The Secret Grimoire...(Closed)

[Archanex Jotham]

Archanex tapped his chin for a few moments. He was thinking. He was analyzing the movements he'd made in the last battle. The monks showed him recorded images of his battle against the other mage, Cade Smith. And then, there was that fight with Ulysses, that mysterious knight that chose the armoured mounts for their battle. Archanex was studying the mistakes he'd made during either battle and preparing himself for the next battle. He would not be repeating the same mistakes.

He currently stood in one of the administrative halls of the order of aibron. They were a mysterious organization that was responsible for the citadel leagues and it's handling. Though the monks clearly affected every aspect of life in Corone, the organization itself was a mystery. Like some twisted illuminati, they oversaw many of the dealings in Corone's empire that went down. In secret, they also counseled the Corone Rangers attempting to play both sides. They also attempted to keep a veil of neutrality.

Archanex was standing within a larger group of monks of the order. Though considered a hedge magi, and wielding no power over the monks' personal affairs, Archanex had made the request of studying his battles. Strangely enough, the monks had obliged as Archanex was simply following the pursuit of knowledge. He wanted to improve his personal standing in the citadel leagues. So he studied. Both battles, all battles he was forced to undergo. Some were willingly, and others were less so. Still though, each battle had something to teach the overmage.

When he was done studying, several hours later, Jotham the white carefully turned his attention to a nearby monk. Long had Archanex waited in hiding. Months had passed sine he had last entered the blood-soaked arenas of the citadel. When Archanex addressed the nearest monk, he looked at him with sublime respect.

"I thank you, noble monk, for allowing me to see the visual data procured from my various ventures. I have learned much about my basic techniques and I wish to apply the knowledge that I have obtained." Archanex the white said.

The monk smiled in Jotham's general direction. He stood up from the chair he sat at, devices and artifacts of unknown origin stood before the monk's studious eyes. Jotham knew that the chamber he was in was filled with various such strange arcane devices. Even his vast intellect had no hope of deciphering the purposes of the monk's artifacts without proper training and education. Archanex wanted to study the monks, they were an interesting subject to him. As the monk prepared to speak, Jotham waited.

"I thank you for your patience, overmage. I was looking over various matters of the citadel league. Ranks and such, administrative affairs. Nothing you need to concern yourself over." The monk said. "Do you wish to rejoin the citadel leagues?" The monk asked.

"Yessir. I am ready to fight once again." Archanex said, tapping his chin. "I have learned much from watching myself in action. If it wouldn't trouble you too much, I'd like to study the results of my current battles too to continue to increase my knowledge."

"It's not a problem. Very few know it, but we do actually make our records and findings, most of them, public. It's just most members of the citadel leagues don't ask to see the data we extract." The monk walked towards the front gates of the chamber. "Let us depart, I shall guide you to an empty chamber."

***

Citadel chamber number thirty-nine. The dual-digit numbers were etched upon the mahogany gates of the empty chamber. Jotham whistled as he looked at the chamber, impressed as always by the efficiency of the monks. Before Archanex entered, the monk placed a hand upon the mage's shoulder. Archanex turned towards the monk.

"For a small fee each battle you undergo, we can designate this chamber for the use of you and your opponents. It's a minor service that the citadel offers." The monk said.

"How much are we talking?" Archanex asked.

"A mere ten gold per battle." The monk responded. "The benefit is a life-time benefit."

"I shall take you up on your offer then. Do I hand you the money now or later?"

"After the battle." The monk responded. "Do you require any special rules to the battle?"

Archanex paused for a moment. "None, sire. Just bring me a worthy opponent."

***

It was a typical Corone afternoon. Archanex rested in Concordia Forest, his boots on the ground next to him, and his feet bare. They were currently dipped in a small lake that was decorated with a waterfall. The scenery that Archanex had chosen for his battle was beautiful. It was a small clearing with a stream connected to the lake. Archanex figured that fishing would be beautiful in this lake. Though he did not have any fishing equipment with him. Pity. Archanex looked up at the bright afternoon sky. It was a mid-July. The sky was blue, only a few clouds were visible.

A comfortable wind came in from the East. Archanex liked the sounds he heard on the wind, the calls of the various animals in this region. He carefully listened for a few moments, and then opened his eyes after those moments had passed. The doors to the citadel chamber were still hovering nearby. They were open invitingly. His eyes returned to the lake, he could see very far into the crystal-clear world below. There were fish swimming in the waters, lots of them. Such a serene environment, a suitable place to do battle in. I hope my opponent does not mind that we will mar this place with our blood soon enough. Archanex waited patiently and moved into deep meditation.

[Amsen]

Ambition.

It was the catalyst for all greatness. The foundation beneath every hero and illustrious city built, much like Radasanth. You would find it in the hearts of peasants and field-hands vigorously working to bring in the harvest, or at the head of politics, where empire’s were forged. It was a concept Jace had etched into his mind since his days in the Alerarian Military.

While Jace gazed in awe at the marvel of The Citadel’s structure, perched atop his steam-cycle from beneath the building’s steps, he had to wonder if the course of action he was taking was the best of ideas, let alone if he would even succeed. In spite of that, he had plans of his own that he needed to see through, but these schemes would require more established individuals to help him. In particular, a man who he’d come to admire just from mere stories and literature: Yari Rafanas.

Thumbing at the provisional Bandit Brotherhood logo he’d sewn onto sleeve of his jacket, Jace grinned. He figured a man of Rafanas’ stature wouldn’t come easy to find, especially since news that the Brotherhood had dissolved some time ago had become commonplace. Jace, all of 17-years-old, concluded that the best way to grab someone’s attention was to be as brash about their dealings as possible. Granted, impersonating rank when dealing with the King of Thieves was probably not the best of options, Jace felt he had little choice.

“Right, well here goes.” Jace mouthed confidently, lifting himself off his steam-cycle.

Eyeing a pair of soldiers standing guard outside, he tossed the keys to one of them and sprinted up the steps. After entering the Cathedral, Jace paused for a moment, taking in the backdrop of the architectural design within the main hall. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, lightly whistling to himself in astonishment while his eyes scanned the inner-workings of The Citadel. Jace, by way of recommendation, had come here not for glory, but to be noticed. It was no secret that the monks of the Arena had their gaze fixed on almost everything that occurred on Corone, and that if Jace waned to grab the attention of Yari, this would be the best place to get the word out.

“The Brotherhood, hmm?” a soft, and rather elderly voice suddenly cooed from beside him.

Startled, Jace stumbled a few feet away from the figure.

“Hey man! Don’t just sneak up on me like that!” Jace demanded, directing an accusing finger at the monk. He was hooded, dressed in white robes that blanketed his small frame with his hands tucked into the opposing sleeves infront of him.

“Apologies, I did not mean to startle you,” the monk replied with a slow nod, a smile craning on his lips from beneath his hood. “To what do we owe the honor of the Brotherhood’s presence?”

Jace stood there for a moment, a quizzical look grabbing his expression as if he’d forgotten himself about the Bandit Brotherhood logo branded on his sleeve. Then he smiled, letting his arm fall back to his side before promptly resting both hands on his hips prodigiously.

“Ahh, I see you’ve noticed my insignia!” Jace answered proudly, though his skills in acting were obviously left to be desired. “Why, what else would a bandit be at the grand arena for? I’m searching for a challenge! And riches! And glory...and...”

“Say no more young master,” the monk interjected, removing his hands from beneath his sleeves as if to lead the way. “We’ve just recently had a long-standing patron request a challenge himself who should prove quite formidable. If you’d like, we can accommodate you without further delay?”

The child-soldier nodded before following the elder to the chamber down one of the many hallways.

---

Upon reaching their destination Jace noted the presence of another monk beside the entrance to chamber thirty-nine. They looked nearly identical in terms dress, very uniform. The monk he had been walking with stopped beside his counterpart, and turned to Jace.

“Your opponent awaits,” he said, directing Jace inside. “Shall we assist you in any other way, young master?”

Wide-eyed, Jace gulped and shook his head before thanking the monk and stepping inside the chamber; it’s doors ominously closing behind him. The monk who had been at the entrance before they had arrived turned to the other who had ushered Jace here.

“I must say we haven’t seen that emblem in quite some time,” he stated.

“Hm,” the other replied in agreement. “It’s very interesting, to say the least.”

“Interesting indeed.”

---

Beams of sunlight flickered across his face as he made his way through the thickness of Concordia’s forrest. Mentally, he questioned if this had been the best idea after all. Either way, he was here now, and whatever was going to greet him beyond that brush line he would have to be ready for. He didn’t know what to expect, or what his surroundings would look like, not that it mattered; none of this was supposed to be real. Right?

Ambition. He’d settle for a hot meal instead.

Finally breaking into a small clearing, Jace couldn't have been more surprised. It was a serene, lush field. Above he could hear the sounds birds chirping as they flew overhead. Small puffs of clouds decorated a vividly blue sky, while the sound of a crashing waterfall into a lake completed the tranquil environment. For a sun that Jace knew to be fabricated, the warmth of it’s rays seemed entirely real. So much so that the presence of his would-be opponent soaking his feet in the lake had gone unnoticed.

Could such a place truly be the staging ground for his ideology and schemes?

[Archanex Jotham]

After a short while past, Archanex fell out of his meditative state.

A halo of energy swirled about the overmage, he studied the environment around him carefully. Finally, the urge to stand hit the overmage in his gut, and he obeyed his urge. Standing up quickly, the magus allowed himself a stretch. Extending both arms to his sides and rotating them at the shoulders, he stood at an odd angle as he popped his lower spine. At that moment, Archanex decided that he would take a ration he had acquired before he stepped into the citadel's chamber.

Taking the well cooked jerky into his mouth after taking off the wrapping, Jotham sighed with pleasure. He had a fresh water-skin nearby on the ground next to the rest of his supply packs. After he took the small meal, he gathered up a piece of dried fruit and ate that as well. He figured the citadel's halls were a good a place to eat as any other. Birds were swimming in the lake and a few stretched their powerful wings. Archanex admired nature, it was a part of his very being.

Once he was done eating, he took a long pull of the water in the container he had. Feeling the liquid refresh him, he smiled at that. There was nothing better than the last meal before a good battle. Archanex thought about that last thought. The final meal... The thought made him shiver. He put down his water skin after he made certain he did not leave any trash in the serene environment. His boots were safely positioned on the ground nearby and he could equip them at a moment's notice.

Archanex stepped on the ground barefoot, oblivious to the dangers that lurked underneath his feet. He simply did not care. He was at peace with his surroundings and himself. Jotham the White had come to test himself in battle before the observant eyes of the monks. He had no way of detecting when his opponent had arrived so he went about his business. Standing about carefully until he was ready to continue his quiet meditation. However, his opponent had suddenly revealed himself with the noise of stampede. Jotham could hear the man coming, despite not having enhanced senses. He heard the man's boot-falls just fine. Archanex lowered his gaze for a moment or two and turned his general attention to the young fellow before him.

"Ah." Jotham said carefully whilst he tapped his chin. "You must be my opponent. My name is Archanex Jotham." He said casually. "If you wish to take first-strike, I would be more than honoured." Archanex wiped some sweat off his brow. Then, he stood at attention, grabbing one of his iron daggers. His battle-staff was leaning in a forty-five degree angle against a nearby tree.

[Amsen]

“Ah,” the unfamiliar voice chimed in from a no-so-far range. Jace’s head immediately snapped to it’s direction, eyeing the barefoot stranger.

Like a record being interrupted, Jace was pulled out of his daydream.

“You must be my opponent. My name is Archanex Jotham,” the man said casually. “If you wish to take first-strike, I would be more than honoured.”

Jace grinned as he stepped out of the bushes, taking note as he watched Jotham secure a dagger. As if he’d been wearing a magically imbued cloak of confidence, the child-soldier strolled towards Archanex, pausing a mere ten or so feet from him. For a moment, there was no sound. An awkward silence only broken up by the occasional coo from the surrounding wildlife. In that small window of silence, Jace jotted down mental notes of his associate’s lack of shoes, and the wooden staff lying against a tree. He relaxed his shoulders and snickered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Jace Amsen, Mechanic extraordinaire!” he responded, shifting his right foot behind him and resting his weight on it. Making every effort to brandish the Bandit Brotherhood logo on his sleeve, without trying to be obvious, he added. “Good to meet ya..”

Slowly, he slid his right hand behind him and found a gloved grip on his wrench that rested in his tool belt. It wasn’t the most impressive of weapons, and probably the least effective in terms of actual battle, but Jace knew it better than he assumably knew a sword. A foot long, inch thick steel rod. It was deadly. It was unconventional.

It was, sadly, all he had currently.

With his other hand, the 17 year-old pulled the goggles resting on his forehead over his eyes and dug his heels into the dirt, falling into a combative stance.

“En Garde!” he shouted, suddenly sprinting forward and producing his large wrench from behind him, closing the distance between the two of them quickly. In one fluid movement, Jace pivoted to his left and brought his weapon up and across his face, before sending it crashing down with the intent of shattering his foe’s right collarbone.

“For the Brotherhood!!”

“Wow, that was lame,” he thought to himself momentarily.

[Archanex Jotham]

Taking note of the introductory words and observing the weapon that was produced, Archanex's eyes went wide with shock. Overmages were not native bourne to Althanas. He inherently knew of technology and what a mechanic was. The words did not fall on ignorant ears. This boy could prove useful... Archanex remembered thinking that when the youth attacked. It was a swing that was not that skilled, but it would work for the general skill level that the opponents in fact, possessed. Jotham had no supernatural reaction rate, so no way of dodging. All he could do was shift his body weight towards his opponent and meet the attack dead on.

Immediately, Jotham felt the bruise. Thankfully, Jace did not possess supernatural strength, nor did Jotham possess supernatural endurance. It was a potent strike that connected to the Overmage, with all too visible results. Archanex growled for a moment when he felt the pain of the attack. His collarbone was not broken as the attack did not produce enough force to break bone. However, the visible welt was nasty enough. He picked a worthy enough weapon. Jotham remembered thinking as his face crunched up together in agony. Jotham the White felt tears swell up in his eyes, but he had become accustomed to pain.

Jotham had been focusing on one of his spells the entire time and was able to release the elemental manna with enough power to enchant his simple dagger. A moment later, the blade glowed with the power of elemental lightning which swirled about the blade in bolts. In such close proximity, Jotham could take advantage of the moment. Energy coursed through the air when jotham released his command of the elemental manna. Being so close to his opponent, Jotham struck with the enchanted dagger. It was capable of causing great harm to his foe should it connect.

Jotham had adjusted his center of gravity so he could strike with a low-tiered attack. Lightning swirled off the blade as he moved forward and against Jace's attack. There were no words, Jotham still concentrated. He reverted to his focused-command of the elemental manna. The blade was aimed for the obliquus (Lower-Side) region of his opponent's body. Should it connect, his opponent would know pain in kind just as Archanex felt. Preparing his next maneuver, Jotham knew he would have to continue casting spells together if he was to survive this encounter. His eyes were closed even as he struck at where he guessed his opponent currently was. He had to focus entirely on spell-casting to release his devastating power...