed an elderly monk through the winding stone halls of the Citadel, the echo of bustle from the exterior clashing with the cheers and shouts of battles. The old man shuffled his feet, as if they were too heavy or troublesome to lift from the ground.

"So how exactly do people watch the tournament?" Artemis asked. "Every time I've fought here, I haven't seen any audiences."

"Ah," the monk began, a laugh scraping through the man's chest. "We use a chamber to call forth a structure similar to a coliseum. In the center is a massive scrying device that allows us to observe any battle going on, and each individual sees that which they wish to see, how they wish to see it. We also have a group of announcers assigned to a dedicated match to let the audience know of big events, so that they can view it immediately if they find the news worthwhile." As the monk explained, Artemis found himself imagining the scale of such a device and found himself even more amazed by the intricacies of this incredible structure. He wanted to learn more, but it seemed that he would not have time. "Ah, here we are, young man. Step inside if you are ready and best of luck. The rules will be explained once you arrive." The monk turned to face the vagabond with a wrinkled smile and hands behind his back.

"Thank you." Artemis nodded toward the monk with a smile, wondering if the monk could even see him, as his eyes appeared shut the entire time. He turned toward the open portal and stepped inside, unsure of what awaited him.

_________________________________________

As Artemis stepped through, the firm ground of the Citadel's halls fell away, replaced by the soft give of a moist forest floor. As his boots sunk into the earth, crushing the small flora that were unlucky enough to land beneath his step, a voice began to speak.

"I am here to explain the rules," the voice began. "There is a bridge out there, somewhere. If you reach the bridge, you will be closer to the gateway out of this realm. The one to reaches the end first is the winner. Your opponent has already begun."

Artemis let the words sink in before looking around and taking in his surroundings. A mass of dark clouds swirled above, leaking the familiar white powder of winter and flashing warnings of unpredictable danger. The gusts of wind shook the countless floras that surrounded him, the rustling of their petals resounding with a whirling rumble. Even the air seemed alive with a buzz of insects and the moisture sticking to the inside of his lungs with every breath, the heavy heat unwelcome.

"I can't even imagine how I'm supposed to show off these daggers in a forest," Artemis mumbled, taking a step forward as the moist earth sucked at the bottom of his boots. Everything seemed to be alive, and not in the general sense of a plant. It felt as though the trees, the plants, the bushes and all the rest had their eyes on the young man, observing every movement and waiting for something of which he remained unaware.

Walking straight across, he reached an edge from which he could see a river of emptiness filling the space between the tropical outer ring of forest and wildlife and the next ring, which appeared to be icy tundra. However, a look to the left and right showed no sign of anything that resembled a bridge, and so Artemis turned to begin making a loop around the inside rim of the ring and going clockwise, but something kept his foot steady.

Looking down, a vine had wrapped itself around his left ankle, curling and squeezing like a snake around its prey. Artemis quickly unsheathed one of his mythril daggers and gave the vine a good cut, the tip withering and falling to the ground, instantly changing from a rich and lively green to the dark brown of death while the rest of the plant quickly retreated.

"This should be interesting," Artemis whispered, turning to glare at the plant that had given him trouble before turning back toward his intended direction.

[Inkfinger]

The wilderness of Salvar and the wildness of Fallien had done little to prepare Cael for the sheer hells on earth that this place personified. Stubborn plants snagged at his ankles. Sharp thorns pierced his tunic, trousers and skin with the same level of ease, leaving long rents in their wake. A rainbow’s worth of glimmering, biting insects circled his head in a buzzing, bloodthirsty halo, and he still couldn’t breath right.

His first frantic flight had aborted as a familiar taut sensation set in his knee and hip; slowing him to a jog, then a lope and finally, now, a pained half-hobble.

And that, he chided himself, parting the vines before him with his naginata and carefully avoiding the puddle on the half-visible path, is why you don’t run. You always regret it in the end.

The sheer drop still yawned to his left as he trudged through the jungle, beads of sweat salting his lips, stinging his eyes. There was no bridge in sight. More disconcertingly, there was also nothing visible for the bridge, if it existed, to connect to: just the roiling clouds, blackening all he could see beyond the edge of the earth.

Light – white, brilliant to the point of blinding – flashed in his peripheral vision. He flinched when the thunder rolled over him almost instantly. He turned his gaze that way, reluctantly, and caught movement behind him instead: a flurry of displaced vines, a shifting in the leaves. It was too prolonged to be the wind, and he hadn’t felt a gust to justify the swaying, anyways.

His fingers tightened again, holding the naginata before him with both hands, eyes on the thick, banded trunks. “What,” he said aloud, hoping his voice would both distract him from the fear coiling in his gut, and dissuade whatever was stalking him like it would the bears of home, the cowardly ones that didn’t like the sound of human voices, "would choose to live in a forest like this?"

Nothing sprang to mind. Fortunately, nothing sprang, period. The rustling foliage fell silent for the moment. Cael eyed it suspiciously, but it remain motionless. The only sound was the inane songs of the birds he could see dancing against the clouded sky, and the incessant hum of the bugs around his ears. He stood there for long moments, wasting precious time, no doubt, but unwilling to turn his back. Only once a varicolored parrot the length of his arm darted from the trees did he finally step back on the path, though half of his attention stayed on the trees behind him.

Five minutes later, he was absolutely certain he was being followed - and not only that, but that something was in front of him, too. Something supple, subtle and downright sneaky. Every time a branch creaked behind him and he turned to check, he could hear the brush of bare feet on dirt on the path he had yet to tread: human (or humanoid) steps, light and quick. Every time he bent to check the path, the sounds behind him: snapping twigs. The rustle of leaf, grass and weed. Once, unnervingly, a low growl.

There wasn't much he could do, other than bend down low, unfold a sheet of paper from his pocket and spread it on the uneven earth of the path. He tore through the paper twice, but the familiar black lines of an inked beast-trap soon stood out stark against the white surface. He smoothed out the wrinkles as best he could, stood, and continued down the path.

The birds went silent. The low growl sounded again and he froze, turning to look back. Golden fur, splotched with black, gleamed in the low light. One muscular paw stretched forth from the shadow of the trees, followed by the sinuous grace of the rest of the animal's body. It bared ivory fangs at him, making a noise like an overgrown house cat, a low, spitting hiss that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. It prowled out down the path, pausing to nose the piece of paper. It sneezed, a dismissive sound, and planted a wickedly clawed paw firmly in the middle of the circle -

The paper disintegrated into a cage of clean white light and ice-grey symbols, dancing in the storm-dim space. The cat let out a throbbing yowl, ramming a heavy shoulder into the ethereal wall between it and its prey. The symbols shivered, the light flickered, but the wall held strong.

It's like a karuku-tal, he thought, in the small part of his mind that wasn't scrambling for cover, the small part looking for a thread to bind this to his previous experiences. You can almost feel the rage. No hunger, just...a desire to kill... He shivered, despite the oppressive warmth, and tore his eyes away from its baleful golden glower, ready to take the mere minutes head-start the circle would give him.

But someone blocked the path.

Cael took a step back with a startled gasp, heel of his boot brushing the very edge of the light cage, inciting a fresh hiss from the cat. His eyes met the dark green gaze of the short slender figure standing there. The figure was humanoid; elfin, going by the tips of the ears and the angular beauty of the face; every inch of naked skin slathered in swatches of black and blue, tan and green that glistened as if it was still wet. It was grinning, broadly, and its stare had the same wild shades as the trapped jaguar. Long-fingered hands twitched, purple fire dancing at the tips, magic sizzling between the elf and the parchment Cael had laid down. The circle behind him began to dissolve, and with it the cage.

And, of course, the cat noticed.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis felt incredibly uncomfortable. He had lived on the island of Corone for most of his life, closely wrapped by the thick forests of the Underwood region, but this felt worse than a forest – much worse. The stickiness of the air and denseness of greenery hid secrets from him. He trudged through, most of his effort being used simply to get around. At one point, he nearly fell through a gap that opened into the vast nothingness of the void upon which the rings floated. Still, he did not rush, nor did he feel the need to.

As time passed, the width of the ring upon which he stood changed. At one point, he found himself crossing a path no wider than a few feet before it began to open back up. All the while, the arena felt more like an obstacle course than a place to show the quality of his metalwork. And so he went, hugging the inside of the jungle-like platform until he finally found himself approaching something that resembled a bridge. A semi-transparent square platform hung at the rim of the ring, no more than a few meters on each side and not nearly long enough to connect to the next platform. With exasperation, Artemis stepped onto the gently glowing disc, the blue hue matching that of his eyes.

After stepping on and turning around, the platform began to rise, detaching from the jungle and rising into the air; it spread into a small arena of sorts with the young man standing at one end and a vague mist at the other. As seconds passed, the mist began to take shape and materialize, taking the form of a massive serpent. Its shimmering black scales reflected the gentle blue glow of the arena while streams of silver made rings across the body. It curled in on itself, its body more than a foot thick at the widest point, its amber eyes staring at him while the crimson tongue warned of the blood it craved. Slowly, the body uncoiled and began to slither toward the young man, its desire to kill an unfamiliar but strong pull on the normally defensive creature.

Artemis, seeing the obvious danger, pulled out his pair of mythril daggers and took a step forward before crouching into a defensive stance, balancing on the balls of his feet. He knew that the snake's agility would mean that there would be only one chance to strike the animal before it struck him. His heart pounded and his muscles tensed cautiously before relaxing, preparing to move at the right time. His blue eyes stared down the creature's matching gaze, the look as cold and biting as the winters of Salvar itself.

The creature hissed, its movements smooth and winding as it made its steady approach toward the vagabond. Barely a meter away, the creature's head lifted from the ground, rising up and past Artemis' level and looking down on the man, making him appear small and insignificant. However, he did not feel that way, allowing a small smirk through his features as the corner of his lips rose.

Without any notice, the serpent struck, opening its jaw wide and launching itself at the vagabond. As the head moved toward Artemis, he reacted just as suddenly, taking his dagger and swinging with a right hook. The blade pierced through the base of the creatures head, just behind the opening of the mouth. As Artemis stepped aside from the snake's momentum, his own continued to push the blade from the air and into the ground, pinning the creature. He lowered himself to a knee and used his left to strike through the base of the creature's maw and out the top of its skull.

With that, the creature became limp and silent, its corpse dematerializing back into a mist and floating back to where the serpent had first shown itself. Artemis stood up, confusion clear upon his features as a new opponent began to take shape, this time in the form of gorilla that stood seven feet tall while still resting on its knuckles.

"I suppose this is what I wanted," Artemis sighed, raising to his feet and resuming his defensive crouch. The beast's black hair densely covered its entire body, less for the chest and face. "Hmm, that's funny," Artemis said with a smile, "those are the spots where I do have hair." Not interested in dealing with the beast, Artemis sheathed his daggers and pulled out his sentient bow, Judicis. He pulled back on the naked string as it, as well as the body of the bow, shifted to a shade of black. Artemis willed a black mist to form, conjuring a magical projectile in the form of an arrow that he unleashed toward the large beast.

As the arrow struck, the black mist dissipated as it always did, but the beast did not collapse in paralysis as Artemis expected. Instead, it flinched at the unpleasant sting of the projectile and lifted itself onto its legs. The large gorilla opened its mouth to unleash an angry roar, puffing out its chest and giving it a few strikes to show its rage and to intimidate Artemis who still stood undaunted.

"Well that won't work," he said as he pulled a normal arrow out of his quiver and strung it onto his bow, though somewhat clumsily. "Alright, let's aim for the chest. Large enough target." Artemis let the arrow fly just as the gorilla began to lower itself back onto its massive fists leading the arrow unexpectedly to strike the gorilla in its throat. Artemis simply watched the lucky shot kill the beast, leading it to dematerialize as the serpent did just a minute ago. However, this time the mist disintegrated into the blue platform below as it began to lower, creating a long bridge linking the outer ring to the next. When it finally touched down, Artemis crossed over into an environment that he was much more familiar and comfortable with.


_________________________________________________

The world on the other ring became dramatically different, green completely replaced by white and grey, life replaced by lifelessness. The temperature changed instantly, falling to a range where snow could comfortably exist and not worry about interruption. The density of forest turned into the open wasteland of snow and ice, countless stones and patches of land charred in remnant of the never-ending thundersnow that continued to swirl ominously above, its flashes growing more frequent. At least, that's how it seemed, since the canopy from earlier obscured the view.

"It's like I'm home," Artemis smiled, beginning again to walk clockwise in search of the next bridge, oblivious to his opponent's presence.

[Inkfinger]

The jaguar let out a questioning mrowl, spun back on its own heels, and leapt for the glowing wall. The symbols fizzled this time, and Cael scurried further down the path...

But the elf was still there, arms spread and feet braced, blocking Cael’s flight with fingers that glowed, fiery claws the same color as the magics eating his binding spell springing from their tips. The inkmage skidded to a stop, gaze shifting feverishly from the elf to the cat and back again before he drove the naginata’s blade at those claws. The elf caught the blade in a sizzle of amethyst sparks, twisted it to the side, and came in for a low kick that Cael managed to dance away from by a mixture of his height and sheer desperation alone.

Behind them, the cat slammed into the wall. Cael let out a harsh whimper as he felt the symbols flicker, flash once, and ultimately give out as the circle’s wall collapsed in on itself. He feinted a swipe at the elf’s side, went for his leg instead, felt the steel bite deep. He could see maroon blood against the camouflage paint, already oozing from the wound, but the elf kept coming, claws splayed and growing longer.

When you’re outnumbered, use your brain…

He stopped still, waiting, heart caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth, until he could practically feel the elf’s magic claws through his shoulders, the jaguar’s hot tongue on his heels. He waited, breathless, until the very last second –

And then he stepped backwards, off the path.

The jaguar had too much forward momentum to stop. The elf’s nightmare claws rammed into the beast’s shoulders and chest, and they went down in a jumble of teeth and tail, claws and flailing limbs, both raking at the other. He could see the blood spurting forth, splashing on the weather-beaten path.

The startled screech and the angry snarl that met his ears were somewhat satisfying.

The way the ground beneath him gave out beneath his feet - the way he jerked to a sudden stop, pain searing through his entire leg, both arms and his back - was not. Disorientation stole rational thought as he felt his gaze pulled down.

He'd fallen into a pit, dug clear through the other side of the disk that held this gods-awful forest. The naginata's strong shaft - caught in the sides of the narrow crevice two feet down - was the only thing keeping him from tumbling out the other side. He could see thunderheads and snowflakes swirling far below his feet. He could see lightening arcing from cloud to cloud through the stakes that lined the sides of the pit like teeth, one driven deep into his right leg. His, until now, good leg. The inch of splintered wood embedded in the fleshy part of his calf absolutely ruined that moniker.

Even the growling and screaming from above as the elf and the jaguar fought couldn't keep him from reaching out to catch at one of the nearest stakes, closing his eyes as he tugged on it.

Watch it come out of the wall…

It held.

He slowly shifted closer to the side, trying to disregard the miles of open air beneath him, and to ignore the pain that throbbed through his leg as the motion tugged at the stake driven through his calf. The sounds of the struggle were fading by the time he worked up the courage to shift that leg. It panged from his toes to his thigh, and he finally just ground his teeth together and forced himself to move his leg.

The wood slipped out agonizingly, inch by inch, leaving his leg bleeding freely in its wake - but he was no longer pinned to the wall. He slowly hauled himself up arm over arm, limbs screaming from supporting his entire weight. They felt as if they were stretched past recovery by the time he was able to crawl the whole two feet up and topple over the edge of the pit. He collapsed at the side, shaking like a leaf, trembling fingers already digging in his pockets for paper and his pen.

Once he could breathe again, he leaned back over the side of the pit to retrieve his naginata. The distance didn’t seem insurmountable from this angle, though the sight of clouds below the ground made his head spin. He reached down and caught the polearm, wincing when he felt the bow in the middle.

Apparently, it’s not meant to have my full weight on it.

He set it on the ground, and used the blade to clumsily trim his new paper down to size, shivery fingers hurriedly sketching the symbol for bandage in one corner. His shin panged again. He glanced down at the gaping puncture wound, the vibrant blood oozing through the new tatters of his pants, and added support on the opposite corner.

Just in case.

He tugged his pant leg up, wrapped the thin sheet around his calf, and brushed his fingers against the symbols. The paper-craft bandage sealed with a reassuringly quiet rustle. He pulled the naginata back and, since it was already dented, used it to lever himself to his feet.

The elf and the jaguar lay tangled in the middle of the path. The elf's fingers were buried deep in the jaguar's back, the pure magic claws faded with the rest of his life. The jaguar's tail was still twitching, its jaws still clamped tight around the elf's neck, but there was far too much blood for it to still be alive…

And even as he watched, the locked combatants melted into thin air, no trace of blood, torn fur, or ripped skin left in their wake. Just the scuffed path and bent plants that they’d crushed in their battle. The birds, shocked into silence by the violence, slowly began to sing again.

Reassured by the calm, he reached into his pockets one last time, tugging out a handful of rumpled but brightly colored origami papers. He set the naginata at the ready, right next to his hands as he crouched back down on the path and hurriedly twisted, creased and folded each of the sheets into a tiny crane.

The constructs littered the path, as lively as the flowers that blossomed in the trees. He picked each up in turn, tracing the symbols for life and connection on each wrinkled wing until he could feel each of the eight cranes in his mind. As each fluttered to life, the eerie sensation of seeing himself (huge and outlined in scratchy black; a child’s charcoal sketch) from the outside grew.

He scattered the cranes with a flick of his fingers, and set off back down the path.

Six of the eight cranes found nothing but trees and the strange cliff, the bizarre, perpetual thunder echoing through the trees. They continued to flutter from tree to tree regardless, never out of range, but never truly in Cael’s sight, either.

The seventh vanished when it flew too close to a plant that engulfed it in petals stained the same color of blood, dragged it in and tore it limb from papery limb – or, at least, that was what the flat, fuzzy impressions he received before the sensation flashed from existence seemed to imply.

The last crane, however, sent back a jarring juxtaposition of a battle and a bridge, a huge creature and another man. The images were so muddled that Cael had to stop, rubbing at his eyes to banish the warring pictures from the back of his skull.

The crane slowly calmed as whatever it was witnessing ceased, and the sensations finally subsided, the flow of pictures fading to that of a single bridge and a wash of pure white. The crane didn’t know how to process something, apparently. Cael turned until the construct felt like it was in front of him, and began to walk again.

*

It turned out that the whiteness wasn’t the crane seeing something it didn’t understand – it was simply snow, a field of slush and ice. The flakes from above could actually reach the ground here, every bit as thick and heavy as a snowstorm in Salvar.

Cael stood on the far end of the bridge, prodding the icy slush with the toe of one boot. There were tracks in the snow – the man he’d seen through the crane’s sight, no doubt – but they already had a good half-inch of fresh snowfall in them. His opponent was already far ahead of him. That wasn’t the problem, exactly.

The problem was the massive wolf tracks, sunk deep and following right behind the other man’s prints. At least three sets trampled around the human tracks, and three sets were more than enough to make him think a larger pack was out there, somewhere.

Cael looked to the sky as a bolt of lightning cracked it open, impacting with the ridge to the right, casting varicolored light onto the open canvas of the snow. The thunder followed half a second later, and the inkmage gulped.

Wolves can be dealt with. There is no way to fight a lightening strike.

With that thoroughly reassuring thought in mind, Cael stepped off the bridge, following in his opponents footsteps, the fluttering call of the paper crane always before him in his mind.

This was never in the job description.

[SirArtemis]

Wandering through the cold wasteland of the second ring made Artemis feel warmer than he had wandering the jungle from earlier. An odd comfort existed for the vagabond while in the isolation and desolation of glaciers and tundra. A peace existed in the feeling of being alone, of being able to look around and see nothing but white in every direction. It felt like having your own little world where nothing could hurt you and no one could bother you.

Of course, the current circumstance differed slightly from the peacefulness he envisioned. Though he could not see them, there existed those who did not want him to succeed and did not want him to live – his opponent in this race being the primary individual. Yet Artemis did not seem to mind, listening to the pleasant crunch of slightly moist snow beneath his feet and watching the large flurries of snow that fell from the maelstrom of clouds above. Even the lightning and thunder reminded him more of a summer rain in Corone than a dangerous dirk destroying anything it struck. And so he wandered with a silly grin on his face, the flakes catching in the black of his neatly trimmed goatee.

A sharp gust of cold wind pushed at him, telling him to turn back as it gnawed at his exposed flesh, yet he did not notice. Instead, he noticed a small patch of ice that had just had its light dusting cleared by that very same wind. With a childish smirk, he took to a light jog and aimed for the patch of glistening joy. He increased his pace as much as he could while pulling his boots out of inches of snow, running and kicking back chunks of white powder in his wake. His snow-crusted boots made contact with the azure landing strip as he slid a couple of meters, arms out like a plane keeping balance. By the time the little friction that existed managed to cease his movements, he laughed, as would any who had experienced their first winter blizzard. However, as he turned around to make another pass or two before continuing on, he saw that he was not as alone as the silence would let him believe; before him stood a trio of wolves who looked very hungry.

'Great. Three on one. This isn't going to end well.'

Artemis stepped back, slowly moving away while the wolves made their way to him. He had enough experience with wolves to know that they preferred to work as a team, surrounding a target and not giving him the advantage of seeing all of his opponents at once. As to avoid such a disadvantage, he did what made the least sense – he backed himself into a corner; or at least, the equivalent of such a corner. Artemis' feet crunched through snow until he finally managed to reach the edge of the frozen platform, the edge of the ring falling off into a bottomless and empty blackness. Now the wolves would always be in his peripherals, and that is how he preferred it.

The trio snarled at him, splitting into a fork of enemies and approaching him with teeth exposed. Their thick light gray coats were sprinkled with white, the weather concealing them as they stalked their pray. Artemis crouched low and pulled Judicis off his shoulder, reaching for an arrow to string to his bow. He waited, carefully notching the projectile in place, and then pulled back. He quickly raised his weapon, aiming for the wolf to his left, and released. The arrow flew straight, but the wolf quickly dodged and began to move toward Artemis. Meanwhile, the wolf directly in front had already made a dash toward the vagabond, leaping into the air, paws leading with a dripping maw close behind. Artemis took the edge of his bow, hoping the magically enchanted wood had enough durability, and wedged a limb under the canine's chest, lifting and pushing the wolf over the edge and expecting it to fall into the black abyss behind.

As the wolf flew up and over, howling as it watched its enemy floating off into the distance, upside down, its companions closed in. The left wolf that had dodged the arrow now also leapt at Artemis, flying through the air with vengeance upon its features and Artemis tumbled forward, slinging his bow back over himself as he went. He quickly rose back to his feet, pulling out his twin mythril daggers, Justice and Virtue, and braced himself. The wolves had crossed paths now, the switch leaving both on their respective sides – it seems they favored their angles of approach and maintained their formation.

This time, both approached him at once, the dog on the right leaping into the air as the left aimed for a leg. Artemis could not react in time to both, and as his left dagger punctured into the heart of the flying canine, its jaws still bit firmly into his right forearm while the life slowly drained from the creature. The weight thumped onto the snow, crushing the flawless white powder beneath it. The other canine had already wrapped its maw around Artemis' left shin and the young man grimaced through the pain, quickly flipping Justice into a reverse grip and stabbing into the creature's skull with a loud snap, the blade slaying the pair of wolves that remained. The creature's bite did not release, but that mattered little. As the two lost their lives, they reverted into a mist just as the serpent and ape had earlier, nothing left behind but their paw prints and the mold of a wolf embedded in the snow.

Artemis looked at his wounds. They were not deep, but he needed to stop the flow of blood nonetheless or risk bleeding out eventually. A few punctures were deep enough not to clot quickly. However, he did not have any bandages on his person, nor could he afford to tear off any of his armor to stop the flow since the tundra would kill him then. Instead, he just continued to move on, a pink trail of breadcrumbs left in his wake as he searched for the next bridge. Mere minutes passed before he had found the next hovering blue platform, stepping toward it. Part of him wanted to stay, the cold weather reminding him of his home in Salvar. The other part knew that the competition did not care, nor did the wounds that slowly trickled, leaking life and energy all the same. Reluctantly, he stepped onto the platform, expecting another gauntlet before being able to proceed to the next environment.

[Inkfinger]

Cael hated snow.

He had from the moment he hit adulthood and it sank in that snow was an obstacle to survival and success, not the building blocks for brotherly battles. He hated the way it smelled – like cold, and lightening, and dampness – and the way it seemed to glow beneath the whirling clouds, and he especially hated the way it felt.

Sinks into your bones, makes joints swell and stiffen and ache…

Each flake melted the moment it hit bare skin, chilling him after the oppressive warmth of the jungle behind him. His bloody leg was starting to go numb from the knee down, though whether it was from the cold sinking through his ruined pants or from the injury itself, the ink mage couldn’t say.

The wasteland spread before him as far as the eye could see, though the gap to his right still yawned like an open mouth. He couldn’t see the outer ring through the clouds that had grown thicker the moment he set out from the bridge. The lightening flashes were coming more frequently, and the bolts seemed to spread their spidery fingers from horizon to horizon. He could see them reflected in the glassy surface of the hard-packed powder, the ice where the snow had solidified…

The brightness made the wolf tracks, by contrast, look like pools of darkness. He shivered at the thought and the temperature, and continued to hop from footprint to footprint, using the trail that had already been broken through the crust of snow to ease his passage. The footprints were true, safe to follow, as he found the first time he deviated from them, in hopes of, perhaps, finding a quicker way to the next bridge.

The ice stretched out beside him to the very edge of the abyss. It was as cold here as it had been anywhere else since crossing the bridge, but he still slid his naginata out, testing the surface before he stepped on it. The ground beneath his feet held as he carefully made his way across it- but then the naginata sank.

Cael stared. The patch of what he'd believed was ice was, instead, a strange, viscous liquid; thick enough that the snowflakes could land on it and not melt in, but something that tried froze on the shaft almost instantly. He jerked the polearm free, staring at the butt end. It was ice-white, as if all the colors left over from life had been sucked from the tempered oak. He touched it, gingerly, and the fine coat of ice shattered, falling to the snow and leaving his fingertips redder than they had been before.

....alright. No short cuts. He backed away from the strange pool, following his own scuffed path back to his opponent's trail. He could still feel the constructs around him, surrounding him like the tangible points of a compass, barely visible as little fragments of color through the swirling flakes stinging against his flushed cheeks. Their scratchboard thought-forms were coming slower and slower as the delicate paper soaked through. One landed on his shoulder, soggy folded feet leaving streaks of orange dye on his shirt. He caught it up in cold-clumsy fingers, and the paper tore at the contact, the crane falling apart in his hand. Black ink dripped into his palm. He hurriedly wiped it on his pants before it could freeze to his skin, slipping the destroyed construct into his pocket.

He thought the sudden six-fold trill of alarm was in answer to the fallen crane, the inky blood now staining his fingers, but when he looked up again his steps faltered.

He'd found the wolves.

*

Cael had seen wolves before, of course. He had grown up in a fishing community, on the sea, but three days walk still took adventurers into the pine woods and the highlands, where wild animals roamed and stalked. There had always been hunters, trading the creatures pelts, and he could recall - bright and clear - one hulking warrior-mage who had actually tamed a wolf, treated the beast as anyone else would have a dog.

These wolves were not tamed. They moved with a deadly precision, spread out to flank him, grey pelts gleaming wetly as their body heat melted the snow. Burning yellow eyes met his, and he was reminded of the jaguar, and, again, of the mindless, boneless Fallien cats. But even those eerie animals hadn't left afterimages of themselves in black smoke, streaked with purple the same shades as the mist that had taken the elf and the jaguar the first time.

And even those animals hadn't appeared to him already bloodied. Two of the wolves - the ones on the outer edges, flanking - looked as if they had done battle today already, teeth and fur stained with dark red.

The one on the right looks like it should be dead already...

Wide jaws spread in canine grins as he took a step back, fingers on the naginata's shaft, as if the polearm was a lifeline of sorts. He took another step back as the wolves continued to advance. The constructs' thoughts were converging, he could see them fluttering in the corner of his eye -

Oh, that might work...

He thought the order, an abstract image of colors in motion, and the cranes swooped as one: divebombing the wolves in a hurricane of yellow, pink and blue. Startled, for a moment the wolves acted just like dogs, leaping to snap at the cranes, wuffing in confusion and curiosity. The cranes fluttered out of reach and ahead of them, leading them off of Cael's heels for half a second, taunting and teasing in every wordless motion.

Cael took that distracted half-second to stab the naginata's blade into the nearest wolf - the one on the right with the bloody rent between its eyes. It caught beneath the wolf's chin, the foot and a half of steel making a horribly solid sound as it drove through the wolf's skull and out the back. The animal let out a choked whine, thrashing against the blade. The shaft twisted in Cael's grip, and he hurriedly jerked the naginata free, cringing at the grate of steel on bone. The wolf collapsed right as the other two lost interest in the flight of cranes, wheeling back towards their original prey...

Cael legged it for the horizon, desperate adrenaline lending speed to his battered frame, though he could feel the wolves baring down on him, naked, dripping teeth snapping at his heels. His breath caught in his throat as he swung the naginata behind him, felt the blade strike flesh, heard the wolf he'd hit yelp - but both stayed on him. Toying with him. There was no other explanation. Wolves were faster than him, any day, they had to be, so what were they waiting for? Why were they just chasing -

The ground, abruptly, vanished from beneath his feet. The breath caught in his lungs broke free in a harsh scream as he frantically scrambled backwards, arms flailing. One heavy booted foot slammed down between the wolf's shoulders. He kicked forward, as hard as he could, and let himself fall backwards. He could see the bridge now, further along the cliff, disappearing into the thick clouds, and the sight lent him nearly as much energy as the adrenaline.

The wolf's momentum and the kick sent it scrabbling off the cliff with a frustrated howl. He heard the sickening crack of bone echo up from below as he landed hard on his bad hip, rolling to get back to his feet. It didn't work so well. He staggered, his leg nearly giving out in a sharp spike of pain, but he managed, somehow. Just in time for the last wolf to lunge at his throat. He grabbed for its chest as its teeth snapped shut, cutting furrows beneath his jaw, the sudden fresh pain as hot as an ember on his skin. He could feel the slick rush of blood as its claws raked his chest, his belly, and he tried not to scream again, his shoulders already on fire from the effort of holding it back from his neck.

His elbow, suddenly, went colder than cold, so abruptly that it cut through the haze of nonsense flashing through his mind as the cranes tried to distract the wolf again, fluttering around its head. It was ignoring them, struggling to stretch the mere inch it needed to snap Cael's spine, its growls vibrating against Cael's skin -

And Cael realized why his elbow went numb. He and the wolf lay on the edge of one of those strange pools of not-quite-ice. He stole a look at the pool from the corner of his eye and, gathering the last of his strength, rolled, shoving the wolf as hard as he possibly could.

The wolf splashed into the pool, the super-cold liquid cascading over Cael's arm and shoulder, leaving a coat of ice in its wake. Cael tried to stand, repeatedly, half-convinced that wolf was going to struggle free, swim out somehow, sink those teeth into his throat. But when he could see through the fresh tears of pain threatening to freeze his eyelids shut cheeks, the wolf was frozen solid at the other side of the pool.

It blinked, once, he swore. But then the mist came and the wolf faded, leaving the ice shell in its wake.

Collapsing right here and sleeping forever sounds like a good idea.

Cael forced himself to his feet and hobbled down the hill, regardless of the blood he left in his wake. It was dripping down his jaw and chest and belly, already starting to chill, starting to solidify against his skin, and his only hope was to make it to that bridge. Make it across to the other side and hope to all gods he didn't believe in that the next ring was warmer than this one.

*

I should have known better than to pray to any of them.

The ice that his spilled blood had become melted the second he stepped off the bridge. He could feel the heat, a thousand worlds removed from the warmth of the jungle, seeping through his boots. The ground crunched as he moved, rocks and ash alike shifting underfoot.

The horizon was reddish black, the clouds that swirled and circled in the past now low and threatening. Lightning struck the ridges repeatedly in relentless bolts, the thunder a nigh-continuous roar that he could feel reverberating in his bones. There was a closer noise behind the thunder, a high pitched hissing like the world's largest snake. It was coming, Cael slowly realized, from the unholy creeks that split the ground.

The moment you pray to them, they send you straight to hell.

Fire flowed in rivers, glowing against the ashen ground, reflecting off the clouds that threatened above. There were no plants - likely, nothing could survive in this dry, arid, molten place. The constructs fluttered around him in a cloud of confusion and bright colors, unease steaming from their small forms.

Of course they're uneasy. Paper lights up like tinder...

Feeling was returning to his extremities now, as he limped around the edge of the abyss, almost shaking with the need to remain alert when all he wanted to do was lay down and, possibly, cry. Every crunch or rattle from his own steps made him jump, wild-eyed. Every time the thunder roared, he could feel another spike in his heartbeat, feel the rivulets of blood increase. He kept his feet on the ground, and merely thought: One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. One foot...

Then came a roar that was not thunder, and his heart jumped so hard Cael almost thought it was going to burst out of his chest. He looked up to see the back of a horrendously large beast, sinuous and spiked. For a long, surreal moment Cael thought it was a demonic seal or otter, something streamlined and aquatic, built to travel through water. But it glowed like a thousand suns -

And it was fighting someone, long, heavily clawed paws lashing out like the world's angriest cat as its adversary - would be victim - danced out of its way. It was too far to see, through the haze of pain and the way the heat made the air seem warped and wrinkled, exactly who it was fighting...but Cael was willing to bet it was his opponent.

...then the way to the bridge is open, isn't it?

Cael felt hope surge through him. He picked up the pace, using his naginata as a walking staff, heading towards where the bridge had to be.

It's always on the opposite side of the disk from the other bridge, so it should be...

There! Each disk had been growing smaller; he could see the bridge already in place, glowing and clean. He could see the other side of the bridge, too. A door, a simple, carved oak door, stood open and welcoming in a cone of white light. Opening to nowhere - and to freedom at the same time.

Cael was almost on the verge of crossing that bridge, the tips of his toes brushing the paving stones, when the constructs converged on him, supplying child-scribbles on his brain, of fire and screaming and what they, no doubt, imagined it would look like to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into those waves of liquid fire. He opened his mouth to protest - and shut it again without saying a word, simply reaching out to gather five of the remaining cranes.

Five symbols later, he clutched his naginata and, gritting his teeth, limped back towards the monster and his would-be enemy, cursing every altruistic bone in his already battered body.

[SirArtemis]

The small gauntlet had not treated the vagabond well. His wound continued to bleed and the fighting had not helped his cause, his heart pumping while he dispatched the waves of foes. The last had been particularly challenging, as the alpha male of the pack of wolves appeared, more than twice the size of those from earlier, and many times angrier.

However, that mattered little now that he had passed the bridge and into this volcanic region. The shift felt familiar, almost like the transition from the Salvarian winter into the heat of the Norlond Forge where he did his metalwork. The shift acted as a reminder of why he entered the tournament, strengthening his resolve to perform well and not let down those who mattered most to him.

Yet the temperature was just one of many changes that had occurred. Lightning struck more feverishly here, though the blackness of the charred earth showed little obvious evidence, forever changing. Small streams of lava peppered the surface, the black ground contrasting the brightly glowing orange web of molten rock that quietly and threateningly flowed throughout. The space looked completely open, unlike the thick flora of the first ring and heavy snowfall of the second. No, there were no surprises on the third and final ring, just an almost mockingly open threat that whatever existed to make this journey any less pleasant, you'd know well in advance of its coming.

At least, that is what Artemis thought, until the ground barely ten meters ahead of him erupted, a razor sharp scaly claw reaching out of one of the many streams of lava and slamming down upon the surface. Crust broke, the paw pulling down a block of lava that had not finished cooling as the other paw reached farther out, pulling itself up. The feline features of the creature's face appeared, two long and sharp amber tusks aimed straight down from the roof of its mouth. The beast roared thunderously, dragging itself out of what Artemis thought had been the empty and black abyss below.

It crawled out, rear claws raking the surface as they finally made their appearance and reached out of the orange pool beneath, followed by a long and serpent-like tail. The creature looked massive, nearly twice Artemis' height and many times longer. It stretched out its limbs, hind in the air, and Artemis saw a fin running down the creature's spine. Webbing spread between the front paws and body, wings meant more for gliding than flying, as well as hurting given the countless spikes that ran along the side of the creatures calves.

Artemis staggered back in awe, completely amazed by this unknown creature. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck down and hit the beast directly in the head, shocking Artemis more than it seemed to shock the creature. The monster just cringed, as if someone had patted it on the head without its consent, and shook the event away before giving yet another thunderous roar. Molten rock dripped off the creature's thick hide, aglow from the recent bath and making the creature appear made of magma itself. Artemis simply stared, completely dumbfounded by how he would defeat such a monstrosity.

The beast looked at Artemis, realizing his presence and eyeing him like a peeping tom who had watched something he should not have. The rumble of the creature's purr shook the very earth as it took a step toward him, Artemis' knees bending to absorb the shock. He narrowed his eyes, quickly analyzing the different parts of the feline's body before a massive paw swiped at him. He barely managed to spin away from the razor sharp claws before the other made its way toward him. He quickly dropped horizontally, stomach to the ground, and as soon as the gust of the strike's wake passed, he sprang back up and rushed toward the creature.

"Hey!" Artemis heard a man's voice shout behind the beast as its tail swung around and swiped at him, striking him in the torso and knocking him back, tumbling along the ground. "Are you alright?"

"Fantastic. Just a massive molten monster trying to cleave me in half," Artemis shouted back as best he could, rising to his feet and gritting his teeth through the pain of his freshly broken ribs.

The beast began to turn, noticing the magician's presence and facing him. Artemis, taking the moment of distraction, ran at the beast, pulling out his twin mythril daggers form his thighs, saving Justice and Virtue for later. He ran at the creature's left side, the one that had not yet finished its rotation, and leapt at the webbing of the wing with both daggers, slicing through the thin flesh. The beast roared and kicked out its leg, swinging toward the source of pain with the same paw and trying to launch Artemis off him. The daggers were in deep and the vagabond held onto his daggers, the weight and momentum causing him to put two long slashes through the massive wing.

Again, he found himself on the ground, the pain of his ribs keeping him on the ground. However, the creature did not approach. Small white objects fluttered around the beast's head, distracting it and causing small scratches to form on the patches of orange glowing hide, the beast emitting a glow and radiating heat.

'How the hell do I fight this thing?'

Artemis' vision began to blur slightly, the loss of blood finally catching up with him, his body's adrenaline also diminishing with every second as the pain of his broken chest registered with every firing of neurons. He would not win this race, and he cursed himself for not having anything to fight this creature with despite knowing no one could prepare for a molten sabertoothed dragon. He stared out toward the creature, seeing the tall and lanky figure of a man hobbling about with what looked like a bent naginata and hoped that they would do something. He did not care whether they killed the creature or simply made it to the finish line, he just hoped that this would end.