Hello reader! Here's my attempt at a light novel that I started writing at age 17. There may be something interesting here for you. There may not be. There was for me, but then again, I wrote it. Whatever map you find here, I hope it's at least entertaining.
Keale 02/23/2026
Prologue One
“Thank you for your consideration in joining the Adventurer’s Guild in Ionia. Under the provision of law, joining a guild implies that you will be unable to join another. To process your registration, we require your first name, your last name, and your class.”
“Chloe Einzweller, Alchemist.” The receptionist scribbled down the information, paused for a moment, and continued.
“By joining the guild as an adventurer, you at this moment agree that the Ionia Adventurer’s Guild is not responsible for any damage taken towards your equipment, your party members, or yourself. As a legal caveat, you will encounter situations in which lead to towards a detriment to your health and safety. As a result, do acknowledge the Guild is not responsible for any injuries, fatal or otherwise, that may occur during your patronage. Please sign this document to finalize the registration.” The receptionist handed over the document she had been writing on previously, along with a quill and ink. Chloe scrawled down her signature, hastily dotting the ‘i’ in ‘Einzweller.’ She unsheathed a dagger from her hip, sliced open her thumb, and pressed it upon the indicated box next to the signature.
“Thank you for registering with the Ionia Adventurer’s Guild,” the receptionist continued, putting aside the registration form, “From this point on, your subclass will officially be ‘Adventurer,' and your affiliation with the guild will be publicly accessible information.” She ducked under the desk for a brief moment, resurfaced, and handed over a thin, iridescent, rectangular sliver of metal. “This is your Adventurer’s Card. It will be your official documentation proving your affiliation with the Adventurer’s Guild. It not only serves as official documentation allowing you access to Guild accompaniment, but it also serves as a travel visa to visit other Adventurer Guilds in your travels.” The receptionist handed over the card. As soon as Chloe had a grip on it, it began to resonate, and after a few brilliant flashes of light, her information had appeared on it.
Chloe Einzweller
Ranked No. 5 Alchemist
Ranked No. 1 Adventurer
“You are now able to take any of the quests listed on the bulletin board. The quest payout is rewarded by the lister. However, we levy a twenty-five percent tax on all rewarded currency. With that, your registration is complete. Please have a nice day.” As she finished her spiel, she gave a courteous bow and began filing paperwork at her desk.
Chloe stood in front of the Guild’s bulletin board; the quests pinned on it ranged in difficulty drastically, from gathering herbs at the edge of the Glades, to defeating monsters at the final floor of the Pit. While pondering upon the quest listings, a party of adventurers accosted her.
“Hey, I overheard from the registration desk that you’re an alchemist. Chloe, huh? You must make a pretty penny from selling potions on the side. How would you like to join our party? We could some help.” He extended out his hand. Chloe took a good look at the three of them; a warrior, a thief, and a female ranger. She hesitated for a moment, but acquiesced and accepted the handshake.
“I may not contribute as well as you believe.”
“Nonsense! We wouldn’t mind helping out a novice adventurer such as yourself! We could use the potions; I hope you bring lots onto the trip.”
“I will need a night.”
“Sounds perfect. Meet us at the Glades tomorrow at noon.” With that last word, he gave a grin.
Chapter One
A deep crimson painted the surrounding foliage. The man from the Guild lay on his side, breathing haphazardly, grasping at the wound in his chest. The knife that had been previously gouged inside of him had missed his vitals, but the poison-tipped serrated edge had already sealed his fate. I towered over the man and knelt down to his level. He attempted to muster enough energy to meet eye contact but fell due to a lack of power.
“How did you know?” he muttered. I thought for a moment if it were ruder to leave him there to die or to end his suffering quickly, but in the time it took me to ponder the poison had already proved fatal. His muscles relaxed first in his face, then in his body, and soon he drew his final breath. I checked his personal pack and took the remaining belongings he would no longer be using.
I stepped towards the leader’s fallen comrades. I took a look at the thief; a class that is known for disarming combatants from the shadows, utilizing magic to conceal their presence. This one, in particular, was unskilled and clumsy with a dagger. I turned the body around and checked the knapsack on the back of his torso. It contained little more than pocket lint.
“You bastard,” an effeminate voice called from behind me, “where do you get off, killing those weaker than yourself?” I turned around; it was the ranger of the group, a female. Long, dirty blonde hair and a slim physique. Her class is mostly known for either neutralizing threats from a distance or distracting opponents while offering supporting fire. This one, in particular, wasn’t able to get a reasonable distance from me while the fight broke out.
She was sat leaning against a tree, blood and saliva oozing out of the corners of her mouth, barely clinging to her life.
“Self defense,” I responded, kneeling down to her level.
“We only wanted your gold,” she spat, “of course we weren’t willing to kill for a few pence. Who are you?” I mounted her and wrapped my arms around her neck. I leaned in and pressed my forehead against hers. The crisp bite of the cold air contrasted well with the intermittent gasps of her breath and my own. I pressed my lips against hers. Her eyes closed, and a subtle moan escaped her lips as if she was confused about whether she should feel aroused, or terrified. Pleasure, or pain. I pulled away, stood up. I removed my clothing.
“You…” Slowly, my form had changed. My previously brown hair had shifted toward a blonde, my ears from round to pointed, and my face from mine to hers. I licked my lips. My bust had shrunk considerably, but my height had grown in return. My muscles had stayed relatively the same, but they felt more responsive and light. “Shapeshifting? You’re a demon- you’re a fucking demon!”
“Quite literally.”
“Why have you done this?” I set aside my bags to rustle through her own. At my own pace, I took a few personal belongings and some survival gear from her purse including a shoddy hair-brush, a few coins, a rope, and some bandages. She attempted to get up but used her remaining energy in the process. She slumped over, relaxed her muscles, and passed away.
“Rest in peace,” I whispered under my breath.
I stripped their bodies bare of their clothing and took anything valuable. Bronze, silver, and gold coins equalling to a sum of about one-hundred and twenty-eight pence. The garment itself off of the ranger’s back, which I had swapped for my own. But most importantly, I have taken her Adventurer’s Card; a valid form of identification that also proves that I have successfully taken over her life, that I am Drossel Sylvae.
Drossel Sylvae
Ranked No. 7 Archer
Ranked No. 3 Adventurer
I took out one of the last potions I had made and had explicitly saved for this exact occasion. The small vial was warm to the touch, and after swishing it around in my hands, it had burned even hotter. I tossed it onto the ground, and a magnificent plume of flame had expelled outwardly. The dried foliage had caught fire first, and after only a moment, the entire surrounding forest had been set aflame. I tossed out my old identification, along with my old knapsack and anything belonging to Chloe Einzweller. Dense concentrations of smoke flew outwardly, and I began my return to the town.
“Identification please.” The guards at the entrance of Ionia had undoubtedly practiced their commanding voices.
“Here you are.” I handed him my newly obtained Adventurer’s Card. He read the title and specifications and looked me over the top to bottom.
“Alright, welcome back.” He stepped aside and allowed me forward.
I took a stroll down the main avenue of Ionia; the atmosphere was lively. Merchants had settled down along the sides of the roads, selling their goods at hastily erected wooden stands. Children played on the sidewalk, tossing around misshapen balls of hay. Caravans pulled along by grounded owls busied up and down the road. I walked along the path in search of respite. I counted on the total sum of my coin as I walked along; 152 Ios, not calculating the market price worth of the excess gear I had collected. Not enough money to make up for the lost strength from transferring.
I walked into the tavern, a few minutes away from the main street, and approached the barkeep.
“A hot meal and a cup of mead please.”
“Rough day in the Glades, eh Drossel?” It took a moment to register the initiated conversation,
“I suppose.”
“You’re normally way more energetic after a day on the field.” A lull continued in the conversation as I awaited my meal. A few moments passed, and he handed me a plate of garnished wolf shoulder with sautéed mushrooms and a tall mug of spirits.
“Thank you.”
As I ate, the barkeep tended to the needs of the various characters entering the tavern. Many were adventurers, allowing a moment of reprieve from their life-endangering day jobs. Some were merely citizens enjoying their time after a hard day’s work.
“Drossel,” the barkeep said, “where’s Keith? You two are pretty much attached to the hip.” I paused, a wave of anxiety coursing throughout my body. Who’s Keith? Was he apart from the party or is he a personal friend?
“I don’t know,” I said, attempting to keep it safe. I may be a shapeshifter, but I am a mortal. If I’m discovered and killed, then that’s it. An even longer awkward paused ensued. The barkeep continued washing mugs awaiting more customers to serve. In an attempt to leave the tavern, I asked, “How much for the meal?” he turned to me and responded,
“For you? Of course, it’s free. You’ve done a lot for me and this tavern. At some point you should honestly stop asking; how many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“… Thank you.” I turned and left the tavern.
I returned to the Adventurer’s Guild, a place I had visited less than a half-day earlier, and I found myself once again scanning the corkboard for a new request. The requests ranged anywhere between, “Help me find my cat,” to, “Subjugate Miner’s Creek from the goblins.” While I dislike fulfilling simple requests such as the former, it’s not always easy to suppress demons on my lonesome. It’s challenging to find quests that satisfy my personal preferences; I would like a job with little to no social interaction, little to no risk, and a reward big enough to sate my own desires. Of course, in regards to a ‘dream job,’ these would be most people’s preferences. Easy coin for an easy job. That said, almost no one would bother posting requests like that, and the applications that have been published similarly to that would have been taken quite quickly. While pondering, I saw one of the Guild receptionists hang a new quest. It read Hobgoblin infant subjugation: Reward 500 Ios. I grabbed the poster quickly off the corkboard. Normally it’s not my style to kill children, especially so for infants of demonic kin, but my expenses will be tight this month if I do not seize this opportunity. I took the quest over to the receptionist and signed more documents and waivers.
The brilliance of light fading from the sky clashing with the thick canopies of the Glades allowed a veiled purple twilight to encapsulate the woodlands. I walked down a beaten path, the sound of crunching sticks and leaves echoing throughout the otherwise silent forest. The wind would occasionally pick up and rustle bushes, trees, and grass, feigning the sound of snakes. The petrichor of a day’s prior rainfall lingered, complimented by the permeating aroma of clustered flowers. The Glades would serve as a somewhat eloquent date-spot, if not for the ever-encroaching danger lurking around every brush. Whether by humans or demons – and sometimes I wonder if there were indeed such a difference – an unannounced ambush could spell your untimely demise. Unworriedly I continued towards my destination.
Night soon followed, and I have yet to find the end to my journey. I set aside my travel pack, crouched down, and laid my back against the hardwood of the Sequoia. The occasional firebug would flutter in and out of my vision, it’s tiny wings emitting light buzzing. As the wind refused to settle, a cold breeze would nip me by the ear or nose. I took out from my bag my favorite sleep-aide, a splash of rum from my flask. Not quite aged to my liking – a bit on the lighter side – but still a spirit nonetheless. As the ambrosia rushed down my throat, a sort of warmth followed that only alcohol could allow. Before long, I had passed out.
One second. A rustle in a nearby brush kicked in my instincts, and before I could realize it myself, I had a hand on my sheathed knife. Three seconds. The rustling continued. Five seconds. My heart pounded. Six. I lacked distance to use my bow. Eight seconds.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Ten seconds. Eleven seconds. More rustling. A figure popped out of the brush, and my adrenaline had begun to drop. My heartbeat slowed, and I sheathed my knife. I let out a sigh and approached the figure. It was a child; a human child. “What are you doing?” I queried. The child looked up at me with a deadpan stare. A girl? It was hard to tell, their dark hair so tangled and matted.
“Take me to Ionia,” she commanded with pith. What was with her?
“Uhm…” I was speechless, “Okay, well…” For the first time since integrating into human society many years ago, I honestly had no clue what to do. I wanted to leave this little brat here and continue on my merry way, but could I in good conscious do just that? I am a demon. A soul-sucking parasite. I really should not care about the wellbeing of a human individual.
“Please?” I sighed and thought for a moment more. I nodded with contempt.
“I will take you to Ionia, but accompany me first. I have a request to fulfill.” She nodded. I figure maybe she would see the scary demons lurking around and get scared and run away or something, “Let’s go, follow me.” We continued down the very same path I had walked the other day, the difference being an extra pair of footsteps echoing noise across the Glades. It wasn’t long until I heard water flowing from a distance. “Come with me. You need a bath.” Cleaning the child was less of an act of kind-heartedness, and more the fulfillment of a selfish desire. The smell. It had possibly been weeks or months since this child last had a wash. The blue river was complimented well by the sheen of an early day’s light and would have been serendipitous if not for our presence. As for the child’s gender, my hunch was correct. As I washed her hair, the color ended up being more of a dirty blonde, muddied merely by caked-in dried dirt and blood. I brushed through the kid’s hair with the shoddy looking comb I stole off of Drossel’s body.
After the wash, she ended up looking a bit more feminine. Under her young skin, glistening from the crystal lake, I barely noticed a small black birthmark under the curl of her bottom lip. “Thank you… Um…” She stuttered.
“It’s Drossel.”
“Drossel…” She cast her gaze downwards shyly. A kid of few words.
I looked on from behind a tall brush; twelve demons in total lied around in front of us. The sun once more began to set, and the remaining goblins from the family began to return and enter rest. Among them was an infant hobgoblin, it’s skin a darker complexion than the rest, with a horn much more significant in comparison to its small body. Rotting corpses of various forest animals lay in a pile in the center of the clearing, blocking my view of some of the resting demons. The stench would have been incredibly distracting, were I not already used to the smell of death.
“I can help.” The child who seldom spoke did so despite my warning not to. She must have noticed my hesitation to fight or picked up on my rising blood pressure. Or maybe it was merely her childish intuition.
“I have yet to see you in battle, so I do not trust your assistance.” Now that I think about it, how did she survive so far into the Glades in the first place? Ignoring my remark completely, she stepped out of the brush towards the monsters ignoring the remarkably noticeable noise emitted from the sticks and leaves under her footsteps. The twelve goblins perked their ears as their attention readied for the threat suddenly upon them. Few brandished swords, and maces – weapons that were undoubtedly stolen off the corpses of unfortunate adventurers – and one had even prepared a bow and arrow. The majority, however, stayed behind protecting the life of their future leader. The kid, however, stood absolutely still. A goblin wielding a serrated dagger began to close the gap between himself and the kid, and my heart skipped a beat. I stepped forward out of the brush without thinking and brandished my own dagger in turn. My energy was wasted, however. The kid lifted her hand and outwardly materialized three black longswords. She thrust her hand forward, and the swords followed suit, dashing through the air and striking a goblin twice in the chest, and finally through the neck. Fabrication? Telekinesis? What kind of magic was this kid using? As the demon hit the floor, the sword dematerialized in a puff of black smoke. Four more goblins began their assault towards the girl, and once more she lifted her hand. This time, five more swords of varying quality and description materialized above her. She gestured forwards, and the blades pierced the goblins striking them dead. The smell of iron permeated the air as the four demons lied on the floor twitching, expelling multiple liters of blood. An incredible pressure weighed down the battlefield, a real sense of bloodthirst.
The remaining eight goblins very quickly realized the danger their colony was in. Two of them had taken the infant and ducked behind the pile of animal carcasses, and the remaining six retrieved weapons for themselves, advancing quickly towards the child. The kid raised her arm towards the sky, and a tenebrous portal opened behind her. From it shot a barrage of swords swathed in a veil of miasma. Dozens of thin blades penetrated through each goblin every second, leaving behind what could easily be considered a pile of mush. The collection of bodies had provided minimal cover against the attack, and both goblins behind it passed away protecting the baby. A faint, muffled cry emanated behind what little of the pile was left.
“What is your name?” I asked the child as we huddled by the fire. Crickets chirped happily behind us as the sunlight faded from the woodlands. She played with the hobgoblin horn absentmindedly, half ignoring my question.
“Kei.”
“Where are you from?”
“Locria.” I furrowed my brow. Locria is just about fifty miles south from Ionia.
“Did you walk all the way here?”
“No.”
“A carriage?”
“Partly.” I scratched my head.
“Why did you dismount before coming to Ionia?”
“The driver died.” I thought briefly about asking where they were when it happened, or even how it had happened, but I decided against it.
Kei slept quietly against a fallen log, breathing softly, wholly unperturbed by today’s transgressions. Dried blood caked into the hair we had washed just earlier in the day. What is this kid? In all my years of life, I have never seen someone practice the School of Magic that she had shown. To cast without an arma is impressive on its own, but to disregard a cast time entirely is phenomenal. On top of that, to materialize those weapons… I looked towards what little of the sky was visible, past the towering sequoias. A tiny red bird crossed my vision before I eventually succumbed to a deep slumber.
“Why do you want to go to Ionia?” Kei looked up at me smiling, beaming so bright I might have averted my eyes.
“I want to join the Fighter’s Coalition.” She seemed much more talkative today. We continued down the trail, passing the river we had bathed in the day prior. Perhaps it was just my own perception of the surroundings, but the forest seemed much livelier compared to yesterday. To be sure there is much more wildlife; elk traveled across the path in herds, birds chirp atop the branches with mirth, and the fae actually bothered to show themselves, if not for but a fleeting moment.
“What is waiting for you there?”
“A bed.”
“Your parents?” I said, almost afraid to ask.
“They’re okay. But I can’t go home anymore.” I looked down at her. Her raggedy clothes and blood caked hair betrayed her capricious innocence. Her demeanor certainly bears that of a child, but something about the way she carried herself during last night’s skirmish could only be described as “battle-hardened.”
After a few hours, we decided to take a break on the side of the road. Being closer to the gates of Ionia, we saw many caravans pass through from carriages exuding avarice, to peasant carts hauling farm-grown produce.
“You’re not human are you?” The innocent way the sentence came out surprised me, at least enough to stiffen my shoulders.
“How can you tell?”
“I dunno.” A child’s intuition is scary. I took a moment before answering,
“You are correct.” I turned my head away. Should I not have told her? Why, now of all times, am I being so open? I could be openly ousted, forcing me to skip town once more. To suddenly relocate my base of operations would be…
“That’s pretty awesome.” I turned my head back towards her, and a warm smile greeted me back.
“Are you not afraid?”
“Not really. My best friend wasn’t human either.”
“A demon?”
“No, a bunny.” The response caught me off guard, and I found myself laughing, “Hey! What’s so funny?”
“Do not misunderstand, I am not laughing at you.” I stifled a chuckle behind my hand, in an attempt to keep my composure. The child gave a downcast stare as if about to cry. I thought for a moment, however… wasn’t? Past tense? “Wait, what happened to it?” A few tears streamed down Kei’s gentle, pouting face, a sight I would not have expected from a mage who had fought so fiercely. I scooted over and sat next to her. “You do not have to answer if you do not wish to.” I felt horrible for laughing.
We continued our journey, and soon we had approached the gates of Ionia.
“Identification please.” This guy again.
“I have my own identification, but this child lost hers on the way back from the Glades.” The guard sized her up for a moment,
“One gold fee for a temporary license.” How noticeable of a shakedown. I reached into my purse and handed the man a gold coin. 100 Ios down the drain.
Being sunset, the streets of Ionia were noticeably subdued. Most of the wooden markets had been deserted by merchants and customers, the children had undoubtedly been put to bed, and very few carts were pulled down the streets. I reached out and held Kei’s hand regardless, in an attempt to keep her from getting lost.
“I didn’t think you had a kid,” the bartender from the other day mentioned. I pulled up a stool from the bar and sat Kei down on it.
“I suppose this would be an odd sight.” I sat down beside Kei, perhaps a little too close for comfort. “Do you have anything a kid would enjoy?” The barkeep scratched his head,
“Not even a ‘hello!’ this time huh?” I shot him a gaze, and he shrugged, “Okay okay…” He held out his hand, and with a flash of light, a tiny winter sprite appeared in his hand. The creature resting in his palm seemed to be furry in regards to complexion, but rather than hairs had been crystalline structures of ice. Beady eyes akin to a stuffed animal stared back at me.
“I am impressed.”
“You’ve seen Fuzzy, like, a million times by now. You were never impressed before, so why now?” Caught red-handed. I shrugged. The barkeep took a cup and filled half of it with sugar, goats milk, and strange brown powder. Holding the sprite above the container, he rolled it in his hands, and a delicate icy substance fell softly into it. He cupped the mug and gave it a hearty shake until the mixture together until it formed a chilled slush, and handed it to the kid. Kei took the mug and stared at it warily, cupping it in the palms of her tiny hands. She looked up at the barkeep, and then to me as if for confirmation that it was hers, and finally acquiesced. She took a sip, and a shine filled her previously dull eyes.
“Wow, what is this? This is amazing!”
“I don’t really have a name for it, but I guess you could call it… a shake?” He gave a hand gesture similar to earlier and blushed either at the compliment or the bad joke. He chuckled and continued serving the other patrons.
The atmosphere in the tavern was different at night as opposed to the daytime. Convivial revelers from all different backgrounds caroused around the room merrily boasting their daily accomplishments, gamblers bilked commonfolk out of a day’s pension with varying degrees of success, and a general sense of camaraderie drifted through the air. This dichotomy between my personal experience dealing with humans, and what I witnessed unfold before my eyes lead to a strange feeling of equanimity in my mind. The barkeep noticed my onlooking and started,
“The locals are good guys, y’know.”
“Is that so.”
“Yeah. A bunch o’ refugees and undesirables by the Capital’s description, but to me, anyone who enters those doors is family.” He offered a smile.
The barkeep offered a room to stay in, further back into the tavern and I accepted the generous offer. Kei had already been half asleep by the time she finished off the sweet-tasting slush and drifted off into a sort of half slumber. As for myself, I sat down at the desk in the corner of the room and rested my head in my arms.
“Hey, Drossel?” I wandered out of the slumber I had just begun.
“Yes, Kei? Are you okay?”
“You’re a shapeshifter.”
“Yeah.” I burrowed my face deeper into my arms. A prolonged silence ensued.
“Can you… do something for me?”
Prologue Two
Remi felt an uncomfortable object resting behind his back. Half asleep, and still groggy, he got up and surveyed the area. Before him was a green pasture engulfed in unrecognizable flora, and beyond that, a forest with canopies towering below the clouds. Familiar looking animals — although of what species, he had no clue — had been sprawled across the canvas of an ecosystem; birds flew across the trees, insects darted to and fro, and four-legged creatures grazed upon the grass. What he had witnessed the night prior was not a dream, but much more a reality. A rustle beyond a nearby brush startled Remi for a moment. He stood up quickly, still gathering his bearings in this strange new world. Unbalanced and clumsy, he fell backward, barely reorienting himself on the gravel beneath him. More rustling from beyond the brush; Remi held up his arms in an amateurish defense. With the adrenaline of potential danger, Remi’s heart began to pound, and every sense started to perk up. More rustling. His eyes darted around. He clenched his fists. His mouth started to dry, and he licked his lips. More rustling, closer now. His heart pounded even faster. He strengthened his stance, moving one leg further behind to decrease his vulnerability. The brush itself began to rustle until a figure garbed in a rugged, hooded cloak pushed through, and subsequently fell over face-down into the tall grass. With the stranger defenseless on the floor, Remi lowered his guard. The interloper's breath was heavy, inconsistent and erratic. Remi approached it with caution, careful not to startle them.
“Hey, are you alright?” he started, staggered in his own speech. The figure attempted to lift themselves up but was cut short by their own fatigue. Panicked, Remi kneeled down in front of the character, and carefully turned their body over. Remi took off his backpack, and gently placed it underneath the person’s head. A quick look at the newcomer revealed her to be female. “Are you injured?” The woman attempted to speak to no avail, interrupted by her quickly worsening erratic breath. In place of speech, she weakly lifted her bruised arm and pointed to the core of her abdomen. Remi pushed the battered cloak around the area aside. Underneath the cloth were shakily fashioned undergarments covering her bust and torso. A deep incision lied across her body, from one side of her stomach to the other. Blood continued to flow down from the wound as her color slowly began to fade. “Do you have bandages?” Remi queried. The girl shot him a pained, quizzical gaze. She attempted speech once more,
“Salubrity… Do you practice salubrity?” Remi thought for a moment, not even knowing what he didn’t know, but gave up knowing that the girl’s time was limited. A glimmering light caught his eye; the sun shone upon the sleek reflection of an object at her side. A dagger. He grabbed for it, releasing it from its holster. He cut a few thick strips off of her clothing, from top to bottom.
“Brace yourself just a little bit, this might be painful.” He lifted her body up gently, and wrapped the bandage around the affected area, and squeezed as to apply pressure. The girl winced in pain. He tightened it once more to further prevent bleeding, creating a makeshift tourniquet. The girl’s heavy breathing subsided, and with closed eyelids, she began to speak once more,
“Potions?” she quietly muttered under her breath.
“Uhh… No?” She grimaced from the pain once more.
“My bag,” she managed, “a red branch.”
Remi looked around, and a couple feet away was a small pouch with a broken handle. He leaned over to reach for it. The satchel was woven from a corpulent, scratchy material. It felt weightless in his hands, but the contents felt differently. He shuffled around the various bits and bobbles contained within the sack, all of which varied in mass. Some items were heavily weighted, and some were light as feathers, but the weight of the satchel was none. After shuffling around for a moment or two, he found the branch the woman mentioned.
“Here,” he said, placing the branch gently into her palm. She took in a deep breath and narrowed her brow. She whispered a strange phrase in a vaguely familiar language Remi had not heard before. Slowly straightening her fingers, a light glint shot from the redwood as it began to float. The light crescendoed in intensity, glowing as bright as a lightbulb until it burst into fourths. Each piece of the branch had taken shape into a short, stout creature. They were cute in appearance, bearing a slight humanoid resemblance, like statues made of twine.
“Shimmerleaf.” The little guys scuttled off, disappearing into the brush.
“Is there anything else you need?” Remi asked. She shook her head. Remi sat down cross-legged next to the girl.
They sat in silence while the stranger regained her energy awaiting her familiars. The sun had already begun to set on Remi’ first day in this new land. The animals returned to their homes, sleeping soundly, and the only sounds left were the creaking of insects and the rustling of leaves. A sweet scent approached the area as a cold breeze pushed through the local flora. After an hour had passed, Remi replaced the bandages with new strips of the stranger’s cloak.
“What’s your name?” Remi spoke out, working on the wound. The woman’s breathing stabilized, and she began to speak.
“Calypso. Yours?”
“Remi.”
“What an odd name.” She turned her head loftily towards him, shooting off a curious gaze. “Dark brown skin, short black hair, and green eyes…” She trailed off, thinking more for another moment. She furrowed her brow, “Are you Phrygian?”
“No.” Her face dropped disappointingly.
“Where are you from then?” He paused for a moment, scratching his head.
“Well, even if I told you, you probably wouldn’t believe me.”
The conversation was cut short by rustling in the bushes. The four little creatures returned, holding piles of luminescent leaves on their heads. “Thank you, friends.” The plant that had been retrieved struck Remi as odd; he had never seen such a species in his life. Calypso lifted her hand, and the four servants dropped the leaves into her palm. She raised them in the air; the blades swiveled around in a spiral, formed into a tight-knit bowl, and a green viscous liquid began to flow within it. She sat up carefully, taking her time, and swallowed some of the concoction she crafted. Remi was taken aback; color began to return to Calypso’s skin, and the bruises and scratches covering her arms and legs started to fade away. She removed the makeshift bandage from her abdomen, and much to Remi’ surprise, the wound across her stomach had completely healed. Calypso stood up and extended an arm towards him. With slight hesitation, he reciprocated the offer, and she helped him up. She lowered her hood, and for the first time since they met, Remi was able to get a good look at her. She had short, light brown hair and deep brown eyes. She had a slender figure, only a few inches taller than Remi.
“That’s incredible,” Remi exclaimed, “Where did you learn to do that?” The little ones ran next to the satchel, glistened brightly, and returned to their original form as a red branch.
“It’s magic. Have you never seen it before? What are you, Lydian? Mixolydian?”
“I… don’t even know where that is.”
“Interesting… Most children in my home city are taught at an academy. You’re definitely not from anywhere east of the Coalition then.” She rubbed her chin, deep in thought. “Ionia?”
“I think it’s safe to say you can stop guessing. You’ve probably never heard of it, much less been there.”
“I’m an adventurer. I’ve traveled all across Aeolia and beyond,” she boasted proudly. She lifted her head slightly and reached behind the brooch of her cloak. From underneath, she lifted out a rectangular plate with unfamiliar writing inscribed on it, “this badge is proof that I am a certified adventurer.” She paused for a moment, “If it’s in Aeolia, I’ve been there.” Remi leaned back with his arms supporting him on the grass.
“Sorry, but I’m not from the Aeolia. Actually, I don’t even know where I am.” Confusion washed over Calypso’s face.
“How is that so? There’s nothing beyond the seas.”
“I’m…” Remi hesitated, “I’m not from this world. Aeolia, you call it.” Calypso sat up, shifting herself towards Remi. A moment passed.
“I believe you.” Remi sat up.
“Really? Why?”
“Well, if magic is concerned it’s really no wonder. The knowledge to travel to other realms has been around for centuries.”
“Then it’s possible for me to go back?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“What’s the issue?” Calypso thought for a moment the best way to break the news.
“It requires… advanced knowledge of magic, let’s say.” Remi folded his arms, deep in thought. “Do you mind if I ask what world you come from?” He paused.
“Earth.”
Chapter Two
Kei and I walked northbound, opposite of the Glades, towards what would be our parting destination. Kei ditched her old, ragged clothes and wore instead a hooded cloak that would offer little to protect her from the elements — better than nothing I suppose. It was paid in part by myself and the bartender, in a final act of kindness before our departure. The weather made a drastic change from the generally cool temperature of Ionia or the cold, shaded atmosphere of the Glades; the combination of the sun beating down unrelentingly, and the lack of forestation in the surrounding area led to what could possibly be the hottest strip of land in Aeolia.
“Hey, Drossel?”
“Yes, Kei?”
“When we meet again, how will I know it’s you?”
“I will let you know it is me when we meet again, I promise.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“What should I call you? What’s your real name?” When was the last time I even thought about my real name? I lack the need to tell anybody my given name since I have been living as anybody besides myself since I first transformed. Kei looked at me.
“I suppose you could call me Tavi.”
“That’s a pretty name.” She smiled at me.
We took a break along the side of the road. In contrast to the beautiful green scenery and towering canopied shade of the Glades, northward of Ionia had very little to offer. As far as I could see was dirt, dry grass, and gravel. Inveterately I pulled out my flask and took a swig. I gulped down the remaining bit of liquor with ease. I made a quick look at our surroundings; little movement graced the over-bearingly vast plains of the north, a well-fitting home for the world renown Pit. Kei laid back on the grey-colored grass and let out a tiny yawn.
“Hey, now that we’re away from people, should we do it now?” Kei looked at me expectantly. I scratched my head.
“I suppose so.” I leaned over towards Kei and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Slowly, I felt my entire body overcome an inexplicable preponderance, and before I knew it, I felt almost the entirety of my weight taper off. The slight wrinkles of my hands began to revert to a smooth, and puerile quality. The circumference of my legs shrunk considerably, and I found myself barely inside my own clothing. I witnessed the hair resting on my shoulders shrink by a few inches, and change in texture and color. I looked over to Kei who — with the eyes of someone who had just seen a masterful display of legerdemain — stared open-jawed at what must have looked like a reflection of herself. I felt a bit of blood rush to my face; I do not believe I have ever shown off my transformation skills, albeit my own family perhaps. My clothing tangled together as I gave my feeble attempt to disrobe. I pulled out new, child-sized clothes out of my knapsack. Wearing my newly obtained civilian’s garb, with particular attention paid to differentiate both Kei and me, I stood up and stretched.
“That’s incredible! You’re actually a shapeshifter!”
“Indeed.”
“Can you turn into anyone?”
“Yes, I can shift into anything that walks with two legs.”
“Even the king?”
“Even the king.” Kei looked at me, eyes glistening with wonder. I stuffed the old elven garb into my bag to use as kindling later.
Kei sat in front of me as I brushed through her once again matted hair. I used Drossel’s comb once more, a trinket I have found myself using many times since stealing it. Using my dagger, I cut off a locket of Kei’s hair.
“There you go.”
“Um… How does it look?” Kei looked at me shyly.
“You look very cute.” I offered a smile to alleviate her worries. She ran her fingers through her now short and untangled hair. “Kei? Can you hand me the card?”
“Oh! Right.” She reached into her pocket and handed me her newly obtained Adventurer’s Card.
Kei
Ranked No. 27 Mage
Ranked No. 1 Adventurer
To have acquired such an accomplished rank at such a young age is honestly incredible. If there were any child to successfully register at the Fighter’s Coalition, it would indeed be her. The way that she handles what should typically be stressful situations under dire duress with the utmost calm and dignity is genuinely inspiring, in a strange way.
“Would you mind accompanying me to the Pit before we head further north?” For a moment, my own voice caught me off guard. I had already been used to — and quite enjoyed, admittedly — the postpubescent sound of older women. The preadolescent timbre and high pitch of Kei’s voice, instead, escaped my lips.
“Sure. Why?”
“I would like help getting accustomed to the type of magic you use.” That may be part of it, but to be truthful, I am in love with the way Kei carries herself in battle. The goblins that she fought against were weak based on their individual skill but are potent opponents together; I would like to see how she fares against demons who are both powerful alone and together. It would also give me an excuse to exercise my newfound abilities. Kei gave me a big smile.
I shifted the bag around my shoulders to a more comfortable position; the blistering heat emanating from the sun caused me to sweat profusely, although I would be lying if I said my new body did not aid in my comfort. There was a natural spring in each stride forward, and the lightness of my body allowed for fleet-footed movement. The cloak around my body seldom defended me from the amplified rays of the sun, but the little cover it did offer allowed my sweat to cool my body temperature. I looked over at Kei; she appeared just as hardened to the weather as she is in combat. Quite the precocious child she is; you would expect someone of her age to complain about the heat, or likewise the pain of walking on end, but she remained silent — smiling, even, if she were to catch my occasional gaze. It felt strange looking at Kei and seeing eye to eye. I left less like her superior, and more like her sister. Kei stretched her arms upwards, and let out a long sigh.
“How do you fare, Kei?”
“I’m a li’l tired I guess.” She wiped the beads of sweat off of her forehead. As we traveled towards the Pit, the dead, dry grass scarcely showed, until the point we were walking strictly on dirt – but soon, we arrived. In front of us was, mostly, a massive hole in the ground, stretching easily ten kilometers wide, and likewise across. Spires of rock spread in clusters across the entire Pit jutted upwards from the bottom, of which we couldn’t even see, forming an almost elaborate labyrinth. However, a wooden elevator offering a way down allowed us a path to our destination. I looked over at Kei, whose facial expression showed no sign of fear or regret. Instead, she looked at me and reached for my hand.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah!”
The ride down was not smooth; the word “sketchy” would be quite the understatement, regarding the rickety, old elevator. The pulleys holding the weight of both the platform under us and our bodies wildly creaked until we were so far down the sound could not reach us. Kei squeezed my hand gently, not out of fear, but almost out of affection. Further and further down the elevator took us until eventually light could not reach us. I pulled out a torch out of my backpack and lit it with a spark of magic. With a creak, the elevator came to a resounding, sudden stop. We took our first step forward.
Despite walking through the catacombs of the Pit, we had not encountered a single living demon. Instead, we walked upon a superfluous abundance of desiccated cadavers. Minotaurs who are ordinarily frightening and omnipotent opponents bearing handcrafted weapons of abnormally high quality lay bleeding on the floor, stripped of their massive horns, and absent their trademarked gauntlets. Thousands of cave imps laid bare of their wings and fangs scattered the floor pooling in their own blood and excrement. Adult hobgoblins, rarely seen above ground, regressed into a state of autolysis as blisters upon their skin ruptured. Three common facts remained upon all of the bodies; scorched meat, stolen extremities, and broken glass. Aside from the irony scent of freshly spilled blood, and the fulsome stench of stool, a lingering fragrance of lightly cooked flesh lofted through the air. Each body had stolen from them a defining feature of their demonhood; horns, wings, fangs, none of which were spared. Assiduous detail had been taken to harvest these bodies. I looked over at Kei who, in response to the gory scene unfolding before her, had just walked over the bodies befalling the floor in an attempt to keep her clothes neat and clean. She had occasionally glanced upon the soles of her shoes to check for any unwanted droppings. The further we traveled down the path of fallen demons, the fresher and fresher the bodies. Whoever had committed these demons to their fate must have had a reason to move so far; in search of materials perhaps? Or merely in seek of their own fortune? The Pit is no place for the weak and feeble; what was left over of the corpses was undoubtedly a testament to their strength.
“I hear them,” Kei muttered suddenly.
“Them?”
“There’s two.” She pointed forward. I perked my ears, attempting to listen in and hear, well, anything. The only noticeable sounds emanating from the Pit were the groans of pebbles falling upon the cracked floor, and droplets of liquid coalescing into puddles. Kei looked at me for a moment and continued walking as to lead the way.
The further I followed Kei’s lead, louder the sounds became. At first, I could barely recognize sounds of spellcasting, but the cacophony of sounds grew to be almost deafening. Soon I heard two distinct voices: a rather commanding voice, belonging to a female and presumably the spell caster, and conversely a rather weak and feeble voice belonging to a male. Along with the sound of fire crackling — I assume about the various spells cast — I heard the clashing of metal against metal. A party of two, wandering the Pits alone? The sounds grew louder than before; I looked over at Kei who, with a face of steel, continued forward.
We hid behind one of many massive columns of stalagmites protruding the floors of the Pit. Peaking beyond the sides of the bedrock, Kei and I witnessed two figures finishing off a quarrel with a hobgoblin. The two were a pair, not an uncommon sight above ground but indeed a queer group size considering the circumstances. One of a female, the more commanding of the couple. She wore disheveled, bobbed, brown hair down to above her shoulder and a robe befitting of a mage. Across her chest lay a bandolier, equipped with numerous potions of undoubtedly different effects. To the side of her hip was a brown satchel, swaying along with her movements, and a little grimoire; likely an arma. Behind her was a man taller than herself in both size and weight, but less so in stature and prominence. His lack of fighting knowledge was evident, from the way he held the sword’s grip, to the style he stanced his feet. Regardless, he appeared fearless, charging the demon headfirst into combat. The woman behind him offered support by chanting supportive magic spells from the backline. As the man’s defensive and offensive capabilities were bolstered, he struck his sword forward towards the hobgoblin. The sword stuck right through the demon’s abdomen; the monster let out a cry and desperately lurched forward in an attempt to fight back, but to no avail. The man quickly hopped backward, dodging the jab, before dashing right back in for another stab, this time in the chest. The goblin roared once more, clutching at its new open wound. Before the demon could recoup, the man pulled out the sword and slashed at his opponent’s throat. The hobgoblin attempted to cry, but instead, a guttural choking noise was emitted instead. Its blood sprayed across the face of the man, who had reeled back once more for one last swing. A thud echoed through the chasm of the Pit as the demon’s head fell unto the ground. Kei and I looked at each other, but before we could decide a course of action, the woman bellowed out,
“Who’s there?” We were surprised for a moment, but Kei chose quickly to leave the hiding spot. She stepped forward from behind the pillar with her hands in the air. The man and woman promptly dropped their guard at sight before them.
“A child?” the man spoke.
“What’s a kid doing this far into the Pit? Are you by yourself?”
“My name is Kei.” The woman, who at first appeared a bit reserved, quickly opened up at the sight of Kei who gave the clear impression of an innocent child to those who knew no better.
“Yeah, okay, a kid in the deepest depths of one of the deadliest caves in Aeolia. A normal occurrence then?” the man queried. The woman shot him a look before returning to the conversation.
“Here,” the woman reached into her satchel, “eat this.” She handed Kei a small branch of sorts; hard to tell from this distance. Kei seemed reluctant but acquiesced at the sight of the woman’s pitiful stare. She lifted the stick up to her face and took a small bite; in an instant, her entire demeanor and posture had changed. She lowered her shoulders and relaxed her arms. The apparent fatigue in her muscles from hiking and walking all day had seemingly disappeared as she exhaled a sigh of relief.
“What is this stuff?” Kei stuttered in surprise although I could not see her face, I could tell through her tone of voice she was beaming.
“It’s called Glowroot,” the woman replied, “it’s unprocessed, so it may not be effective in healing your wounds, but your muscles should feel much better!” The woman extended a hand after her explanation, “My name is Calypso. What’s yours?” Kei looked up at the woman for a moment and reciprocated the gesture. While the two conversed, I tried focusing my vision on the guy behind them who had posted the rather strange question prior. He wore a somewhat weak looking armor over peculiar clothing I had never seen before, the designs of which were… otherworldly. Despite his somewhat unreliable looking style of combat, his skin was almost entirely bereft of wounds; most likely a result of his talented friend. Kei looked back at me and waved me over. I stepped out from behind the pillar and cautiously approached the three.
“Two children? And you say this isn’t normal?” Ignoring the query once more, the woman protectively extended her arm front of the man.
“No no no, this is even weirder than you think.” Calypso gestured towards the bottom curl of her left lip with her index finger. The man looked back and forth between Kei and me, still visibly confused before the woman continued, “One of them is a shapeshifter.”
“I’m having a real issue grasping the concept of demons right now.” Another glance. I continued closer to the three, slowly.
“Look,” I started, “Yes, I am a shapeshifter, but I really do not mean any trouble-”
“Trouble? Of course not, not from a demon, no, I would never think it.”
“I am serious,” I put my hands in the air, “All I am trying to do is help escort this little girl to the Fighter’s Coalition.”
“Is that the best lie you could come up with?”
“What- um, what’s the Fighter’s Coalition?” the man spoke.
“Not now. You’re expecting me to believe that you shapeshifted into a little girl to escort that very little girl to that glorified hell?”
“Yes. I am serious. I am very serious. This little girl has a wealth of potential that could influence the very nature of the Coalition.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
“Kei, run!” With approbation, Kei slipped behind one of the many pillars littering the Pit.
With pugnacious acrimony, Calypso readied the grimoire at her hip and with no hesitation fired a bolt of mana with the alacrity of a hunter at heart. The shot whizzed right past my face as I dodged last second; straight to the point. In a quick moment of reprieve, I mimicked one of the many spells I witnessed in Kei’s initial, multifarious display against the goblins; I summoned a multitude of various weapons – fabricated from nothing more than mana – and aimed down my sights downwind my target. Swords, spears, and axes alike chased down Calypso, but she was quick to react. She summoned a barrier of mana in retaliation to defend herself from the onslaught of attacks; following was the metallic clinking of metal against stone as the weapons fell to the floor before promptly vanishing. She tossed a vial of some sort towards my direction, and before I could react, it hit the floor. A plume of smoke surrounded my vision, and before long I had lost sight of my target. On the defense, I gave my surroundings a quick once over, perking my ears in an attempt to hear an attack approach. Nothing. I listened on. However, the only sound emitted was my own breath coupled with a beating heart. She uses an arma despite lacking a need for vocal spellcasting, but why limit her potential through the use of her grimoire? The smoke had cleared, and yet there was no sign of her. If not for the broken glass on the floor, it would have been as if she had never existed, to begin with. That is until thunderous footsteps approached from behind me.
I turned around, and before me was a demon twice my size; a minotaur, this one retaining its monstrous gauntlet. It charged towards my direction and swung a jab with its massive right hand. I attempted to dodge but noticed it’s appearance too late. The blow had connected and left me flying across the Pit, only to be stopped by another connection. A pillar. A searing sensation remained in my abdomen, which had unfortunately taken most of the blow. By the time I looked up, the minotaur had already closed the distance and was preparing for another swing. Weakly, I dodged left, leaving the demon with a fistful of rock. What met me, however, was another bolt of mana this time connecting. The pulse had rocked my body to the bones, rattling the insides of my skull and draining what little stamina remained of me. The minotaur targeted me, but not Calypso? Something seemed off. Before I could gather my thoughts, the demon was already upon me. I jumped backward and summoned another slew of weaponry. I shot sword after sword at the minotaur, and though the weapons connected, the result appeared antithetical. As opposed to damaging the demon in any meaningful way, I instead had enraged it. Once more the beast charged at me, once more I dodged left, and once more I had been stricken with a bolt of mana. My vision grew a sanguine crimson as my bloodied forehead leaked unto my cornea. Calypso was nowhere to be seen, so where had these attacks come from? From the corner of my vision, I noticed a projectile; another flask, this one producing a sticky liquid of sorts that had severely limited the range of my movements. The minotaur approached once more, and this time being unable to dodge, I braced for impact. I held my arms in front of me and shut my eyes closed. I waited. I waited, and yet nothing happened. I opened my eyes, and there laid the minotaur, a spear the size of a tree lodged in it’s forehead. Before long it collapsed with a tumultuous, violent roar, shaking the earth in it’s amplitude. The appearance of the minotaur versus the size of Kei could be described as all but commensurate and yet Kei, bearing a face of steel, had taken down the beast with but a single spell. Despite the gap of both our age and experience between both Kei and I, I could not but help feeling useless beside her.
“That’s enough,” a voice pleaded from beyond the pillar. The man from earlier, “Calypso, they’re just kids. Take it easy-“
“They are not just kids, were you not listening? One of them is clearly a demon! Admittedly!”
“Yeah okay sure, but at the very least, she’s still a demon that looks like a kid. I… I just can’t watch this anymore. At least hear them out.” Before I could hear the rest of the conversation, I passed out.
I awoke beside an open flame in the dead of night, wrapped inside of a warm and soothing blanket, leaning against the shoulder of Kei who appeared to have just fallen asleep. A familiar scene, had it not been for the two interlopers before us. I rubbed my eyes and adjusted my vision. I could not help but notice the lack of any cuts or bruises along both my forehead and abdomen.
“She really loves you, doesn’t she?” I heard from across the campfire. Calypso.
“Pardon?”
“She carried you up here.”
“Oh.” We sat in an awkward moment of silence for some time, neither of engaging in conversation. The man with the mysterious clothing was knocked out leaning against a tree nearby and Kei, who had fallen sleep upright beside me, gave off tiny exhales in place of snores. I stretched out my legs in front of me and allowed the campfire to warm my freezing toes. I looked at Calypso, “Was it you who healed me?” She sat for a moment, staring at the abyss of fire.
“Yes. But not because I like you or anything.” Calypso gestured towards Kei and the man with two distinct head nods. That is right. Had the man not stopped Calypso, or had Kei not defeated the minotaur, I would not be here now. I moved a bit closer to the fire in an attempt to dispel the nipping of the cold air. “You’re a shapeshifter, right? Then, shouldn’t you have completely copied all of her strengths? You are nowhere as strong as she is.” I looked up at her.
“I… Yes, I am, and yes I should have. But there is something usual about her magic. I am not quite sure what it is, but even as a shapeshifter I could not mimic the entirety of her power. It is quite potent.”
“Maybe she can change things over there.”
“I hope you understand,” I shifted my body upright, and looked at Calypso, “she wants to go there.”
“Why?”
“That, I am unaware.” Calypso looked at Kei.
“She’s kinda scary in combat.”
“Ha! Surely you are moreso. A beast-taming alchemist masquerading her power behind a ceremonial arma. You would think only a demon could tame a demon, yet here you are.” I looked Calypso in the eyes. She blushed, and cleared her throat.
“I’m the daughter of the head of one of the most powerful Houses in Locria, so of course I’m strong!”
“Pride comes before the fall, you know.”
“Okay, yeah, mhm, but I still won our duel? – so I don’t think you can talk!” I laughed, watching my breath visibly permeate through the cold air. Calypso curled up, clutching her legs with her arms.
“Who is that?” I asked, pointing at the oddly dressed, satin-skinned man sleeping soundly against the tree.
“His name is Remi.”
“A friend?”
“Yeah. He’s an off-beat kind of guy, but in the end, he’s really nice. We met about a month ago, and since then I’ve been teaching him the basics of adventuring.”
“It appears a bit odd for someone as prestigious as you be tutoring a Phrygian. Actually, the prospect of a Phrygian and a Locrian together at all is a bit off-beat.”
“That’s a bit racist.”
“Is it?”
“A bit.”
“Well, not like I would know. Being a demon and all.” I looked up from the fire towards Chloe who leaked out a smile.
Prologue Three
Blood hemorrhaged a deep crimson from the gaping hole left in the goblin’s head, painting a gory, byzantine picture upon the ground’s canvas. Stratus Swift held a particular weapon, unique to only himself, bestowed upon him as a gift. A gun, with a barrel the length of his body but the weight of a feather. It bore a wooden stock on end, semi-gilded in both silver and gold, meticulously and intricately designed, blemished only by user-inflicted carvings; several iterations of the marking IIII. And once more its user carved a notch.
“Can I take a break yet?” an effeminate voice asked.
“Silence, blasphemer! We depart at the finality of this bloody sacrament.”
“Y’know, there are many ways to say the same thing, but that doesn’t mean you should.”
Stratus ignored the remark, slung the gun on his back and continued to his next location. He wandered for half an hour, finding nothing but scavenged bodies of demons long abandoned. Stopping to examine each body, Stratus noted one thread connecting the web of serial murders; broken glass. “Too bad, someone beat you to the punch. Guess we can pack up and go now.” Stratus brushed off his companion and continued his investigation of the remains. He kneeled down, picking up and putting down shards of glass, examining them with a careful eye. “Watcha see?”
“An alchemist. Cowardice scourge, the lot of them, the arrogance of humanity.”
“All they do is play with plants and stuff. Who cares? What about that makes them arrogant? Sometimes I think you just say stuff ‘cus you think it sounds cool.”
“Naysayer! Silent be thy jaw. Such antediluvian practices plague humanity like a pestilence, such incarnadine fluids forsake thy Dark Devas, to which all of Aeolia should pray — nay, prostrate to!”
“Devas? Just call them Gods like everyone else. If I had eyes right now, I would be rolling them.”
“Then roll! Rollaway, scum, alike such sacrilegious dandiprats!”
“If I could, I would, but I can’t so I shan’t.”
“What.”
“I can say stupid shit that means nothing too.”
“Forget thee, peccant picaroon, important matters are afoot.”
“Okay, you’re definitely making up words now.” A faint, yet booming set of footprints bellowed throughout the area, alerting Stratus and his companion. Quickly, he dropped the shard of glass he had been examining and perched behind one of many multi-storied stalagmites littering the Pit, concealing himself from his next target. He pulled a tiny decorated dagger, one seemingly used for more ceremonial purposes, and sliced into his open palm.
“Ugh, god, ew, I hate this part. Do we have to do this before we kill every demon?”
“The blood is a channel between which my spirit and the dark devas I worship are connected. Without the blood, there is no communication. There is no magic.”
“Yeah, okay, but—”
“Cirrus. There will be no compromise. You are mine.”
“Okay fine. You can… touch me, if you really wanna.”
“Entendres are demon’s playthings.” Stratus pulled Cirrus off his back, and held her steadily with two hands, and located his target; a minotaur, leagues taller than the last demon and much closer. “Perfect.” It carried an unnecessarily large, misshapen column of rock heavy enough to force even this behemoth to drag along the floor. The victim paced back and forth, acting as a sentry; Stratus held his breath. His aim steadied. Time slowed. His eyes squinted down the iron-sight, increasing his range of vision. He traced the movement of the target, inching Cirrus left and right. The demon paused. Stratus focused mana in the chamber of his gun.
“Can you hurry up, you’re molesting my butt.”
Stratus pulled the trigger; a premature concentrated bullet of mana forcibly shot from the barrel of the weapon and whizzed past the ear of the demon, culpably due to the voice’s interference. “Oh, you missed.” Stratus blushed and dipped behind the spire he had been perched behind in an attempt to conceal his presence once more.
“S-silence, gun!”
Stratus peaked around the corner, only to be met with an explosion of rock; the pillar behind them crumbled and a thick plume of dust veiled their surroundings, and before Stratus could react, he had been knocked many meters backward. He attempted to recover mid-air and only barely prevented landing face first, tumbling across the floor and releasing his grip on his only weapon. The combination of the minotaurs sonorous warcry, and it’s weapon scraping along violently against the rough floor of the Pit allowed a cacophonic wall of sound to reverberate through the open space,” physically shaking Cirrus against the floor. Stratus feebly attempted to recover from the previous blow. He raised his head only to be met with more contact, this time with the minotaur’s closed fist. A sickening crunch echoed through the open space, only interrupted by the crash of Stratus’ body against one of the nearby stalagmites. Stratus fell limply to the floor. He once more attempted recovery, this time managing to stand on his two feet if only barely. The minotaur charged once more, this time readying his ax for one final attack. He swung down his weapon
Chapter Three
“I apologize for the unfortunate circumstances of our meeting. Might you allow me the privilege of your name?”
“I’m Remi, and uh, you don’t hafta be so formal with me.”
“Hm.” He extended his hand. I stared for a moment at it, before returning to eye contact and reciprocating the friendly gesture. He turned his head slightly, maintaining the handshake, to the girl who had been packing materials, vials, and bottles into her pouch.
“You still haven’t apologized, Cali.” She fired daggers at terminal velocity towards her aggressor.
“Don’t give me a pet name.”
“Ahaha, you’re so bashful.”
“I’m not bashful! Talented magicians are not bashful.”
“You’re right. You’re more beautiful than bashful anyways.”
“Um, are we ready to go?” Kei shyly interrupted the conversation, blushing when all eyes came upon her.
Key Events
Technological Revolution
Archmage Ghranda was the high ruler of Locria, and subsequently all magical domains after the Technological Revolution, from the year 3495, when he began his studies in the School of Foresight, to the year 3515, the day of his death. There still lies monuments around Locria, commending him for his brave sacrifice to combat against the ever growing menace of technology.
In 3500, advances in technology began to rise steadily. In only a few years, mechanical weaponry began development led by Caissius, son of Archmage Ghranda. Enraged by the prospect of tinkering with the taboo, Ghranda banished his own flesh and blood to the Isles of Abandon. For 15 years, Caissius toiled in the strange realm. He spent every waking moment developing blueprints for interdimensional travel, and at last, his project was complete. Using only what he had been teleported with, and with what little the unfamiliar dimension had to offer, Caissius was able to forge a handheld interdimensional teleportation device able to displace the atmosphere of both the user, and the location of teleport. Coming back to his homeland after banishment had bewildered even the most prodigal of mages; none had ever successfully returned to Locria from the Isles of Abandon. Caissius's reappearance had sparked interest in technology from many mages outside of the magic capitol. Without intention, Caissius had sparked the first revolution against Locria.
The same year of his re-arrival, Caissius founded Lydia; the hub for the technological revolution. He began a political war against his father, and within only 3 months he had converted half of the continent from magic, to technology. Three months after that, he launched a full scale war against Locria utilizing the combat of hired mercenaries, weaponized automatons, and steampunk warriors.
Caissius invaded the capital of Locria during the eighth month of 3515. He forced his way through the city's barrier of magic using a machine deemed Reinhardt; a device he invented using his prior knowledge of magic, and his newfound respect for technology. As the device disabled the barrier, many citizens left their respective houses to witness the cause and effect. They were introduced with a massacre. The mercenaries, robots, and warriors killed indiscriminately, slaughtering both royal guards and citizens alike. This event was one of the largest-scale battles to ever have been waged, and is one of the last instances in recent years where civilians were involved.
Upon entering the cathedral where Ghranda had sat his throne, Caissius was not met with spite, but rather regret. He walked towards his father, and they exchanged a brief conversation. Of the people who were in the room, some say they shared a heartfelt one to one, and others say they had a fierce vocal war. Regardless, after they were done, Caissius ripped open Ghranda's stomach and he retreated back to Lydia.
Bipedalism
Demons: There are various species of demons wandering the plains of Aolia. Despite their broad adverse representation, they are not uneducated beasts who kill for fun. They are intelligent beings who kill to eat and survive, like anything else, yet hold no inhibitions towards who is worthy to be their meal. Demons have even created their own universal language.
Humans: The dominant bipedal species in Aolia. Although they maintain a lower lifespan than most other bipedal species, this can lead to a slightly significant advantage. A short lifespan allows diversity to spread faster, and rulership to last shorter.
Elves: As opposed to their short-lived counterpart, elves are a long living species with lives spanning potentially over hundreds of years. To make up for their extended lifespan, their birth rates are meager; about one in one thousand elves can procreate.
Cartography
Aeolia: The single continent of the world. A vast and diverse land abundant with life, magic, and technology
Ionia: The merchant capital of Aolia. A popular hub for trading, bartering, and selling. Because of the abundance of markets, and therefore competition, it is also the hub of both the Adventurer’s Guild and the Merchant’s Guild. It is a neutral city that allows the practice of magic and technology, wherein the discrimination of any is deemed illegal.
Locria: The capital city for magical research; a thaumaturgical hub for practitioners, novices, and prodigies alike. It has been the capital of magic for almost 3400 years due to its early discovery and interaction with mana.
Phrygia: Desert tundra unaffected by most of the world’s politics, practicing either technology or magic as they see fit.
Lydia: Capital of technology in which magic had been forbidden.
Mixolydia: Sub-capital of technology in which magic had been forbidden. Smaller than Lydia, formed due to political disputes in the capital of Lydia.
The Glades: Within one of the most abundant forests in all of Aolia lies a den of evil nicknamed ‘The Glades.’ The open areas within the forest are demons’ favorite breeding spots, from imps and goblins to succubuses and golems. The further into the canopies, the more dangerous the monsters.
Fighter’s Coalition: A neutral territory that seeks to settle worldwide disputes through localized mock warfare to minimize civilian casualties. All from civil wars to world wars are decided here.
Demonata
Shapeshifters: Demons with the unique ability to mimic any humanoid creature. They are infamous for their disobedient personalities and duplicities, often morally driven by their own hedonistic tendencies.
Goblins: ****Tiny demons with caustic personalities and the inability to suppress their personal desires. What they lack in brains they certainly make up for in brawns; their physical attacks can knockback even the most battle-hardened crusaders. They reproduce quickly but bare a lifespan of a mere fifteen years.
Hobgoblin: Every once in a while a goblin will give birth to an unusually large child. These demons have extraordinarily large brains compared to their family and also boast a more substantial size. These children will eventually grow up to become acting leaders of potentially hundreds of goblins. Their intelligence poses quite a threat to non-demons, so they are typically murdered before they take adulthood. An adult hobgoblin’s horn is worth a lot of money.
Magic
Magic: Magic is the practice of utilizing the essence of life, hereon referred to as Mana. Users of magic tend to do so to facilitate their daily lives; however, there are those who have been known to utilize magic for combat. All children born in a city of magic are enrolled in an institution of magic to hone their technical prowess.
Mana: The essence of life in the air; it is produced by spirits of those long past and is harvested by mages through the use of spells.
Schools of Magic
School of Casting: The most common class of magic where the user casts spells through the use of an arma: an item imbued with Mana that aids the user regarding casting spells. The most common arma are tomes and scrolls. Armas can also assist those who seek wisdom from magic but are not born with the innate abilities to cast them on their own.
- Rarity: Common
School of Enhancement: A typical class of magic used to enhance the ability of the user, or their weapon and armor. Usually used by a magician who has familial or personal prior experience with hand to hand combat.
- Rarity: Common
School of Alchemy: A class of magic used to infuse mana into hand brewed potions of both life and death. This dichotomy imposes many ethical questions to both practitioners and onlookers, but the utilization of either is entirely legal.
- Rarity: Common
School of True Sight: A specialized class of magic where users cast spells similar to the School of Casting, but without the aid of an arma. Spells cast by these magicians tend to be more potent than spells with the assistance of an arma.
- Rarity: Uncommon
School of Bestiary: A specialized class of magic dedicated to the taming and empowering of wild beasts or demons. This school is generally inherited from both mother and father, as this school of magic is a recessive trait.
- Rarity: Uncommon
School of Summons: A rare class of magic where the user proxy’s attacks utilizing summoned creatures. The type of summoning is determined by the personality of the summoner.
- Rarity: Rare
School of the Arcane Arts: A forbidden class of magic once used many years ago. The practice and teaching of this art have since been criminalized by Archmage Ghranda in the year 3500 following the technological revolution. All recordings of this school have since been removed and subsequently immolated from the city’s library.
- Rarity: Admonished
School of Necromancy: A class of magic surrounding the resurrection of the dead. Being a subsidiary of the School of Arcane Dark Arts, necromancy is rebuked in mage society.
- Rarity: Admonished
School of Clairvoyance: An extremely exclusive class of magic that can be learned by one person at a time. The Sect of Specters search for the newborn infant inheriting this ability after the death of each Archmage; that child is subsequently elected to be the new ruler of Locria, and as such, all underlying cities of magic.
- Rarity: Unique
Key Characters
Alessa
Abilities
Passive: Pariah
When Alessa is near an allied Warrior, her base Health Regeneration is decreased by 5% per Warrior, her Armor is reduced by 5 per Warrior, and her Magic Resist is reduced by 6 per Warrior. Alessa starts with 10% cooldown reduction.
First Ability: Raise Undead 13/10/7/4/1s
Alessa raises a corpse from the ground to fight for her. The corpse lasts 10 seconds, and will target the nearest Warrior. If no Warrior is in sight, the ghost will target the nearest minion or monster. Undead deal 60/70/80/90/100 +(30% of Ability Power) per basic attack.
For each undead near her, she gains 15% Health Regeneration, 10 Armor, and 12 Magic Resist.
Second Ability: Grasp of the Undead 12/11/10/9/8s
Alessa selects a targeted location, and a group of undead grab above them. The hands deal 50/100/150/200/250 +(100% of Ability Power)
Third Ability: Transfer 10/8/6/4/2s
Alessa steals an ally’s mana in exchange for her health. This ability heals the target by 60/80/100/120/140 +(100% of Ability Power). She steals 15/20/25/30/35+(33% of Ability Power) of the targets mana, and gains 30/40/50/60/70+(100% of Ability Power).
Fourth Ability: Raise Warrior 120/100/80/60s
Alessa revives an enemy warrior with a 75% health and mana penalty, a 80% attack damage and ability power penalty, a 75% armor and magic resist penalty, and a 90% movement speed debuff. The debuff lasts for 45 seconds.
“Stop… Please, just kill me. This is all my fault. I can’t live on knowing what I’ve done.”
Magic has it’s uses, but it also has it’s drawbacks. Alessa knows this more than anymore. Trained in the widely revered School of Salubrity, Alessa had a penchant for healing the wounds of her friends. In her hometown of Altinora, hundreds of miles southwest of Locria, she was revered as a child prodigy. She had mastered both the technique and skill of healing, and even the adults of the town would flock to her for medicinal regeneration. Alessa had a simple childhood, attending the local institute of magic, learning and refining her craft everyday. She was respected by her peers, and was popular among adults. Unlike Alessa, her sister Irene was the antithesis of perfection. Despite being four years older, she hadn’t found her place in the world of magic. However, she had a knack for toolmanship and tinkering. Despite the strictness of law enforcement due to the aftermath of the Technological Revolution, she crafted machinery in her parent’s basement. For the most part, her parents were supportive. Knowing that she had been an iconoclast in the eyes of her peers, they were happy to support anything that would have made her happy. For the most part, she was. That is, until the day one her of inventions had gone haywire, causing an explosion that had swallowed half of the neighborhood.
Upon returning home, Alessa had discovered the scene. Her parents, and her sister, fried and on the verge of death. She had attempted to heal her mother, and she failed. She had attempted to heal her father, and she failed. When she tried to heal her sister, Irene stopped her. She failed. Alessa felt like magic had failed her. After she had graduated from the institute of magic at the age of 21, she roamed the Isle for many years, searching for a purpose. That is, until she met a woman with pale white skin.
Baker
Abilities
Passive: Taste Testing
After each ability, Baker restores 20 +(10% of max HP) health, and 20 +(5% of max MP) mana.
First Ability: Stainless Steel
Baker tosses three knifes simultaneously in front of him, dealing 10% of the targets current health and slowing them by 40% for 1 second. The knives pass through foes, decreasing effectivity by 33% per unit.
Second Ability: Breadcrumbs
Baker consumes a loaf of bread over 1 second, and heals 100/150/200/250/300 +(25% total AP).
Third Ability: Cast Iron
Baker steels his iron will, and raises his Armor and Magic Resist by 10/15/20/25/30 and 15/20/25/30/35 for 5 seconds.
Fourth Ability: Replenished Rations
Baker shares his creations with his team, healing his teammates by 500 +(30% bonus Armor and Magic Resist) over 10 seconds.
Lore:
Giovanni Corasello-Crescentia Baker was a simple chef who passed the time baking homemade pastries to the denizens of Boli, a small scale farmland that cultivated crops for the mage hub Locria. Raised as a child in the local orphanage, Baker worked his way up from the bottom through perseverance, and passion. Only three years after he moved out of the orphanage, Baker had made a name for himself serving food to the locals. As tensions rose between the newly founded Lydia, and the stronghold of Locria, many innocents were drafted into the local militia, including Baker himself. Despite being lackadaisical regarding magic in general, he was hastily placed under the school of enhancement, and used his knowledge as a chef to inflict damage on the battlefield. He was quick to learn that the war was swiftly falling under the control of the Lydians. Soon after the end of the war, Baker sought revenge against the Lydians who killed the ones he loved.
Jackie
Abilities
Passive: Brawler’s Spirit
Jackie uses spirit over mana.
Spirit stacks can be gained through basic attacks; every basic attack restores 2 spirit stacks, at a maximum of 10.
Jackie has no cooldowns.
First Ability: Jab/Cross (2 Spirit)
Jackie strikes twice, dealing 10/20/30/40/50 + (%110) of her total attack damage; on hit effects apply (disregarding passive).
Second Ability: Respite/Reprieve (5 Spirit)
Passive: Jackie gains 1 percent of bonus health regen for every spirit stack.
Active: Jackie kicks an enemy, applying a stack of reprieve.
When reprieve is applied to an enemy warrior, it may be detonated by any other ability. Reprieve maxes out at 3 stacks, and wears off after 1 minute.
Third Ability: Wave Dash (3 Spirit)
Jackie lunges forward, pushing minions and monsters aside, dealing 20/30/40/50/60 + (%50) of her total attack damage as physical damage to all who stand in her way,
Fourth Ability: Crippling Kick (10 Spirit)
Jackie decimates a targeted enemy warrior with a bone-crushing kick, stunning her opponent for .5/1/1.5/2 seconds.
Juniper
Abilities
Passive: Juniper’s Special Herbs
Allies near Juniper have 25 percent increased self healing, and 10 percent increased health regeneration.
Juniper’s syringe contains an intense toxin, and poisons enemies with her basic attacks. Poison lasts 3 seconds.
First Ability: Stabby, Stabby, Stab!
Allied: Juniper stabs an allied warrior with her syringe, and injects them with a medicinal essence. The targeted ally is healed for an initial amount, and healed over time for the next 5 seconds.
Enemy: Juniper penetrates an enemy warrior with her syringe, and injects them with a deadly poison. This attack applies all on hit effects.
Second Ability: Special Treatment!
Allied: Juniper throws a kiss to a targeted ally, and grants them a shield that decays over time.
Enemy: Juniper throws a kiss to a targeted enemy warrior, and charms them for 1 second. While charmed, the target takes 25 percent increased damage.
Third Ability: The Doctor is In!
Passive: Juniper has increased movement speed while moving towards an allied warrior.
Allied: Juniper dashes to an allied champion, increasing their armor and magic resist on contact.
Enemy: Juniper dashes to an enemy warrior, syringe first. Upon contact, Juniper swings three times.
Ultimate Ability: Don’t Share Needles!
Juniper throws of barrage of miniature syringes that puncture and penetrate both allies, and opponents for. She is mobile during this time, moving at 75% of her current movement speed, and can control the direction of the barrage. Allies that are affected by this skill are healed, and sped up for 1 second (each syringe), and opponents punctured by this skill are damaged; all on hit effects apply.
Lore
“The heart of passion lies within the seduction of the innocent.”
- Juniper, after an interview with the Fighter’s Coalition.
Most nomadic vagabonds, following the Technological Revolution, traveled because of their ambiguity between magic and industrialism. Iron-stead familial connections were skewered due to the sudden collapse of the globalization of magic, and those with no place in either factions were forced out of their respective domains; they travel without purpose, or reason, trying to find a place to live. Juniper was not one of those people. True, she never lived in one place at a time, and never owned a home of her own; she wasn’t born with a natural magical prowess, and she never had a knack for technological innovation; and she never had family, or friends. She journeyed not to evade the tyrannical rule of Locria, nor the iron curtain of Lydia; she traveled to satiate her own sadistic tendencies.
Elakie
Abilities
Passive: Masochism (5 Second Cooldown)
Elakie derives pleasure from pain; while in combat, she gains 250.00 percent health regen, and heals 10.00 percent of all damage dealt to her over 10 seconds. However, after being out of combat for 3 seconds, she has 0.00 percent health regen, and has 75 percent reduced healing from herself, and allies.
First Ability: Bash/Slash (10/9/8/7/6 Second Cooldown After First Activation)
Upon first activation, Elakie slices all enemies in front of her, applying a decaying slow, and one stack of Sadism to all enemies hit. On second activation, Elakie slams all enemies directly in front of her with her shield, knocking them back slightly.
Sadism can be activated by any other warrior’s basic attack, or skill. When activated, Elakie and all allied warriors around her are healed, and receive a minor armor/magic resist buff.
Second Ability: Siren’s Song (16/14/12/10/10)
Elakie tempts an enemy warrior, causing them to follow her for 1/1.25/1.50/1.75/2 seconds. If Elakie basic attacks a taunted warrior, they will be stunned for an additional 0.50/0.50/0.50/0.50/1 second.
Third Ability: Flight of the Valkyrie (10/9/8/7/6)
Elakie jumps to a targeted enemy champion.
Final Ability: Final Phalanx (60/55/50/45/40)
Elakie musters all her strength, and slams the ground with intensity. All enemy warriors affected by the earthquake are knocked up, and crippled by 75 percent for 5 seconds.
Lore
Elakie grew up on the streets of Lydia; the heart of the Technological Revolution. While most of the city consisted of wealthy diplomats, and noble army-men, the vagrants of the city were shot on site in order to reduce amount of ‘undesirables’ in the city. On the outskirts of town lay a conglomerate of culture; a ragtag mini-town of the homeless, and the vagabonds. The city went by many names by many people, but for those who lived there, it was simply called home. One of the many advantages of being an aristocrat in Lydia was the use of public laboratories; facilities designed to ensure the progress of the Technological Revolution. Vagrants had no place using these facilities, but that never stopped them; especially Elakie. Her success can be attributed to her late father, who passed away at the hands of a tome wielding mage from Locria. Elakie forged her first first, and last, set of armor from the molten scrap of leftover debris, and set forth towards the Fighter’s Coalition. Her goals were to raise funds for her friends back home, and to avenge her father by finding, and killing, the woman who took his life.
Kei
Abilities
Passive: Tempest Blade
Kei conjures blades using Arcane Dark Arts. She fires three at a time, the first blade dealing full damage and the following two doing 33 percent of total damage each.
Kei deals no physical damage with her basic attacks; all blades are magic and deal (100% of attack damage + 10 percent ability power) in magic damage instead.
First Ability: Arcane Pierce 10/9/8/7/6s
Kei fires five conjured blades in a direction from a black hole, one after another, dealing (50 percent of her attack damage and 25 percent of her ability power) as mixed damage each. The fifth blade will pierce all opponents.
Second Ability: Insignia of the Rabbit 10s
Passive: Kei marks an enemy warrior with the Insignia of the Rabbit after every basic attack and ability. Every stack, and a maximum of 30 stacks, reduces the opponent's armor and magic resist by 2`.
Active: Kei detonates the insignia, dealing damage for every stack.
Third Ability: Riftwalk 15/13/11/9/7s
Kei displaces the area at a targeted location, and blinks immediately there. Three blades target the closest opponent (focusing enemy warriors).
Ultimate Ability: Razor’s Edge 70/60/50/40
Kei casts a spell, becoming immobile for 3 seconds. In that time, she fires 25 blades in a single direction controlled by the cursor. Each blade registers as a single basic attack, and applies all on-hit effects.
Lore
“My poor little girl. I know you’re hurting. If you come with me, I’ll make sure you never hurt again.”
Kei grew up in Locria under the roof of her parents. Neither were avaricious in their prime, yet both lived comfortably in their run down house on the outskirts of town. Friends were few and far apart; her resting, emotionless face was unsettling to many children her age, and due to the impoverished state of her family, she wore the same outfit daily. Her only friend was Bunsworth, a light beige bunny who hopped around her room freely.
One day, as normal as any other, she came home only to witness the fact that her friend Bunsworth was missing. Still as emotionless as ever, she wandered out the house to investigate. She saw footprints in the snow leading out to the forest from her front lawn; she continued along the path. After a good 5 minutes of walking, she came upon a clearing within the canopy of giants. A group of kids from school were in the middle, in a circle. Kei approached them. They made a clearing for her. In the middle of the encirclement was Bunsworth; pale, breathless, bleeding. Enfueled by rage, Kei grabbed her friend by the ears, and looked towards the other children. Some ran, some froze in fear. Kei murdered regardless.
The Institute of Magic guides children towards their predetermined School of Magic. For the most part, magic is hereditary; a child born of a mother and father of the same School is likely to inherit those properties. Kei was an exception. At an early age, it had been discovered she had inherited a recessive trait known as the School of the Arcane Dark Arts; this School of Magic had been forbidden from use effective 3500, prior to the death of Archmage Ghranda. The institution of magic had kept a close eye on Kei throughout her years of growth; entrusting her with the use of Armas as opposed to her innate abilities. That day in the forest, Kei had left her tome in her room.
Kei returned to her home caked with blood, and despite her attempts at resuscitation, she couldn’t get her friend to breathe again. A knock was heard at the door. When answered, it revealed a pale woman.
Korei
Abilities
Passive: Spirit Tracks
Korei’s sprite summon, Elvy, detects nearby warriors, and marks the minimap when it notices malice. Korei starts the game with her fourth ability.
First Ability: Summon - Mana Sprite 9/8/7/6/5s
Korei summons a sprite composed entirely of mana, and sends it directly towards a targeted location dealing single target damage.
Second Ability: Summon - Molten Sprite 13/11/9/7/5s
Korei summons a fiery spirit to immolate her opponent. The sprite detonates at a targeted location after .5 seconds, and leaves burn damage that lasts 5 seconds.
Third Ability: Summon - Storm Sprite 10/8/6/4/2s
Korei summons a spirit of storm to aid her in mobility and combat. Korei dashes to a targeted location, and discharges a bolt of lighting to the closest target (focuses warriors). The target then discharges lighting to the 4 closest enemies (focuses warriors).
Fourth Ability: Spiritual Bond (No Cooldown)
Korei can switch between summoning sprites, and entrusting Elvy to cast spells for her. Elvy casts spells 5 units from Korei.
Fifth Ability: Mana Bolt 15/13/11/9/7s
Elvy casts a spell of destructive power, and fires a bolt of solidified Mana that pierces all enemies, dealing 20 percent less damage for each target struck.
Sixth Ability: Exorcise 13/11/9/7/5s
Elvy targets a single opponent, and channels an intense spell. Over the course of 5 seconds, she drains the mana and health of an enemy opponent. During the cast, the opponent is slowed, and 25 percent of both resources drained are returned to Korei.
Seventh Ability: Chimerical Explosion 100/80/60/40
Elvy targets specified location, and supercharges that area with unbelievable power. After a 1 second cast, the area explodes. Over the course of 5 seconds, 50 percent of the damage dealt is returned to those affected.
Lore
The daughter of an extremely wealthy diplomat, Korei spent most of her life sheltered from the outside world. She spent most of her time in the confines of her room, practicing the art of magic. As with most children growing up in the magic capital, she attended an institution designed to refine her skills as a witch. When it came time to determine which School of Magic she was to be, she was found to be a summoner; a rare class of magicians who can’t fight with spells, but rather proxy opponents using entities of pure mana. One day, while alone in her room, she summoned her first sprite; a small ball of energy she named Elvy. Unlike most sprites, Elvy didn’t dissipate back into mana; it retained its physical form, and continued to accompany Korei ad infinitum.
One day, many years later, Korei received a package while studying for final exams. Her father had left three days prior for a diplomatic meeting between her home town of Locria, and their sworn rivals of Lydia. The package was issued for Korei, and sent by her father. Opening the package, hoping it was a gift from her father, a fulsome, nauseating scent penetrated the air. She looked in horror as she lifted the contents; a severed hand with a tattoo eerily similar to her father's.
Days after the incident, Korei decided what she wanted to do; find and kill the man who had assumedly murdered her father. She left Locria with haste, and hitchhiked on the back of a foreign tech-wielding caravan. She rode for three days, and three nights, until the caravan had reached the entrance of the infamous Lydia.
Being a sheltered mage, who grew up without a hint of technology, her first sight of Lydia resulted in an extreme culture shock. Everything that her father had taught her was taboo were flaunting around on the streets with blithe; soldiers wielding ranged hand cannons, mechanized automatons designed to protect the city from crime, laboratories littered with men and women in suits of metal armor. Unable to appear in public, due to the outlaw of magic in the city, Elvy communicated with the obviously distressed Korei through telepathy. One of Elvy’s most notable skills were spirit tracking; the ability to detect certain creatures through their levels of malicious intent. Korei walked along the busy roads of Lydia, gathering the eyes of the confused. Her appearance had differed from the usual riff raff and technologically inclined; a purple robe inscribed with the language of the elven tongue stood out within the swathe of metal and circuits.
Multiple hours of searching led her to the outskirts of the city; Elvy directed Korei to a shack composed of scrap metal and rotten wood. The strangers in this miniature town paid no mind to the robed girl. As she entered, she was greeted with two resting faces; one of a young girl her age, and the other of an aged man. Both were resting on opposite sides of the room on slates of metal attached to wooden pegs. Neither looked comfortable. Elvy directed her to the old man; upon inspection, she noticed blood caked on the edges of his nails, and dried crimson-brown stains on his shirt. He reeked of iron.
Korei was seething with anger. The man who had laid waste to her father was sitting right in front of her, and she was powerless to do anything. Noticing the distressed Korei, and wanting to do anything to soothe her fears and worries, Elvy had supercharged the mana in the air, and shot a devastating blast towards one half of the room. The man was obliterated immediately, and the girl had been blown far from what used to be the shack. A crowd gathered. Korei was soaked in blood. Elvy hid. The police didn’t.
Korei was locked in a dank, lifeless cell. Alone. She spent three days in the cellar, without food, without water, without need. Elvy comforted her, but she was unresponsive. Footsteps were heard beyond her solitary confinement chamber, but she was still dissociated. The voice from beyond the cell gave her an offer. Accept her crimes against Lydia, her use of magic and blatant premeditated murder, and perish at the hands of an executioner; or to fight as a warrior in the Fighter’s Coalition, and submit her earnings to the emperor. After weighing the two choices, she decided.