The Sun is Shining

[Sentinel]

Closed to redford.
It was a warm, sunny day and the birds were chirping merrily, filling the air with their song. Sentinel smiled as it walked along, lost in a happy daze. It liked sunny days like these, and it liked to hear the birds warbling out their songs. In fact, there wasn’t much about the outdoors that it didn’t enjoy in some way. Without all of the things that mortals normally had to worry about when being exposed to the elements, Sentinel reckoned that there was something pleasurable to be found in even the most blustery of stormy days. Of course, it didn’t hurt Sentinel’s outlook that its first eight years of existence had all been relegated to a single room within the house of Adolphus, Sentinel’s creator. After standing in the same spot for eight long years, anything with a changing view seemed like a gift from the Thaynes to the golem.

Adolphus hadn’t intended to be cruel or malicious when he animated Sentinel’s clay body and then stuck it in a room and ordered it to remain there. The wizard had simply been seeking an implacable guardian to protect the vast treasure trove of arcane knowledge that he’d managed to collect over the years. Sentinel couldn’t rightly fault him for wanting that, it supposed. Especially given that Adolphus had freed Sentinel as soon as it had shown signs of having a sense of self. Even better, the wizard had taken Sentinel to find a teacher and had given it the tools it needed to begin life in Althanas on its own. Adolphus was a good man, Sentinel knew.

But there were others in Althanas who were not so good and kind. Others who sought to take advantage of those weaker and less fortunate than themselves. Those who sought to defy the will of the Thayne. Sentinel had witnessed this early and often on its travels across Corone, an pattern of subjugation and domination which seemingly played out endlessly.

Thaynes above, I hope it’s not endless, Sentinel thought, shaking the massive blob of crudely sculpted clay which served as its head. The thought depressed the golem greatly. Perhaps it was its nature as a protector, created to serve and defend, or perhaps it was just its youthful naivety, but this cruelty stuck a wound deep within the golem’s core.

Because of this, Sentinel had traveled to the Citadel of Radasanth to test himself in combat. Martial contest were certainly no stranger to the creature, having been animated pretty much solely for that purpose, and Sentinel thought that it might give him a little better insight into how this outside Althanas world worked. After all, it was a well-known fact that some of the most violent and oppressive people in the world spent time fighting at the Citadel. Testing themselves against others of their ilk with every technique learned and every new skill mastered. And since all of it could be done under the relative safety of the watchful Ai’Brone monks, Sentinel supposed there was a certain thrill to it. One could kill or die a hundred times in the Citadel and be no worse for the wear.

So Sentinel had entered the Citadel and requested a simple arena in which to fight. And now here he was, walking down a sunlit path near a small grove of trees. A multitude of rocks the size of melons littered the ground around the golem, something to trip a careless fighter, it supposed. Or perhaps they were there to act as ammunition for a sufficiently determined combatant. Sentinel didn’t think that it really mattered one way or the other. The rocks were there for the same reason that everything in the arena was there for, to provide a realistic backdrop for Sentinel and its opponent while the two of them beat each other unconscious.

Sentinel turned its head up towards the warm light of the sun and smiled again. At least it could enjoy the day until that happened.

[redford]

Jeers, leers, taunts and bets were being thrown around the Citadel's courtyard in the late morning light, the cloudless day promising an oppressive heat. Awnings were spread wherever they could be hung, around food-stalls and gambling booths alike. The smell of food and sweaty bodies was pervasive, but it drove no man away from the blackened spire where men went to test their mettle.

John's massive form sat on the stone floor, back against the wall of the courtyard, catching some shade from a nearby stall. Fighters were scattered around as he was, either resting up after a fight or merely grabbing pieces of the much-coveted shade that offered reprieve from the sun.

As it was, John wondered how long it would be before he found someone today. As he gained experience in the Citadel, he quickly realized that fighting average men was simply a waste of his time. It sounded arrogant in his thoughts even as he mused, but it was the truth. He could just not be bothered to fight every up-and-coming lord's son with something to prove and every aspiring boy that thought he had a big enough sword to best the 'bear of the Citadel'.

He sucked the aroma of a cigar into his mouth, exhaling quickly to take a bite of jerky he'd brought from home. He considered leaving, maybe better fighters would be back on the week-end. He frowned, wondering if he could convince the monks to host group battles. It would certainly make finding a match easier. It was in these musings that he found his next opponent.

A man-shaped mass of clay lumbered past him, paying no mind to himself. Perhaps not as tall as he, but all the same, the thing was massive and red as the clay under his house.

The half-giant raised an eyebrow at the golem as it walked past. People had called him a golem before, but he had never seen one of the automatons in person before. He didn't even know they could be independent enough to do more than follow simple instructions. Either way, the golem was here, and currently walking towards one of the glowing doors that served as portals to the arenas.

Regardless of his knowledge of golems and their purposes, John noted that it was likely the best change he'd have at a good fight today, and quickly followed, expressing his desire to one of the Ai'Bron initiates. Soon he was whisked away through the portal and into another realm.

An endless plain stretched out before him, grassy and dotted with trees. Sunlight, gentler than it was around the Citadel, spread across the landscape, painting everything in pleasant hues. A cobbled path lined with large rocks stretched before him. John's gaze drifted down the path until it terminated in the large figure he saw walking through the citadel a moment before. The thing seemed absorbed with the scenery. Such as it was, he was unsure if the thing could be absorbed by anything, and even then he had no idea what mannerisms to look for in a golem, but the thing did seem vaguely, interested, in the expansive plain around them. It turned its gaze toward him, the clay it was made of moving smoothly.

John crouched, waiting for a coming strike as liquid metal snaked up his armored hands, quickly coating his body in the mystical silvery substance with soft clicking sounds.

[Sentinel]

Soft clicks roused Sentinel from its peaceful musings. The sound reminded it of the tile pieces sliding together to form a pattern on a chakra board. It was a game that Adolphus and Mordecai had enjoyed playing together and Sentinel had become used to the hours that the two masters spent playing together. They’d sit across from each other as Sentinel watched, plotting out intricate patterns on the polished wooden game board with their tiles, the clicking sound the only thing to break the contemplative silence.

Mordecai had tried to teach the game to Sentinel during the years he spent tutoring the golem. But though Sentinel had enjoyed the fanciful etched into the tiles of wood, porcelain, and steel, it’d never really picked up the subtle strategies of positioning and sacrifice that was required to be a true master of the game.

“Maintaining awareness was always my weakness,” Sentinel thought, turning to face its opponent with a self-conscious smile. “And here I am doing it again. There’d be no end to Mordecai’s lecture if he found out.”

Realizing that perhaps appearing self-conscious in front of an enemy wasn’t a good idea, Sentinel tried hard to keep the emotion off its featureless face. The masters had taught Sentinel that people communicated far more with their facial expressions and body language than they did with their words. Knowing this, Sentinel hoped it would be easier to mask its emotions from observers. Perhaps it would prove to be an advantage?

But despite Sentinel’s efforts, there was no hiding the surprise it felt when seeing John for the first time. The hulking, armored figure made Sentinel think that it’d found another of its kind, but a closer inspection revealed that this was no construct. Instead, Sentinel found a human-like creature standing before it. Though, admittedly, this one was far larger than any other that Sentinel had ever seen or heard of.

Sentinel realized that it was staring at the man.

“Uh, hello,” it said, somewhat lamely, and stuck a massive hand out. Halfway through the gesture it occurred to the golem that this was supposed to be a fight. The thought froze Sentinel in place, awkwardly posed with one hand limply held forward. The hand stayed that way for several tense seconds while a flood of panic raced through Sentinel’s mind.

“You’re in a fight, be aggressive,” Sentinel’s mind shouted at him. Decision made, Sentinel balled his hand into a fist, raised it, and shook it lamely in John’s direction.