And the waves called onto you
You wake up once again. Dizzy, but somehow aware enough to realise you’re on a boat. I’d have said that it was too early to get up, but you do so, nonetheless. You get up and proceed to fall back down shortly.
“Wolf is awake!”
The one called Shiro, or Pathfinder as he called himself, rushes to your side and looks at you worried.
“Why are we on a boat?”
He smiles at you, instantly and with a grin that could only mean something terrible was about to happen, he said:
“Let me show you!”
And as he mouthed the last word his fingertip touched your forehead and you feel like you’ve been disembodied and then through a spiralling loop of stars and galaxies, you end up in a big white room.
The Pathfinder startles you shortly appearing seemingly out of nowhere right behind you and tapping you on your shoulder.
“Where should I begin?… Maybe the map will help us.”
The Map he summons in his hand is crisp and well painted… almost printed. Wait… What is “printed”? What does that mean? It’s like a word you thought made sense as to describe it, but you can’t quite remember what it means or why you’ve used it. Weird…
The Map shows you a Castle over a river , Praeteritus Village and the small settlement you saw on the horizon, near the sea, where the female demihuman came from.
Shiro tells you that the castle is the Treasury you woke up in, how everyone had the same experience, or rather dream, met the same entities and how all of them decided to gather the lost pages of the Tome of Knowledge.
Through his visions and the people that came there before him, Shiro was able to gather all the pages, but once put together, the Tome turned black and the writing on it changed to Tome of Darkness.
For that reason he set it on fire, to destroy it, and as he did so, he got another vision, of a City of Glory, they had to go to. A voice guided him and showed him that the unmanned Caravel that came into their port unmanned every week, and seldomly brought treasures from God knows where, was the way of reaching that City.
“And I’ve seen your face and heard your name chanted from within that City” says Shiro. “You must be either our help or our key to understanding why we’re here.”
You stare in silence at him, mouth wide open, jaw dropped, still trying to process everything.
“And yeah also, there’s the Lost Caves and the Stones with the Auras. I’ll tell you all about them when we get there. Now we have to go back”
With no prior notice, you spiral back through that sickening loop of colors and lights to realise you’re back on the Caravel , and now? You’re just about throw up!
Then, you see it, glimmering in the horizon, over the golden sands of it’s beautiful desert
The City of Nazareea, or rather, the City of Glory as its residents call it. A beautiful oasis in the middle of the dunes. You find that people here are quite friendly as you disembark and right from the first step , a patched up groggy old man approaches you and says:
“Have we met yet son? Let me tell you about this place, if ye’r new! And boy oh boy have you come at the right tempus ! Here! Have this for when we’ll drink!”
He pushes onto your chest a map of the City
Apparently this is a place of gathering for adventurers , warriors and soldiers, to tell stories, boast trophies and fight over ale or pride… or both.
Shiro the Pathfinder seems to have timed this journey well, as there’s an event going on in the City of Glory when you arrive.
“ Once every 7 years” the patched up geezer says to you as he takes a swig from his never ending bottle of ale and steering you away from your group , “there’s a contest taking place in the Theater of Blood in which warriors are picked from the first born of random families of Nazareea and thrown into the pit of the Theater to show their prowess and versatility in order to become the new Army King of Nazareea. For some families, this is a time of sadness, as for some it is a time for joy and celebration.”
Before you realised it, the old man was charming you with his story-telling while all this time he was getting you into the city slums.
“Those put into the pit get to face everyone at the same time, one against the rest, all for themselves. The young ones are thrown different items: weapons, armor, clothes, and they all have to make do with what Fate has blessed them with. They have to use their wits as they might not have the best gear nor the one they are most proficient with.”
He shakes his head, looking away for a second, with a sad smile on his face
“But you know what’s the thing about this year’s Pit Fight? Not everyone wants to fight.”
He then suddenly loses the intoxicated mannerism and assumes a stern face. He pushes you into an alley way where you’re quickly grabbed and a cloth sack is set upon your head, stopping you from seeing. With a swift movement the one that grabbed you cuts the thread that held you awake, and you fall unconscious, not before hearing the voice of the old man saying:
“Good luck, poor soul!”
You wake up in a Theatre room looking over the Pit. As your eyes adjust to the poor lighting you can’t help but ask yourself how many times are you going to be knocked out and wake up this dizzy. At some point it’s got to affect your brain.
“You are not a lucky bloke, are ya?”
Your train of thoughts is cut short by the deep growling voice coming from a silhouette deep in the room.
“I’m going to keep this short and tidy. As Hufco mentioned, not everyone wants to fight this year. And I don’t want my son to do so either. You will in his stead! Only numbers matter, and none will look at who is who, so you’re the perfect cover up.”
You try to get up but you’re aching too much and you feel weak
“Don’t try to move. You might hurt yourself. Also, I forgot to mention…You aren’t the first one here. And if you’re curios where are the others, well let’s just say they didn’t cooperate.”
You try to mumble something against this sudden decision but a human’s head is thrown at your feet as soon as you do so, and as it turns and rolls , it comes to a stop suddenly dead eyes staring right back into yours.
Your blood freezes but you are not sure if it’s of fear or repulse for the shadowy figure in front of you.
“Better choose wise, Wolf! Fate is not to be bargained with.”
The Shadow continues:
“Your silence tells me you’re not easily swayed , so I’ll offer you this… Tell me what gear you want to use in the fight! I’ll be sure to make arrangements so that you’re thrown exactly what you want so you can pick and choose your equipment now, without anyone knowing it wasn’t Fate that gave you an edge on the fight, but instead it was me. It will probably not make a difference anyway but who knows?”
The figure steps closer, but not out of the dark, and two glowing red eyes gaze into yours, and the voice coming from them is now crackling and gutural.
“I’d say, t’is too good of an offer to say no, right?”
The figure starts laughing slowly and softly, like a lion who knows it’s got its prey at the tip of its claw.
You’re uncertain if the words spoken to you are truth or not, but one thing is for sure, you have to fight. And you have to win! You have to SURVIVE!
So for now you have to agree to your captors request. For now…
HOW DID YOU EVER GET INTO THIS MESS ?!
