“Alright. I’m on the way to help.” I feel the words come out of my mouth before I can try to even consider using this as an opportunity for profit or gain. While Lyrie wasn’t especially useful to me as a business partner, I had been teaching her about civilization, and she had been helpful and good to me. I had grown attached to her in a way. And now, she was apparently dead. My heart sits in my chest, thumping. My feet begin moving, without having to think about where. Back to the Gubweh main camp. The steps become strides and a full sprint. Soon, I spot the smoke rising in the sky, and hear screams. Goblins run from the camp, towards me. A few of the officers I trained start to flank me as we run to react to the attack.
Then, I see it. A dangling, mangled silhouette of a distinctly Elven woman hangs in the center of the camp. I step forward into the clearing, off of the tree cover. The Purple Armored Man stands, holding his halberd poised upwards at the sun, with Lyrie impaled upon it. The halberd suddenly recalls to the man’s suit of armor in a poof of lavender smoke, and Lyrie’s dying body coughs and spurts blood. I feel a raw emotion in my chest. Lyrie was, in many ways, my friend, though I did not know her all too well. More importantly, I was grooming her to become a great assistant and stand by my side, and this plan has been entirely ruined. “You! Bastard!” I raise my hand and let forth a blast instantly, throwing myself forwards with weight.
“Tch! You!” Purple Armored Man spins left and dodges my blast, resummoning his halberd once again, and using the weak side of it to knock into my side, sending me tumbling against a nearby tent. Two officer goblins help pull me to my feet again, as another jumps on Purple Armored Man’s back, pulling him backwards. I charge up a short blast and dash forward, unleashing energy towards the imposing figure, which is quickly deflected with the halberd’s point. I step back and pull my hand back. Purple Armored Man lunges forward, now, but trips over Lyrie’s body, losing his footing. She doesn’t make a sound, and the reality of the situation sets in once again. This man is not of this world, and will kill at will like this. Like an uncivilized pirate, not beholden to the rules of the world. As he stumbles forward, I aim a punch into the side of the figure’s head, enhanced with energy from the Purple Magical Goop. Concentrated, directed, and unleashed. The collision rings out in a shrieking echo, and both myself and the Purple Armored Man are sent flying away from one another, and the nearby structures are knocked back. A flash of light blinds me, and I feel myself stumbling to my feet before I can see again. The Purple Armored Man is still reeling, himself.
“You. What was that?” The figure points their halberd at me, imposing and seemingly glaring from beneath their masque.
“All me, baby. I’m the most competent fighter in this world. You picked the wrong Chief Officer to fuck with.” I improvise on my feet. Marketing my own confusion and coming off confident against this beast will disorient him, and allow me to strike.
“That will make you more fun to kill, then.” Purple Armored Man lunges forward with the halberd, and I feel it slice against my side, cutting my flesh between two ribs open, barely missing the center of my torso. My breathing stiffens, and I take a moment to focus myself. I just got fucking sliced open. The pain hasn’t hit me. Adrenaline, coursing through my veins, surely. I look down at the slice, and the Purple Armored Man’s visor seems to track it as well. It glows with purple energy, and slowly seeps out viscous and quickly-clotting fluid. A fluid that looks quite similar to the purple magical goop I’ve absorbed. “What the heck is that?”
The Purple Armored Man asks, looking down at me. “Like I said. All. Me.” I blink intensely for a second. I shouldn’t look for faults in this right now. I need to kill the Purple Armored Man, before he kills me, or anybody else. I need to stop him. Selfish, self-motivated, selfless, it doesn’t matter what my reasons are for killing him. I might even be doing it because I’m petty and still reeling from my first humiliation. But, this whole world, not just myself, will be better off for it, right?
I grab the Purple Armored Man by his gorget and yank with force, feeling the metal slightly bending as I channel my energy down my hand. Suddenly, I feel something shatter, and I’m unsure if it’s the bones within my own arm, or the metal outlining his collarbone. Another blinding light. Two claps of lightning. Suddenly, I’m looking up at a face that I had only encountered once prior. Altena stares down at me, from across the desk, and I’m in her emerald room once again.
“So, how is Tollaria treating you? Are you sorted out yet?” She asks, in a nonchalant manner, not even looking up from her book she inquisitively peers through. I cough, and catch my breath in this quick solace from the battle prior. Looking at my wounds, the gash across my side is now bleeding real blood, and I feel myself quickly fading. Altena looks up, then gasps. “Shit!” She claps twice, and a large bandage suddenly manifests across the wound, binding it. “Ah, were you in the middle of something?” Altena sighs, looking at me.
“Yes, you imbecile goddess!” I shout, angry now, with the realization that Lyrie is dead and the village is likely under siege by the Purple Armored Man without my help there to defend it, or to protect my investments. “Release me, I need to stop the Purple Armored Man!” I stand up from the chair I’ve found myself sitting in. I notice the goddess of labor didn’t even bother to clean the dirt or blood off of my suit despite her certain capability of doing so. Bitch must still harbor resentment.
“The Purple Armored Man…? Perhaps that is Pilo-Pilo’s chosen option…” Altena sighs to herself quietly. “No matter, really. Time is frozen while you are here. Take it as a small grace. It’s time for you to report your situation to me, no?” I feel rage seething at the attitude of this uptight bitch. For a goddess of Patience and Labor, she certainly lacks her own tenets, to an embarrassing degree. Unable to even allow me to finish my business while it is active. Then again, there are perks from this. I can take this time to heal and recuperate, if only slightly, before I’m whisked back to Tollaria again. I can strategize. Maybe I can even get her to fulfill my wish. I could wish for more power, or a destructive weapon, or mind control abilities… Or…
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I’d like to use my wish, Altena. I know you revoked the offer, but I think you will find my wish is amenable. I’d like to revive my friend and ally, Lyrie, in Tollaria, from death.” Altena looks pleasantly surprised. An inexpensive wish, but perhaps, it will allow me to salvage something from the wasted first encounter with this bitch, and perhaps Lyrie’s life will be more valuable than just an inanimate weapon or a power bound simply to myself… Lyrie is certainly the profitable option, no? This isn’t a wasted wish, it’s a good investment.
“Well, well. I surely can do that, for you. I find that wish acceptable, and am glad to see your progress.” Altena claps her hands, but it sounds hollow and weak. “Hm? Let me try again.” She claps, now, but the sound is dull and pathetic, as though an uncoordinated toddler who had yet to learn how to snap, clap, whistle, or stomp was attempting it. “Strange. I. uh. I’m sorry. It appears that the wish I had to offer you was used up, apparently, despite you not using it. Hm. Strange. One moment, now.” Altena presses a few buttons on a console-shaped emerald, and suddenly, a projection of a bald, knobbly old man, with lashes across his raw skin erupts from it.
“Altena, what is the meaning of this?” The man says, in a quaking, quivering voice, full of fear and suffering of abuse. Perhaps this goddess has made a prisoner out of one of her victims and torments him for fun, taking him out of this console. Not unlike what I often would do with my pocket monster games, where if they misbehaved, I would neglect to feed them for days or weeks. Of course, they collect dust on a shelf somewhere now, and this toy is still being played with.
“Pilo-Pilo, my wish was used up somehow. What the fuck? There was never a rule that it had to be used immediately.” That’s Pilo-Pilo? Another god? “What’s the deal with this. This is bullshit, and mine is losing.”
“Yours has already accessed his wish, Altena. Now release him back, and let the fight continue. Stop trying to cheat.” Altena frustratedly slams the console.
“Alright, you heard him. Sorry, Mark. You’re shit-outta-luck.” She closes her fist and bumps it against her chest twice, then throws a peace sign up in the air as if to say ‘peace out’, somehow managing to mock a dead, innocent victim of this divine bet and myself at the same time. I feel myself and my energy returning to Tollaria, and as I blink, my eyes adjust and snap to the Purple Armored Man, leveraging an overhead swing at myself as I return to controlling my body. I roll towards him and strike upwards at his exposed forearms with an intense burst of energy from the Purple Magical Goop, and the halberd is knocked loose, instantly dissolving into nothingness. The Purple Armored Man staggers backwards, stumbling slightly as two well trained Goblin Officers run at him with a silk tripwire from behind, causing him to collapse.
“Alright, Purple Armored Man, it’s time for you to fuck off.” I charge up energy into my hands, and grab the figure by his mask, now, and feel energy pulsating throughout it. It rattles, and shakes, and suddenly, we start sliding down the hill. Purple Armored Man grabs me and begins to wrestle for control, as the center of the Gubweh Tribe slowly moves away, and the tumble continues. Despite him greatly outsizing me, the energy advantage, both physical and magical, allows me to exert my authority over him, until we slam into a tree and I get launched off of the sliding mass. I roll a few times and stand up, dizzy. I grab a nearby branch at my side, and feel my energy course through it, now. It vibrates with energy and pulsates with life, and suddenly snaps and pops, launching forward cinders, as though it were a wire with too much electricity traveling through it. A blast of sparks flies forward and smacks the Purple Armored Man in the chest. I whip the branch at him, across my body, and it slams into his chest, blasting him backwards into a different nearby tree. I am a man possessed, and I feel more competent now than I ever have in the rest of my life. I grab a sharp rock and charge forward at the Purple Armored Man, but he throws a kick forward as I dive and sends me flying backwards into the brush once again. I land awkwardly on my feet, twisting my ankle before rolling backwards and hitting an old log. I slowly clamber to my feet, to look up at the menacing figure approaching me again, seemingly stronger in the moment.
“Why do you kill?” I spit at him, staring through the visor. I puff up my chest and stand as tall as I can, but he still looks down at me.
“It’s fun. I win. I level up. I get stronger. You, you’ll always be stuck losing.” I feel a blow in my gut, as the Purple Armored Man’s fist connects sharply with it. “Buuut, I need a challenge. You’ll be the final boss.” The figure says this in a jovial, almost childlike intonation, before kneeing my face, and walking past me. I lay on the ground, winded, beaten, bruised. The Purple Armored Man walks past me, and keeps walking. No minions, no allies. Just a warlike machine of a man, marching forward, leaving a wake of destruction. The market outlook is brutal. A solution is needed, and soon. Surely he’s the strongest of the other four. The Drapery Wizard, definitely weaker. The other two, as of now, are unknown. My eyes roll back and I feel my eyelids grow heavy. I’m exhausted, and my energy is fading. I thought I could take him on. I felt so powerful. My surroundings fade now, too. Just me, now. Things go quiet.
I wake up in a familiar medical tent. The Gubweh himself stands next to me, frowning. “Lyrie dead. Tribe sad, hold ceremony.” I look around the tent. Skan stands, slightly smiling, looking up at me.
“Chief Officer Mark is back awake.” He says, quietly. “Welcome back.” Around the tent, Crutch, Flit and Flott, Kizzo, Lucan, and an unknown figure stand.
My eyes lock with the unknown figure. A sharp, angular face. Pallid, grey skin covers a skull which has often made a tight grimace in its day. Her ears are sharp, like Lyrie’s. Elven. A lean and agile body, unlike the largely plump and relaxed bodies of the residents of Rosehill or the Gubweh tribe. Unfamiliar, and having seen worse aspects of the world. A less idyllic world. Yet, not one of the Five, it seems, as she is with Lucan, quietly observing me. I finally notice her clothing. Not the plain robes of those of Rosehill or the Gubweh, and not unnatural metallic armor or materials. A silvery metal conforms to a tight shape, forming a solid plate base. Atop it, a large pelt of some kind is stretched over the shoulders, providing insulation.
“You aren’t from around here, are you?” I ask her. Her eyes dial in to focus on my own, as though she were in a trance, or zoned out previously.
“No, I am not. I came south, to seek assistance from the one known as Mark Whooten.”
I look at the figure. A new market, perhaps? More customers is good. “You’ve got him.”