In the country of Palria, there is no sport more popular than Battlemage duels: magical fights held in great arenas. Battlemages can amass great wealth and fame by joining in tournaments and rising the ranks of the Battlemage Association. One of the most popular tournaments is known as the Dragonfire Matches. It starts very soon, but to choose the eight lucky mages who will compete, a trial is being held first.
Rising above a great mist-shrouded lake, Mount Dragontooth is not the tallest peak in Palria, but it is one of its most scenic. However, a ferocious battle will take place there tomorrow - and the competitors are gathering in a town near its base. The rules are simple: starting at dawn, a race to the top of Mount Dragontooth will begin. The first eight to reach the peak will be entered into the matches.
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"No one will stand a chance against me!"
"I'll get to the top of that mountain before anyone else!"
"You won’t even get halfway! I took mountain-climbing classes for months!"
Excitement crackled through the air like electricity. On the outskirts of a small town, there was a large tent. A long, long line of people winded up to it. It was where you could register for tomorrow’s competition, and there were a good hundred waiting to sign themselves up. Everyone here wore traditional mage's garb, colorful robes and cloaks stamped with clan sigils.
Dressed finest of all, however, was a dark-skinned girl near the front of the line. Embroidered on the back of her long, fur-lined jacket was a golden phoenix perched on an olive branch - a symbol anyone in Palria would recognize as the Anatole family crest. Anatole was a name that brought to mind one thing: power. Power in politics, power in industry, and power in magic. For as long as Palria had existed, the family of fire mages had always found themselves in high places.
"There seem to be a lot of newcomers, huh Iris?"
Her nose had been buried in a book, but upon hearing her name, the girl glanced back. Behind her was Jaida, a girl her father had hired to be her travelling assistant - he had insisted on finding a female for the job. It was a poor decision, she thought. Jaida could barely carry around one bag, let alone the four Iris had packed for the trip.
"I've noticed that too." she said, turning back to the page she had been on. "Figures."
"Figures how?" Jaida asked, her voice becoming taut with effort as she took a few steps forward - she was buckling under the weight of Iris's luggage.
Iris flicked to the next page, reading as she spoke. "There's no real qualifications to compete beyond being signed with the Battlemage Association. Who gets in isn't based on previous history in the arena, or qualifying duels, or anything like that. It's based on what almost amounts to a game of chance. Hypothetically, anyone could win - and if you do win, you immediately step into one of the biggest spotlights Palria has to offer. Careers have been launched off of the Dragonfire Matches."
"Oh. Huh." In the corner of her eye, Iris could see Jaida nod her head. But it was easy to tell she didn't really get it.
"What I'm saying is... there's nothing to lose and everything to gain."
"No, I got that." the girl said. "But how is it a game of chance? I mean, it's a race up the mountain, right? Fastest wins? Or, uh, best climber?"
That almost made Iris laugh.
"Physical skill's important, but so is magical skill, considering you could use spells to get a leg up, and there'll be people trying to stop you from making progress. Where you start and the route you take is important, too, and so is the weather, and how active the wildlife are that day, and if people decide to target you, or if a fight starts and you get caught in the crossfire. Obviously you can employ strategy, but there's so many factors to consider that it's virtually optional."
"If it's optional..." Jaida pointed forward. "Then why are you hiring her?"
Her finger was aimed at a short woman standing in front of Iris, whose tan face was so marked with age it almost looked like old leather. Her many years had given her a hunched over posture, and she supported her ancient bones with a wooden cane.
Iris rolled her eyes. "Optional doesn't mean negligible, and a guide's the most useful thing you can get."
"Are you sure you're even allowed to bring help?" Jaida asked. "I mean, aren't non-competitors banned from even going on the mountain? And I mean... I'm sorry I keep bringing this up, but she's a little old lady..."
Iris shut her book.
"Have you been paying attention to me at all? Yes, non-competitors are banned. Signing her up is why we're in this line. And yes she's old, we're not looking for a mountain climber, we're looking for someone who knows the shortest route to the peak. Now do you have any more questions, or can I get back to my book?"
That shut Jaida up. Iris let herself relax again, flipping her book back open like nothing had happened. Father said she had no fire in her, but she did - it just took certain sparks to light. And someone asking constant, annoying, stupid questions was one of those sparks.
Oh well. It couldn't be helped, she supposed. Jaida was a simple commoner, just like everybody else in this line and in that town. Couldn't blame her for not understanding. Tomorrow, she'd be standing over them all... but in a way, she already was, wasn't she? The thought brought a slight smile to her face, but only for a second.
"Before I forget." Iris said, her voice back to its usual monotone. "You're gonna have to take all those fliers down when we get back, alright?"
"But I posted up, like, a hundred of those things!"
Iris turned to the next page, burying her face in her book again. "Well, that sounds like your problem."
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THE FIRE MAGE, IRIS ANATOLE
Age: 19
Classification: Elemental mage specializing in fire magic
Strengths: Using her abilities in unexpected ways, redirecting opponent's attacks
Weaknesses: Overrelies on tricks
Favorite kind of book: Romance novels, but don't tell anybody
Relaxed, bookish, and highly intelligent, Iris is everything a fire mage isn't. Still, she's number one ranked in her class thanks to her unique techniques and quick thinking - not to mention the first class training she recieved thanks to her wealthy family. Tends to think quite highly of herself, and has some triggers that break through her normally calm disposition.
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Bustle and chatter filled the unpaved streets. On a normal day, there were around ten people going about their business. But tonight, dozens and dozens had flooded into the town, all here for one reason: the competition starting tomorrow morning. While most were just there to watch, many were hopeful participants - and some wanted to make a buck off of them both.
"Where do you get off charging prices like these?!"
Angry, shouted words cut through the noise, drawing the attention of a small crowd. Two people were standing off: a bald, burly mountain of a man, and a small, hooded figure wearing a stark white plague doctor's mask. The shorter was behind a small desk inside one of the many pop-up market stalls that lined the road, cowering at the man's curses. Her table was stocked with rows of jars and bottles, each one a different size and shape, all of them filled with colorful fluids.
"Sir, you're the one who drank it before paying..." the potion mixer whimpered, voice tinged with an odd accent. Those who hadn't been watching from the beginning began to understand the situation.
The man's face contorted with rage. Before the potion mixer could even react, he lunged forward and wrapped his thick fingers around her neck. Potion bottles were knocked aside in the struggle, crashing to the ground as the smaller one fought against his tight grip. She managed to hook her fingers around the man's hands, but forcing them open was impossible.
"H-help me!!" the potion mixer choked out, barely managing to squeeze the breath through her throat. Some people in the now-growing crowd yelled out to try and get him to stop, but none dared engage the giant - that was, until a young man wandered up.
"No way..."
"Is that...?"
"Yeah, that's him!"
Like the potion mixer, he kept his face hidden, but under a dark blue cloak instead of a mask. Still, some recognized him, parting to make way. Soon no one stood between him and the two struggling figures.
"Hey!" the young man called out. At the sound of his voice, both the man's and the girl's eyes turned to him. "If you want to pick a fight..."
He tossed his hood down, revealing a wide white grin spread across his face. His curly, icy blonde hair bounced free, and his eyes were bright arctic blue to match.
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"I'm always game!"
Those who hadn't recognized him before did now... the big guy, however, had no clue who he was. He let go of the potion mixer, stalking over to the blue-cloaked fellow. He had a good head's worth of height on him, but the blonde didn't back down and his grin didn't fade.
"You want to go?" the man growled, shoving the newcomer. He still didn't budge. "Huh, you want to go?"
"Yeah!" he replied cheerfully. "I mean, you don't seem like much of a fight, but if it'll keep you off that poor little potion girl..."
Sneering, the man twisted his head from side to side - *crack, crack!* At the same time, smoke began to waft off his arms. "You think you're tough, huh?" he took a fighting stance, body low, arms wide. He was certainly a Battlemage, and from the looks of it, a powerful one too.
"I think a lot of people do." the blonde scratched his chin, one arm propped on the other in mock contemplation. "I mean, these guys here seem to know who I am. Not you, though!"
Everything he said made the big guy angrier and angrier... this tiny kid was mocking him! His fury grew until it burst inside him - he threw a fire-charged punch at the young man, aimed square at his jaw. If it had landed, it would've knocked it right off his grinning face.
If it had.
In the split second the man's fist was actually moving, the blue-cloaked mage had swung his arm up. Faster than the winds of a blizzard, water in the air crystalized into a large spike of ice that burst forward, growing from the ground. It's purposely dull end crashed into the man's chest with the force of a dozen cannonballs, flinging him into the air like a ragdoll - he sailed over the potion tent and right out of sight. The crowd burst into whoas and awws, some instinctively backing up at the display of magical power.
Raising his hand up to his lips, the blonde blew away a layer of icy fog that had coalesced around it.
"Boom!" he said. "I don't think he'll be getting up from that for a while."
Now that the action seemed to be over, people were beginning to disperse. The young man was prepared to walk away with them, but then he saw the potion mixer rubbing her throat. Red and blue bruises wrapped around it in a ring.
"Hey!" he called out to her, walking up to her table. The girl seemed to recoil at first, but when she realized who it was, she gathered herself quickly. "Need any ice?"
"I..." she coughed. "Yes, I'd appreciate that..."
He held out his closed hand and opened it up. Laying in his palm were a few ice cubes, which the potion mixer took eagerly. Though her mask obscured her eyes, the young man could tell she was studying him.
"My name's Tobias." he said, trying to cool her nerves. "Need any help cleaning up?" he asked, gesturing to the ground. Shattered glass and spilled potions covered it. "I can give you money to cover the cost of those, if you want."
"No, no, you've helped me enough." the potion mixer said weakly, rubbing the ice on her neck. "Thank you so much... take any potion you want, please, please!"
"I don't really need any potions. But if you want to help me out..."
Tobias reached into his cloak, pulling out a rolled up sheet of paper. He unfurled it and displayed it to the girl - at first glance, she thought it was a wanted poster, the kind that would be distributed if a criminal was on the loose. But closer inspection showed it to be a "help wanted" instead. In the center was a sketch of a pretty girl with dark skin, and the top and bottom were covered with text: MOUNTAIN GUIDE NEEDED. GOOD PAY. SEEK OUT IRIS ANATOLE FOR MORE INFORMATION.
"Seen her around?" he asked.
"Only on those fliers." said the potion mixer. They were all over town, posted up on every wall. "Not in person though."
Tobias's bright smile dimmed, but only for a second. "Damn. Well, good luck with your little shop!"
"Good luck finding that girl."
And, just as abruptly as he had arrived, he was gone.
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THE ICE MAGE, TOBIAS LUCIA
Age: 18
Classification: Elemental mage specializing in ice magic
Strengths: Creating structures and weapons
Weaknesses: Strategy
Favorite food: Baked pasta with lots of cheese
While most ice mages are known to be calm, collected, and cold, the warm, friendly, and somewhat hot-headed prodigy Tobias Lucia is an exception. Despite being the number one ranked mage of his classification, he struggles with finding good work. Always ready for a fight, he's been seeking out a fire mage named Iris for his next duel.
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"Potions! Potions! Rare, valuable potions!"
A few minutes later, the diminutive potion mixer was getting back on her feet. Pain still lingered in her neck, but the ice that guy had given her helped a ton. She needed to make the best of the hour or so she had left - if she wanted to be well-rested for the competition tomorrow, she had to get to bed soon.
"Come on... potions? Any of you want potions?"
Behind her mask, her eyes scanned the crowd. Who here looked like they could use a potion? And more importantly, who looked like they had money to spare?
"You!" she called out, picking a random middle aged man. His clothes seemed nice, so that meant he had to have money, right? "You with the bald spot! I got a potion for that! Wait, why are you walking away?!"
Letting out a sigh, she slumped over her table.
Today had been less than great for business. She had only made a total of three sales, and that was all undone by the man who not only stole a potion, but knocked four more over. That was negative profits, so not really even profits at all, really. Losses, was that the right word?
She shifted in place, rubbing the part of her throat that still felt sore. The baggy black clothes she wore covered every inch of her skin... except for her neck. Of all places to get big ugly bruises, why'd it have to be there? Couldn't be good for business, she thought.
"Hello!"
A cheery voice knocked the girl from her brooding. She glanced up to see that someone was perusing her merchandise, a slim girl in a shimmery green dress. Her black hair was pulled into a bun and she had a small leather knapsack slung over her shoulder.
"A customer!" the potion mixer thought, nearly jumping in joy. But her delight quickly turned to nervousness. "I can't screw this up!"
"My name's Mari." the girl in the green dress said, lifting up a small flask and swishing it around. She watched the milky white fluid roll around inside. "You're Claire, I'm guessing?"
"Oh?"
She was caught off guard... how did this lady know her name? Oh, right, it was on the sign of her tent: Claire's Apothecary. How had she forgotten? She could be real stupid.
"Oh! Yes, Claire. I'm Claire!" she folded her hands together on the table neatly, straightening herself out the best she could. "Ah! I see you have your eyes on my hair potion!"
"Hair potion, huh? What's it do?"
"Well, you massage it into your scalp, and it makes your hair grow out. Perfect for if you get a bad haircut and want a do-over!"
"Interesting!" Mari was smiling, but set the hair potion down.
"Damn..." Claire was shifting into full saleswoman mode now. "Of course she didn't go for the stupid hair potion. I need a show-stopper, not that pedestrian stuff!"
Her mind racing, she grabbed a potion from the table - a thin, glimmery pink fluid kept in a orb-shaped bottle - and held it out like she was displaying a piece of artwork.
"Have a boyfriend?" she asked. The girl shook her head no. "Oh, then I'm sure this will interest you!"
"A love potion?" Mari was taken aback. "Aren't those illegal?"
"Well, uh..." Claire hastily stashed it away in her robe, clearing her throat as she snatched up another potion. "Here, look at this one!"
"What's it do?"
Claire glanced at it. It was cyan-colored and filled with stringy pulp. "Ah, this is a sleeping aid. One sip and you'll be snoring faster than... faster than, err, something that falls asleep very quickly."
"Say, that sounds handy!" the girl reached out and took it, rolling it around in her palm. "And what about all the ones you keep in your robe?"
All those... oh, while she was hiding away the love potion, Mari must've gotten a look inside. Claire laughed anxiously.
"They aren't for sale." she said, spreading one side of her robe open for the girl to see. Rows and rows of colorful, marble-sized orbs were hooked up inside. "These are combat potions, actually."
"Combat potions?" while the girl had already been smiling, her face lit up. "Say, you're a Battlemage then, aren't you!"
Claire nodded yes. This girl seemed nice, but she didn't feel like getting into a conversation... oh, well, if she entertained her for a bit, maybe she'd feel inclined to buy something.
"That's so cool! I'm one too." she set aside the sleep potion and pulled a square of paper from her knapsack. With nimble fingers, she began to fold it. "Here, watch this..."
In a second, the square had been turned into a crane. That alone was far from impressive - Claire could probably do it herself, if she put her mind to it - but to her surprise, the little paper bird flapped its wings and took off. It did loop-de-loops and figure eights in the air, all without the girl moving a muscle.
"Cool, right?" the bird perched on the girl's outstretched hand and began to unfold. "I think I'm the only Battlemage out there who uses paper magic!" she said proudly, tucking the square back in her knapsack.
"I've certainly never seen one before." Claire rubbed her chin. "How does one even weaponize that?"
"Never got a papercut before?" Mari was half-joking, but had a point. Papercuts stung like hell... Claire began to imagine a thousand tiny little ones all over her body. Yikes.
"Well, I think I'll be buying this." the girl started rustling through her knapsack again. "How much for it?"
"Seventy marks." said Claire.
Mari paused, her eyes wide.
"Seventy?"
"Ingredients don't come cheap these days." Claire shrugged.
"I-I see." Mari stared down into her knapsack. "Well, what will... two marks get me?"
Claire disappeared under her table, but came back up with the tiniest bottle Mari had ever seen.
"Here." popping the cork off of the sleep potion, Claire let a few drops drizzle out into the tiny bottle. Then she corked both back up, passing the smaller one over to Mari.
Mari laughed awkwardly as she handed over two worn purple bills.
"Well, thank you..." she dropped the bottle into her knapsack. "Best of luck tomorrow, Claire!"
"Good luck to you, too."
With that, the girl parted.
"Damn..." Claire played with the bills in her hands, shuffling them around. "Well, two marks is better than zero..."
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THE POTION MAGE, CLAIRE TELLEUS
Age: 19
Classification: Potion mixer, specializes in only the most unpredictable brews
Strengths: Wide assortment of potions at her disposal
Weaknesses: Physically unintimidating
Favorite candy: Licorice
A socially awkward, somewhat greedy potion mixer. Hides her face under a plague doctor’s mask after an incident in the lab. Loves laughing evilly and mixing dangerous potions, and is actually very nice despite her somewhat creepy appearance. Absolutely crumples under intense pressure.
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THE ORIGAMI MAGE, MARI IMANI
Age: 22
Classification: Healer by trade, but has taught herself the semi-obscure art of paper magic
Strengths: Overwhelming her opponents with barrages of paper, people tend to underestimate her
Weaknesses: Paper isn't the best weapon, unskilled at healing herself
Favorite origami to make: Cranes
A healer who turned her papercraft hobby into a fighting style. The sweetest woman you'll ever meet, however her kind demeanor easily switches to aggression on the battlefield - it's almost like a second personality. Loves working with children and showing them how to fold origami. In fact, the reason she hopes to compete is so that she can use the prize money to help out the orphanage she works at.
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