The Arena | A Thora Silentblade tale

It was a few hours before dawn when Thora slipped back into the hotel, ready for a quick nap before breakfast. The main lobby and halls were so quiet at this time of night. Not even the usual buzz of the staff moving about disturbed the silence. The soldier did their best to move noiselessly and not wake the residents, quietly opening their door, worried about the slightest creak of the hinges. It reminded Thora of youth, trying to slip back in without waking beka. Thora’s mother must have been able to feel the vibration of the stones or had some sort of otherworldly senses because the young dwarf had not once managed to get in unnoticed!

When morning came, the sun shone in through the curtains directly into Thora’s eyes. The soldier groaned and rolled out of bed, stretching out before starting to layer on clothing and armour. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Thora checked the edges on all of the blades, and strung the bows. It was unlikely he would need to use both, but the dwarf didn’t like to be unprepared.

Down in the common room, Thora found the others already at breakfast, fully geared up for the day’s contest. The group discussed the information Alandal had gleaned and also the layout that Thora had seen the night before, deciding on some initial strategies. Once the contest began, there wouldn’t be much of a chance to talk. Thora was certain of their role today: protect Little Pinky.

Having feasted well, they all strolled over to the fair grounds, enjoying the sights of the city again on their way to the tent. The buildings rose up higher than Thora imagined possible, it seemed to be quite the feat of engineering. The engineers behind this construction must have used something very strong to support such structures!

Arriving at the tent, Thora waved goodbye to Zearach and the others as the soldier blended in with the crowd. Hood up and trying to stick to the crowds, Thora attempted to find Pinkleton and his crew. He wasn’t sure what the others would look like, but spotting that fop in a crowd was going to be easy. At the north end of the tent, Thora finally spotted the nervous Rufflefuss nephew chatting with a group of armed individuals. They looked like they could handle themselves well, which was a bit of a surprise, but Pinky could likely afford to hire the best.

Thora waited for them to head for the gate and then trailed them through the crowd, keeping far enough back to not be seen. While Thora wanted to help protect the nobleman as the older lady had asked, the dwarf also got the sense that it might be best not to let Pinkleton know they were doing so. Allow the man a bit of pride, and all that.

When the bell rang, all chaos broke out. The platformed structures Thora had seen before looked different from the arena floor, much higher up. Scanning about the room, Thora noticed multiple teams, including his own friends, rushing for ladders or leaping to pull themselves up. Everyone was either headed for the top of the layered tiers or for one of the strange machines attached to the platforms. The dwarf quickly slipped underneath the wooden structures, taking cover and looking for opportunities.

*Thwip*

It was a good thing for the poor young lad with an arrow in his throat that the arena was providing clerics on hand to bring people back around. Thora nocked another arrow and continued the hunt. Above the dwarf, the loud thudding of feet struck the wooden bridge planks, rushing across towards the center of the arena.

*Thwip*

Another combatant clutched at their chest, the arrow’s shaft partway through them from the force of Thora’s longbow at short range. That was two down. A smile crept across Thora as the hunt continued. A few figures were trying to operate one of the machines on a nearby platform. Almost too easy, Thora thought, leaping up to the platform, drawing both swords while charging. It was going to take a long time, though, trying to take one out at a time. Hopefully the others were making progress.

As Thora stalked any figure that was even close to Pinkleton or his crew, the dwarf took a chance to look up and check on the topmost platform. Multiple figures were pushing and shoving in a mass, shouting at each other and slipping around. Thora could hear Duanne’s shouts to Alandal to hold his ground as they battled for ownership of the top ring. Only a few seconds more would be needed…

When the klaxon rang out, signaling the end of the round, Alandal brought himself to his full height and raised both arms in victory. He was beaten and bruised but the bard’s dragon-toothed smile was wide and proud.

Fire and ice

The gang was all smiles and laughter after making quick work of the competition during the other challenges. A brief rest in between stages was just the thing to give everyone enough strength to be at their best for the next round. Zearach seemed to be focused, his mind meditating or some elven version of such. The elven words whispering from his lips meant nothing to Thora and they didn’t seem aimed at anyone in particular. Perhaps this was some sort of prayer?

An unnatural sound echoed through the arena, somehow familiar. Where had the dwarf heard that before? The roar seemed frustrated, angry, and loud. But the noise didn’t sound like anything that an animal would make. The announcement over the speakers called the groups back to the arena to reveal a ghastly sight behind the noises.

In the center of the ring was an abomination. No longer living, but not quite dead, the decaying troll before them snarled and snapped at its restraints, desperate to be unleashed. Thora’s mind snapped back to two nights ago in the hotel basement, the sounds coming from the deep pit in the floor. Why had the city not destroyed it immediately? I suppose Thora could appreciate the desire to recycle and reuse, but this was dangerous. What other horrors from the hotel had they chained for their own purposes?

Knocking an arrow, Thora lined up with the others and prepared for a lengthy battle. Trolls were notoriously tough and an undead one might prove even more dangerous! It was tempting to get in close with the swords, but the bow would be safer, let it come to them. The dwarf could see Zearach drawing his bow, Everfrost, its grip crackling with energy, waiting for Zearach to unleash its power. The elf seemed more focused on this foe, for whatever reason. Perhaps he had a thing about trolls?

As arrows and magic flew at the rushing creature, the elf calmly drew back the string and fired. An icy cold filled the air as Zearach’s arrow flew across the distance, its point piercing through the creature’s skull, causing an unpleasant dark sludge to spray around the troll. A layer of ice began to form over the creature, its movements slowing as it tried to fight through the ranger’s magic, aggravated snarling coming from its maw. Even with half of its face gone, it was still coming.

Thora wasn’t sure if tortle’s could smile, but if they could, that was what Duanne was doing. The wizard saw the slowed movement of the troll and immediately began an incantation. A bonfire suddenly sprung from the ground beneath the troll, flames licking up and consuming the rotting flesh of the undead. The unnatural howls of the creature ended as it was consumed by the blaze, but the celebration was short-lived as another gate opened.

Before them rose an enormous swirling mass of water. Easily 5 times Thora’s size, if not more, the translucent creature was beautiful as it rippled and spiraled, folding in on itself and then reforming. The elemental’s very presence spoke of power and ancient lineage, a primal force that was as much a part of Rhime as it was its own being. It towered over them, awe-inspiring. This was to be their final challenge? Thora had to admit, this was more than what the dwarf had expected.

“Hey elf! Don’t suppose you can do that ice thing again?” shouted Duanne over the roaring sound of the swirling vortex of water.

Thora watched as the elf cocked his head, nocked an arrow, and focused. The elf was taking too long! Thora let loose, watching as the shaft flew into the creature, slowed by the water but eventually passing through. If that arrow had hurt it, the creature wasn’t showing it.

The others prepared to attack, lining up defensively on the sandbag wall between them and the creature. Zearach’s eyes closed, his breathing calm, his long hair shifting subtly in the breeze. Thora thought for a moment that time had slowed as he watched the elf release his string with a snap, the calm blue glow of his bow crackling with arcane energy as its missile flew across the expanse of the arena. The arrow struck in the dead center of the creature, where a heart might be on a mortal. The elemental paused, the swirling of the water at its center beginning to slow. A strained shriek escaped from the elemental as the ice expanded outwards from the arrow, spreading through its limbs and torso, creating a beautiful tower of ice.

The elf had done it!

The ice structure stood only for a moment, before shattering into millions of shards upon the floor of the arena. A cheer went up throughout the arena as Zearach calmly lowered his bow and opened his eyes, a raised eyebrow the only sign of a reaction. Thora ran to him and picked the elf up off the ground in a massive hug as the others gathered around to congratulate him.

“You might say our friend here… froze under the pressure” stated Zearach, with a straight face.

The just rewards

The aftermath of the arena challenge was a bit of blur. The organizers held an enormous feast for the public to celebrate all those who participated, but particularly the winners. Their names were spread out on announcements and posters, while word of mouth spread of the quartet who had so easily defeated the elemental. By the end of the night, the tales of Zearach and his bow of pure magic had grown to such outlandish proportion that it was a wonder the retellings had not somehow tried to claim the elf was some sort of god here amongst mortals.

With that notoriety came the requests. Everyone seemed to have a problem to solve and, surely, the recently crowned victors would be the perfect choice for the challenges? The city itself had already added them into their official system as agents and now they had shown their skills in a larger public forum. The demand was high, but would they be able to handle all of these jobs in time? Thora started to wonder if they might have to hire on some folks to help tackle it all. Perhaps some of the dwarves from the encampments might be interested?

Above all, though, the happiest seemed to be Lady Rufflefuss. While the businesswoman’s memory was not what it once was, she remembered the promise she had made to those who would protect her Little Pinky. Pinkleton had not won the tournament, but he had survived until the end and shown enough capability to earn the respect he was looking forward. The younger Rufflefuss even seemed to walk a little taller and stammered a little less as he celebrated with the others at the banquet.

Everything was going so well…