[IC] Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

[Darog the Badger God]

Part 1: The Adventure's Beginnings/ Momog's Mighty Boast.

Aldrick. No city in Galadia was as bustling and full of life as Aldrick, the capital of the nation. Merchant caravans rolled into the heart of the city centre, carrying goods from the nearby nations of Brumas and Rumbia, civilians and guests of the city bumbled about its wide streets, shopping and exploring to their heart's content, and the skies were filled with air ships, kept aloft by strange magics and revolutionary technology, the blending of which had led to Galadia's growing fortune in recent decades. The jewel of Galadia was known for its high society and technology, which drew nobles and rich common folk from miles around, but in truth Aldrick was a melting pot of cultures from across the south of Gaia, and there was something for everyone here if they knew where to look. The tiered city was enormous, and was a city more than worthy of acting as Galadia's capital.

Amongst the spires, towers, and fortress-like manors that compose the Grand District lies the Hall of Kings. A memorial to the leaders of Galadia long since passed, the Hall of Kings serves as both the offices of the governing bodies of the kingdom and an ancient crypt to house the long decease members of the royal family. As grand, almost divine as the Hall of Kings appeared on the outside, only the offices maintained such a level of grandeur. The lower levels were old and dimly lit, a maze of thin corridoors and secret passages that seemed designed to confuse and deceive those that wandered through them.

Today the offices of the Hall of Kings were as busy as the city streets. Within the tallest spire of the fortress sat a gathering of nobles, courtiers, and advisors around a large table within an assembly room. Decorated with marble statues, gilded silver leaves, and imported silks in the of the Galadian flag, this room was among the most intricate and ostentatious rooms in the entire complex. "It seems the number of Arms Wielders keeps on growing. We need to be more vigilent, who knows what we may have on our hands." The tall cloaked man stated. Tall and heavily adorned in noble robes, his rather stern, lined face was framed by long silver hair and a goatee. His name was Royal Advisor Rugas, a powerful man of nobility and the cheif advisor to the King's Council. The other five cloaked but masked individuals listened intently to Rugas. "For now, I vote that we don't act hastilly." as the words escaped his lips the rest of the room erupted into roar between nobles who agreed and disagreed with the advisor.

"Order! Knight Commander Ajax, your opinion on this matter?" Rugas demanded, as the heavily knight wondered from the corner. "We've seen an increase strange behaviour across Galadia to do with magic and the arcane. Slumbering dragons have awoke and began to feed, village or otherwise. Demons have begun to slip through from the Hell's Below as well. Those Arms Wielders have begun to travel in groups or "bands" if you will.This may lead to a situation that can fix itself." The knight stated formly to Rugas and the others. The chatter died down, as nobles began to accept Rugas' decision. "A new age is dawning on us, friends. Let's not get passed by."

XXXXXXXXX

"And to think, the tale you wanted written wasn't hard at all!" the young looking, well dressed man stated as the larger gruff beast of a warrior nodded as he read the writers manuscript. "you just need to make sure it's safe when you take it to Aldrick, hopefully they will take your prowess within the Arena as something worth keeping in their Libraris Sanctum" The larger man nodded waving his farewell to the young scribe. He wore a simple set of travelling garbs, a scarf wrapped around his shoulder and neck, a feathered hate adorned the top of his head. "Well Mavlek, another happy customer!" He leaned back on his chair, sitting at a rather cluttered desk of manuscripts and quills. the room itself was dimly lit under the starry sky, messy and cluttered with bookshelves that lined the walls, containing various tomes of varying fiction and non-fiction alike.

He looked at his companion, a rather small, strangely winged pig and gave it a smile. "Well Hammy, you did good in looking for some particular adventurers. Though it's been a day since you arrived, We will wait if you feel they are trustworthy enough!" Mavlek explained to his rather boarish partner. It will be nice to get out of Digbeth for a while, honestly, even if it's just for a few months." Mavlek got a little excited at the prospect.

Mavlek saw himself an "Indepedant Scribe", writing down events and tales as best as he saw fit, however it seemed that latelyall he wrote were the tales of Arena Champions. He wanted a change of pace; to travel and write down the adventures and tales of a band of "heroes."

"any day now, they will show up. I wonder exactly what they were like? I bet Hammy chose some particularly strong warriors, they even be Arms Wielders!" Mavlek said excitedly as he layed back on his chair. "A start of a new adventure!"

[Grif of Hearts]

Digbeth was a quiet little town, nestled away in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere was, apparently, somewhere in the south westerly regions of Galadia, which meant that there was not a single reason for any normal person to head down that way. The rural countryside, made up mostly of fields and sparse woodland, was characteristically quiet and unexciting. The midday sun shone down on the landscape, the birds in the trees chirped their songs pleasantly, carried on the soft, warm southern wind that carried in from the ocean and the warmer lands south of Galadia, and the bandits sitting in waiting to ambush the next passer by finally got their chance to jump on their prey.

Wait a second.

“Alright, stranger. There’s a lot more of us than there are of you. So just drop your things and make this easy on all of us.”

Bandits were unusual around these parts, but in the quieter corners of Galadia you could find all sorts of strange things both magical and (at least relatively) mundane. This forest path was rarely used, passed off in favour of the longer but clearer road around it, with only a few lone travellers who risked the more dangerous trip often falling prey to this band of few but plucky bandits and thieves. Four of them stood, clad in studded leather and some patchwork plate, brandishing rusted knives, axes, and clubs that had seen far better days. The tallest and broadest of the bandits spoke, his voice deep and booming and his face obscured by a crow-like metal helmet, as he raised his large axe and pointed it towards the figure that stood in the middle of the circle of criminals.

The man before him smiled. Behind his long, shaggy brown hair and the hood of his green cloak that hung loosely off of his shoulders his facial features were obscured, other than his mouth, which quickly twisted from a smile into a huge, hysterical grin, and then into an almost maniacal laughter. There was no malice to it, just amusement, as if he had just been threatened by a child brandishing a kitchen knife rather than a monstrous brute of a man. The green garbed figure raised an arm, pushing away the green cloak and pointing behind his back. The figure was tall and broad, more so even than the leader of the bandits, but it seemed not to phase the vultures that eyed his weapons and equipment eagerly. The men surrounding him instinctively brought their weapons forward as he acted, not striking, but just reminding him that they were armed and willing to attack. He did not flinch, but his laughter soon stopped.

“You see this thing?” He motioned to the contraption that was holstered to his back in a large, leather sheathe. A blade, longer than the man himself was, settled diagonally just so he could keep it there without it dragging into the ground, was strapped firmly to his back. Two triggers sat on either side of the handle, and as he motioned to the sword it almost seemed to hum with energy as if eager to be used. Eager to kill something. “That, my friends, is a little something of mine that I like to call Reaver Riot. Yes, as you might have already guessed, it is an Arcane Arm, and I am very, very well practiced with it.”

The bandits seemed to falter. All but the largest one, who seemed to stand as their leader, who hardly moved at the attempt to threaten his band. A pitiful attempt at a thread, he thought. A smaller man obscured completely in a loose fitting grey cloak, or woman as it turned out to be from her softer voice, spoke next, catching her leader’s attention. She held a short sword in her hand and a light crossbow was slung over her shoulder, although her tight grip on her blade had turned loose and her aggressive stance had vanished as she took a step backwards. “Hey, Bartr, boss, if he’s telling the truth we might want to back down and let him go. Those things are serious busin-”

Bartr snapped back, bringing a hand up to her face and extending his index finger. The woman immediately recoiled, clearly expecting to be hit for stepping of line. “Listen here, you follow my orders, correct? If I say we stay and rob this fool for everything he’s worth, we do. Do you understand?” he barked.

“Mutiny in the ranks? Look, if you four are just going to squabble with each other then I’ll be on my way, okay? Try and do me a favour and don’t be here when I get back, okay? You might hurt yourselves on those little butter knives you’ve got there,” said the figure in green as he quite casually started to walk forwards, right passed Bartr, another wide smile on his face.

The figure in green quickly felt a thick, firm hand grab at his collar, tugging down his hood and pulling him back. The figure smiled and held his ground, his now-revealed green eyes glimmering with excitement as he turned on his heel and flashed a smile at Bartr. One hand shot up to grab Bartr’s extended arm, and the other felt for a grasp on the bandit’s chest piece. His fingers hooked in one of the belts on his leather armour, and with one mighty heft he brought the man over his shoulder and threw him into the dirt and mud. The man gasped for breath, winded and with mud in his mouth, even as a thick leather boot slammed into his back and pushed him down and kept him in place. The green figure, pushing most of his weight onto the bandit beneath him, felt for the hilt of his sword and drew the entire, mighty blade from its sheathe in one fluid motion. It was huge, separated by three lines that ran down the length of the blade, one in the centre and one on each side of the central line. He held the half-ton sword in a single hand in the air for a moment before he slowly brought it down, the blunt edge resting uncomfortably close to Bartr’s neck only about an inch away. Bartr froze in place, expecting the sword to connect with his neck and kill him in an instant. He closed his eyes, waiting for that cold embrace, but it never came. He opened his eyes slowly, looking to the side, seeing the blade perfectly still, thrust slightly into the ground to support it. He waited for the green figure to move, but he did nothing.

Well?!” yelled Bartr, tired of the absence of… well, anything he expected to be happening right now. “Aren’t you going to-

“What, kill you?” asked the green figure, eying him curiously. “I try not to do that anymore, so you’re good. A bit bruised, maybe, but good. Strange, it’s almost like you expected me to be that cruel.”

He brought the blade back, dragging it through the soft earth and carving a line through it, and aimed it at the rough undergrowth of the forest that sat along the edge of the road. The blade clicked, widening as a the blade separated alone one of the lines along the blade, single gun barrel appearing from within the blade as the metal pieces parted, now exposed and primed. The figure pulled the trigger and there was an eruption of green energy from the barrel as a thick, black iron ball was fired from the weapon, crashing into a small tree and splintering it in two. The figure slammed the blade down into the ground again, this time with the blunt edge against the earth, forcing the parted piece of metal back into its old position, the gun receding into its metal covering.

“But I’m not adverse to knocking you four in the head with the flat side until you get the message, so if you try anything funny you’ll have a whole slew of new bruises to worry about. If I’m feeling especially mean I’ll even drag you all to the nearest town and get y’all thrown in prison. So please, don’t try and play the hero.” He paused for a moment. “Villain? What kind of people do you roguish types look up to, actually? You know what, never mind. Just don’t be that guy and we’ll all get out of this fine and dandy. Who knows, maybe we’ll even end up the best of friends?”

The snapping of twigs behind the figure in green made him respond immediately. He brought the sword back down, edge under an inch away from Bartr’s neck, but with his other hand he grabbed the grip on the other side of the blade and wrenched it back. The blade separated, almost torn in two along the long, central separation of the blade, transforming it into two thinner but equally long swords. He pointed it directly to his right where the tip of the blade rested only half an inch away from the neck of a fifth bandit, long hidden in the forest undergrowth, who had thought now would be the perfect time to sneak up on the figure in green. If they had taken a single step forward they would skewered themselves on the sword, but instead they froze in place, especially as the smaller blade separated just as the huge blade had before, exposing another cannon nestled within it.

“Oh, c’mon,” the figure in green said, groaning in frustration. “What did I just say? It’s like you guys don’t even know who I am!”

The bandits all shrugged in unison.

“Really?” replied the figure in green, raising an eyebrow as he titled his head to the side. “But I thought you all knew who I wa-”

“No idea,” grumbled Bartr, coughing out some dust from his mouth.

“I…” the figure in green found his words caught in his throat. In an instant that disappointment turned to determination, as a wide grin came across his face. “Clearly the news has yet to reach this side of Galadia, which means it’s my duty to spread the word of a rising star! To tell the tale of a soaring phoenix of a hero, rising from the ashes of despair blade in hand and green cloak around his shoulders, determined to use every ounce of his courage and determination to save the world from the forces of evil!”

The figure slammed his sword in the ground, thrusting the pointed tip deep into the mud, and brought his hands to his waist and puffed out his chest, striking the most heroic pose he possible good. He laughed loudly and brought a hand up, pointing to the sky and turning his head to follow it. “My name is Crash Vega, rightful wielder of the Reaver Riot, and I-”

Crash felt a blunt wooden club crash over his head, and he stumbled forwards as he recoiled from the blow. He grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and threw his hand out to grab Reaver Riot which immediately found purchase in his hand. This was going to be a long day.

[Hellis]

”You lost?” The man snarled at the shorter man. He was tall, 6'6, likely had some giants blood in him. Flanked by two humans wielding pieces of planks as weapons, the thug thought he owned the road as he stared down Hiro. Hiro for his part was enterily calm and just looked back at the ugly face infront of him with mild dissinterest. His clothes were so worn down that most thought him a simple homeless man. Well, it was true he was homeless, but he was far from simple. And now there was a bunch of thugs in his way, meaing to shake him down.

”No... No I am pretty sure I read the map right” he answered. ”Now. Please don't make this anymore ak-” He tilted his head to the side, stepped a little to the right and dodged the bigger mans punch with ease. The thug blinked, the sucker punch strategy having mostly worked without a hitch before. Yet this time he had missed. The vagrant didn't seem to move any further. No sign of agression on his calm face. ”As I was saying. Don't make this anymore akward.” The flippant attitude pissed the big man off even worse. He growled and stepped in for another punch. Again, the same thing. Only this time Hiro stepped around to the mans left, spinning on his heel and ending up back to back with the brute.

”Sloppy” he admonished. ”No footwork at all.” The two humans decided this was the time to smash the smug looking hobo with planks. Yet all their primitive weapons found was the back of their comrade who let out a shreek and stumbled forward. As the two looked both confused and terrified, Hiro stepped up beside them. Before they could reach, his fingers dug into a shoulder each and forced them to drop their weapons in pain.

”This is the Rending Claw style. If I want to, i can tear your shoulders clean off. But I won't becouse that would be rude.” HE said as he tightened this grip, making the two men to whimper in pain. As he let go, the two ran, holding their shoulders in pain.

It was about this time, the big thug rose to his legs. His face was red with rage. He charged at his new nemesis, roaring like a gorilla as he lifted a massive hand to smack the man who was making him look like a fool.

”Devestating Palm style. Water around the rock.” Hiro breathed out softly as he blocked the punch with a open hand. The kinetic force of the blow was absorbed by the seal in palm as he smashed his other palm agianst the mans chest. The big oaf was sent flying like a ragdoll, tumbling and rolling across the floor before skidding into the opposite wall. Hiro frowned as he looked around, behind a counter a balding fat man peeked up. The owner of the Inn that Hiro had just trashed.

”See..:” HE complained. ”Now it IS awkard.” He stated as he surveyed the damage. ”Since I am broke.”

”It's... allright... just leave my inn please?” The owner said helpfully. This made Hiro frown but he bowed to the man none the less. ”Thank you” He said. ”Your genoristity will be remembered” He smiled with eyes and mouth as he said it, entirely genuine in his respect. Thats when he stepped out into a street full of thugs.

”Ah.” The smile drained from his face as he took a position. ”I must warn you. You only brought ten guys, that's alot of bang for very little buck.” He made a ”come hither” motion at the mob and watched them run at him with knives and clubs.

”Devestating palm style. The Eleven Steps of Enlightment” He smiled as he took a step forward. ”Step one, find your center” He is legs spread out broadly as he duck a sword and smashed his palm against the attackers rib, hearing them crack. Another step. ”Step two, redirect your anger and anguish.” He redirected a incoming punch with one palm and smashed his other against the face of some poor man, breaking his nose. A sweeping circular pivot on his heel and his left foot stomped down hard on the foot of a man armed with a club. ”Step three, stop all fleeting thoughts.”

”Step four. Clear all thoughts” He slapped his palms against the sides of a particulary big attacker, rattling the poor mans brain so bad he foamed at the mouth. ”Step five. Push away all other thoughs.” He smashed his palms into two different attacks that tried to flank him, sending them flying. ”Step Six. Give to others.” Another spinning step and sweep tripped one attacker before Hiro sent him flying into two others. He breathed out slowly. ”As one day they will give to you.”

”Step Seven. Embrace the pain, as it is your teacher.” He took a punch but spun to deflect and lessen the blow, smashing his arcane powered pals against two other attackers, sending them flying. ”Step eight” He in among three attackers. ”Eliminate all distractions” Three rapid palm strikes later, each of them lay on the ground, writhing in pain.

He turnedto the leader of the bunch . A big man wielding a sword and wearing a plateharness. It was only him left standing. ”Step Nine. Relinquish all possesions” He ducked under the sword and smashed his palm to the mans fingers to make him drop his weapon. Then he smashed the clasps of the mans armor, breaking them and making the plates fall of his torso. Hiro smiles and took a wide stance. ”Step ten. Close your eyes and feel the emptyness.” His eyes fluttered close. The man charched. ”Step Eleven” he said softly. ”Expell everything from your being but the feeling of nothingness.” As he opened his eyes both his palms smashed the attacker, sending him flying backwards in a long, high arch. Blood poured from his nose and mouth, describing a trail in thair of saliva and blood.

”And that.” He bowed. ”is why you people should take it easy..”

[Conflagration]

Lustran

Crunch... Crunch... Crunch... Crunch...

The leaves underfoot were softer than usual in the mid-morning dew, but still rustled with a sharp finality as he marched through them. All around him were similar sounds coming from the steel boots of his 'escort'. Finality - a strange choice of word but a fitting one, given the situation.

It had been two hours since they had caught up to him - the local city guard that was. He could have kept running but having the situation escalate would just make things drag on needlessly. They were stubborn and didn't seem prepared to give up the chase anytime soon. Besides, there was no guarantee that he would have escaped anyway. This town was new to him, and the local militia were both well armed and surprisingly skilled.

Unfortunately for them.

Lustran scowled at the ground, but kept quiet. His hair hung in his face as he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ground ahead of his feet - greasy and matted with the years of mistreatment and abuse, not to mention the past few days of running and hiding in whatever ditch he could find. His clothes were worse if anything - torn and faded and far from clean. They had taken his coat of course, the only half decent piece of aparrel he owned. Faded and worn as it might have been, it was sturdy and well cared for.

But worst of all, they had taken her.

Crunch... Crunch... Crunch... Crunch...

There were two in front of him. One to either side and two behind - all armed with crossbows and swords. There was a seventh carrying his coat and crossbow - getting his filthy hands all over her, not even remotely understanding the divinity and power that rested in his grasp.

Lustran flexed his fingers behind his back - feeling the cord that bound his wrists together dig into his flesh more tightly. He twisted his neck sideways with a satisfying crack and continued trudging along. Timing was key - it made the difference between living to see the next day and taking a long sleep in a shallow grave. Timing and some kind of distraction.

Crunch... Crunch... Crunch... Crunch...

He felt a hand clap down heavily on his shoulder - felt one of the rear guard draw closer and heard the first sounds of speech.

With a flurry of movement, the Brigand smashed his head back - feeling the bridge of a nose give way to the back of his skull. Twisting, he kicked out at the legs of another guardsman sending him crashing into another.

Hooking his foot under the colossal crossbow that had fallen to the ground, he smirked as it was flicked into the air. As the weapon fell through the ground he turned - extending his hands behind his back and feeling the iron bayonet cleave through the ropes around his wrists. It was far beyond one man's mere talent with his weapon: more like a team who could understand each other on some deep, emotional level.

"Stop right there!" One of the guards shouted out, bringing his own bow up to aim...

...

The Brigand raised his left hand to his face - gingerly touching the stinging on his left cheek before inspecting his fingers. With an ugly sneer he wiped the crimson against his coat and swung the crossbow back across his back. He shrugged heavily to redistribute the weight of his load before shaking his head with a sneer. It was their own fault, he reasoned as he returned to his march through the forest. They had every opportunity to simply walk away...

Back in the clearing, the world was motionless. There was barely a sign of a scuffle - save for the bodies of the seven local militiamen, pinned high among the branches around the clearing.

Grasping a section of his coat, Lustran gently brushed down the crossbow as he left the scene. He moved slowly, his attention mostly focused on removing the fingerprints of the guard who had dated touch her.

"Ugh, I'm sorry." He muttered under his breath before pausing as if to listen. Raising a single brow, he scoffed at some sounds that did not exist. "It wasn't exactly a walk in the park for me either! It was me that they were trying to kill. You just got a little scuffed..."

Shaking his head, he continued murmuring to himself as he wandered into the distance.

"So now I guess we find somewhere new to lay low for a while?"