RE: The Battle of the Victors (*S1/2*) - Round "1" - Crystal Mirage XIX
11-02-2024, 12:10 AM
Fran was keeping herself busy. This situation she was in was ridiculous, even aside from the broad strokes - the battle to the death, the nature of the competitors, the locale she found herself in - her role here was ill-defined at best. The vibe she had gotten was that she was expected to be a babysitter/bodyguard for Ginger, and then obviously Ginger had run off at the first opportunity that she had gotten. So to avoid thinking about where in her life everything had gone wrong and what she could realistically be expected to do about it Fran was talking to the locals.
Many of them only wanted to make small talk about the celebration of the season, or else the poor health of Archon Kialrycryss, who Fran would quickly learn was the progenitor of the lizard creatures who called themselves the Delve. A couple of them offered her quests and Fran found she didn’t really have the heart to turn them down. She ended up running back and forth across the city delivering spell scrolls, magic lacquers, jars full of candies, lost love letters, mysterious locked crates, and so on.
All this running around gave her more of an idea of the city itself. The prominent building up on the rise was the Sanctum of the Archon Kialrycryss. While standing outside the walls, handing over a chest full of loose reagents, she had been able to hear the deep rasping breaths of the Archon herself, unsettlingly loud and worryingly laboured.
She learned that the docks led not to the ocean but to an underground system of rivers running beneath the continent. She’d had to make a couple of deliveries in the area and had noticed that it seemed to be the most diversely populated location in the entire city. Amongst the furless of their varying shapes and colours Fran ran into a small crew of humanoid hyenas, red pandas and even a fox or two. They enlisted her aid in dealing with an infestation of barnabolds and were keen to offer her passage to the Fangs as thanks for her aid. It was around about that point when Fran figured she really ought to go and see what was happening with Ginger.
The Mages Guild that Ginger had run off to was the centrepoint of what the delve referred to as the Shapers District. The tower, which remained mysteriously but helpfully highlighted by the helpful guard from earlier, was surrounded by other smaller buildings where delve were offering training in various skills, some mundane, some strange and mysterious. Fran slowed her pace, not especially eager to interrupt whatever ‘private matter’ Ginger had with the mages of this world, but still eventually found herself at the entrance to the Mages Guild and so pressed on.
Inside the place was in chaos. There were large throngs of people, mostly delve with a couple of other furless amongst them, clustered around each other arguing loudly about something or other. Something about a hero? Or a false hero? Others were hurrying up and down staircases, some were hunched over papers muttering to themselves. It was all much more lively than anywhere Fran had seen so far, and she couldn’t help but worry that this was somehow Ginger’s doing. This was all but confirmed by the weary look that the delve on reception gave at her description.
“Downstairs.” They said. “Undershapers’ chambers.”
“Thank you, and um, sorry about any trouble she might have caused.” Fran said with as much sincerity as she could muster for an apology she knew wouldn’t be sufficient on behalf of someone who wouldn’t likely even be regretful.
As she descended the staircase more arguing voices rose to meet her. Though there was more of a sense of decorum and discussion to these voices there was still an undeniable note of tension as though they were one person speaking out of turn away from becoming a riot.
“-maintain that Dark Archon Nittelaus has not been perceived as any kind of hero for aeons and thus the identifier of False Hero cannot be connected to him.”
As Fran further descended she got a look around the room. There was a circle of ten seats around an important looking table. Each of the seats was occupied by a delve in an elegant chainmail robe, each with embellishments in slightly different shades of brown and grey. Aside from them there were a number of delve clustered around the outside of the circle, whispering to one another, taking notes or otherwise fixated on the scene at the centre.
“Do we need to remind you that Nittelaus has fathered an entire race of beings that revere and respect him?”
Ginger was sat on the table, clutching her satchel close to her chest and looking absolutely furious. She stood out like a shaved paw here in this hall of delve sorcerers with their muted palettes and desperate congeniality.
“The orcs have no concept of heroes neither true nor false. The label simply-”
“Fran! It’s so good to see you.” Ginger blurted out the moment she spotted Franchesca. “These guys are all complete idiots. They don’t get it AT ALL, and now they won’t let me leave because they think my special scroll actually belongs to them.”
There was a murmuring amongst the delve as their attention turned to Fran, who was once again questioning the wisdom of accepting The Baker’s offer. “Hi, yeah, once again sorry about this one. I’m sure its a misunderstanding and I’ll just get her out of your fur, so to speak.”
One of the delve smiled and took a step towards Fran. “Its so good to meet you, Fran, was it?” Fran nodded, “I’m Grint Hilfi, fifth seat of the Undershapers.” Grint seemed to wait for this to produce some kind of reaction. The only real reaction it got was Ginger sighing loudly and bashing her head against her satchel. Resignedly Grint continued: “Your um, child here has gotten hold of a powerful magical document of some description.”
“Its a prophecy. None of us are in disagreement that it is a prophecy. You can just say prophecy.”
“And, you know kids, they don’t necessarily know the importance of the things they find. She’s convinced its something to do with her own quest or something. We’re perfectly willing to craft her a little play pretend for her own adventures, but she’s just unwilling to listen to us. Perhaps you could help?” Grint asked.
“This is so stupid.” Ginger bemoaned, face first in her satchel. “I don’t know why I thought any natives would be able to help. They’re like ants. They have no concept of the big picture. They just don’t get it. They never could. This was a complete waste of my time.”
Fran hesitated. This wasn’t the kind of adventure she was used to. She was used to knowing who your foes were, and crossing swords with them while the fate of reality itself hung in the balance. This on the other hand was - what was this? Negotiating a disagreement between a stroppy teen and a bickering council of entitled assholes?
“Look, I don’t love her attitude either but its her prophecy? Right? It was a prophecy right?” Numerous nodding of heads from around the room. “She knows what she’s doing,” allegedly Fran added in the privacy of her own head, “and I’d presume that we need to get out there and do it.”
As soon as Fran finished speaking there was a cacophony of responses. The most common sentiment being a general expression of disbelief that this girl could actually be the subject of a prophecy. As the argument continued Fran saw Ginger’s face twist into a scowl and her grip on her satchel tighten.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Fran murmured and stepped towards the circle of seats with Ginger at the centre. She stepped face first into an invisible wall. She sighed and felt for the border of the wall, as expected it seemed to continue in a circle around that entire area. It was with some reluctance that she drew her greatsword Phaetix from its scabbard, but at the same time she felt some gratitude that finally had some more direction than she’d had a few minutes ago.
“Excuse me!” Fran cried out. “Ahem.” she tried again. “Can I have your attention?” A third time with no attention and so she just started swinging at the invisible wall before her. It was a longshot that she’d be able to break through a magical barrier with physical strength, but it had to be worth trying that before she started having to threaten the numerous delve still clustered out here despite everything. It didn’t seem particularly effective at breaking, weakening the wall, but her screaming and swinging did seem to be getting everyone’s attention.
“Let her out of there right now and things don’t have to get worse. I don’t need to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but we have to leave.” Fran’s voice dripped with desperation. She wished she’d stuck to walking around this quaint little town. That had been so lovely, how had things gotten this irrevocably out of hand so quickly?
There was a low murmuring from the gathered delve as, she presumed, they were trying to weigh up how legitimate her threats were against how easily she’d be contained by whatever magic had trapped Ginger. Then the pounding of little feet on stairs.
“Something’s coming!” The figure hurrying down the stairs cried. “The Crypt of Elyss has been breached and there’s-” They paused to glance down at a hurriedly written description, “an enormous rainbow serpent consuming everything in its path.”
“There’s a what?!” Grint demanded. “There was never any mention of such a creature in the old documents about the crypt. What of the Rotted Titan?”
The newcomer shook their head. “It got et.” Pause. “A-apparently.”
“This is it!” one of the Undershapers proclaimed. “This is the end. We need that prophecy right now. We’ve tolerated this brat longer than is necessary, and especially now she’s set her thug on us…”
It was around about this time in the chaos that Ginger was pulling on Fran’s arm and gesturing up the stairs. “How-?” Fran started but quickly silenced herself and followed the girl back up to the main floor and out of the mages guild. They weren’t exactly blending in, but thanks to the chaos nobody seemed to even notice until they were outside whereupon there was suddenly the sound of much jeering and delve hurriedly mobilizing.
“We need to get out of this city fast.” Ginger said. “Any suggestions?”
“I can get us passage on a boat heading to somewhere called The Fangs.” Fran said.
“Ooh a sailing adventure.” Ginger said with a sudden grin on her lips. “Lead the way, Fran.”
Many of them only wanted to make small talk about the celebration of the season, or else the poor health of Archon Kialrycryss, who Fran would quickly learn was the progenitor of the lizard creatures who called themselves the Delve. A couple of them offered her quests and Fran found she didn’t really have the heart to turn them down. She ended up running back and forth across the city delivering spell scrolls, magic lacquers, jars full of candies, lost love letters, mysterious locked crates, and so on.
All this running around gave her more of an idea of the city itself. The prominent building up on the rise was the Sanctum of the Archon Kialrycryss. While standing outside the walls, handing over a chest full of loose reagents, she had been able to hear the deep rasping breaths of the Archon herself, unsettlingly loud and worryingly laboured.
She learned that the docks led not to the ocean but to an underground system of rivers running beneath the continent. She’d had to make a couple of deliveries in the area and had noticed that it seemed to be the most diversely populated location in the entire city. Amongst the furless of their varying shapes and colours Fran ran into a small crew of humanoid hyenas, red pandas and even a fox or two. They enlisted her aid in dealing with an infestation of barnabolds and were keen to offer her passage to the Fangs as thanks for her aid. It was around about that point when Fran figured she really ought to go and see what was happening with Ginger.
The Mages Guild that Ginger had run off to was the centrepoint of what the delve referred to as the Shapers District. The tower, which remained mysteriously but helpfully highlighted by the helpful guard from earlier, was surrounded by other smaller buildings where delve were offering training in various skills, some mundane, some strange and mysterious. Fran slowed her pace, not especially eager to interrupt whatever ‘private matter’ Ginger had with the mages of this world, but still eventually found herself at the entrance to the Mages Guild and so pressed on.
Inside the place was in chaos. There were large throngs of people, mostly delve with a couple of other furless amongst them, clustered around each other arguing loudly about something or other. Something about a hero? Or a false hero? Others were hurrying up and down staircases, some were hunched over papers muttering to themselves. It was all much more lively than anywhere Fran had seen so far, and she couldn’t help but worry that this was somehow Ginger’s doing. This was all but confirmed by the weary look that the delve on reception gave at her description.
“Downstairs.” They said. “Undershapers’ chambers.”
“Thank you, and um, sorry about any trouble she might have caused.” Fran said with as much sincerity as she could muster for an apology she knew wouldn’t be sufficient on behalf of someone who wouldn’t likely even be regretful.
As she descended the staircase more arguing voices rose to meet her. Though there was more of a sense of decorum and discussion to these voices there was still an undeniable note of tension as though they were one person speaking out of turn away from becoming a riot.
“-maintain that Dark Archon Nittelaus has not been perceived as any kind of hero for aeons and thus the identifier of False Hero cannot be connected to him.”
As Fran further descended she got a look around the room. There was a circle of ten seats around an important looking table. Each of the seats was occupied by a delve in an elegant chainmail robe, each with embellishments in slightly different shades of brown and grey. Aside from them there were a number of delve clustered around the outside of the circle, whispering to one another, taking notes or otherwise fixated on the scene at the centre.
“Do we need to remind you that Nittelaus has fathered an entire race of beings that revere and respect him?”
Ginger was sat on the table, clutching her satchel close to her chest and looking absolutely furious. She stood out like a shaved paw here in this hall of delve sorcerers with their muted palettes and desperate congeniality.
“The orcs have no concept of heroes neither true nor false. The label simply-”
“Fran! It’s so good to see you.” Ginger blurted out the moment she spotted Franchesca. “These guys are all complete idiots. They don’t get it AT ALL, and now they won’t let me leave because they think my special scroll actually belongs to them.”
There was a murmuring amongst the delve as their attention turned to Fran, who was once again questioning the wisdom of accepting The Baker’s offer. “Hi, yeah, once again sorry about this one. I’m sure its a misunderstanding and I’ll just get her out of your fur, so to speak.”
One of the delve smiled and took a step towards Fran. “Its so good to meet you, Fran, was it?” Fran nodded, “I’m Grint Hilfi, fifth seat of the Undershapers.” Grint seemed to wait for this to produce some kind of reaction. The only real reaction it got was Ginger sighing loudly and bashing her head against her satchel. Resignedly Grint continued: “Your um, child here has gotten hold of a powerful magical document of some description.”
“Its a prophecy. None of us are in disagreement that it is a prophecy. You can just say prophecy.”
“And, you know kids, they don’t necessarily know the importance of the things they find. She’s convinced its something to do with her own quest or something. We’re perfectly willing to craft her a little play pretend for her own adventures, but she’s just unwilling to listen to us. Perhaps you could help?” Grint asked.
“This is so stupid.” Ginger bemoaned, face first in her satchel. “I don’t know why I thought any natives would be able to help. They’re like ants. They have no concept of the big picture. They just don’t get it. They never could. This was a complete waste of my time.”
Fran hesitated. This wasn’t the kind of adventure she was used to. She was used to knowing who your foes were, and crossing swords with them while the fate of reality itself hung in the balance. This on the other hand was - what was this? Negotiating a disagreement between a stroppy teen and a bickering council of entitled assholes?
“Look, I don’t love her attitude either but its her prophecy? Right? It was a prophecy right?” Numerous nodding of heads from around the room. “She knows what she’s doing,” allegedly Fran added in the privacy of her own head, “and I’d presume that we need to get out there and do it.”
As soon as Fran finished speaking there was a cacophony of responses. The most common sentiment being a general expression of disbelief that this girl could actually be the subject of a prophecy. As the argument continued Fran saw Ginger’s face twist into a scowl and her grip on her satchel tighten.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Fran murmured and stepped towards the circle of seats with Ginger at the centre. She stepped face first into an invisible wall. She sighed and felt for the border of the wall, as expected it seemed to continue in a circle around that entire area. It was with some reluctance that she drew her greatsword Phaetix from its scabbard, but at the same time she felt some gratitude that finally had some more direction than she’d had a few minutes ago.
“Excuse me!” Fran cried out. “Ahem.” she tried again. “Can I have your attention?” A third time with no attention and so she just started swinging at the invisible wall before her. It was a longshot that she’d be able to break through a magical barrier with physical strength, but it had to be worth trying that before she started having to threaten the numerous delve still clustered out here despite everything. It didn’t seem particularly effective at breaking, weakening the wall, but her screaming and swinging did seem to be getting everyone’s attention.
“Let her out of there right now and things don’t have to get worse. I don’t need to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but we have to leave.” Fran’s voice dripped with desperation. She wished she’d stuck to walking around this quaint little town. That had been so lovely, how had things gotten this irrevocably out of hand so quickly?
There was a low murmuring from the gathered delve as, she presumed, they were trying to weigh up how legitimate her threats were against how easily she’d be contained by whatever magic had trapped Ginger. Then the pounding of little feet on stairs.
“Something’s coming!” The figure hurrying down the stairs cried. “The Crypt of Elyss has been breached and there’s-” They paused to glance down at a hurriedly written description, “an enormous rainbow serpent consuming everything in its path.”
“There’s a what?!” Grint demanded. “There was never any mention of such a creature in the old documents about the crypt. What of the Rotted Titan?”
The newcomer shook their head. “It got et.” Pause. “A-apparently.”
“This is it!” one of the Undershapers proclaimed. “This is the end. We need that prophecy right now. We’ve tolerated this brat longer than is necessary, and especially now she’s set her thug on us…”
It was around about this time in the chaos that Ginger was pulling on Fran’s arm and gesturing up the stairs. “How-?” Fran started but quickly silenced herself and followed the girl back up to the main floor and out of the mages guild. They weren’t exactly blending in, but thanks to the chaos nobody seemed to even notice until they were outside whereupon there was suddenly the sound of much jeering and delve hurriedly mobilizing.
“We need to get out of this city fast.” Ginger said. “Any suggestions?”
“I can get us passage on a boat heading to somewhere called The Fangs.” Fran said.
“Ooh a sailing adventure.” Ginger said with a sudden grin on her lips. “Lead the way, Fran.”
Telephone | Born This Way | Bad Kids | Teeth
Paper Gangsta | Sour Candy | Bad Romance | Bloody Mary | Just Dance | The Edge of Glory
Paper Gangsta | Sour Candy | Bad Romance | Bloody Mary | Just Dance | The Edge of Glory