“That’ll be twelve coppers.” The stall attendant said with the usual tiredness of someone wearied by having just spent the past four hours doing the same thing over and over again. Picayune grimaced at the extortionate price of the salted potato wedges but handed the money over anyways. He turned from the storefront but found that Belabor was nowhere to be seen, her previous spot now filled by an unrecognized stranger.
Picayune wandered about the arena vomitorium scanning the sea of inspirited heads for his companion. He eventually found her secured within an eddy of the torrential human current; she was locked in conversation with an engrossing horde of nobles. Picayune slowly forced his way through the crowd towards that little circle of respite finally catching the nature of the conversation upon arriving.
Belabor was safely ensconced within the center of the impromptu mosh pit animatedly declaiming her narrative. “He’s always got his nose in some book or another studying whatever weird obscure tangential topic has caught his interest at the time. Honestly, I’ve never a seen a scholar so diversified in subject matter. I think that is why it just seems that he can do literally anything with magic. He can somehow pull all these loose unrelated threads together to create something new!” Belabor then caught sight of Picayune as he emerged out of the crowd slinking between two large burly men. “Oh and speak of the devil! If it isn’t my lovely Picay.” Belabor quickly trotted over to Picayune wrapping him in a grand hug and pecking him upon the cheek with her lips.
Confused by what was going on, Picayune looked back once more to the gathered crowd finding that everyone was staring back at him enthralled by his majesty as if they were gazing upon a deity. The attention gave him a strange sensation, even disconcerting perhaps. He had often been subject to praise, awe, and even bafflement at his knowledge and skill, but it had never been confounded into such hypnotized admiration before. It was as if everyone around was gazing upon the most precious jewel imaginable, they acted as if there was an arcane heart just by the tips of their fingers.
The silent reverence soon broke and Picayune was flooded by a discord of noise so multifaceted that it was impossible to discern any individual sentence. A litany of autograph requests, and guesses of methodology, to ponderings on confidence, all invaded Picayune’s auditory senses. If this is what the Hero had to deal with all his life Picayune was not jealous.
After a near half hour Picayune and Belabor finally managed to break off from the group as everyone hurried to attain their seats before the upcoming match begun. Once finally seated, Belabor gave an exasperated huff, “That was utterly insane! I was just standing there waiting for you to get our food passing the time talking with some other people waiting when I idly mentioned being here with you, then BAM! A swarm just blew up out of nowhere.” Belabor took in a breath to gain her composure before continuing, “Like Picay, you’re legit famous now. And like not in the, that niche smart guy that all the professors like at the university. You are legit full-on Hero of New Heirisson conquest, murugan squad, legend of history type famous.”
Picayune couldn’t help but agree in awe. Throughout the past month he had received the occasional eager guests that had discovered of his involvement as a Tournament contestant, but it was never manifested with such fervor. This was a new experience for Picayune and he had a sneaky suspicion that he might need to accept that this experience would become his new normal. For better or worse he was one of the big boys now.
The exhausted couple slowly shuffled along through the arena vomitorium and made their way to their reserved seats. They found themselves in a small elevated and isolated rooved belvedere adorned by luxurious seats and waiting attendants all with a perfect view of the combat arena. Dionysus and the rest of the Tournament contestants were already either seated here or making their way over. All except for Poetaster and Liederkranz who were center stage in the arena. Next to Liederkranz stood a rack of dozens upon dozens of varied musical instruments; from brass trumpets, to hollow strings, back through to gargantuan drums, the rack made organized what was surely the violent spew of a mishmashed theatre closet. Liederkranz was spending her few moments before the coming event to carefully ensure each of the instruments were properly tuned. Meanwhile Poetaster mulled through their planned performance in their head.
Picayune tried to avoid dwelling on the fact that the Vampire sat a mere three seats away from him, but thankfully that task was made rather simple by how demanding the arena was to his gaze. A massive circumference of seats encircled the arena filled with an unimaginably large crowd. Picayune had never seen so many people gathered in one place before. The magnitude of this event was truly baffling. He also noted an array of incalescent fire repeaters manned around the edges of the arena, placed there to record the fight and project it to the many fireboxes around Trammel.
It struck Picayune again that he was more than just ‘legit famous’ now. This wasn’t just the Tournament; it was going to be the first Tournament ever filmed and recorded for all of history. He wasn’t just going to be a warrior for the history books, he was going to become an I.F. star, a household name like Poetaster already was. He let the thought settle with him as both he and Belabor spent the next few minutes picking away at their potato wedges and enjoyed people watching as the seats filled up more and more and they enjoyed the indecipherable chatter about the energized air.
Eventually the day star struck its peak blazing down directly above the world’s head and then at the strike of noon the world went dark. As if the day star had never rose, night rang through, though it was even darker than that. Not a single star shone in that dark sky, the dark so absolute that the audience could scarcely discern their own hands before their faces. A short series of gasps and shouts of shock skipped through the crowd but was quickly squelched by some unseen force, leaving the entire place in an eerily silent night in the middle of the day. A satisfied grin colored Picayune’s face as he saw the reactions to his spell work.
The day star then suddenly burst through that magical darkness, but instead of illuminating the whole arena, it shot a beam down to the center of the stage highlighting the two Tournament contestants. Liederkranz had a large round drum hanging by her stomach held aloft by a thick strap that wrapped around her neck. Next to her, Poetaster stood in a flowing gown that bedazzled in a beauteously gemmed iridescence. The light of the day star bounced and played against those shimmering clothes alighting Poetaster’s body in a sort of luminous dance of mesmerizing color.
Poetaster took a step forward and stretched their arms out to the crowd, shouting out with an impossible presence, “Welcome to the Tournament!” Picayune’s magical sound dampener then dispersed letting the boom of cheers finally bellow out shaking the very city itself.
Then, as quickly as their voices were freed, the crowd was magically silenced once more plummeting the arena in a quiet suspense. The quiet only remained for an instance until the shallow beat of a drum could be heard. Liederkranz began to quietly strike at her drum in a quaint solo performance that slowly built the tempo up. Poetaster spoke once more, their voice perfectly resonate across the crowd and their voice so wondrously melodic it was nearly singing, “Today is a special day, for nay was an erstwhile fray, but now to say that a worthwhile play will come stay to still relay an unexpected belay of the dispirited.” Throughout the performance, Poetaster paced about the arena with a flowing gait; the light almost floating steps of the performer waved all around the arena, each discreet movement clearly a simple step yet put holistically together it was an undeniable dance. Following just behind through the dance, Poetaster’s gown waved with the wind revealing the attire’s capacity for bedazzling splendor.
The quiet flow of Poetaster’s elegant dance suddenly halted as they boomed out, “We present a monument!” In perfect unison to Poetaster’s declaration, four spectral arms sprouted from Liederkranz’s back picking up two brass instruments. A spectral head sprouted from one of her shoulders and she then played the two instruments blowing into the horns with both her real and phantasmal lips while somehow simultaneously keeping rhythm with her physical arms beating the drum. With the new instruments joining the performance the next stage of Picayune’s spell activated and the darkness relented slightly as the day star seemed to miraculously grow stronger.
Poetaster twirled about in an expedient pirouette then halted once more, “future’s history, it is this moment!”
Four more arms sprouted from Liederkranz’s back grabbing more instruments and adding to the enthralling symphony. The darkness abated even more as the day star now nearly lit up the entire arena. Poetaster’s dance transformed from the once flowing ethereal sway it had once been into a heavy and steady acrobatic type march. Poetaster marched along to the rhythm of Liederkranz’s impossibly multitasked solo band but enlightened those interim beats with jumps and twists and rolls. The dichotomous fluidity of those moments in between the rigid structure of the march couldn’t have possibly made sense, yet somehow the dance maintained that alluring hypnotism.
Poetaster danced all about the arena, each purposeful stomp of their steps leaving a colored imprint upon the ground slowly blanketing the floor in a multi-luminous composition that could only ever be described as art. With an impossibly tall jump, Poetaster summersaulted in the air once over, twice over, thrice over, and even a fourth time before landing heavily on the arena floor. With the impact to the floor the darkness surrounding the arena abated returning the day star to illuminate the world’s whole once more. Finally returning the light to the stands, the crowd was momentarily blinded in the full might of day. Poetaster proclaimed to the crowd, “The Collison of two opponents!”.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
An uncountable number of spectral arms and heads sprouted from Liederkranz as she donned the full orchestral suite of instruments; playing each in a perfect fluency that filled the stands with a euphonious caress of sound. The magically withheld auditory choke on the crowd relented for the last time and the energy was electric. The people rose from their seats filled with cheer and amazement.
Poetaster’s voice exclaimed once more and like the roar of a voracious lion the powerful call silenced the audience. “Welcome to the Tournament!”
In perfect synchronicity with Poetaster’s explosive announcement, Liederkranz launched one of her drums at the back of Poetaster’s head, the betrayal sending shock throughout the audience. As if precognizant, Poetaster quickly twisted around blocking the projectile with an outstretched hand and exploding the drum in a shower of prismatic sparks.
Liederkranz growled at her failed surprise attack, and she lunged at Poetaster in rage, yet still playing with her remaining instruments. Poetaster cartwheeled away from her attack, a rainbow arc ascribing the path that they had taken. The fight began in a burst of color and sound, but the audience soon clued in; it wasn’t a fight, it was a dance.
As Liederkranz played her instruments, actual visual notes could be seen blaring out in waves that dithered and swarmed onto Poetaster. Poetaster ducked and weaved and twirled in a mesmerizing sway as they shot needle like lasers from the tips of their fingers that popped the visual notes and releasing the sound of that note. The battle created an echo song as each note of the song played twice, once upon Liederkranz playing it, and again as Poetaster popped the corresponding note.
At the impending climax of the song, Liederkranz threw a clarinet and a trombone at Poetaster which flew with impossible speed barreling forwards with harmonic malevolence. Poetaster fired a series of colorful bolts to intercept the assault, but each shot limply fizzled against the hurtling instruments. In astonishment, mere moments before collision, Poetaster urgently summoned two small sparks and cast them at the musical missiles.
The sparks collided with the instruments and a burning white flame erupted beneath them, blasting the instruments high into the sky. Once almost out of sight, the instruments ruptured into two brilliant flowers of flame. A second or so after the lightshow, two thunderous cracks blasted out jostling the earth; The sound of the explosion so absolute it rumbled in the chest of all who heard it.
The dancing fight progressed evermore with Liederkranz’s supply of instruments slowly dwindling, each lost weapon accompanied with a rapturous boom and a lulling in the music. With the final obliteration of a trombone Liederkranz was left with only her leader’s baton. Without any instruments left, the music ended. The show was over; and now, the real fight could begin.
Liederkranz’s showman’s anger subsided to an eager smile, and she charged forward. When only a mere step away, she launched her baton at Poetaster like a javelin. With an easy twist of their body, Poetaster dodged the baton. As it streaked passed Poetaster, Liederkranz quickly caught the baton with another spectral arms and again launched it at her enemy.
Poetaster dodged a second time but once more the baton was caught by another spectral arm that hurtled it at Poetaster’s evasive body. More spectral arms sprouted from Liederkranz’s back and beared down upon Poetaster from every direction encapsulating them within a cage of spectral limbs. Poetaster darted widely within the cage to avoid the flying baton that jumped around from spectral arm to spectral arm. With Poetaster focused on avoiding the zooming baton, Liederkranz used her real physical farms to unleash a flurry of powerful punches.
Poetaster continuously side stepped and backed away trying to garner enough distance from those numerous spectral limbs, but Liederkranz was always on pace sticking uncomfortably close to the combat mage. With each dodge and weave, Poetaster unleashed a scream of prismatic magic, but without the space, failed to aim them at any decisive targets.
Despite the real fight’s commencement, they still moved together in an apparent rehearsed elegance. Liederkranz continuously shifted into varying stances granting Poetaster very little time to acclimate to her fighting style.
Though Liederkranz took the clear lead in the flow of battle, she had yet to land any true strikes. Unfortunately for Poetaster, they were fighting more than simply Liederkranz’s physical form. Each minor misstep, or unfactored inefficiency was gravely punishment by that flying baton. Every hit a slight blunt trauma that slowly added to an exhaustive advantage.
A spectral arm lanced the baton towards Poetaster who set out to dodge, but before the baton even reached its target location, that same spectral arm grabbed the baton again and swung it sideways cracking it against the bridge of Poetaster’s nose. The impact having interrupted Poetaster’s flow left them completely open and Liederkranz followed with two kicks to the gut and a punch landing squarely on the already broken nose folding it disturbingly inwards.
The spectral arm that still held the baton, started swinging back towards Poetaster but the moment before collision Poetaster was no longer there.
Poetaster appeared behind Liederkranz, holding its nose, “You almost got me there.” Poetaster laughed nasally as they clutched their broken nose and snapped it back into position. The previously cheering audience going so completely silent that the sickening pop could be heard throughout the arena. Picayune was so shocked by the turn of events that he accidentally dropped the remainder of his potato wedges on the floor.
Liederkranz turned to face Poetaster’s new position disbelief wrinkling her face. “But how?” Poetaster’s nose visibly healed itself as they gave Liederkranz a mischievous smile. “Teleportation isn’t possible.”
Before Liederkranz could mentally recover, Poetaster teleported directly in front of her and fired five prismatic bolts directly into her. With a grunt Liederkranz dropped her baton and was propelled backwards, crashing against the hard stone flooring. The thud of the stone jolted her warrior instincts back into action.
Liederkranz immediately jumped back up just in time to catch Poetaster’s fist in her face. Instead of feeling any pain however, she instead found herself suddenly floating in the air as Poetaster teleported the two of them high above the arena. With a cheeky smile, Poetaster teleported away leaving Liederkranz to succumb to gravity’s ire alone.
Liederkranz quickly plummeted towards the ground. In panic, she just managed to coalesce her spectral arms into solid arcana breaking her fall at the cost of shattering the ethereal limbs. Liederkranz once more pulled herself off the ground, stance ready for Poetaster’s next attack while she slowly regrew the essence arms.
Luckily, she was allowed to recover while Poetaster patiently took center stage, “Well, I guess my dirty little secret is out now.” After the cheeky comment Poetaster disappeared from her sight. The beautiful opponent flashed in and out of existence, appearing randomly around the arena and launching a prismatic bolt each time. Liederkranz desperately ducked and weaved occasionally sacrificing one of her spectral limbs to shield her bloodied body.
Liederkranz directed her evasions towards her baton which rested on the ground across the arena. Just as she was about to reach the baton, Poetaster disappeared once more and she then heard their voice right next to her ear. “You know…” She felt a heavy kick crunch into her ribs and then again, she found herself in the sky with Poetaster “Despite its uniqueness…” Poetaster interrupted their sentence by teleporting away, letting her fall again.
Ready this time, Liederkranz conjured up a large spectral fan which bloomed out from either of her hands and then coalesced to arcana. The thin veil of magic slowing her fall greatly as Poetaster continued their soliloquy shouting out to her and the audience alike. “I’ve never been a fan of my teleportation.”
Before Liederkranz had even landed, Poetaster appeared next to her, grabbing her by the neck and teleporting to the ground. Poetaster slammed the hapless woman to the arena floor before teleporting away again.
Liederkranz let her fans dissipate as she tried to steady her swimming mind. Poetaster continued their taunting brags. “It’s not particularly showy you know. First I’m here.” Poetaster disappeared and reappeared right next to Liederkranz “then I’m here.” Poetaster unleashed three prismatic blasts into her side and sent her careening across the arena. “No lights, no sounds. It’s just so… low-key.”
Poetaster disappeared again and Liederkranz hurriedly curled her magical arms around herself hardening them into arcana once more and shielding herself from the prismatic bolts that struck her from behind. The impact shattered her limbs but this time she was prepared, within the protective enclosure of her spectral limbs she had formed another spectral arm and the instant her protective cocoon shattered she shot it out to the source of the prismatic bolts grasping Poetaster and solidifying into arcana.
As Poetaster teleported once again Liederkranz was dragged along with and upon being remanifested she sent a high kick straight to Poetaster’s face and then two quick jabs to their chest knocking the wind from their lungs. Liederkranz detached her spectral arm from her body and then violently detonated it into a visceral arcane explosion which tore through Poetaster’s pliable flesh. Liederkranz used the moment to charge towards her baton while creating many long thin spectral spikes all around her body and solidifying them into arcana along with two spectral limbs. The instant she picked up the baton, she twirled in place feeling Poetaster’s recently teleported self bristle against some of her arcanal spikes. The moment she detected the interference, she grabbed on to Poetaster with one spectral arm and released every one of her spikes letting them shoot off of her body. Two of the spikes pierced directly into Poetaster and Liederkranz quickly followed up with smacking her baton against the end of one of the spikes to drive it even deeper into their body. Liederkranz manifested a large arcane shield in front of herself and then detonated the two spikes shredding Poetaster’s body apart.
Poetaster shrieked out in pain; their regeneration unable to keep up with the damage. In panic, Poetaster teleported away but with one of Liederkranz’s spectral arms still clung to them she joined for the ride and walloped them across the head with her baton. She let her spectral arm detach as Poetaster’s falling body tugged at it and detonated it causing another rupture of debilitating damage. The crowd gasped in terror but there was no actual blood to show for the attack. Two more spectral limbs burst from Liederkranz’s body solidifying to pin Poetaster to the ground and she held her baton back like a preying spear prepped to pounce.
Poetaster groaned out in pain. “I. Yield.”
The spectral arms dissipated and Picayune’s pre-prepared rune activated announcing out to the entire audience. “Liederkranz wins!”