On a throne of smooth oak I waited, a cigarette between my fingers and a glass of hundred year old brandy in the other. The room that the Ai’Bron exiles gave me was cozy, not overly elaborate or poorly thrown together. My walls were lined with books on one side, those with I would never read, and expertly created tapestries on the other. To my back, on the other side of my chair, was a large window that let in the warm sunshine and cast a beautiful golden glow throughout the room. Objects of little interest rested on a desk never used. Small orbs of what looked like crystal lined the top of the cherry oak, the light that struck them streaking through and creating rainbow patterns on the opposite wall. A single small stack of paper rested on main tabletop portion, neatly organized mostly due to the fact that I had never touched them. I closed my eyes and took another sip of the brandy, letting the warm liquid flow through my body. It was the antithesis of an adrenaline rush, a calming touch that spread through my veins. When I opened my eyes I saw the golden room for what it was; fool’s gold.

The entire process of the Dajas Pagoda was just like the room, cast in the false light of perfection. It was a none-so-gentle reminder that there were things in this world, Althanas, which were given a pretty face but had an ugly undertone to them. The Pagoda was a place run by the outcast of the Citadel, monks well versed in the arts of illusion and healing spells. They were a very interesting lot, and their tasks I had come to know well. In order to find oneself not only in the position I was in, but in the luxury of the Ai’Bron’s hospitality one would first have to fight. A bloody path of victory, carved through multiple people, would always offer the utmost opulence.

I, however, knew that it was all a farce. I normally sat in the common room of the Pagoda, watching the waves of challengers pick the lowest tier hierarchy, a warrior, to face off against. They came in eager and cocksure, but it was not so easy to gain the first tier, even more difficult to advance beyond that. Those happy faces and strong bodied were often sent away without a scratch on their persons, but a bruised ego that could not be fixed by magic. Some people just took things, especially this world, far too seriously sometimes.

Bruised egos were to be expected, casting doubt on yourself and your abilities was just childish. I find this truth to be, beyond anything else, the most important to remember. Those that take Althanas to heart are those that are easily broken in real life, those that cannot stand to be put down in a game because they cannot stand up for themselves outside of it. Althanas is a virtual reality game, a world of magic and swords; I am just one character in a sea of thousands to roam it. To me it is little more than a pastime, a place to relax and get away from Earth, so to speak. Others, they seem to take it beyond that and make it like Earth, make it a reality far more than they make their own pathetic lives outside of the server.

“Ethan?” The voice came before the knock. The door slid open without a sound, the joints carefully oiled and regularly maintained. Through the door a tall man appeared, dressed in the casual robes of the Ai’Bron brotherhood he bowed his head thoughtfully. I could not for the life of me remember his name; though he had attended to me after the past three fights I had joined in. A pleasant man, he was always jovial and upbeat despite his job as a healer in a world of combat. “There is a challenge waiting for you. Your arena is prepared already, and your opponent is being informed as well. I know you have not had luck, in a way, as of late regarding who you are fighting. This one should prove interesting though and offer you quite a challenge.”

~*~

My arena of choice was an intricate one not only for myself but for any opponent that found their way there as well. I let my empty hands tug at the leather jacket I had come to be known for, putting it into a place of comfort so the secreted blades could be easily accessed. Its smooth surface was always unscathed, always a dull black color and left unzipped. Around the collar of the jacket was a lining of white fur, neither it nor the leather from any animal. I straightened my tight denim pants and let adjusted the large belt buckle that was always kept to the side. Many knew me for my strange style, but it was only strange in the low fantasy setting of Althanas. On Earth it was a style that many had come to accept and embrace, one that I had been dressing like for years.

A cool chill ran through the clock tower that was my chosen arena, a slight wind that hardly moved through the gut of the tower. If I turned any direction I could not see far through the darkness of the inside and the scattered titanium rods that let the clock work. Walls lined the colossal belly of the mechanical best; the only one that was obviously present was the face. Two hands, the smallest being twice my height moved slowly across the frosted glass. I moved to the white surface and touched it with an open palm, the cold night and the frost bitten lands on the other side of the glass ‘wall’ cooling me as I waited.

What was it that the monk meant by ‘quite a challenge’? What was I going to be fighting? Hopefully not another female warrior like those I had encountered so frequently in the Citadel of Radasanth. I also hoped that it was not another opponent that could not last till the end of the bout; another disappointment would be the final proverbial straw on the camel’s back. I had dealt with enough strange opponents, weak opponents, and those that could not finish the bout. Hopefully the person or thing that challenged me would prove to be one that could finally offer me a true, complete fight and give me the full right to be in the seat of the Warrior tier.