The world of black, broken only by the large golden lettering, slowly faded, replaced by a breathtaking scene of lush green hills, mist-covered waterfalls, and floating islands. The sky was barely visible, covered by seemingly endless mountainous land masses. And though the light was dim, like that of late evening, numerous lights emanated from various locations on the many islands, like a thousand full moons, keeping the world from descending into the darkness of dusk. Bast felt himself floating downward on a light breeze, his strangely bare feet planting in soft grass.
A glance around revealed that he was on one of the floating islands, the giant landmass like a mountain in the sky, with several large waterfalls flowing off the sides, sparkling in the sun. A cooling breeze blew through his hair, the temperature just barely warm enough for comfort, only a few degrees from chilly. A sigh escaped his lips, white mist billowing out to twist and twirl in the wind, before dissipating into the air. He couldn't help but wonder at the power of humanity if they could create such worlds for mere entertainment, when his own people had struggled for years to create a single, rather barren world, one that had taken centuries to turn into the luscious forests like those back on Earth.
Though pleasant, Bast could not bring himself to feel the joy of the world, not as he would have liked to in days passed. Instead, his eyes scanned for dangers, hands searching for a non-existent sword. Frustration at the lack of weaponry, his mind searched for his magic. The power that was so often close at hand felt extremely distant, as if worlds apart, yet with a little reaching...
"Greetings, New Player!" A booming voice sent Bast scurrying backward, but his movements felt slow and awkward, causing him to fall on his rear. His eyes searched frantically for the voice, finally settling on a figure flying down from the top of the island he stood upon. At first, the figure seemed rather close, but as it slowly grew bigger as it approached, it became apparent just how large the humanoid being was, as well as how extremely loud it could be, yet in a confounding manner, managing to avoid disturbing even the grass with its powerful shout that had stretched the miles that had spanned the two. Light seemed to pour from the creature in bright, yet calm rays, turning the evening-like morning into the brilliant light of noon.
Bast could only get to his feet, staring open-mouthed as the nearly fifty foot tall creature landed before him. The man, if you could call it a man, was an orange-skinned giant, covered in rippling muscle, and strange bead-necklaces that covered his arms, legs, and torso like giant belts covered in those green, spherical explosives that had ripped apart so many of his kind in the last hours. The sight, though obviously dissimilar to the actual weapons in question, still brought up the raw memories, removing any calming effect the environment had given him.
Armed with only the tiniest amount of details, Bast opted to wait for the giant to speak first, having no idea how to broach a conversation with the man that seemed to emanate power from his every pore. It opened its massive mouth, letting out a loud, somewhat pompous voice, saying "Welcome, welcome. It is good to see a new face in these parts. It is truly lonely in the Sea of Treasures, the only company new Players like yourself. Ah, but where are my manners? I am Dalathor Windless, child of the Goddess Brutia, and your Tutorial Master. It is a pleasure to meet you."
The giant gave a short bow, one Bast hurried to mimic. Even if this creature was the child of a human Goddess, his obvious power was worthy of some respect, and one does not slight the God's and their ilk, even those of your enemies, for they are quick to anger. Bast, recovering from his short bow, mustered up as much courage as he could gather, and shouted out to the creature in as bold a voice as he could. "Greetings, Dalathor Windless. I am Bast." The fear in his stomach remained, knowing that at that very moment, his friends and clansmen were being slaughtered to a man, and as such, he could not manage to bring forth more than a modicum of courtesy, keeping his greetings short and terse.
The giant grinned, patting his muscled stomach, before waving his hands at the ground, muttering a short phrase. Bast felt the wind stir with a strange magic, and the earth itself split, a small, red wooden table, marked with golden scrollwork, rising up from the ground. The fancy table was covered by several books and scrolls, as well as dishes of food and drink. The table was flanked by two human-sized chairs, more red wood, marked with the same gilded scrollwork as the table. Another quiet phrase, and the giant started to shrink into himself, quickly taking the form of a human, though one with incredible proportions. He sat himself with alien grace, before gesturing for the boy to join him. The boy moved to sit, habitually reaching to move his tail out of the way of the chair, but it found nothing but empty air. After a few awkward moments, he realized that he could only barely feel his tail, and yet it was non-existent, a truly confusing realization.
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The orange Godling leaned forward, a small smirk on his face. "Given your reactions, may I assume you are like the others, and are one of the strange Armyr immigrants?"
Fingers twitching, Bast kept himself calm, despite his desire to return to his people. Even so, there was no way to return, and he had to take care of himself first and foremost. Steeling himself, Bast prepared to focus his entire being towards the goal of surviving and thriving in this new world.
Keeping his voice as steady as possible, Bast responded to the question. "I am indeed from Armyr, and will need much counseling to understand this strange place." The words caused the now-miniature giant to smile from ear to ear. His thick hands grabbed a scroll, passing it over to the eager boy's hands, who fumbled with his strangely slow body, but managed to eventually take and pull open the large roll of parchment. His eyes were glued to the content, rereading every portion several times. More than once, he raised his head to ask a question, but a moment of thought stopped him, and he resumed his reading.
The scroll was rather short, and contained succinct, and easy to understand information, though the contents sent Bast’s mind reeling with endless questions. How could one grow physically stronger, and keener of eye and ear simply by slaying monsters, and completed tasks for others? Wasn’t training the foundation for the blade, and true combat the whetstone? The strangeness was made worse by the apparent use of numbers to rule nearly everything, even how wounded an enemy became after a sword strike, rather than the actual physics of a blade in motion. It was all truly strange, and he could feel himself bursting with questions, but there was one that was more important than any other, one so strange and mysterious it left a burning in his chest that threatened to suffocate him. “Sir, if I may, but is it true what it says here, that once slain, you return from the grasp of death?” The orange man nodded, frowning slightly at the question. It was clear he knew what the next question would be, but he waited for the boy to speak his mind.
Bast’s hands clenched as his whole body shook, letting the scroll fall to the ground. A single tear threatened the corner of his eyes. He knew the answer to his question before he asked it, but it must be asked, or the pain would turn his soul to cinders. “And what of those that die elsewhere? Can they be brought to this place?” The Demigod shook his head. A long, awkward silence followed, the emotionally disturbed boy unable to ignore the memories that ran through his mind, filled with death and despair, prompting the fire in his stomach to grow boiling hot. His hands itched for his sword, wanting nothing more than to clear his mind with a mock battle. Or perhaps a real battle. Perhaps blood could quench the fire that filled his veins. The boy thought for a moment, the anger still kept in control as he tried his best to come up with a way to satiate his hunger without jeopardizing his information gathering. Finally, after several minutes of pondering, he turned to the orange man, eyes shining with a determined light. He spoke, voice carrying a faint tremor of both excitement and sadness. “Master Windless, I am a man who learns through actions better than words. Would it be possible for me to learn all of these various terms and Stats through something more…. Physical?”
Dalathor’s face broke into a giant grin. “I see. Eager to test your mettle in this place? I suppose that learning through experience could count towards passing the Tutorial… Yes, I think I have just the thing.” The man stood, spreading his arms out to the large grasslands that sat at the foot of the mountain. With three loud shouts, the earth shook once more, a giant crack opening in the fields, and a giant stone arena, complete with red ropes, rose from the ground. In addition, several weapon and armor stands rose alongside the arena, as well as a dozen creatures made of translucent white and grey liquid, which took the form of various monstrous beings.
Face split in an ecstatic grin, the man strode towards the arena, gesturing for Bast to follow. Seeing an opportunity to calm his fury, the boy quickly followed. Soon, his thirst for blood would be sated, as well as his desire for information regarding the glorious art of combat in this strange, number-driven world. And perhaps he would experience first hand how one could 'return from the dead'.