Black Forest Part Drei (Closed to BaBE)

[Rehtul Orlouge]

The time had come once again for the young man to visit the Citadel. The Mystic prodigy of ice magic could only look upon the massive doors of the building with disdain. He had recently been in several fights within the giant stone walls of the massive complex run by the Monks of Ai’Brone. He was close to discovering exactly what it was about this place that drew people to it. Like moths to a flame, warriors flocked in to do battle from all around the world, and the young Mystic had at first been horrified by it, until he experienced it for himself.

He’d already won and lost within the Citadel, and his body was none the worse for wear. He had even died, incinerated by a magical attack he had never come into contact with before or since. It didn’t particularly weigh heavily on his mind, but it did start to open him up to what he was beginning to see the Citadel as, if people could get beyond their own biases about it. It seemed to be a place where you could test your mettle against anyone from anywhere, learn to fight against any type of strategy, and come out with a greater appreciation for the power of others, and for your own ability to fight for your life.

With a shrug, he threw the question to the wind for now and walked through the door. This time, it was going to be the ultimate test. He was going to go up against something far beyond what he had faced so far. He walked up to the desk where the monk he was usually greeted by waited for him with a sly smile.

Rolling his eyes, Rehtul simply waited for the inevitably.

“You should make like a tree and leave,” the monk whispered to him as he led the young man to one of the doors, one that Rehtul had personally requested after a few days of looking over the available battlefields. When he had made his choice, he was warned off immediately by the monks, something about a monstrous follower of N’Jal having built the arena specifically to push himself to his limits.

Rehtul ignored the warnings.

“I will not back out of this. Even if it meant stopping you from piping up with those horrible puns of yours,” he said back. The monk muttered something about the young man not getting his sense of humor and pushed the door open for the Mystic to step through.

A soft mutter escaped Rehtul’s own mouth as the door slowly closed.

“If you had a sense of humor I would understand it.”

The transportation feeling was different this time. It felt more like he was slowly sinking through a bog made of dark energy than being pulled by an ephemeral power to another world. The young man took a deep breath and soon enough he was there, standing among hundreds of anaconda sized vines spread across the ground, twisting and writhing, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

He’d heard of them, but he did not expect them to be quite so large, or so swift. Yet they did not attack.

“Is there some condition that must be met before they attack you?” he wondered aloud, idly pacing back and forth as he waited for the battle he had signed up for to begin.

Does the other person need to show up as well in order to get them to attack? Could that be the answer?

All the young Mystic could tell from the look of this place, the dark shadows, deep greens, and horrible stench of decomposition, was that the person who designed this place, this MetalDrago Scorpio person, was a sick and twisted person that the young man would never want to run into in a dark alley.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

It's the Citadel.

And I'm going again.

What more really needs to be said?

I've been here enough that I cannot find anything new to say about the experience. There's only so many adjectives and metaphors and other such nonsense one can use to describe the hallowed institution--its spires, its imposing front door, the stained-glass windows adorned with the visages of heroes and legendary warriors from throughout the world, the robed Ai'Brone monks who tend to the needs of every person who steps into their domain.

The same can be said about my reasons for coming here. I mean, really--what else can I say? The violence is appealing and all, and who doesn't love a bit of good ol' fashioned ultraviolence? Especially when there are no legal ramifications to tearing someone's eyeballs out and shoving them down their owner's throat when you are within these stone walls and magically-created arenas... But the thrill of combat has gotten old; and now the controlled chaos and physicality is more relaxing than anything else, given that I spend most of my time cooped up in a laboratory in Knife's Edge or Underwood.

A good match within the Citadel offers me a chance to unwind after a day of experimentation and observation, and nothing more. That's all there is to it.

And so, after the monks' teleportation magic cleared up and the wave of nausea that came with it passed, I found myself in the middle of a very dark and twisted setting. It was the stench of rot and decay that hit me first. I immediately brought my hands up to my face, covering my nose as I coughed. The thick miasma practically stuck to the insides of my nostrils and throat as it wafted around in the dead air.

"Oh gods, that's horrifying," I managed to squeak out as I waved my hand in the air in front of me, desperately trying to clear away the terrible odor.

I found myself surrounded by a cage of thick tree trucks, their bark almost as darkened as the leaves on their branches. Little sunlight managed to force its way through the woven canopy overhead; and the scarce rays that managed to get through shone their light on things I would've rather not have seen.

The floor of the forest was literally crawling with inky black vines as thick as pythons. They squirmed around on the cold damp dirt, climbing over each other in an eldritch mass that threatened to smother anything it caught in its tendrils. I tried to step out of the way of the vines, but they followed my every movement.

One dark length poked up from the mass and inched closer to my leg. I gave it a swift kick, pushing it away from me. "Fuck off," I snapped as I bounded away from the curious vine, only to find myself ankle-deep in another clump.

This is not going to go well, I thought to myself.

I looked up to see a man, inches taller than I am, with pale skin and a matching set of ice blue robes and long white hair standing a good distance away, equally wary of the vines that smothered the dark forest. I cocked an eyebrow at him as I sized him up as my opponent, knowing well enough that sometimes the monks took requests when they crafted arenas. "I don't suppose you came up with this imaginative little hellhole, yeah?"

[Rehtul Orlouge]

“Fuck off.”

The words spouted forth by the woman were more than enough to give Rehtul a glimpse of his newest opponent’s character, at least a small portion. His lip turned upward at one corner as he considered the things that the woman had been yelling at, however. Those disgusting, green-black vines weren’t exactly something that most people would have a tempered response to. Shaking his head, he admitted to himself that he couldn’t blame her for her reaction.

When asked if he had come up with this arena himself, he laughed at her bizarre line of questioning in a friendly way and shook his head, allowing his sheer white locks to dance elegantly around his head. He noted that the vines hadn’t started to attack yet, blowing his original theory out of the water. Perhaps they reacted to actual fighting within the arena instead? He slid the question to the back of his mind as he instead focused on his opponent for the round.

“No... I’m not quite twisted enough to come up with something quite like this. I’m studying the types of people who battle in the Citadel, and this was one of the more interesting warrior-invented areas I saw on the list of available arenas. In fact, this particular arena was created by someone I’ve heard my uncle mention before, a warrior fighting for the glory of N’Jal named MetalDrago Scorpio,” he said, looking around at the dank and depressing surroundings that just choked a person’s sense of safety. Barely any light filtered in through the leaves, and that that did was muted and barely useful for a person’s sight. Everything was cast in shadows and it would be nearly impossible to make one’s way around unless they knew everything about this particular arena.

A sigh escaped his lips as he continued, “The guy’s nuts, apparently. The monks told me he created this particular realm in order to push himself to the absolute limit during battle by having an arena that attacked him and his opponent as they fought each other... Something about preparing to fight hundreds of incoming enemies at once. Nuts, right?”

His eyes widened slightly and his face visibly reddened as he bowed and said, “My apologies. In my hurry, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Rehtul Orlouge, Mystic and Ice Mage. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss.” As he came back up from his bow and smoothed his hair back over his shoulders, he took a moment to register the woman in front of him.

The most glaring detail about her was the vines that had taken the place of her arms, if indeed she was in fact human at all. Rehtul had seen all sorts of strange things in the course of his life, a creature like a wood elemental with the appearance of a human wouldn’t be all that surprising, after all.

The woman had black hair, a very thin figure, and inset eyes with a shade of what could either be purple eye shadow or a permanent mark of exhaustion on her features. Her eyes looked to be either blue or brown, but in the shadows of the forest, the young man couldn’t be sure.

He clothing was conservative, much like his own, but much more understated. He could tell she wasn’t particularly interested in showing off her body, as it were. It was a feeling that he could empathize with.

The young man rolled up the sleeves of his robe and pulled a pair of concealed buckles each one, pulling them tight around his arm, just above his elbows. With that out of the way, he produced a pair of white arctic leather gloves from within his robes and slipped them on his hands, flexing his fingers to force the fit into the right spot.

He awaited the woman’s pleasure, to either introduce herself or start the combat, one hand resting relaxed on his upper leg near the blue steel dagger on his hip.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

To be quite honest, I didn't pay any attention to anything the snow-haired guy said past "No..." The sound of his voice was nearly drowned out by the rustling drone of the thick black vines canvasing the floor of this twisted place. While he prattled on, I kept my eyes on the ground, uncertain of whether or not these things were just here for show or if they were going to actually do anything. I pictured myself being swarmed by the innumerable tendrils of darkness, pulled into an early match loss after making some bone-headed maneuver. Given my recklessness, it seemed like a very viable outcome today.

Why the hell can't people just pick some place nice, where your only opponent is whatever bag of flesh and bone the monks see fit to shove through the portal after you?

I was just thankful that they showed no signs of hostility yet. I quietly wondered what would happen before the forest truly woke and consumed the two of us. Another vine slowly curled itself around my left ankle. I swiftly kicked it away, mindful that one of these times I might actually piss it off.