The drop into the battlegrounds wasn’t too bad. Most people had managed to land without injury, with Xoph being among them. He drew in a sharp inhale to suppress the fear that was building in his stomach; he was trapped under magic-oppressive lights in a ring where the only way out was to either kill or be killed. Looking around, he could see that the others who’d fallen into the arena were just as uncomfortable as he was. Some people were gathering into groups, while others were searching for a way out. Still more were trying to plead with the king, dropping to their knees and calling out apologies for whatever perceived crime they committed. The mage trotted to where people were grabbing up weapons being thrown into the arena by guards in the stands, pointedly making no eye contact with anyone. A thousand thoughts were swirling through his mind, and he didn’t want any other distractions while he tried to find some way to rationalize this impossible situation he found himself in. He picked up an iron staff about a foot taller than himself as the announcer spoke again.
“Many of the monsters that haunt your towns at night – that drink the blood of your children! – were created by foul mages such as these!” As if on cue, a chorus of boos rang out. The floor shook as two parallel gates began to slide open. The cheering died down to a hushed anticipation at the sound of heavy footfalls of the massive creature that emerged. It had to hunch in order to step in through the gates, and as it entered the arena it towered at fifteen feet tall. Humanoid in shape, the creature had no hair on its lumpy head and face. It had a heavy hunch, with a slight hump in it’s back, and long and powerful arms that had three-fingered hands. The heavyset beast was known for it’s strange skull, which socketed one large eye, had slits for a nose, and a large jaw despite having no visible mouth. Xoph was glad that this particular cyclops seemed inexperienced compared to those in the books he’d read about. This one wore no armor to protect it’s orange-gray skin and carried only a single large stone mace. Still, he couldn’t help his nervous shudder when the massive creature looked around the arena and it’s gaze fell on the group. The entire amphitheater seemed to grow darker then, as a light filled up in the cyclops’s golden iris. With a roar that seemed to come from it’s eyes it spread it’s arms out, lifted it’s gaze to the sky, and erupted a beam of goldenrod light out of it’s eye in a show of power.
The audience went wild.
Xoph wanted to weep.
Two more creatures scrambled out of the gates before they slammed shut. Gray-skinned with fractures across their stony, segmented hides, these four foot beasts had the appearance of imps, but with large bat-like wings protruding from their backs. One of the gargoyles leaned back onto it’s hind legs and stood bipedal, sniffing the air curiously while the other squatted briefly before launching into the sky with one powerful beat of it’s wings. Xoph sighed, putting his staff through a few experimental swings while his attention shifted between the monsters and the spellcasters. Many of them fingered their weapons nervously, and a few were even trying to coordinate a defense. He couldn’t help a slight smile, these people may have normally relied more on magic than weaponry, but they were still Shadarrian, and weren’t incompetent without them.
Which meant Xoph didn’t have to worry about them too much.
Swallowing down the last of his apprehension, Xophorus ran forward. He made sure to sprint a wide berth around the cyclops in order to force it to either pay attention to him or the group. One of the gargoyles seemed spurred by the mage’s sudden movement; it flared its wings out and scraped gouges in the ground as it scrambled on all fours towards Xoph, its flapping wings didn’t quite take it off the ground, but made its sprint all the swifter. The cyclops’s massive eye twitched between glaring at the group of humans and glaring at Xoph before it finally decided on the group. Yet again an eerie darkness filled the arena as if a cloud had passed over the sun, and the cyclops’s irises began to fill with light. Xoph’s eyes went wide, and he could see that the humans could also see what was coming. The semblance of a formation they had put together fell apart instantly as people scrambled to get out of the way of the impending blast.
Xoph saw what was happening, but was preoccupied. The gargoyle had closed on him surprisingly fast and sprang off the ground in a lunge. It threw itself at Xoph like a missile, clawed hands reaching out and wings splayed wide. The mage gritted his teeth and pivoted as he ran, with one arm planting his staff as an anchor in order to keep his momentum for a sharp turn. He tilted his head just enough that the creature’s claws sailed right over his face and slid beneath the gargoyle unharmed. The creature hit the dusty ground on all fours, sliding just a bit before another pump of it’s wings sent it in the opposite direction back towards Xoph.
The audiences’ chorus of boos that followed was expected. The mage, for all his life, was running away!
Up on the royal balcony, the kings’ entourage watched on with some interest. Khoma leaned back in his chair and let his attention roam to the expressions of his attendants. Though he knew it wasn’t affected by the anti-magic field, Khoma couldn’t help absently raising one hand up to touch his crown. Much more than just a ceremonial ornament, the king’s crown was enchanted to give him complete rule over Valmun. He could forcefully control any citizen who bore his kingdom’s mark, project his voice into their heads, and even read their surface thoughts. It was so precious that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing its effects for even a moment. As he watched his attendants, he casually looked in on their thoughts.
Those clothes… A Baldemian? I guess I should’ve expected… On Khoma’s right stood a thin man dressed in robes checkered in black and white. Ilyak Arbutum was the king’s Disenchanter, a servant tasked with making sure that no magic could be used on Valmun. Like all in the king’s court, Ilyak wore a mask that covered his eyes and nose. His was a silver and white mask with grill-like slits for the eyes. Ever-loyal and always carrying out his orders to perfection, Ilyak had come to Valmun from Baldeming and pledged his service to Khoma after departing the Academy. Ilyak’s ambition was simple: He wanted power, and he had no problem pledging under the king if it meant ruling over everyone else. Khoma found a mix of curiosity and nervousness in his thoughts as the disenchanter regarded the mages in the arena.
There was no anxiety to be found in Androva’s thoughts, however. The wavy-haired blonde woman stood on a raised platform just below the balcony, serving as announcer as she stoked the excitement of the crowd. Her strong six-foot frame and plate armor still bore scratches and marks from her time as a gladiator in the arena. Through years of trial and brilliant fighting, Androva had won her freedom, and so the king had awarded her a seat permanently by his side as part of his court and co-commander of his army.
She absolutely hated him for that.
The very thought made him smile.
The king’s thoughts were interrupted as the crowd suddenly gasped. A flash of light blared from the arena, and against all etiquette Ilyak stood from his seat to better see over the balcony. “Impossible!” The disenchanter shouted, despite himself. Khoma had executed people for less insubordination, but he paid Ilyak no mind as his attention was snatched back to the battlefield, his own mouth opening in shock and outrage.
“What is that!?” Khoma demanded, and Ilyak was afraid to even make eye-contact with his king.
The cyclops had gathered enough solar light into its eye.
Xoph ducked his head and gritted his teeth in concentration, running harder towards the cyclops, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. The anti-magic lights were dulling his senses and draining his energy, and the gargoyle was quickly gaining on him. It screeched before lunging from at Xoph’s back, and the spellcaster flicked his wrist out infront of him before springing straight up and backwards, tucking in his legs. The gargoyle soared right under him, and as Xoph was upside-down in his flip he reached out and grabbed onto it’s wings; landing roughly on the beast’s back. He yelled out right as the crowd roared in excitement.
And the cyclops fired!
The destructive energy blast was as massive as the cyclops itself. The coliseum shuddered under the beams pressure, and the noise had people covering their ears and averting their eyes as the blast carved a path of devastation straight towards the majority of the mages. Without their magical equipment and having only mediocre weapons, they had no way to protect themselves from the beam and many tried in vain to brace themselves or dive out of the way. The blast never made it to them though, as a skull-sized cloudy white orb intercepted the energy stream and seemed to vacuum all of the cyclops’s attack inside of its own weaving light.
What had caused the audience to gasp, though, and what sparked Khoma’s outrage was the second slightly-larger orb that had flown behind the cyclops. Where the small orb had absorbed it’s attack, the larger one funneled the cyclops’s own beam right into the back of its head! By the time the light faded and dust settled, a sizzling and headless cyclops dropped to the ground with a lifeless thud.
With even the announcer at a loss for words, there would’ve been a moment of stunned silence in the arena had it not been for the screeching of the gargoyles. All eyes turned to see Xoph hanging in the air and fending off the two silicon beasts. One was suspended twelve feet in the air, holding the mage upside-down by one leg while the other attempted leaping slashes at his face. The suppressive radiation was making Xoph’s head pound, and controlling his orbs was taking much more concentration than normal. He had just enough focus to concentrate on both protecting the others and keeping his forearms in line to take many of the slashes, (and he was thankful that the gargoyle’s claws were barely able to scratch into his fine coat). With another flick of his wrist, Xophorus slid a small vial of foggy purple liquid into his hand from a hidden pocket in his sleeves. With a grunt, he leaned forward and smashed the vial into the face of the creature holding him. Its contents burst into a thick purple foam that crusted over the gargoyle’s face, smothering it. It reflexively let Xoph go as it grabbed and clawed at the sticky foam mask and the mage freefell downward where the other gargoyle eagerly awaited.
The stone beast was surprised to see the acrobatic spellcaster control his fall by twisting in the air, coming down with one foot extended heel-first to crash into the gargoyle’s jaw. The crash was strong enough to break the creature’s neck, and more than enough to shatter a man’s leg, yet Xoph managed to tumble into a controlled roll and got to his feet with barely a limp. He was sweating, his heart was racing, and he winced as a suffocated gargoyle fell out of the sky.
The crowd went wild.
Up on the balcony, all eyes were on Ilyak. He was still standing –though he had never been commanded to do so – and was still staring down into the coliseum. His grip on the rails tightened as his mind raced for an explanation, but Khoma wouldn’t give him that time.
“Ilyak.” The darkness in the king’s voice was unmistakable, the tone he used when he was about to have someone executed violently for failing him.
“My king, pardon my jest,” the disenchanter, his mind racing for an explanation, finally turned to face Khoma as he spoke, “I knew there would likely be at least one mage of talent within the group, but this is an even greater opportunity than I had original anticipated!” He continued quickly into everyone’s surprised expression. “For who better to face against your champion on this, your most holiest day?” He said, spreading his arms out for added effect.
Khoma looked unconvinced.
“Just… J-just listen to how the crowd cheers, with magic being prohibited they’ve never seen such a spectac-“
“Kill yourself.”
Ilyak’s blood ran cold. He looked all around as if hoping for some escape, but already the guards were moving infront of the doors. “My king…” He kneeled and put his head down. All his years of study, of training, everything he had ever worked for suddenly seemed to mean nothing in that one awful moment. Khoma’s expression was unreadable. “You, serving boy, my cup has been empty for over two minutes.” The king said, addressing the young servant that had been filling his chalice until he’d been distracted by the surprising events in the arena (like everyone else). Ilyak looked at the boy -who hadn’t even reached his twenties- and felt guilty at the relief he felt. The boy looked as if he was about to resist, he looked outraged, but that angry expression turned to one of fear as his body betrayed him. With barely a gesture, Khoma’s command made the boy leap against his will from the balcony, screaming all the way until his body crashed into the arena.
“Mm.” Khoma smiled, his mood brightening immediately. Another of his attendants took the opportunity to speak. “King Khoma,” his voice had a rough gravel to it, as if he’d lived a life of hardship. His gold mask covered his face fully and took on the appearance the face of an ancient man who’s hair and beard blazed as fire. His job was to scour Exodus for captives to bring to the arena, and was the only one in Khoma’s court who did not have a mark. “Your disenchanter clearly overestimated his own ability, but he may have a point. An’draeous has not had an interesting fight in a long time. Who better to represent your great will to crush this unruly mage?” Ilyak shot the man, known only as “Chozun” a dark look, but bowed respectfully to Khoma. “If you wish it, I can keep the mage’s abilities suppresse-“
“Does Ae’dron the Titan need such an advantage?” Chozun asked Khoma.
“No.” The king declared. “Send him in.”