The Palace of Isles

[redford]

(IRON LEAGUE)
(OPEN)

John stepped through a portal, already bracing himself for wind. His anticipation wasn’t unfounded though, and he nearly stumbled as a gust threatened to topple him from the grass and earthen platform suspended, floating in the air. A mind-boggling distance up in the sky, the platform was grassy, clean, and well kept, illusion or not. It was one of many that dotted the landscape, some smaller or larger, but all of them within leaping distance.

Well, as long as you get a good running start, he mused, failing to resist the urge to look down.

A patchy network of clouds lay below him, drifting lazily over what he thought was an archipellago. He wondered, a little, if this place actually existed, the arena being created from some ancient discovery of islands in the sky, or if it was just some old monk’s idea to make platforms in the air.

Either way, it was an interesting place to fight in.

He backed off of the edge a little, noting that at any moment the edges of the sky island could begin to crumble, as the starting one always did when the second combatant entered. This one was larger and closer to the others as a result, but the distance grew as the island shrank, and it made for quite a leap, even for John, at that distance.

This was how the arena was, at least when he’d fought Hailwing. Each island had a ‘thing’ you see, each of them had a gimmick that made the fight interesting or downright difficult, depending on how dextrous or strong or agile you were.

The half-giant walked back to the center of the circle. He always found it a little awkward, just waiting around for his opponent to arrive. His blood was rising in anticipation, but there wasn’t anything going on yet. It was a calm he knew before battle, where peace reigned, if only for a moment.

Whoever it was, they’d be along shortly. Until then, he could only wait.