Chapter 89: The Followers’ Grudge

Popodollus was a legendary player who lived centuries ago. Now a days he could be termed a “Deadly Solo”, but in truth he did spend ample time with other guilds. Popodollus or “Pop” as he was nicknamed, managed to achieve 15 contract marks by the time he was 50 years old. This was a feat unheard before as the first Over Powered players who had earned ten marks had been an accomplishment only managed some decades before his spawning.

So, what made him legendary beyond his fifteen contract marks? None other than his ability to use both opposing forms of magic. Popodollus was not a fighter, but a mage. Once a century a player comes around who is able to sign and use both magics. Most players never attempt Mage II after Mage I, and vise versa, as the changes they can use both is one in a million, and could severely hinder their progress as they spend an entire year practically neutered as they await for their contract period to end. Popodollus was likely consulted by his Advisor to not sign for Mage I, but it is well the player disregarded this advice. Within fifteen years of that decision, he was the only player who could use both opposing forms of magic, essentially making him Esem’s stronger player for his time period.

His ability to use both opposing forms of magic meant that he could simultaneously attack and defend. Whilst casting a fireball learned from his Pyromancer class, he could also summon a Healing Whirlwind about himself and others. This would make him essentially invincible, just as many of his other spell combos did the same. Most guilds will have both Mage I members as well as Mage II members, but Popodollus was a guild unto himself. His exploits and deeds are legendary and it was not until he was an old man that he was finally defeated. Of course, that battle has been shrouded in myth and the details are not clear. It is the opinion of this Historian that Popodollus forfeited the battle, and was never actually defeated.

Truth aside, what remains true is the power of such players who can use both forms of magic. Their power and their might is unequaled. It is known that their occurrence only happens about once every 100 years. The name we give to them is simple, yet is synonymous with ultimate power:

Duel Mage

-The First Solo, Biography of Popodollus the Mighty, by Sig the Saggy, Circa SD1750

Chase sighted down the shaft of his arrow, aiming right for Markon’s head.

“Bye bye,” he muttered.

He let fly.

“Pesky archer,” said Markon as the arrow bounced off his forehead. It broke into pieces and fell on the ground before him. Astor Briggs giggled manically and Ethan shook his head. “At a certain level I don’t even need to dodge such things. My Defense is too high for such nonsense.”

“You should have aimed for Astor,” said Ethan the Incorrigible. He had a small flame in the palm of his hand.

“Hey!” Said Astor, rounding on the older man.

“He’s right,” rumbled Markon. “You’ve wasted your only shot it seems.”

“But I won’t!” Snarled Astor. Suddenly, from behind his back, he drew a cross bow loaded and ready to fire. Markon began to raise a hand to stop his inferior but it was too late. Astor screamed as he madly pulled the lever on the cross bow.

Whump!

Chase heard it before he felt it, but suddenly the world turned upside and he was on his back, the crossbow bolt lodged in his right shoulder.

Immediately the Banes fell about Chase.

“Chase!” Said Thomas. “Are you okay?”

“Ouch,” hissed Chase. He glanced at the bolt protruding out of his shoulder.

“Oh man,” said Brent. “This isn’t good. There’s blood everywhere!”

Sure enough Chase felt the blood soaking into his shirt, a dark stain growing around his shoulder.

“Alex,” said Amelie calmly. “Can you take it out?”

“Um, yeah,” said Alex. He grabbed the bolt with his thick fingers.

“AH!” Screamed Chase, and Alex let go. “Ease up!”

“We have to do it, Chase,” said Amelie. Despite the others there was a look of grim calm about her. As though she had been expecting such an attack.

Chase could hear Markon chastising Astor.

“You’re an idiot,” shouted Markon. Then the sound of a thud as the big man struck Astor. “We can’t kill them yet, you fool. What’s gotten into you?”

“Sorry, boss,” said Astor. “It’s just that you said—.”

“Forget what I said!” Roared Markon. Another thud, and Astor cried out in pain. “Now get up, or I’ll kill you myself. We only brought you along as a courtesy to Xemnara. Me and Ethan can deal with them ourselves.”

“Ok, ok,” said Astor quickly.

“One, two, three!” Said Amelie.

Alex ripped the bolt from Chase’s shoulder, and he felt as though it was his heart and not an arrow being torn from his self. The sound of tearing flesh echoed through his mind and he had a vision of a piece of cured leather being torn in two.

“WHAT THE—,” screamed Chase. He gasped and thrashed in pain. Suddenly he felt Amelie’s hands on his shoulder where the bolt had been.

Light came from her hands like she was shielding a candle from the wind. The pain steadily decreased and instead of a torn piece of leather in his mind Chase envisioned the sea shaping the coast line into a gentle beach.

“All done,” said Amelie, removing her hands. The blood remained but there was no trace of a mark anywhere.

“Thanks,” muttered Chase. His head was still spinning but the memory of the pain remained.

“Not bad,” said a voice. Chase looked up to see Markon towering over them all, his henchmen to either side. “You’ve got a gift, girl. Those bolts are tipped in poison. Likely why it hurt so bad, eh?”

“Incredible,” said Ethan, his eyes wide and his head cocked curiously to the side. “I see now why Lady Xemnara wanted to recruit you so badly. You indeed have the makings of a powerful mage.”

For the first time, perhaps ever in her life, Amelie spit on the ground and said some words that shocked even Chase.

Markon chuckled and then shook his head.

“That’s the spirit,” said Markon. “Now, since the crisis it adverted, I suggest you all stand up. We don’t have all day.”

Despite themselves the guild did as they were told. Alex and Brent hefted Chase to his feet and soon the entire guild was standing shoulder to shoulder. Marlon, likely still under the effects of whatever he had been drinking, was looking back and forth from the Banes to the Followers as though wondering whether it was real or not. Alex, Chase saw, stood grimly at attention like a soldier about to be court-martialed. Brent likewise looked more angry than scared, and Claire had a hand on Thomas’ shoulder as the young boy stared at his feet.

“Drop em,” said Ethan, a flame still in his hand.

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The three Fighters cast their swords on the ground.

“How did you know where we were?” Said Chase.

“Yes,” said Markon, nodding his head. “You’re probably curious. That guild of yours-what were they? The Hard Won something?-they did quite the job protecting you from us. We nearly lost you when you got to the forest. Suffice to say our new abilities came in handy locating you. Astor here even saw you enter this place. What is it? A repurposed goblin fort? From there it was a simple matter getting inside.”

“Knock knock,” snickered Astor.

“Could have done just that,” said Chase dryly. “And what happens now? More baseball?”

“No,” said Markon. “Nothing so stupid this time. We are doing this my way.”

Markon then drew a gold coin from his pocket and held it up for all to see.

“If just one of you can take this coin away from me I will let you all live. When you fail, the rules we are sworn to by Xemnara will be fulfilled, and we will kill each of you.”

“Pretty ridiculous that you have to do that,” said Thomas. He sounded like he was trying to sound casual but the nervousness seeped into his voice.

“Only for now,” said Markon. “You first, little boy.”

Markon stepped before Thomas and had to kneel on one leg due to the height difference. He opened his palm to reveal the gold coin. Thomas stared at it, switching his gaze between the coin in Markon’s hand to Markon’s face, and back again several times.

“Well?” Said Markon.

Thomas pointed a finger to the entrance.

“What’s that?!”

Markon sighed, shaking his head.

“Not good enough, boy. Take the coin.”

Thomas stared at Markon, shuffling his feet on the ground.

“What if I don’t?”

“Don’t?”

“Yeah,” said Thomas, a mischievous look coming over his face. “Does that mean you can’t kill us?”

“No,” said Markon with a snort. “It means you give up and I’ll kill you anyway.”

“Ah, well, in that case.”

Thomas lunged for the coin, but Markon’s hand became a blur as he snatched it away.

Astor clapped his hands and laughed, his voice reaching a register usually reserved for birds.

“All right!” Said Astor. “He drew his sword. I’ll do the honors, Markon.”

“No,” said the big man, raising a hand. “Once they are all done we kill them, not before. Lady Xemnara’s orders.”

“But that’s…ridiculous,” Sid Astor lamely, lowering his blade. “Surely we can kill them one at a time after the coin thing?”

“Listen to Markon,” said Ethan. “He knows what he is doing. And I assume you are not calling the Lady ridiculous?”

“What? Me?” Spluttered Astor. “No, no! I just thought—.”

“Silence!” roared Markon. “Next.”

Claire waited patiently as Markon got to his feet and stood before her. He opened his palm again, gold coin shining in the light. Instead of grabbing it immediately or saying a word she merely stared at it, looking unimpressed.

“I can wait all day,” began Markon. “But—.”

Claire’s hand flew, but the big man was far faster. He closed his palm and dropped it to the side in the blink of an eye, a small smile on his face.

“That makes two,” he chuckled. He looked to the next of the Banes in line. “Brent was it?”

“Yeah,” said Brent. “You know, I was really hoping for some baseball again.”

“Really? You seemed to really love getting beat up last time.”

“Beat up? Your throws were barely hurting me,” said Brent defensively.

“Right, lad,” said Markon, and the two Followers behind him chuckled. “Whatever you say. Think you are fast enough to take this coin?”

Brent shot his arm out, and managed to slap Markon’s large hand just as it turned into a fist. The big man’s eyes widened but the coin remained safely in his fist.

“Getting better,” said Markon. “Close but no home run.”

“Guess it’s up to me,” said Marlon. He puffed his chest out gave his hand a couple practice movements. “Just so you know, young man, I am the fastest potion maker in Avalon.”

“I’m sure that will help you, old man,” said Markon sarcastically.

“The name is Marlon,” bristled Marlon. “See you remember it.”

Instead of responding Markon gave him a withering look at opened up his palm. Marlon blinked at it several times, then squinted, then looked up at the sky. His eyes widened.

“What is that…” muttered Marlon in awe.

“The lad already tried that, fool,” said Markon, disdain filling his voice. “It didn’t work before. Or do you all think I’m some lumbering idiot?”

“Markon is really clever, actually,” said Astor excitedly. “His IQ is over 145!”

“Shut up, Astor!” Said Markon through his teeth. “I don’t like people knowing about that.”

Astor Briggs is acting really strangely around this bunch, thought Chase. Where was the cool, calm, and collected killer they had spoken to back in Birchtown? Perhaps being around such powerful players made the sternest of men into quivering sycophants.

The rebuttal from Markon seemed to break the tension in the air, and the entire guild laughed.

“What a kiss ass!” Said Thomas, slapping his leg as he giggled.

“Thomas don’t say that word,” said Amelie, but she was having trouble keeping herself together as well.

“My dear,” said Marlon, chuckling along with the rest of them. “How embarrassing.”

“Silence!” Roared Markon, then he looked behind him and gave Ethan, who was covering his mouth as he shook with laughter, a stare which caused him to cease his mirth and clear his throat.

“Now, old man. Do it.”

Marlon sighed and then, slowly, began to move his hand. His hand crept through the air towards Markon’s waiting palm. Markon cocked an eyebrow, and then, just as Marlon’s hand was an inch from the coin, slowly closed his hand into a fist.

“Unique, to say the least,” said Marlon, shaking his head.

“My turn,” said Amelie brightly. Then she seemed to remember what the game was about and her shoulders sunk. “Do you really have to do this to us?”

“Yes,” said Markon. “You were not meant to escape Lady Xemnara in the inn. And had that false god AION not intervened this would have been done with weeks ago.”

“Still, couldn’t you find it in your heart to let us go?”

“Making an appeal to my better nature, huh? Haven’t heard that in a while.”

“Surely you weren’t always like this,” said Amelie. “Why did you choose to side with Lady Xemnara?”

“Because I saw the light, Amelie,” said Markon, but for some reason he looked uneasy speaking to her. “Ok, you know the rules. If you can take the coin from my hand, you and your guild will live.”

“Rules are for games, this is simply murder.”

“Not according to the laws which your god made,” said Markon with a dark smirk.

Amelie shook her head and then nodded that she was ready. Markon opened his hand. Despite trying her hardest, her speed was nothing even compared to Thomas, and Markon easily kept the coin despite her attempt.

“Too bad,” said Astor with a sneer. “Now it’s the fat boys turn.”

Alex didn’t say a word to Astor’s comment, but instead scowled at Markon as the big man positioned himself. Alex was large, but Markon, what with his extra height and added muscle mass was much larger than Alex. Despite this, Alex still came up to his chin and was the only one capable of nearly looking him in the eyes.

Markon did not speak a word, merely held the coin in his palm, returning Alex’s stare, both their faces tense.

“Hah!” Markon tore his away just as Alex nearly grabbed it. Chase heard the clink of the coin as his friend’s hand brushed it, but still the coin remained firmly in it’s owners grasp.

“That was close, Alex,” said Chase, standing beside him. Once again he marveled at the boys athletic ability despite his girth. He wished that they had had more time to train and really see what his young guild could be capable of.

“But not close enough, it seems,” said Markon. “You almost had it, boy. Now all we got left if your glorious leader.”

Markon now stood before Chase, glaring at him with the rage a bull might at a red piece of cloth. For a moment Chase even thought that his nostrils flared and some wind strong enough for him to feel touched his face. Markon turned his head slightly to look at the others who had already lost.

“I bet you all are wondering what kind of trick your guild leader is gonna pull to save you all.”

The others did not say a word, and most did not look at him, but Chase saw some of them tense up as he spoke.

“What will Chase do, eh?” Continued Markon with a small laugh. “Usually in the stories it’s about this time the leader pulls some stunt and gets out of trouble. You strike me as a wild card, Chase. Have any plans? At least give me your last words.”

Chase said, “If you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”

Markon looked confused, and then threw back his head and laughed. After a moment Astor joined him with a cackle despite looking confused, and Ethan merely shook his head slightly. Markon finally stopped laughing but had to wipe a tear from his eye as he calmed down.

“Funny,” said Markon, breathing heavily. “I didn’t take you for a student of history.”

“Oh, I love to read books about the past,” said Chase with a shrug. He didn’t look at the others but he was sure they were frowning themselves over his statement.

“Astor!” Said Markon, slightly turning his head towards his minion yet never taking his eyes off Chase. “Where is that quote from?”

“Um, uh,” Astor’s mouth dropped and he spluttered some words. “It’s from a play, maybe?”

“Well you laughed, you fool,” said Markon. “That was a memory of the Old World. Cyrus the Cynical would say it before every duel he ever fought.”

“Strange thing to say,” said Astor.

“It was his memory of the Old World,” said Ethen. He crossed his arms, and did not seemed humored at all. “He spawned with just those words rattling around his head.”

“He was a fine warrior,” said Markon, nodding his head. “I used to study him for the—HEY!”

Chase lunged for the coin. The big fool had absentmindedly opened his fingers as he was talking, and the golden light had been winking at him like a woman from across a bar. Chase’s hand found Markon’s palm like a snake, and he felt the cool metal pressed against his own. Unfortunately, such was his speed and desperation that Chase tripped, falling into Markon. They both tumbled to the ground.

“What the-! Get off me!” Said Markon, pushing Chase away.

Chase was on his back, his right fist clenched in defiance.

The Guild cheered, and Alex dragged him to his feet, slapping him on the back.

“Well done!” Said Alex, beaming at him.

“I knew you had a plan!” Said Thomas, grinning. “Show us the coin.

“Um,” said Chase.

Markon cleared his throat, and collectively Chase felt the worse sense of dread imaginable with his guild as they turned to look at the hulking man. He had his hand up, and pinched between two fingers was the gold coin, shining in the afternoon sun.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Markon. His grin seemed to stretch to the edges of his face and he appeared to be an apparition, his smile splitting his face with terrible ecstasy. “You all fail.”