Post by Elf on Jul 21, 2010 15:08:13 GMT -5
In a place without space, without time, without the steady stream of Constants that Existence normally provides, there should exist Nothing. Nothing but Energy--Chi, Majyk, Aether, Truth, or any of a hundred other names Terrestrials call it--should be able to exist in the In-Between Space, in the Nothingness between the fabric of universes.
Yet sometimes, even this universal Constant is breached. Sometimes, there can Exist a World Between Worlds, a World that is not a World. Some call these anomalies Pocket Universes, some call them Limbo. But whatever name they go by, their Existence is almost never mandated--or even allowed--by the Higher Powers.
But they Exist nonetheless. Such is the power of sentient beings to defy the Will of the Creator.
One such Pocket Universe began its existence as a circular, vault-ceilinged room, like a hallowed-out sphere with a flat floor--all made of bare, colorless stone. Darkness enshrouded the room, the only illumination coming from dim, displaced wisps of violet light floating around the room like ghosts--faerie fire.
From the depths of the gloom spoke a voice, a tenor drone raised in a single syllable of command. Suddenly, a flat rectangle of light popped into existence, floating perpendicular to the floor and displaying not just simple light, but a picture. It was an intangible, weightless window into another world. Its light flickered over the face of the one who had commanded its presence, showing ebon skin, snowy hair, and eyes solid in their blankness--save for the subtle swirls of violet illuminating the grey.
Ten slender digits folded over one another in the being's lap. A slight smirk visited his face, showing the glint of fangs in the half-light.
"All is in readiness. Let the battle begin."
*****
Pop.
In a single instant--hundreds of warriors and fighters, archers and archmages, people of every race, every creed, every World--suddenly found themselves standing on the packed-dirt floor of a coliseum, looking up at the Greco-Roman-style arena walls surrounding them on all sides.
Directly in front of them, standing in the place of honor reserved for the Emperor of old, stood a man...if he could be called that. He was most definitely a male humanoid, whatever he was.
Most of the displaced ones did not recognize the strange features the man possessed. Some saw his ebony skin, white hair, delicately pointed ears and svelte features and gripped their weapons as panic gripped their hearts. Drow! screamed the minds of those familiar with the races of the Underdark of Faerûn. Others caught a glimpse of the man's eyes--solid grey, broken only with swirls of violet--as well as the fangs in his smile, and stood in awe. Fae? wondered the denizens of Asgard. Other denizens of other worlds saw the pointed ears and wondered a number of other titles--Elf, Faerie, Sprite--but no one could voice their suspicions aloud. The master did not give them the time.
"Welcome, friends." The man's tenor rose effortlessly over the gathered masses, magically enhanced so that he did not have to shout to be clearly heard by all. Regardless of the listeners' origin or known languages, the words he spoke were understood by all--the product of yet another spell. He raised his arms in greeting, the black-and-violet, silver-gilded sleeves of his robes billowing in a light breeze. "Let me start by apologizing profusely for the rude interruption of your daily lives, and by explaining where you are, and how you got here. You have been transported out of your respective Worlds, Universes, or Dimensions of origin and brought to this place, a World Between Worlds, a Pocket Dimension that does not exist on the maps of the Gods. It is my magic that has brought you here. Rest assured that when you journey home, you will arrive to find that not a single second has passed in the World from which you came."
With that disclaimer said, the man lowered his arms to the stone railing in front of him, his friendly smile widening. "You have been brought here because you have possess--be it through experience or raw talent--great prowess in the fields of problem-solving, combat, and survival. And here, at this Battle Arena, is where you will prove your mettle--not just to members of your own race, to denizens of your own world, but to the whole of the Multiverse!"
A hushed whisper ran through the crowd as combatants reflected on this news. The man lifted his arms again, his palms turned downward in a plea for silence. The assembly hushed, waiting for further explanation.
"First, allow me to introduce myself. I am Archmagus Yrzzdryn Shal, and I will be the primary moderator for this arena's activities. My Acolytes will assist me in observing and judging the outcome of matches--you will see them at first as Wisps of Faerie Fire, but they will materialize into whatever form is easiest for you to understand. And now, you need to know a few things about the Arena itself."
The Archmagus waved a hand, calling a rectangle of light bearing moving pictures into existence before him. A collective gasp went through the crowd at such a display of magic--save from those hailing from worlds with more advanced technology, who just thought it looked like a giant, floating big-screen TV. The screen swept over fantastic scenery, switching from a broad expanse of rolling hills, to a vast, red-rock desert, to a snowy wasteland, and through other terrain.
"This Arena is not so small as a Colosseum," Shal narrated as the footage shifted. "It includes a broad array of different terrains, about as many kinds as most Terrestrials can imagine." As he said this, the screen shifted away from the Earth-like expanses and to some areas that looked more alien to some, and more homey to others--vast mushroom forests, spidering webs of near-lightless caves, and groves of bizarre trees that shone with their own bio-luminescence. "Combatants are free to utilize the terrain of the Battle Arena in any way they wish."
"But I urge you to use caution when moving about. In this Arena, you may not just be fighting one another--but you may fight monsters as well!" The screen flashed to a picture of a snarling beast, a slavering Dire Wolf charging at a helpless herd of one-antlered antelope. The sudden change drew a gasp out of a few in the crowd. "Many creatures will you find in this Arena--again, almost as many as a Terrestrial can imagine! Beware of the magic and abilities you might encounter with these creatures, as they are even more varied than the creatures themselves, and some of them can be devastating!"
"But at no time should you fear death in my Arena." Shal's voice gentled out of his excited announcement, reassuring his guests. "In the split second before a lethal blow can fall upon you, you will be teleported back here, to the Coliseum. At that time, you may choose among two options: Go Home--for your would-be death disqualifies you from further participation in the arena activities--or stay and observe the fights at your leisure. You will not be pressured either way."
The Archmagus's screen then shifted to a picture of the Coliseum in which they now stood, but it was filled with combatants different than the ones now present. "Behold, last Cycle's contestants!" A five-on-five melee fight raged over the packed-dirt ground. "Should you choose, you do not have to venture into the Wilds of the Arena at all--you may stay here, and challenge your fellow combatants! Your challenges can be one-on-one, or you can issue a group challenge--the only requirements are that the two opposing sides have an equal number of people on each, and that each party agrees to the contest."
"But you may also challenge your opponent out in the Wilds!" Again the screen shifted, this time showing two female Elves, one of dark skin and one of light, battling each other with swords under the bio-luminescent light of the alien trees. "Again, these fights may be one-on-one or in groups, and all must agree to the contest. And how would you call such a challenge, you may ask? A logical query, as your foes are spread over the vastness of the Wilds. Simply call out the challenger--you do not even have to know their names; state only what kind of opponent you wish to fight--and I will hear you! I will bring the challengers together on a field of their choice--or, you can let me choose the battleground for you. Either way, it is for you to decide."
The Archmagus clapped his hands together, and the vast screen vanished into motes of light. He smiled once more at his combatants, an eager gleam in his eyes.
"As you can see, my Arena offers infinite potential to test your skills, prove your mettle, and grow stronger." His voice had calmed somewhat from his announcer's tone, but now, a different kind of eagerness entered it--he suddenly seemed to possess the quiet readiness of a warrior on the brink of conflict. "If this purpose alone satisfies you, you are free to battle to your heart's content--save that you do not fail in your endeavors."
"But if you wish to gain more from your time here in the Arena, that is also your choice...and the choice I urge all of you to make."
This time, the Archmagus waved both wrists. But rather than conjure a rectangular picture into the air, he projected a three-dimensional illusion before him. On the floor of the arena, pressed up against the wall, sat a vast mound of gold, jewels, and other treasures. Each onlooker saw something within the mound that would be tantalizing to his or her particular tastes.
"Competing with one another is the way to earn your reward in this Arena. He or she who defeats many enemies will be equivalently rewarded. And the one who defeats the most foes...the one who emerges as the top ranked member of my Arena for this Cycle..."
The illusionary pile of riches vanished, and a Glamour of a towering marble statue took its place. The combatants had to strain their necks to see all the way up it's length, to view the figure of a strong Elven woman, holding aloft a scimitar and wearing a look of grandeur and pride.
"...will have their name and deeds etched into the very fabric of the Multiverse."
The statue vanished, once more leaving the Archmagus to face the challengers.
"So, my friends, the choice is yours! Fight for strength! Fight for riches! Fight for honor! Whatever you choose, I bid thee...fight!"
