Old lore from a character I played on a now-dead server, was somethin' that got turned into an in-game book and is essentially a bardic retelling of a quest. I know Angel gets bored at work, SO HERE Y'GO.
The Marquis of Blood
Part 1:
It was a man in the center of Mar Seran that had begun this fateful journey. He had called for battlers; warriors, mages, expert fighters. Being none of the above, I offered to enchant those that would fight in the tournament that was being spoken of. The winnings? The souls of thirty children. How could one pass up such? The greatest of the countryside were showing up for the battle.
We were directed to the Shadowyrm river bridge to get to the land we were headed to. The Real of the Fae is where this contest would start. Walking from the bridge side, we fell into the mirror-like portal that the river had become nearest our feet...
Amidst the hazy fog, brilliant lights shone reflecting colors known only loosely by the mortal mind.. those lights were our road as we made way to the battlegrounds. To every side off this lit road, fog and blackness.
A dragon from the mist! Roaring breath and giant teeth break the shield of darkness to our left. Crimson red scales glisten with promises of impunity, yet Warriors make charge. The mages must hold themselves; magic cannot be wasted so early before the main attraction. The warrior’s steel had to do.
Ambushes were many during this brief walk, and persistent; the healers were needed to use their magics, to the dismay of a few. We were not yet sure the format of the fight, and questioned the liberty we‘d be given to rest when we reached the battle; despite ignorance to the situation, we had all made a silent decision in our minds that the souls for thirty children must outweigh our lives if they can be retake, les‘t we‘d not be there. Fae were about the woods to great effect; their effort fell on fighters blades yet again.
Coming to a field of lights, the equally radiant lady of this wood appeared before the congregation of battlers, greeting the 'Champions of the Mortal Realm'
A voice akin to summer's breeze, and her beauty an elegant one; a beauty that would distract the stoutest heart. Prayer be to the wits of this Loremaster's companions; let their minds not be clouded with lust. This doesn’t appear to be an issue, though; their hearts are with the fight for now.
Enter the foe; Lariek, the Marquis of Bleeding Ice. He welcomed us with open arms, his sizeable and sinister self looming amongst the mists. A show put on, no doubt; his only joy in seeing us would must have been that he thought we could be defeated. Sorry to disappoint.
Lyssia was greeted foremost by name, the beauty that had welcomed us to the woods; another was recognized. This wicked foe recognized one amongst our numbers who it displeased him to see; Constance.
This brought a smile to my face.
The contest was drawing near! Frivolous questions and commentary; he hailed from a castle, too wicked to welcome us in, he stated in so many words. Do we know the rules? he questions. So I wonder; does he know what rules are, whilst he takes the souls of children? Yet I stay silent..
A call for an end to the toying talk from the crowd of heros; Vlad's words in greater precision were, 'Lets get this over with, you pompous ass'
My smile grows.
Our competition is presented..
Yugoloth V'neeriq of Gehenna. An easy 15 feet tall, red hued as might be expected and a mountain of muscle rippling down one arm, though the second?… eh, about the size of mine. She, the first contender from the Marquis of Blood.
M'vaugn, a green dragon full grown. It second contender put forth by the Marquis of Blood.
Valia. 'From my own court' The Marquis announces.. he will not enjoy it when she falls, I know this instantly. She was the Third contestant of the Marquis of Blood.
The Black Knight. 'From a lot of places' The Marquis announced. I knew this to be true; lore never ceased of the Black Knight. Did he ever get old...? He was the Fourth contestant of the Marquis of Blood.
A mystery. A man unnamed, unsubmitted and, thus far in the event, unarrived. He was the Fifth contestant of the Marquis of Blood; his personal champion. All his entries were in.
It was our time now; to choose who will fight and face death, who we might submit to face death and slap these fiends about.
Our people had been picking their combatants from the start. It didn't take long for our best to start stepping forth.
Vlad. The first to step forward. His choice? The Black Knight, of course.
There was a contest of voices between Dall and Arianna for the Green Dragon. Arianna won; she would battle the dragon. Dall would receive a dragon to battle later, which will be written of separately.
Richelieu stepped forth, declaring no particular foe; he would fight who they set before him, for, in his own fearless words, 'it matters not who I battle'
Vlad went forth to meet the Black Knight! No fear, no hesitation, no long speech; only the few, suitable words 'Come 'ere you little bastard....' and the beat of heavy feet.
Blood flew and swords clashed; every blow landed by our own hero seemed to strike past the Black Knights armor and rattling his very soul. The battle was over in minutes; no contest, Vlad emerged drenched in blood and hardly a drop of it his.
Richelieu stepped forth, announcing his intent to fight next. He has to pick now... and his choice is Vugoloth, the monstrous humanoid with one massive arm.
His marvelously crafted blade pointed forth to call out the beast, 'You and I. No enchantments needed.’ 'You meat!' the Yagnoloth declares.
In true mythological fashion, the knight's shield went high and his blade poised to strike in a picturesque moment that shall be painted on another day, surely. The battle begins.
It is brief. The blade nearly sings in this magical air, slashing the misshapen foe to ribbons and then granting a swift, merciful puncture-strike to kill. An easy victory for the knight in shining armor.
Part 2:
'Now I will fight' Aduial announced. He stepped forth and called out the powers of his Lord Pelor, energies swirling about him. The Fae steps forth. 'Are you ready, pretty thing?'
Oh, was he ever... a pillar of fire shot down from the sky unto the head of the Ice Fae as Adiual went into battle, his divine might pitting well against this Fae. This was set to be a more lengthy battle.
Unlike the others before him, Aduial was a cleric; his defenses were nearly impenetrable, but his strikes were not as mighty as those to go before. The time it took him to kill cost him; he was injured badly, but he would recover with his Lord's grace. As the foe fell, he issued the prayer-statement ‘May you find mercy in death’
Congratulations were in the midst for the previous victors. Richelieu took it in stride, with a healthy dose of modesty. There was still more fighting to be done, and the warriors tried to keep their minds on that fact.
Dall complained that he wanted to fight a dragon. The Marquis of Blood offered to bring him one. He accepted the offer, but it would have to take place later, for now it was the Chromatic's time to shine.
No words from Arianna, the chromatic disciple. Just a roll of her shoulder to loosen the powerful muscles that would sling her crackling blade; lightning was in that sword of hers.
As the dragon came forth, Arianna would simply ask, 'Ready, little cousin?' The dragon would compliment her scent, as it were; she smelt tasty, so it conveyed. I cannot deny, she was an appetizing sight.. but a warrior bred through and through. The dragon sought an arrangement.. her offer was simple 'No arrangements; you bow now, or when your blood stains the ground'
The battle was ferocious. Arianna was injured by the Dragon's might; his size was overwhelming, but her blade was keen and eyes sharp, her wit sturdy. She knew how a dragon fights; it was in her blood to know how a dragon fights. The Dragon struck hard, but her blade drove true; she knew it would seek to exploit the potency of it’s breath, and when rose up a second time to spew it‘s acidic breath, she gutted it. The dragon fell to it's knees, then crashed to the ground.
It knelt in the end.
The preliminaries were over. The second tier was open to the victors, and two foes were set forth by the Marquis; our champions would have to talk amongst themselves over who would get the honor.
Vlad and Constance rose up to take these battles.
Creaking wood echoed the forest as a frosted Trent lurched from the mists, a perplexing sight from afar which made sense when the tree got near enough to determine what it was.
'I trust there's no problem with this? Not afraid of a little wood, are you?' The Marquis asked as Constance looked at it questioningly. 'Not at all' was her reply.
Vladimir chose this one after a moment's discussion between he and Constance; it was his second first of the trip, and he was anxious to kill yet another exotic creature. There was a bounce in his step as he went to meet it.
Something was not normal with this Trent; it had old, deep wounds unhealed. 'I will taste your flesh' slowly echoed from it... and my hypothesis of the unhealed wounds was confirmed. A corrupted tree.
It would prove a lengthy battle. The corrupted Treant was nearly impossible even for Vlad's mighty blade. The fire upon it was the only thing the tree suffered from, but that was quite enough in the end. The charred remains would litter the forest floor.
Vlad stood victorious once more, and again, unscathed.
This whole time, few had noticed a darkness that was growing. It was spreading from the far side of the forest; all were so intent on the battle that the side of the forest where the crystals were had been all but forgotten by the Marquis. It wasn’t until the darkness got close enough to engulf him that he realized what had transpired..
Betrayal! The Marquis screamed out when he realized something had gone wrong. Ramus had stolen the crystals that were the children's souls!
The Marquis noble face twisted in wrath as he screamed for guards, and war began. The legendary combatant Browyn charged forth from the woods into the fray; he had made a late arrival for the contest, but he was just in time for the fight. Others went forward with him, knowing there need be no fear at the legendary rangers side. The Marquis men were to be massacred.
As the battle raged, the multitudes retreated; amongst their numbers, I ran. The strongest battlers stayed to fight. As for the rest of us, we made haste. There was nothing to be gained remaining for this fight; I caught a glimpse over my shoulder as the battle began, and it was clear it would quickly end.
Browyn was a harbinger of death to the guards; they fell as limbs from a flimsy tree. The rest of us slipped back through the portal, into our mother-plane.
It was beyond this point where I became separated for a time, but we met once more... on the Shadewyrm bridge. The radiant Lyssia had yet lingered, standing upon the bridge speaking to the crowd.
'Breaking the stones will free the souls' she stated. The order was given to have it done, and goodbyes were said to the woman. Night was upon us now, the ordeal had run late, but all was well. The souls would be free.
Knowledge was gained; under Boccob's eyes all was seen, and his rewards of learning bountiful to the persons that sought to gain. Warriors, too, had their glory and their blood. Above all, the souls of the children were free.
