It was summer on Death Island. The noon day sun was beating down on the gleaming white of Necropolita, the City of Bones. It was not so much that everyone wore white, but in the direct rays of the tropical sun, in the middle of the hub, well it would scorch any dark colors to a charred cinder. There were spells, enchantments, trinkets and fobs sold by every street vendor with various degree of successes of bringing relief to the wearer. I Montague Elfame, Seventh Heir of Death Island, had no problem with the tropical heat. I spent my childhood cavorting and reviling in it. It was actually chilly for this time of year. None had caught fire, but the day was still young.
My companion Finn was a muscle bound Half Elf who was simmering in the heat wearing all linen, “Monty, I don't know how you're wearing all black leather in this heat. The sun is out. There are no clouds out, There you are and you're not even drinking anything.” he furrowed his sun-smacked red brow.
“Fin my lad, it's only the first week of summer, It's only going to get hotter from here on out. I am beyond sweating. Sweat? It is only for the weak! We're here to kick butt and take names. Anyway, I have a reputation to maintain.” I slapped him in the middle of his back with a cantrip of cold and I could see his shoulders physically sink with relief.
The big dummy was toting all of his tournament gear in a single bag strapped across his back. The tourists were scattered everywhere. You could see some folks loaded down with cooling charms. Gauzy pastels for team attire, representing the different nations of the Wheel. Blue and Green a checkered field without chevron or device for the Blue Plains; the Monochrome of the Dwarven Federations; the Five Frolicking Unicorns of the Hope Lands, also home to the five Orc tribes; the variety of White Bone Banners of Necropolita, always a favored declared “home” to teams of any half-breed upstart nations visiting the City of Bones while real territories were in dispute; the Green Lily of Sarhania, their lands known for the large open rolling savannas. The brackish Sickly Green was as usual sparse, except for the rebellious few in attendance. This year the up-and-coming Blue Tear of the Shadow Desert was a significant presence. There was the small shield representation of the Shields Aflame from the Dragon Lands. The Golden Coyote emblem, a totem symbolic agent of chaos, was seen cavorting everywhere, dangling from flag standards, belt loops and luggage straps. No one was exempt from catering luck, chaos, and chance in his name.
The fire shield contenders would always turn more than just a few heads. They were the only representatives who came with their competitors and tourists carrying heavy polar coats. Covered up from head to toe. I know I am guilty myself of staring too closely. Slowly, they made their way thru the crowd like shambling mounds of quilted fabric. There was only one way to know what was under the coats. The sway of a tail here, a glimpse of scales here and all of them screamed to my childhood fascinations.
“The dragons are here.” I murmured under my breath, catching something from the corner of my eye.
The wheels in my head spun, but had no traction. Like a clock bursting it's springs and stripping all of the cogs. Fly wheels and pins going in all directions. For a moment in my mind I was back in childhood, on the balcony standing bare foot in the fall moonlight on the night of the Festival of Bones. Blue scaled skin like the surface of the ocean after a storm. Her piercing gold and silver eyes hauntingly looking thru the crowd, like a giant gazing at disorganized ants. She wore a dress like stars in the sky, bowing and scraping for the opportunity to be worn for an instant and be useful for once in their long solitary lives. She was flanked by two others. The twin dragon moons, now made flesh, somehow seemed less than all of the grandeur of life that she breathed into this room. Her eyes settled on me, at the nursery balcony. Queen Aurora of the Celestial Dragons owner of a solid platinum carriage that drove itself to the stars.
“Oh man, Monty! Do you think they're going to let them compete in the Melee?” Finnegan's voice cut me back to reality and for a second I felt a cold shiver run down my own back as I turned with a squint.
“Your not going to actually act on the recommendations of Sir Raymond and reopen up that Dragon Kin Mud Wrestling Federation idea, are you? I mean we tried that and the whole breath weapon thing happened and we're still paying off on the furniture. We cant do that without money up front, and deposits on the furniture for extra-extra insurance.”
Finnegan erupted in laughter as he shook his head “Oh man Monty, next thing your going to say is that you won't enter the fencing competition.” He said wiping a tear from his eye as I buttoned my lip with a noncommittal blank stare. “Monty you can't! Your one of the best swordsman on the Wheel and we just got the knighting titles from Ray. You can't sit out this one. It's our inauguration!”
Walking along I shrugged my shoulders “I just can't” We positioned ourselves in line to sign up for the lists. “I'm not going to compete in any Death Island competitions. Bastard or not. They want us to compete for Dad's attention and I'm not going to give that senile old drunk any more mind than he gave me. That goes double for competitions.” I said crossing my arms over my tunic, puffing my chest out for good measure. “But I will absolutely be you hype man. I can at least do that.” I winked setting him at ease. We settled into the tempo of the line: step forward and wait. Step forward and wait. Then a commotion went off in front of us. The city guards were being called. Them? They are something else. Towering, long eared statuesque creatures with sweeping eagle wings looking like breathing sculpted marble. They are all related oddly enough to a Troll Lord who married a Harpy from the Hag's swamp. It was rumored that they were impervious to magic. I was never that rebellious to see if it was real or rumor.
The fuss comes back our way as a scraggly golden haired man is dragged from the front of the line, “C'mon guys.” He bemoaned, relaxing into the arms of the two guards as they drag him away backwards, heals digging into the cobble stones. He was dressed in flowing golden fabric, followed by a small coyote carrying his heraldry. “You know I'm good for it. Guys, guys, guys! You know I'm not going to meddle or throw fights. I'm a neutral party and I'm always fair.” Finnegan's jaw went agape as the demigod and a pillar of creation, Coyote, was dragged away by guards under his nose. It was not that he had made an appearance, but the fact that he was caught by mortal beings was the shock.
His arm shot out and grabbed me by the elbow “Oh Oh! Montague Elfame Seventh Heir of Death Island will vouch for me!” This drew the eyes of all competitors in line, as I could feel the bile rising up in my stomach.
I stood a little close to six five, six eight if you measured the horns,”Guards, I have never seen this man in my entire life.” My forked tail slashed at the air as the eyes slowly went to the cackling Coyote God. I did in fact know him. He showed up personally to a few of my name day parties and always had fun with pulling one over my father.
“Monty! You break an old sea dog's heart to deny me in my time of crisis!” He laid it on thick like any gold star con man.”Good for you that's fantastic growth! Your breaking my heart into a thousand pieces.” he cast mimic and stopped the guards starting to read off the treaty of Ashram Province to try to lawyer up a case.
I could not help but smile the old cretin had taught me every trick in the book to my teen age self and was first hand in every adventure that had lead me on the path to meeting Sir Raymond. In a round about way I feel as if any God was responsible for me it was him.
“Monty. Now answer me truly. Was that a certain specific creation God of mischief that has a particular fascination with Gold?” Finnegan asked as the line started to pick up some speed.
“Nope. That was my pet dog from the castle. I learned how to cast poly-morph early with a kazoo and a bit of bubble gum. Wolfram has never been the same since. I pined for that hound!” I claimed, tossing my green hair to one side coldly.
“Monty!” He paused tapping me with the back of his hand “You lie way too well for your own good. It's either going to save us one day or spell out our own certain doom. Mark my words.” He stroked his red hair over one half pointed ear. “And after this is over don't go on about that invisible uncle that you said you had as a kid.”
“No no … I swear to Gods he was real and sent me on these weird quests until my eleventh birthday when I wished for the dog” I gestured back to the man who had multiplied himself to my older brother Galen. He was captain for the guard for Necropolita and the only person I had ever known to have been born at age forty and refuse to show any emotion.
“I mean the dog is real why not my invisible ghost uncle.” I smiled broadly as we had made our way to the front of the line for the List Participants.
The event was divided into six sports; joust, armed combat, unarmed combat, magic duel, archery, and dressage all ending in whoever won on the last day to participate in the Grand Melee. The whole thing was divided into six different size classes so there was not an unfair fight between a pixie and a mountain troll. The mountain troll would loose without question and the point was to be sporting till the all out mock war of the Grand Melee. The quickest one lasted six hours and the longest one went on for four days and was eventually called after the King's idea to tie the two remaining combatants together and arm them with wooden spoons to thrash it out.
At the front of the line a familiar face was situated behind the desk; it was Adraas. Oldest of the bastard brood from the King of Death Island. Oldest brother and all around wet blanket. Every year he would come up with more obligations and chores for all of Death Island and the subsequent offspring of the King. His stiff necked frock and high and tight cravat made him look like a draconian task master and evil librarian, but the truth was not to far off.
He was surrounded by piles of heaped paperwork that was needlessly introduced and added to in order to compete yearly. It seemed that the bespectacled do-nothing obviously needed something to fuss over, tabulate, and all around harass others over until the next event. His red eyes pierced over his half moon glasses with a twisted smile as we approached the stand.
“Montague? Montague. Montague! The beloved prodigal son! Have you finally returned to come back to your holdings and obligations? You know you can't escape the piles of paperwork that I have been lovingly laying at the foot of your bed since you left little prince.” He sneered as his tail started to sway as a cat that cornered a mouse and was about to let his sadistic joy be satisfied.
“Oh. Assy! I didn't see you there over all of the pilled paperwork! Are you are nesting in for the brooding season? Nah, we're here for Finnegan listed Title of Knight Regent under Sir Raymond of Maudeaux Leaun. Blue Heraldry.” I said tapping a point of a rapier to the unarmed combat standard as Finn left the heraldry papers laid out proudly on the only square of table not covered by paperwork.
Sir Ass Face adjusted his glasses the tropic sun glinting over the edge of the frames, “And I object.” He said with a quick quip taking a packet of paper off of the pile shoving it under my nose with enough force to cut hair. “New stipulation. Subsection 36. Paragraph C. There must be a representation made by a royal sitting in the stand to adequately represent the team to diplomats and foreign officers. Then according to the Reducio Blatedo ruling passed five years ago if there is a number of Death Island royals whom may become a Named Heir to the Throne, they must compete in combative blood sport to become the Heir Regent for Death Island proper.” he snatched up a pen and ink. “Montague.... All I need is your signature on this little dotted line.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Not going to do it.”
“But your friend?!”
“I'm not a royal.”
“You are Montague Logeaufeaux Elfame seventeenth son of Adenn Elfame sitting king of Death Island Lord of Necropolita.” He screamed almost spitting in frustration.
“Nope. I am Monty Six Strings Poet Bard Under Sir Finnegan appointed by Sir Raymond of Maudeaux Leaun Blue brown and green Chevron Heraldry. As bard I am incapable of holding and maintaining office of any station under the Death Island ruling after King Herlequieaux reign and untimely death by anvil.” I punctuated by snapping both fingers with a charming smile.
“Montague you have never had what I would call any kind of literary wit while you were educated at the mages college in all of your seven years of attendance.” He said casting off his glasses running his six fingered glove thru his pin straight jet hair.”
Menacingly I procured my fiddle with a dead eyed stare “Four hundred an ninety five words rhyme with 'Ass' in the common language. Want to make it four hundred and ninety six?” I threatened plucking ominously
“Touche'” He countered “ You will need a royal before sundown to stand for you little” he waved an inappropriate gesture,” Good luck on finding one that will let you drag their name down to the standard of Maudeaux.”
Finnegan slapped me on the shoulders reassuringly as I grimaced myself into a jaw ache, “Don't worry about it. It's not the only competition on the books! I mean we can hold out for the fairy games in a few months. I mean they open the games to all Fey and hey aren't we Half Elves that's more than open to both of us and you can fleece them and fast talk them out of all their prizes.” He tried to sound reassuring as we strode away in the direction of the Blue Diner.
“We can't do that again.... You know fairies are all absolutely twisted and an amazing prize is a gold piece for merit and a very nice bit of string. That's how we ended up with a barrel of powdered knolls and our current financial short coming. We just have to place in the top twenty and we can book ourselves with a promoter for the next year to pay off the kindling that was “Mud Wrestling Dragon-kin Live. Also I'm Not standing ever as a royal no matter how much he changes and manipulates the law. Knowing him he would also make a five year-old battle to the death.”
“Well I'm sure if you appeal to your dad you could defiantly get this last rule shut out just to cause inconvenience. Your dad's nuts about inconveniencing other people for zero gain.”He cheerfully gave a toothy grin and a thumbs up.
I rolled my eyes. Leaning against the wall of the Blue Lady (A Franchised Bar and Grill). Only one of the many hundred that speckled the Wheel.
“If. And If I knew that this was going to be a thing, I would have sprung my sister Rosemond from her 'Day Spa' Gig. Gods know that she is more than capable and apt to make Lord Ass Munch eat his words and redraft any frigging law that he wants to pull out of his lofty ego.”
Rosemund had a heart of some kind of metal but definitely not gold or she would have hocked it ages ago. She ran away at a young age to the Witches Swamps to open a holistic ladies only spa and cranberry bog. They had a male/mail order catalog that Finnegan assured me was just filled with Golem gadgets and attachments for the wayward widow. What ever that meant. Evidently they hung out around the docks that Fin grew up on.
“Well why don't we go and try to appeal to some of the foreign royals to sit in the stand for us? I mean there has to be plenty just lazing about to watch the show and have absolutely no want for prize money.” Fin happily thought aloud.
There were days that Monty swore that Finnegan had no sense of reality and was actually just a really really good dog in a past life. Finding a altruistic Nobel was like finding the answers to the cosmic questions of what came first the dragon or the egg, or how many nuns could a nun chuck chuck if a nun chuck could chuck nuns.
Monty frantically ran his fingers thru the messy mop that was his hair as he stared off into the distance trying to burn a hole into a particular cobble stone with his eyes, “Nope. That is absolutely right out. Rule number 2 of the guide for adventurers; 'Never depend on the kindness of patrons'. You may as well become a warlock and have to answer to some form of ancient primordial magic than any Nobel. That ends you with wedded, bedded, and beheaded. Depending on the royal not necessarily in that order. If your lucky they don't put your organs in alphabetical order when you die.”
“What culture in the Gods names does that?” grimaced Finnegan sliding down against the wall made out of bonecrete; a Death Island novelty building material.
“I know you and I meet in Freeport when Sir Raymond was not yet a lord but I have been places. I have also seen things that I don't want to recall.....ever.” I murmured without looking up.
“Did you see Lord Raymond's wife in the municipal bath house by accident?” Fin asked in a scared monotone conjuring up some repressed memory.
“What? No!” Just then I turned to Fin and saw something out of the corner of my eye: a lace handkerchief out of a widow of a silver and blue palanquin. Bounding with two leaps and a very perplexed Fin in tow I reached masterfully for the edge of the handkerchief bowing as low as my leather pants would permit.
A cool clear voice like the jingling of bells came from behind the divider, “Young Heroes I am on the search for adventurers to help me in my plight. Would thee be interested in fighting fore hire?” I had not so much as blinked than Fin had opened the door inviting himself in and had the standard three page contract procured and going over the usual rates.
“Well M'lady, that would very well depend on what kind of fighting for hire you had an interest in. We have several accommodations and back records that come from the Freeport Fighters Union, the Bards Academy, and most notably the Hub Sea and Transport Guild with a Zero cargo loss rating. I can easily short hand up a contract for what ever whim, fancy, or possibly purloined love interest you may have. All of done in a fort night or your service is free!” He bounded over his words with boyish enthusiasm, never caught flat footed for a sale.
My eyes ran over every surface of the interior surface of the sculpted interior committing all of it to memory and fascination as something dawned on me, “Where are the beasts that are meant to pull this?” I gestured outside to empty and naked tack floating in mid air.
“Oh … well I had the time to mechanize. Lets cut the formalities. This uses an automatic carriage and magnetic propulsion all driven by my pneumatic calliope and pressurized pipe of wind. I did it in my spare time. It didn't really take that long to calibrate with so much spare time on my hands. The necklace of command I wear helps to modify the enchantment for efficiency” The voice came to a pause behind ruby encrusted and golden gossamer veils. Standing a little taller than a Gnome was a small winged Kobold with striking amber colored eyes.
We both paused, the air heavy for a few moments before she began again.
“I apologize” she said crossing her arm over her chest as she gave a slight bow “My name is Lady Natalia, Maiden Music Artificer under Lady Psyche of
the Celestial Dragon Empire. “ She paused as she noted that Fin had glazed over in that moment at a loss of independent thought trying to figure out how possibly to continue.
If royal life had taught me anything, smiling and nodding was fully encouraged. “We are Finnegan and Monty knights under the lordship of Sir Raymond of Maudeaux Leaun of the Blue Lands. I am his Herald Bard and my companion is our Knight.”
She nodded her eyes giving a questioning look over Finnegan an amalgam of dwarven and elven features, all of them contradictory, making him look more like a redheaded orc on the other side of a beauty spring then promptly beaten with a wisdom devourer. We had the same look as our eyes met as I nodded back.
“I assure you despite the way he looks, he is more than capable. We're looking to place within the top ten for prize money. We're not looking for accolades or anything like the prizes.” Admittedly top prizes were usually diadems or magical artifacts with little or no market value like golden cups and mechanical birds.
“I'm looking to gain the top prize. I don't want to settle for top ten. I need to have first place by any means necessary. I just need to make it to the Grand Melee. The first prize is a directory of the stars.” she said as she handled the charm on her necklace the carriage starting in motion. “He can obtain this for me?” She questioned with a tilt of her head her veils shifting.
“Why would someone from the Dragon Courts be looking for some stupid tourist rag?” I asked kicking back in the plush seating resting my arms behind my head while Fin was still trying to think.
“This is no tourist pamphlet.” She said her tone changing as she rested her hand on my knee looking wistfully out the window. “In the courts of the Celestial Realm, all of the dragons are stars. Also, some others have gone missing along with my lady. I have been in the service of Lady Psyche soon after I was whelped, due to my unique wings. I learned how to sing and read, then I began my studies in magical devices. From there I have been used as a Personal Musical Artificer. Due to my small stature I have been able to live within the ear of my Lady and play for her music as she helps with the governance of the cosmos.”
Her wings went slack her eyes looking away from the carriage path as it circled around The Castle of Bones as she remembered her words voice, catching horse in her throat, “Then came the Dragon King. King Elefray does not often leave the Kingdom of Dragons to go to the Celestial Realms. Beasts from beyond our comprehension, and other creatures without form tore a hole into our reality to voraciously destroy all life on this plane. Lady Psyche and the best of the Celestial Dragons were recruited to fix the open wells in the material connections of the planes.
I expected her to return shortly and she would resume her governance. She has been gone for five long years. Three years ago there was a raid on her horde and I barely fended off the assailants. The rest of her servants left soon after. Then I packed up her library, horde, and mechanical experiments into this palanquin and I haven't stopped moving.” Her eyes looked back welling with a calm sadness.
Finnegan's well meaning input jarred thru the moment, “So. We're in a self moving palanquin that has the entire collective horde of a cosmic dragon and you want us to win the grand tournament so that we can get, for you, the book of the stars? A geographical planes atlas that your going to use to find your mistress, and we get to walk away with all of the tournament money and you're willing to be our sitting royal?” He said as if he was snapped back to reality in that instant.
We were both muted momentarily after Fin's outburst. It would appear that his two brain cells had found each other long enough to make contact with each other. I pulled a blank contract out of my fiddle case passing the parchment off to Natalia. Finnegan was not always smart but he had his moments of insight. That had sealed the deal. We entered Finnegan into the Tournament with myself in his corner as his hype man, bard and all around coach for the unarmed tournament. Natalia would be our sitting royal in the stands. That night we roomed in the lower floors of her moving machine. I never knew these things had multi dimensional spaces. Fin went to sleep early to rest up as I looked over the match ups and Natalia worked on her golem attendants.
“Is he always this.... you know?” She waved her hand in the air with a hot set of rivet setting tongs to assemble the golems.
“Dense?” I interjected. As I unrolled a roll of parchment that was just delivered to the palanquin now in the camp area that had been set up on the fair grounds that doubles as a large mausoleum under ground. “He's big, muscly, dumb as a brick, but he has the brightest personality of anyone that I know. He shines like the sun but falls for every bad fey trap without fail. It's how we met actually.”
She raised a scaled eyebrow as she donned workshop leathers. “Oh, go on...” She trailed as she started to string together the metallic humanoids piece by piece.
“It was the first day of Fall in Freeport, and I was not used to the cold it had snowed three inches and I was still in the clothing I had stolen from the castle, and I didn't have any boots, so I had set up a racket of three card Monty and was trying to get enough money together to buy a pair of shoes to protect me against the cold. Finn had fallen for it and was just about to take him for his new pair of leather boots when Sir Raymond had caught on to my trick and persuaded me to squire under him. I was not in any place to refuse. It was that or get handed over to the guards who would without a doubt hand me back over to my family. So that started our run.”
“And have you been running ever since?” She asked manipulating metal with enchanted gloves, goggles, and a series of other magic items.
“I don't think about it as running away. That would imply that you would be missed or that someone was actively looking out for you. I have more siblings than I can count. I'm just another number of brats born to a courtesan of a King.” I started to mark off the competitors that were in Fin's weight class that looked to be a threat. Luckily they went by size class, so large humanoids would be beginning two hours after lunch. He just had to make his weight division and win in the division to head on to the Melee.
“Red eyes, horns, and a tail. No scales so that takes out dragon kin. Your ears are too long to be half human and too short to be a full elf. So I'm going to say Teifling. At least part Teifling. She finished her work on one of the figures as it sprung to life and started to assist her with the welding together of the second. “It would be presumptuous to assume your someone who is native to Death Island. Although you are wearing full leather and not once said anything about the heat or needing to recharge a glyph of cold. So it wouldn't be safe to assume that you're not one of the sons of the King of death island?”
“Correct. That man is not a father.” I added a circle around a certain fairy from the minuscule weight class he looked familiar. I could not quite place the name. Perhaps I owed him money. We continued to dance around our words.
“Oh that answers so many questions. So saying that your mother is a courtesan means that she is only indebted to the King thru a political facsimile or treaty. Once producing an off spring the pact is fulfilled on the contingent that you take your mother's place?” She asked taking a breath of air and a goblet of drink.
“Bingo. Only problem is that when the offspring becomes a bard they are ineligible to hold any office or work as any kind of diplomatic liaison.” I scoped up a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. “So does that mean that your mother is back on the hook for making another sibling or what can they do about you knowing a few instruments? In most other kingdoms it's strongly encouraged for young royals to have a musics hobby. I think they use the phrasing 'well rounded education'.” Natalia took a break before finishing off the second golem.
“That sounds like someone's problem and one I have divorced my self from ages ago. Every year Lord Ass the First of his birth makes more rules for the younger kids to deal with. I'm surprised that no one has tried to assassinate him in his sleep. “ The back corner of my mind was still occupied. So the main competition between the weight classes were a pixie, an elvish kick boxer from the west, a centaur filly and a large forest troll.
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“That makes it sound like you don't worry too terribly about the future. Why not guard up and prepare your self for every possibility? Find a new land, a new title, a new kingdom, or why not re-name yourself?” She pulled back on the goggles with a loud smack as they suction cupped to her scales, finishing up the last few joints on her golem.
“The plan is no plan. “ I said knowingly crossing my arms in front of myself as I leaned against the table. “Expectations are all just premeditated resentments. All of them my own making. That is why it's no bother to bother. Pay your debtors, file your taxes, and wave fondly at death when you pass.” I paused a thought about her plans.“How in the world do you expect to win the Grand Melee?”
This pricked her ears a smile forming in her voice as she drew sparks from the hammering metal. “I plan on winning by no contest and non competition. Finnegan will fight 'till it is just he and I and then I will pay him handsomely to surrender.”
I laughed to myself “How do you plan on avoiding combat entirely during the chaos of it? There will be an absolute free for all of everyone who can still stand and the royals representing and every single last one of them is going to want to beat each other into a fine pink mist.”
The second golem sprung to life as she set down her tools to cool peeling off her gloves. “I am actually planning on that. Blood feuds happen, bad moods prevail. Uncork a bottle of blind rage potion A little water to gas spell. Drug the clouds to multiply, let the rain pass and then I'll be the last one.”
“And how are you going to do that miss Natalia? Are you going to act like a gnat and be too small to fight? Fly away?” I chuckled to my self
“I'm going to hide in a haversack of holding.” she said with a wry smile.
The morning brought with it the usual festivities. Minuscule fighters battled under a bit of wizards glass as it was back lit and projected on a screen as the crowds cheered their favorite team, vendors sold the usual fair of any food you can think of~on a stick, and stalls were selling various soothing ointments and sunblock by the gallon. Finnegan started off with his battle routine he called entering the 'Warriors Mind.' I could not tell the difference between his usual morning activities other than eating five bran muffins and drinking a tea that usually caused death by the brown river. He swore that it gave him the vigor he needed to get into their mind.
I had poured a teaspoon of the stuff into a wine fountain for one of my father's name days and it caused the entire inner court to fall ill for several weeks due to the poisoned water. It was the only excuse they had since Gregstine, the royal wine tester, had no ill effects. There had to be some sort of competitive intoxicant eating at Fin's early years. Homicidal siblings would be the only other answer. But his dad was a sailor and his mom was some kind of sea nymph. Perhaps it was cultural?
Natalia had been busy for hours in the workshop of the palanquin with innumerable gadgets and devices and I was starting to see holes that chewed in the back of my mind as the crowd roared for it's champions. “Natalia I have been putting together a song and I want to know what you think of it.”
She nodded silently waving her gloved hand arranging a series of trinkets on the table. I felt ignored and dismissed. So naturally I only got louder and more annoying.
“Friends don't let friends into inter dimensional spaces. Friends don't let friends loose all control. Friends encourage creativity, but friends don't let friends get lost in inter dimensional spaces.” I plucked on my violin staring at her, dead pan with concern.
“No no.... I have a plan. Your friend may not be able to follow along but I have figured everything out. I attach this rope to the zipper on the outside using my weight as a fulcrum to hold it shut. Then I have a survivalist gem, and I will use it in conjunction with my talisman and I'm immune to most charms. This will be nothing. Count on it.” She patted my hand in a rather condescending method. It some how said 'Dont you worry your pretty little head and leave the big head thinking to the ladies that know better.'
I picked up and started strumming while striding off. “I don't trust other things in the bag. I don't trust the unknown things inside the bag. If it all came with a tag then I would not mind the bag. But for all I know it's a portal that leads directly to The Hag.” she clapped her hands twice after the rhymes to show that she could hear me but obviously was not listening.
Sullen, I went to the top of the litter to strum with my thoughts and to wait on Fin's time slot .I closed my eyes and lay back. The sun blazed down and the smell of warm coconuts hung heavy in the salty air. Then the sour savory smell of lime candy.
“Isli you could not sneak up on anyone! Not when you eat so many sweets.” She was not my youngest sister but the one the most overlooked. Like a silent shadow just two steps behind you and three pages ahead of the story she always was a little prophetic in her off-handed comments. She was the weird sister. The one that no one wanted to talk to. So she talked to the old dusty bones of giants that made up the castle and the entire island of Necropolita.
“Did you know in the East grass-lands-hell is a place where men stand shoulder to shoulder buried up to the top of their heads in filth? Death islanders call it the cobble stones. We all know they are the bodies of the great unclaimed that wash ashore with no one to take them home. So what brings you to Hell?” She asked “up” to me hanging off the edge of the oaken roof with her tiny fingers, finding the crenelations and crevices. Her pink eyes looked up to me as she soared up over the end of the edge sitting cross legged on the corner.
She was covered head to toe in a thick off white cotton. To not be seen most wore black, to blend in on death island you wore a cotton spun form the silk of the reeds that grew in the waterways and choked the canal every spring. She tucked her flame red hair under her hood the scraggly bits threatening to escape as her tail slowly swayed behind her.
“It's tournament season. Who would not come to see Death Island? Everyone who is any one is here and having fun. Don't you like it when the whole world comes to the island?” I asked as I plunked a few notes pulling on the strings here and adjusting there.
“I hate it. They bring the cold from where ever they come from and complain, complain, complain. Their blood is too thick for this weather and it stops their hearts.” She said tearing at a stray palm tree frond that had fallen on the roof as she started to weave it into a fan. There have been assassination attempts all night. All of them predictable.” she laughed
“How many of them were from our siblings?” I asked watching a triangle of pink skin between her eyes as she idly folded one frond up and one frond down. Holding out the fan and giving it a turn then braiding them back in the opposite direction. I let my tail sway as the wind picked up a little
“All of them. They think Dad can be killed. I'm sure if he could be killed it would have happened at the hands of a courtesan. I think you have to drain out all of his blood and sacrifice them to the name of the old shadow gods under the moon of the Destroyer before the rising of the third moon. Only if you had arranged an agreement with the Red Knight of Destruction.” She fiddled further splitting the leaf in half making two frond fans. “Still you would get screwed over on a time table.”
“Isla is that treason your speaking? You think you can assassinate the King of death island? For shame little sister one would think that you were an assassin; or worse, a noble heir.” I stuck my nose in the air pinching my nose trying my best to impersonate the tone of Adras.
“When Bards become Kings.” She smiled, then fell back over the edge of the roof. I jumped up running to the edge only to find Finnegan's face meeting mine. Decked out fully in the dark purple blues and brown as Natalia locking the door.
Looking up she smirked her two attendants lifting her up on a small silken pillow. “So, that's where you have been hiding. I thought you may have gotten lost in one of the treasure rooms” She said as I slid down one of the pillars that framed the corner.
Finnegan looked back at the size of the structure that looked as if it could only accommodate about four full grown humans, “There's more than the one? I thought the pressurized water was fancy.” Fin was easily excited over small things, like indoor plumbing.
She laughed out loud as she made her way to the stands fastening her veils and sliding on a bracelet with a heating enchantment. I clapped Finnegan on one shoulder adding to the cooling glyph worn in his battle attire and protective padding.
“Fin she's a Kobold. She has that whole working-under-a-dragon magic thing going for her. At this point she could tell me time runs in a circle, the sky is red, and the apple pie at the blue lady bar and grill will tell me my future. I would 100% believe in her. Just like how I believe in you champ!” I sad giving a mock box to his chin playfully.
“That really means a ton Monty.” He said, pulling his leather hood over his face, pulling his pony tail thru the lacing in the back. Fin had, before meeting Sir Raymond, trained by the Lucho Doros a kind of fighting troop from the Dark Lands, governed by the Red Knight. They had a tradition of wearing tight garments made from Latex; a kind of tapped rubber that grew in the humid, sweltering tropics. It was also their style to wear a protective armored belt to guard the vital organs and a mask to prevent facial injury. They take beard grooming very seriously. Very Seriously.
Their style of unarmed combat was called 'Rustling' or something like that. Very cultural with traditions that involved improvised flight and magical chairs made out of metal that could be summoned from mid air. The most notable of this style was a man who came from the Hope Lands by the name of Sandy Ravage. His celebrity allowed him to sit in the announcers podium in front of a magical diadem to announce the matches. This was where I would be spending my time. Usually they covered it in a glass frame to prevent rowdy audiences from throwing projectiles.
The dwarven vocal projection machine crackled to life. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!" A boisterous growl of a voice bellowed out of the speakers, echoing throughout the arena as the din silenced from the spectator seating. "Welcome to the 23rd annual Brawl of the Beasts!! Where all manners of man, beast, and every deranged lunatic in between test their might and mettle against one another in this winner-take-all free-for-all!!" The crowd went into an absolutely wild frenzy of applause and flag waving.
The commentator continued, flawlessly projecting his voice with an infectious excitement. “The man behind the mic is none other than Hope Island's renowned Paladin, Nacho Man Sandy Ravage”
A monotonously tall man of Herculean proportions, who's robust voice is only out shined by his prolific masculine beauty. He has a jaw of granite, a smile that can brighten the bleakest of rooms, and a short beard that rivals that of a dwarf, but only in sheen and quality. Tonight he takes a seat in the press box to bless the audience with his voice, donning a pair of tan canvas breaches and a white draw string shirt that barely fits his bulky figure. Clashing with the pair of sunglasses that compliment his long, dark, combed back hair. He was the Only paladin Bard that I knew of that had a trading card set.
"You all know why you're here and they know why they're here." He began after the announcer's introduction. "So let's rush through this little introduction so we can GET TO THE CARNAGE!!”
Sandy was one of the most flamboyant of all of the announcer battle bards that frequented the tourney rings. The unfortunate thing is that I had to deal with him this time over Fin. The other small announcer was a bookish scribe from the Elvish lands of the Golden Kingdom. He seamed to shrink under the bravado of Sandy as I kicked up my leather boots on the table as I took to my mouth piece.
“Good after noon.” I crooned into the receiver. “I am Monty Six Six Strings Bard Announcer. The ladies in the front row of the green section can call me seven strings later” I said with a snap of my fingers tossing a rose to the Hope Island delegation in the grand stand as a short chieftain princess went into a full blush. “No no... Not you. Your body guard.” I winked over to the towering eight foot tall Orkish berserker with a tusked overbite. I cast a charm spell as the ladies swooned, a small fist fight broke out in the stands.
“And … “ croaked out a familiar meek voice into the receiver from under a cloak trying to look away from the attention thrust upon him. “I am Trolgium Pulsitorium.” His voice creaked out of the ball of anxiousness. He produced a medical breathing enchantment.
"But enough about that!” Sandy interjected. “I can't help but notice there's only 19 fighters out there! Now these aren't just your average 'strongest in the village' fighters! These are some of the wildest and most savage beings on this side of the hemisphere! You mean to tell me one of these monsters turned tail and chickened out?!" He voice shouts as he rises out of his chair with a hand grasping the side of his head, as if appalled by the absence.
He lowered back into his seat as his disappointment soon passed, "For shame!! But this does mean our introductions will go that much faster! Let's take a minute to make ourselves familiar with who's gonna be fighting out there! In the northernmost corner I see we have a crowd favorite; MALARAX THE MAN EATER!!!"
His Adrenalin-fueled voice explodes out of the speakers, inciting a hysterical cheer from the audience. "Born in the secluded islands of the South, he's
one of the few dragon born to leave his homeland after generations of war decimated his--" He interrupts himself with a bout of rambunctious laughter, the dragon born in particular looking up to the press box in disgust as Sandy blatantly insults his honor. "PSYCHE!! You thought I was about to waste your time with nineteen sob stories?! Screw that! We're all here for some high quality violence! LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!!!" And with that final cry to the sky, the bell rings.
The arena overflows with cheering once more as the many seasoned warriors close in on one another and clash sporadically. Finnegan's goal is to keep out of the main brawl until later. He mounted the turnbuckle to guard himself from any forward attacks and to give himself mid air pouncing leverage.
“Now the rules...” The voice of Troli wavered as he produced a large dusty leather bound tome. “This is a no holds barred competition. Once your full body has left contact from any part of the ring you will be disqualified. And ...“ He croaked and fumbled with the page. “Disqualified from continuing.”
“Troli... who will be responsible for making them leave if they decide that they don't want to leave the fray?” I asked as I found a little bit of a hang nail. Troli was a good guy but I loved to watch him squirm.
He poked one small wavering finger to the mountain of green in the striped heraldry, “Princess Cerebral Hernia Cob of the Gold Banner.” I clapped him on the back for his ability to be able to recognize the monarch that he had undoubtedly had to ride with from his native lands.
“Wasn't she disqualified recently from the competition for her absolutely stunning move the 'Brain Tickle?” There was a meek screech coming from the announcer heap as he tried to shrink into a singularity.
Sandy once again rose from his chair his eyes riveted to the battle. "But what's this?! Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the 20th contestant has finally arrived!! The audacity of this man showing up after the bell! It's like he thinks he owns the place!"
The roaring audience quiets down to a ruckus of chattering, the heads of spectators and contestants alike frantically jerking left and right in search of this new contestant. A wave of confusion washes over the stands, as there was no one new to be found. Sandy's fellow commentator's are left scratching their heads. I chuckled momentarily like someone who had read ahead in the book as he tossed away the announcer notes.
This show-stopping distraction lasts for only a moment, as everyone's focus is then swiftly stolen by the sound of shattering glass. A shirtless Nacho Man Sandy Ravage falls from the press box, accompanied by a rain of glass shards. He plummets to the arena grounds, landing flat on his feet with such an force that those in the crowd swear they could feel the impact. He stands tall and proud despite his reckless entrance. The crowd erupts in deafening, cheering screams upon his unorthodox arrival, and he wastes no time joining the fight.
His powerful legs kick up the dirt in an instant sprint, rushing straight for the nearest combatant, which just so happens to be a confused half-orc still gathering his wits after witnessing the spectacle. The last thing the half-orc will see is a jacked wild man in khakis and sunglasses barreling towards him, flashing a grin that radiates both confidence and madness. The Nacho Man takes a mighty leap into the air to deliver a devastating drop-kick to the head of the half-orc, bestowing upon the poor soul a swift knock out. All eyes are on Sandy now, drawing the ire of every warrior in the room, as every one of them has been thoroughly insulted by this grand display of mockery.
"OOOOH YEA!!! You thought the Nacho Man wasn't gonna get a piece of the action?! Let me make this perfectly clear: This is MY arena you fools stepped into, and not a single one of you is getting out of here without a taste of the Nacho Man Combo: $2.99!!" He shouts forth with an air of overwhelming conviction. The entire world can hear his insane proclamation with unrealistic clarity, as he never bothered to removed his headset and microphone that are still wired to the speakers. It results in the entire stadium shaking to the stampeding exhilaration of the crowd as they scream and rally for their commentator gone rogue.
Blood boils over, and the patience of the warriors are beyond lost. They charge at him with hastening fury, desperate to close the distance, so they can freely unleash their violence. The Nacho Man cracks his knuckles and takes his fighting stance, his arms held wide ready to pummel, grapple and maul any and all who dare come near. The approaching mob is met with an unbreakable grin, and he musters one last battle cry before the fighters meet face to face for their final clash.
The heap springs to life with a sudden eruption, ”Does the legendary paladin make it out alive? Does he toss every challenger to the footnotes of history? That, dear readers, you'll have to find out yourselves by tuning into this year's BRAWL OF THE BEASTS!! Stay tuned! “
Monty laughed so hard he thought he broke something as Finnegan made a shrug back to the announcer box that was the universal symbol for 'What happened to the beer?' it was a stunned looking half shrug that made him look like some kind of confused sea bird as he was still amounted to the edge of the ring.
Monty pantomimed back to fin the 'I'll ask Security or I don't know.' depending on the social circle. Motion touching the tip of his finger to the top of his brow.
“Now Troli correct me If I am wrong but is this against the rules?' Monty asked looking down to the mountain of rippling muscle that was Princess Hernia.
“No No Not at all” piped up Troli as he plunked down an old and ancient tome on to the table . “It says here that if the announcer did not join then the referee would have had to join in the fray in spite of any crimes or otherwise that would have forfeited the ability to compete.”
He clapped the book shut as all of the competitors rushed one side of the ring against Sandy attempting to trip him up in the ropes of the ring. At that moment Princess Hernia set foot on to the square ring to get a better view of the tangle of eighteen competitors scrambling to one side as the ring tilted wavered and then collapsed under the strain of weight.
“OH OH NO NO OH THE HORROR!” Troli bemoaned as the wood and wrestlers went flying the only thing that was unmoved was Princess Hernia
Looking around at the flattened ring with it's four posts jutting up from the absolutely destroyed canvas. Hernia cast about with a grunt. She raised up her ore of an arm pointing to Finnegan doing his best impression of a fire gecko on a match stick.
“Winner by no contest.” Her voice sullenly echoed as Fin wrapped his legs around the post pumping his fist triumphantly into the air as the crowd went wild. Princess Hernia grabbed one of his hands with a fluid thrust raising him three feet off of the ground by his own wrist. The cheep seats were a froth of excitement piling into the shrapnel that was the ring.
As always the Orken delegation applauded in a most gentile way to go over the stratagem of having a referee from the monstrous weight class for the large humanoid fight. It was after all tradition but perhaps there needed to be some changes. The droves slowly started to go there separate ways to rest up for the ' Battle of Champions' in the evening, there was still disgruntled wrestlers picking thru arm fulls of splintered wood deputing with a beholder that acted as final judge. This dispute would be hotly debated.
“That went really well Monty.” came the familiar voice of Isla. She stepped out of the scaffolding taking a seat In Sandy's vacant chair. “Adrass would have thought you planned that on purpose...” Her voice trailed
“Nope nothing premeditated no motive managed” I held up my hand and swore aloud. “If I had planned anything Galen would have been here in a second to arrest me and put me thru something worse than Captain Ass's paperwork.
“Galen still has his hands tied” Isla smirked passing me a spyglass and pointing towards the head of the lists. There was a crowd. No it was all the same golden haired person cloned several times in mock trial around Galen. He looked like he had not slept and the duress was killing him as he started to smash his head against the wooden table.
“Oh my Gods Isla....” I muttered to myself as a reddish brown scaled face came into view.
“Who is Isla?” asked Natalia as I pocketed the device. “Is she a long lost love?” she asked with a lilt, her eyes cutting to slits.
“Isla? Piiif no no no. I owe her but nothing like that. Don't worry about it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stood up from the announcers table. “My heart belongs to only one woman and she would never have me.”
“Oh ? Did you do something you shouldn't have or is she the woman you look at in the mirror when you fix your hair?” She cut back as her golems gathered up paperwork and Fin from the judges.
“No” I blurted feeling the color rise up in my cheeks. “She's a free spirit who cant be held in the cage of one man's heart. I can respect that.” I closed my eyes with a nod of approval.
“She turned you down because Finnegan was more stable and she liked him more, huh?” She asked offhandedly as she walked down the scaffold. I bit my tongue refusing to say any more. Smart girls were trouble. Smarter girls were dangerous.
“Nope. Not going to talk about it. Not to you. You'll take artistic liberty with my words and then you'll take my good name and spread it all over town like cheap sunblock.”
She paused on the stairs, with a door flap flying up to nose height, “You know what? Your cute when your mad “ giving a tug to my chin.
“Keep dreaming small fry. You would break without all of your trinkets and mechanical toys. You wouldn't be able to do any kind of real adventuring.” I said childishly sticking out my tongue at the obedient self driving carriage from the foot of the stairs.
Fin popped his head out of the palanquin, “You mean like how we broke that bar trying to make the Dragon Kin Mud Wrestling Federation?” He said with an infectious smile opening the door wide.
“We shouldn't be talking about personal financial affairs with clients. Anyways don't you have a fight you need to prepare for in a few hours?” I rebuffed as the sun over head started to break up the crowd.
“I'm going to drink iced teas.” Finnegan replied giddily taking out his prized tea tin still giddy from the last bout.
“Something has to be wrong with you. That 'tea' is considered a poison in multiple realms. I have seen less than a dram of that stuff in a punch bowl turn an imperial court into a shit show in a matter of minutes.” I said redirecting the conversation as Natalia smirked going over the papers.
“Well I bet that they didn't get all of their coral calcium and bull kelp gravies as children and were never regular in the first place. Besides Toffs all eat meat and wine till they get the gout. You cant trust them to eat anything green unless they're trying to eat a peacock.” I nodded waving my hand dismissively as I watched my friend happily poison him self with renewed vigor, my eyes wandering over to the paperwork spread out in front of her. It was the next round of fights.
As a matter of practice, The large humanoid would fight the monstrous category next. From the look of it Finnegan would need more than just iced tea to get thru the next round. A mountain troll. Since they battled last they would be going after the sun had set even with all of the weight categories aside things were not in our favor. This time I would have to be in Fin's corner and nowhere in the announcer booth. This fight could turn dangerous.
Fights being fair, Magic is strictly prohibited so he could not turn the tables with a well placed illumination or sun spell to revert the troll into a petrified stone. It was unsportsmanlike, and most of all not done in the place of good unarmed combat.
The clouds slowly rolled in over the city from the harbor as Natalia shined up her magical pendant to ward off the cool breezes. “I know that your Catch phrase is to not have a plan and to roll with the punches, but you may have a problem” The lanterns slowly lit themselves as the sun grew heavy and redder in the sky.
“It's a troll. I haven't told Fin because he likes the surprise. Not to mention nothing can get thru his thick skull after he has had five of those teas. I'm pretty sure he's going to kill himself drinking that stuff. They're going to find out that it builds up toxins in the liver or something.” I said my attention divided as the cheers came over the walls which were temporarily erected to host and contain the fights.
Natalia slipped her scaled hand over the back of my glove with a bit of warm comfort, “If he makes it past three minutes; if he is battered to a pulp, He will place third due to TKO Last man standing. Then he can fight in the top two. That's enough to take us to the Melee. I know you guys can do it. I mean perhaps we need to use enchantments or a charm.
I snatched my hand back with a narrow glare, “No. We can't do that. It's against our scruples. We will win. In a fair and just way. Believe me, I know he is going in a fight against a living piece of rock. If he can't make it, we can't make it, and you can get your money back but we don't cheat under any circumstance. It's not how we do things...” I excused my self with a disgusted grumble.
I left to stand out side of the spectator partition hearing the shouts of the crowd gathered just beyond the fence. The sun hanging low on the horizon. You could see the dragons in the moons in the rose hued twilight. Finnegan dusted his face over with a bit of chalk pulling his hood over his hair the plume of wavy red making him look like he had walked out of the sunset.
“Boy trouble?” Came Isli's cheery voice. “I can see you staring at him the same way you looked at a new toy. She said from the stair's scaffolding. She picked her fingernails with a hefty bone knife her white robes looking out of place in the growing dark.
“Much to do about trolls.” I said running my fingers compulsively thru my green hair. I could feel my heart beating in my neck, gulping down momentary dread as Fin dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “You would think it defeats the purpose of the chalk.” I said turning expecting to see Isli vanish just just as soon as she was spotted. She stood in the last gasp of light formed between the bone watch towers, framed in the Bay of Bones.
She smiled lowering her hood, her pink ears standing out from her long braided hair, “Knock 'em dead kiddo.” She smiled with her sharp teeth.
“Leave them gasping.” I shouted back. The doors opened Natalia sat on a cushion of heating in the grasp of a mechanical attendant.
“Who were you talking to?” She asked tilting her head to the side. Her wings glistened with their golden edged scales in the late light.
“My twin...” I said as Fin started to bounce around boxing the air like a pent up spring ready to pop. “It's show time!” I shouted to him the bell dinged the end of the last match as Finn and I went on to meet the crowds behind a flimsy bit of fence.
Finales were different from the general events the crowd was electric as drums announced our arrival. The Stadium was a wash in a honey gold light of sun stones embedded along the walkway to the ring. The press of people from all directions shouting and cheering, half drunk in the madness of the moment. The participants of the last match had to be dragged out of the ring; a very scrappy fey spitting blood and cursing under his breath while his opponent was pealed off of the canvas, buckets of water getting splashed over the mess, and the crows hungered for more.
I wrapped a white towel over my shoulder and gave Fin a knee up as he jumped up the corner ropes thrusting his fist straight into the air with the cheering crowd getting drowned out by the announcer.
“In the blue corner weighing in at two hundred and seventy five pounds the heavy weight survivor, Sir Finnegan Knight of Maudeaux Leaun, of the Lucadooro School of fighting!” The announcer stood in the middle of the ring wearing a long Ducal cape from the kingdom of the Isthmus of Hope. His Half Orc features were sharply defined in the light making him larger than life.
With a long and wide sweep of a white gloved hand against a midnight blue cape he announced, “Weighing in at a formidable half a ton, the monstrous survivor by bludgeoning, in the Gold corner, Sir Slader Shist of the Golden Mountains!” What I had previously thought was some kind of rocky pillar to anchor the canvas stood up towering above the stage. Carved angular features jutting out of the rock made man.
I had heard stories of the trolls that lived in the shadow lands but those had grown relatively fleshy since they were poisoned over time by the sands that blew out of the Hag Lands. This was a whole other category. The striated rocky bands that covered him head to toe banded over thickly roped muscles that had shattered and regrew over the Troll Looking like a pebbled beach thrown to life by some kind of divine yet mad sorcerer. His eyes glowed with an all consuming golden hell fire. This inspired me to fear.
“Um Finny. Finny Boy?” I asked meekly tugging on the edge of Fin's pant leg. “On a scale of light beating to outright canvas smear when did you want me to throw in the towel?” His green eyes glowed like a man possessed staring at the siren that would sink his boat. He wordlessly shook his head as my hearts started to beat in my throat. The insane laugh that came from his throat took me aback. The silver leaf tea that would poison a man of a lesser constitution had turned my good, well meaning companion into a cackling mess bent on upending nature and reveling in the chaos. This was not good.
The air in the cool sweaty heat of sunset filled me with an overwhelming cold shock of dread. The bell rang and the roar of the crowd deafened me. I saw Finnegan move faster than my eye could follow him as he catapulted his form from one corner of the ring like a mountain lion on an unsuspecting deer. Two fists came down with the weight of his entire body throwing the tower of stone against the rubberized rope of the ring, jumping off of his chest grabbing him by one hand in one fell swoop to somersault the troll, head over heals as a stroke of heat lightning illuminated the sky.
The white of the towers flashed on the churning sea with it's rolling waves just beyond the horizon, twisting the image of Fin into that of an elder sea god. His mask threw unusual shadows in a stark contrast at the Troll stumbling to his feet. Rubbing the back of his jagged hand across his lower chin planting himself in place against the flashing dynamo that had become Finnegan-In-Fury.
“You are really good ….for a dwarf.” The troll's gravely snarl bellowed up from the deep of his chest. His stance changed the announcers were drowned out to a muddled afterthought by the excited crowd. The monster that had possessed the body of my friend shot up the side of the ring with an ear to ear grin, “Dwarf. No … Not only dwarf. I'm only half.” he said cocking his head to the side as he swept into the air. The side seams of his pants shredding as he summoned up an otherworldly strength, an outstretched fist guiding him like a cannonball with a flash of copper hair.
My body moved without thinking, climbing up the ring a familiar hand pressed over mine as I saw Natalia, wide eyed and terrified at the side of the ring drawn by the same unthinking force. We were watching something primal. A sort of ancient magic that was bone, rock, and blood.
Looking away for a moment the blood chilling crack of stone to flesh echoed off of the canvas of the ring. The cheer rose up from the crowd as a form slid across the mat. Still standing, the mask half ripped off of from face, and cleanly punched out of his boots was Fin. The fissures crack down the side of the troll's clenched hand was notable. As Natalia and I stood in hushed silence as the rain opened up the full force of the summer's night storm.
His webbed feet spread wide grasping the canvas gaining purchase as the torrent ran over his familial tattoos. Knotted ropes and anchors rippled over muscles as he flexed. His scream cutting out to an elemental screech as I could see the hint of his gills flaring open in the rain. He mustered all of his strength in a ball of rage.
Before he charged onward, the Troll took out a pocket watch. Taking a glance at the time with a smirk he ran head long into the clenched hand of his competitor. This sent Fin back into the ropes as the Troll dramatically put his fingers to his head, wavering, then collapsing into a heap. The referee hurriedly counted down the mat having shaken himself from what ever charm had befuddled the masses.
“Ohhhhh noooooo.”he wailed with some of the worst acting that Monty had ever seen. “I have been brutally beaten by a water titan.... I will surely never be able to fight again!” He rolled his eyes before falling limp. Then spat out his tongue for dramatic purpose.
“What the hell was that?” Natalia asked with a confused squint as Fin took a step back blinking a few times. The mighty swell of the dampened crowd bursting with cheers. A familiar man clad in all gold pushed his way thru the throng.
“Slader! Slader! We did it we got it! Right on the money we were the only one to bet on the circumstances we're gonna take the whole pot! Seventy thirty as you know! We got the whole thing!” The troll bounced up and sprinted over to Coyote as they both excitedly bounded off to claim their spoils.
Fin sloshed his way over to the blue corner parting the wet tangles of his hair “Did we just win because the troll threw the match? There has to be a conflict of interests. Coyote was right there.” He asked taken aback as the referee and judges started a heated discussion to the side of the ring. Up in the stands Adrass burned a hole into the side of my skull I could see the color rising in his cheeks from here as a smirk caught my face. Meanwhile the copies of Coyote that Galen was forced into a mock trial were transformed back into some stray dogs and momentarily borrowed dogs from the crowd. Galen collapsed in relief.
“Oh no Fin I think we have all been robbed. Check your pockets” For some reason my pockets felt lighter. I checked and rechecked every pocket but I still felt as if I had lost something. The rest of the battles were postponed due to the weather. Druids or a mage would be called in to redirect the storm. I insisted that Fin get the poison out of his system before he came back to camp.
He was just at home in a fish tank as he was in this storm as he dozed away under a down spout. I could let it pass that he was jazzed up on iced tea, but he should have functioned with some sort of handicap and not been racing around the ring like wild magic.
I spent the rainy morning the next day cutting into some island fruits that I had long since missed since moving away from the port cities. The rain continued to pound the island . Finnegan sang in his special tone deaf kind of way with no words from the back of his throat. He could give a screaming terror a run for his money.
“Fin is an odd duck but we did make that round if the rain does not let up they could just bundle all of us together and award by times in order to keep time with the Grand Melee. That would just absolutely piss off Lord AssyFace. You know what? It's a good look on him.” I smirked popping a bit of pineapple.
Natalia looked a little less shaken as she put her hand on my cuff, “I want to take back my contract.” She neatly folded her sleeves and looked up to me.
“But I thought that you wanted us to win and get that book of the stars you were after. I mean you do have to be the winner-take-all for the prizes.” I murdered pealing the skin off of a mango with the tip of my knife.
“I don't like my odds now. There are too many variables too wide of a field and too many combatants to analyze. If it were the one team from each of the winners in the fray it would be manageable. Almost predictable once you break it down to stats and numbers. But everything has been multiplied by three, then exponentially more figures.” She looked out the window the rain coming in sheets against the glass.
Other tents had been flooded out or had left soon after the first few hours of rain. A cotton tent in the summer kept out the bugs and opened up fabric for light gentle breezes. But they were no match for an island storm. Some had gone back to their boats to seek refuge from the rain. The tourists had bought up every room block on the island. Some more industrious Death Island residents turned to renting out guest bedrooms. The unlucky decided to camp in the crypts.
“So are you saying we can't win now? I mean that's one of the most motivating things you could tell someone is to tell them that they are incapable of doing something. Heck M'Lady your going to put a rogue feather in my ear to actually compete. I like to think that I could actually take the whole mass of them 1/50 on a less than than three percent chance of winning. I mean those odds are unfairly balanced in my favor. I mean the more morons you have the easier it would be to hide in plain sight and just win.”
I smiled looking out to see an absolutely mud caked Finnegan running up the hill to the encampment and riding down the gutter flume on the side of the street racing onlookers and children alike. It looked like he was having fun and I was not going to tell him that he was probably covered in someone's horse flop. Necropolita was primarily made out of bone and had excellent drainage properties.
“No it's other more complex variables.” She said as she pulled out a huge tome from under the table.