Battle begins tonight at Midnight CST. Good luck!
Battle begins tonight at Midnight CST. Good luck!
2011 Althy winner for Best Comeback, Most Helpful Moderator, and Best IC Odd Couple (With Enigmatic Immortal). 2012 Althie Winner for Mr. Althanas, and best Bromance (also, with Enigmatic Immortal). 2014 Althy Winner Best Battler for Forrals Fortress.
Gisela Open Winner (First Year), Lornius Cooperate Championship 3rd Place Winner (1/2 of 'Don't Blinke!', 2nd year).
(21:41:22) Sulla: If you kill god, Nihilism fills the void, you need the ubermensch to take the place of god. Sei is the ubermensch.
Even as I spoke I knew I didn't believe my own words. I was anything but ready for the bloodshed that lay in my future. The aged monk before me seemed to call me out on my dishonesty with his eyes though his mouth never told his secret. It was a cool day, the sun providing only enough heat to be bearable, with none left for comfort.
I knew that all the weight I lost wasn't helping keep me warm, but I couldn't focus on my empty belly now. I crossed arm across my stomach, gripping my other arm as though I could hold in its cries for sustenance. Each time it sent a pang of hunger through me I dug my fingernails into my forearm, splitting my focus and dulling the knawing emptiness. I nodded my head politely even as my eyes drifted around the arena. There were a decent amount of spectators already waiting anxiously for the match to begin, much more than I would have expected as an inexperienced fighter. Typically newcomers would have a handful of people watching unless of course--I pushed the though from my mind. The last thing I needed right now was to know my first round opponent was someone of note. Perhaps the tournament simply held no big names, I allowed myself this bit of ignorance and returned to reality.
The monk's graying eyebrows were raised pointedly and I knew I'd missed a question. Damn it! I scolded myself, Rudeness is the easiest way to ensure you get put back together wrong after you get ripped apart in this fight.
"I'm sorry, I'm a bit full of nerves. I've never done anything quite like this before." The phrase came out squeaky, hopefully cementing my excuse.
The monk gave a small laugh, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder with his palm. "Do not worry, when it is all over you shall be good as new."
Just as he finished a bell began to ring, signaling everyone to prepare. He gave another grin and disappeared, leaving behind only a ghost of a handprint to give me the strength to step forward, forcing myself to enter the arena. The crowd gave a cheer as I took in the simple setup, the dusty earth beneath my feet was sectioned off by metal bars on each side. It was simple enough, nothing all that frightening. Well, aside from the knowledge that I would likely die here. I was contemplating that thought when a roar of screams filled the whole area. I jumped at the sudden rise in volume, searching for the source of the excitement. At the far end of the gated area I noticed a group of men, but my eyes focused in on only one thing. A giant pink head of hair standing above them all.
The hunger left me, the need for a familiar face and the touch of someone who had once held me surpassed any other. I ran with all my might, my blade slapping against my worn cotton pants that were two sizes too large. I didn't stop until I hit him like a boulder, though to him it probably felt more like a pebble. Tears streamed down my face before I even realized it, it had been so long since I'd seen someone I could call friend.
I pulled back, looking up to his bright blue eyes, "Steppenwolf, I feared I'd never see you again."
As the girl hit me like a puppy hits a table, I blinked. My eyes widened as I look to the girl’s lithe form. Cellar Door and I had a history of sorts thanks to the Adventurer’s Crown, where I fought tooth and nail to keep the girl safe from harm. The raven haired girl had reminded me of my niece Kyla, a powerful warrior in her own right but needing deep guidance in the ways of life. I wrapped my arms around the girl and closed my eyes, allowing her to have her emotional reunion.
“Good to see you again kid. Never thought I’d see you in a place like this.” The phrase took a second to hit me, but when I did, my eyes shot open. The ‘place like this’ was the Magus Cup, a tournament I had entered at the behest of my brother Sei in order to finally settle which one of the three Orlouge brothers was the strongest (Our older brother, Ciato, made it all too clear he was entering months in advance). The fact that my first opponent was not only no kin to me, but poor little Cellar struck a chord in my heart. My stomach rumbled in guilt as I thought about whether or not I could hurt the girl.
Flashes of the Adventurer’s Crown flashed through my eyes. I remember the scared Cellar crying out for me in a maze of hedges. This was the same girl that was standing before me, a bright smile on his tear-stained features. I opened my mouth, prepared to break the bad news to the girl, when the declaration for the match echoed over head.
“First match of the Magus Cup Championship! Cellar Door versus Steppenwolf Orlouge!”
The announcement reached my ears but I couldn't process it. I took a step back, then another. A rush of emotions ran through me. Sadness that I would be fighting against a friend, something I had far too little of. Fear of the strength I'd seen in the Adventurers Crown. Hunger, the very reason I'd entered this tournament in the first place. I was not going to make it much longer without some money in my pocket. Lastly, betrayal.
Orlouge.
The name bounced around my head with no relief.
Orlouge.
In the maze, the one who carried me to safety.
Orlouge.
I had trusted him just as blindly as I had my parents before their death.
Orlouge.
The most prominent family of mystics.
Orlouge.
The reason for all the torment of my younger years.
All at once my heart broke. I spent my entire childhood at the mercy of mystics, the most selfish and grandiose of all creatures. Their very blood that has covered my hands is a testament to their idea of superiority. Hatred filled my veins, where pure human blood flowed freely. Tears streamed down my face, the wind drying them quickly leaving behind only a trail of salty skin. How could I have missed this?
"You're a mystic?" I stared at the large man, so physically different than any of his kind. I pulled my sword, not quite ready to use it, but I needed the distraction. "Your an Orlouge?" My voice rose, breaking on the last word.
My family’s name was spoken with such venom by this girl. No, it wasn’t just the name Orlouge, but the word ‘Mystic’ obviously brought with it some painful memories. I took a step back as Cellar pulled her sword on me, pressing my arms toward her and waving my hands back and forth to try and stop the madness. “Whoa whoa whoa, Cellar! This is me! Steppenwolf! I don’t know what’s going on here but I don’t think this is such a good idea!”
I looked at her blade and in response, reached behind me and withdrew my shield. I had hoped to fight Sei or Ciato in the first round, or really anybody but Cellar. Even Kyla would have been an acceptable opponent for me to face down; at least I knew what she was capable of. Cellar was an enigma, a girl of unbridled potential. When we had hugged, I could feel her stomach rumble, though it was in a much different fashion than my own. The woman warrior was starving, to the point that her own gut was betraying her feelings. She needed to eat or her weak form would fall pretty quickly.
I reached into my pockets with my left hand, my right busy keeping my three-point shield in front of my oversized form. I stuck my tongue out as I searched the pockets of my cargo pants. I rustled through the material for a few seconds before gripping a large, soft object and withdrawing it from my pocket. The tem in question was a sub sandwich, a foot long to be exact. It was topped with turkey, tomatoes, and mayonnaise and I had made it just before I left for the tournament. My pockets were like black holes of potential thanks to my creation of their inter-dimensional holding space, so taking such a large object out of such seemingly small pockets were nothing for me.
Keeping my shield raised, I threw the sandwich softly towards Cellar, my face hidden by the metal of the defensive item. “Cellar, I’m not going to do this unless you eat something first.”
It was a lie; I probably wasn’t going to do this at all. If it came down to blows with Cellar Door, I would rather let a twister take me away.
My hands trembled as I watched the sandwich land gently at my feet. Suddenly, my blade seemed heavier and my stomach's protest grew stronger. I looked from the sandwich to him and back again, realizing the fact that just might save me this round. He did not want to fight either.
I wanted to walk away, turn my back on his betrayal and pity. My pride was too far gone for that. Who was I to have delusions of grandeur when my last year had been spent begging for survival? I spoke slowly and my voice sounded much tougher than I felt, "If you were ever my friend at all, will you grant me one question?"
The gentle giant lowered his shield, nodding his head in agreement. The kindness in his blue eyes was just as it always had been, and try as I might, I could not reconcile this good man with all I knew about the mystic race. I knelt slowly, grasping the food and bringing it to my lips as I lowered myself to sitting. All around us, the crowd whispered. When Steppenwolf joined me on the ground, there were screams of discontent. I blocked them out, desperate to finally have some answers.
I took the smallest bites my hunger would allow, desperate to avoid the horrible pain that accompanied filling a starving stomach too quickly. It was a lesson I learned long ago, to savor each bite and only eat until you felt you could survive just one more day. The sandwich tasted sweet against my tongue, replacing the taste of bile that sat there most days. I took several small bites, the scent of the bread pulling me in each time I tried to stop.
Finally I raised my eyes to see Steppenwolf smiling down at me, even sitting he appeared to be a small mountain, nearly hiding me in his shadow. I forced my lips to remain drawn, my eyes to stay firm. I hoped He would explain that he was never a mystic to begin with, the name Orlouge was from a father who abandoned his grandfather generations ago. I hoped with all my heart that he held no ties to those who had trapped me for so many years. When finally my mind screamed for answers instead of dreams I opened my mouth.
"Who is Niche Orlouge?"
I watched the girl hungrily lap up the sandwich with all the tact of a titmouse. I smiled and set my hands upon my legs as I awaited her questioning. When she asked about Niche Orlouge, I was taken aback slightly, my posture becoming straight as I looked down to Cellar. What was her connection to Niche, a Mystic who for most of my life had resigned himself to the life of a secluded old hermit? I could only hypothesize what exactly it was that Cellar desired from him.
“Niche Orlouge is the eldest among the Orlouge brothers, of which there are six. Niche, Succed, Razak, Ciato, myself, and Sei. He’s kind of a black sheep in our family ever since twenty some-odd years ago when his home town was all but destroyed in a bandit raid. He has only one known heir, the girl you probably know as the ‘Daughter of the Dragon’, my niece Kyla.” I stopped myself just short of telling Cellar how much she reminded me of Kyla. Given her reserved attitude towards my race, saying such a thing would have probably come off more as an insult than a compliment.
I scratched the back of my head as the crowd around us began to jeer and boo. It was understandable; I know if I had paid to see a fight in a tournament, I would have been more than a little miffed if the combatants had sat down and just had themselves a little chat instead of what they were supposed to do. I would have actually not been surprised if the two of us did not get kicked out of the tournament for such a protest.
“My turn,” I said, raising an eyebrow towards the girl, who was still nursing the sandwich, “do you need a drink with that?”
Some of the names were familiar, some I'd never heard before. At the mention of the ransacking I felt a stab in my chest that didn't belong. What did I care if a bunch of mystics were taken care of? As far as I was concerned the world was better off. Niche Orlouge, Drantrak. Destruction. For some reason the words held meaning. He offered me a drink and I shook my head, my stomach could only hold so much and this meal would likely have to last me several days.
I began to hum, a silly tune I'd known forever. Its melody always kept me calm.
Steppenwolf watched me intently, his brow furrowed. He looked as though he was as confused about my identity as I was. With each bite of the sandwich my anger stilled more. We sat in silence for a long while, me eating and him watching. Storm clouds began to roll in, the thunder rumbling in tune with my song.
The rain began to fall and I noticed angry spectators beginning to leave the stands. I inhaled deeply, the scent before rainfall always made me happy. I was lucky to be able to conjure that scent whenever I pleased, though while traveling it certainly made things more difficult. As the stands around us emptied and the monks looked at us discouragingly I smiled. He was willing to risk the tournament for me. Perhaps mystic blood wasn't quite as tainted as I believed.
"Drantrak."
The pink-haired man stared at me with questions in his eyes.
"The town. It was called Drantrak."
He nodded, opening his mouth to say something before I cut him off.
"The attack, it was nine-teen years ago wasn't it."
His eyes grew thin as I stood.
"Nineteen years ago Drantrak fell. I was there." My mind raced as I tried to piece it all together, finally looking to Steppenwolf for some sort of confirmation. "Why was I there?"
I looked to the girl with my jaw literally dropped. She had been there when Niche’s family was massacred? How was that even possible? How did she even remember? By now, the stands were completely empty, save for the monks that were required to be there as part of the tournament. I took a hard swallow as Cellar nibbled on her food some more, scratching the back of my head as I tried to muster up an answer.
“I…can’t really tell you that, Cellar,” I said, my face contorted to an awkward smile, “but I would love to try and help you find those answers you seek.” I still did not fully understand her rage towards my family or to my bloodline in general. I just knew that I had to alleviate some of that rage in my friend, or it would consume her; turn her into something completely unrecognizable.
“Would it help if I told you that I wasn’t a full Mystic? I’m actually half orc.” I paused for a minute as the revelation escaped my lips. I had told nobody of this; it had always been my burden to know that I was not the child of Tinerad Orlouge. The ease at which a confession I had kept to myself for so many years escaping from my mouth like water cooler conversation; I was stunned. I tried to not let the surprise in my face show as I looked to Cellar, instead continuing to awkwardly smile at the girl.
“But first, I got to make sure that I can go near you in order to help you. Deal?”
It made sense. His kind were not known for their size, part of the reason I was so caught of guard. I listened to his condition, simple enough really. I didn't want to fight anyway. I stood, brushing the crumbs from my mouth and tucking what was left in the sandwich into the waistband of my pants.
I didn't remember Drantrak, but the name was familiar. I knew I'd spent my childhood there, something terrible had happened. I began to hum once again, the raindrops beginning to fall upon my back lightly. As I hummed the familiar tune my mother's voice filled my mind. She had never been a talented vocalist, something that always seemed such a shame given her knack for songwriting.
Up in the meadow magic flies
Poor Mystic Children Say goodbyes
The end of the Temple is their fall
There will be no one to save them all.
As the lyrics from so long ago flooded back to me I felt a tear stream down my cheek. What was this constant connection to the mystics that popped up at every turn? Why had my parent hidden their bloodline for so many years?
Perhaps finally with Steppenwolf's help I could find the answers to my questions. Perhaps it takes a mystic to uncover mystic secrets. I wasn't going to find out from my parents and I had only myself to blame for that.
"Its a deal."
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