Chapter 2: The Flame Game

 

     “All right, you Barbarian! Let’s see how you handle my blade!” shouted Arcrania’s greatest fighter.

     His opponent on the other hand only grunted and growled. After a full day of fighting, Brandon didn’t even look the least bit tired. All with good reason, being close to seven feet tall, and nearly as wide… but all muscle. He resembled a gorilla more than human.

     Brandon shifted the bear pelt tied around his waist casually, and then unexpectedly pounced the fighter.

     Unable to do anything, the fighter yelped in mercy as his sword was snapped in two by Brandon’s bare hands. He then prayed to any listening deity when Brandon took him by the legs and flung him around like a rag doll, singing a childish song all the while. Finally brought to a screaming conclusion when Brandon raised a huge axe that wasn’t there when he first started fighting, and laid the final blow… stopping mere inched from the fighter’s face.

     Still screaming, the fighter’s armor began leaking in promiscuous places, which made Brandon burst out in laughter. The fighter passes out.

     The crowd however was sharply divided in terms of gratitude. Half of the cheered wildly (as their pocket grew exponentially), as the other half booed (feeling the vast emptiness).

     Brandon smiled and almost danced out of the arena. The attendant handed him a moderately sized bag of gold and said, “Your pretty good… where you come from?

     Brandon thought for a while, then for a bit longer, then finally replied, “From wood!”

     The attendant rolled his eyes and said, “Eeeehh-Ya! Sure… whatever… say, that’s a nice ring you’ve got there.”

     Brandon looked with awe at the shinny object on his finger, then nodded wildly. Growing slightly impatient with Brandon, the attended gritted his teeth and asked, “You wouldn’t be willing to sell it, would ya?”

     Brandon just shook his head rapidly and said, “No no… Brandon like ring… make Brandon strong.”

     He flexed his massive right arm, which was more like bouncing watermelons on his arm. He then slipped the ring off, and instantly the arm shrunk to no bigger then a child’s arm. The rest of his body followed suit and Brandon suddenly stood in a weak child’s body.

     In another instant, his body was restored when the ring was placed back on his finger. “You see… I like ring. Okay, bye bye…”

     And with that, Brandon left the arena, while the attendant eyed the jeweled ring even more closely then before.

 

     “Go back to the woods, Barbarian!”

     “We don’t want your kind here!”

     “Get out of our sight, freak!”

     All this and more bombarded Brandon where ever he went. He tended to shrug off the comments, as best he could… it was things got violent that you don’t want to be around.

     SMACK!!!

     A brick smashed into the back of Brandon’s head…

     SPLASH!!!

     Some hoodlums stole a pot of boiling water from an old lady and flung it at him.

     The people started gathering the old fruit and mud balls to throw, when a large tornado surrounded Brandon. “I don’t really like this behavior… and your all fortunate that this gentleman isn’t a violent man… otherwise I fear what may have happened to you.”

     Brandon growled savagely as people tried to throw their “weapons” at the wind barrier… which in turn hurled the “weapons” right back at them. Owen turned to Brandon and pleaded, “Try and calm down… you won’t help anything by harming people weaker then you are…”

     Brandon looked at Owen and saw the blue ring around his finger. He smiled and gleefully remarked, “You have pretty ring too!”

     Owen took a deep sigh of relief as it looked as though the giant barbarian wasn’t going to do anything. He replied, “Yeah… where did you get your ring?”

     “Brandon get ring from wood.”

     Owen nodded and patted Brandon on the shoulder (especially since he couldn’t reach his head) and said, “You should travel with me… I could use all the help I can get.”

     Just then the tornado flared violently in a massive wall of flames. Owen and Brandon turned quickly to see what happened, and when the flames disappeared, a single fire minion stood there casually tossing another ball of flame.

     Owen acted quickly and cast frost, which extinguished the ball  and made icicles form off of the minion’s body. He sighed in relief that the spell had worked and looked at Brandon, “That is what we must eliminate… will you help me?”

     But before Brandon could answer they were interrupted by a high pitched squeal. The frozen minion vibrated violently and smoke started flowing from it’s eye sockets. With a small explosion the minion cast off it’s second skin to reveal the frightening form that Owen had seen before.

     The screams became stereo as five more fiery enemies appeared, completely circling Owen and Brandon.

     Brandon looked at the situation and said, “Uh oh… this no good… bye!”

     And he leapt high into the air, leaving Owen alone. Owen shouted, “Hey, get back here! Some partner he was… oh well! If you want a job done right…”

     He yelped as arms grabbed him from behind and wouldn’t let go. The other five  came up only to laugh at Owen’s pathetic attempts to escape. One even rubbed noses with Owen and asked, “Your not so tough without your ‘ten elements’, are ya?”

     It the punched him in the gut, causing Owen to vomit all over the ground. The minions only laughed harder. Owen was about to lose all consciousness, but before he did, he caught a very odd last sight. An unusually large shadow covered the land. At first shot, Owen thought it was a solar eclipse… but how this possible was beyond his comprehension, right before losing consciousness.

     His body finally slumped over, and his head landed at the feet of the head minion… remarkably though, Owen pulled it together just enough to look up. All he saw was the feet… literally.

     “Helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!” shouted the ever-loving bass voice of Brandon, as he soundly swung the de-footed torso of the head minion at the gathered bunch.

     All of the minions flew off in random direction, but were far from defeated. Brandon clenched his fists and teeth and growled inhumanly, almost taunting the enemy. From the left, the first enemy leapt wildly, only to meet up with Brandon’s fist, then after that date, it was introduced to the bottom of his massive foot, stamping that bag of horse shit out… without the mess.

     With an unusual show of intelligence, one of the remaining minions snuck up behind Brandon, as he tied the other two into a pretty bow. Then in a fierce leap, grabbed his head from behind, covered Brandon’s eyes, and channeled it’s most intense flame through it’s hands. Brandon howled in pain, as the fire seared his sight, and continued to grow more intensely, as if his head was about to boil itself in it’s own juices.

     The pain quickly subsided with a blast of cold refreshing water, extinguishing the last of the enemies. Owen remarked, “Nobody messes with my friend!” and he quickly moved to examine Brandon.

     Brandon, still delirious, stumbled about trying to find which way was up. In his confusion, he heard the patter of footsteps and lashed out violently

     Owen quickly dodged and shouted, “Brandon! Wait! It’s me… calm down, and I’ll see what I can do.”

     Brandon reluctantly agreed and knelt down on one knee. Owen touched his face, and then chanted for a long time. A field of blue energy, which seemed to tax upon Owen’s concentration greatly, engulfed Brandon’s head. But slowly, the burn scars disappeared and dilation in Brandon’s eyes returned to normal.

     Brandon grinned and cheered with a childish giddiness that seemed so far removed from a man so big. Owen extended his hand in congratulations for a fight well fought and said, “Will you join me now?”

     Brandon just grabbed Owen’s hand, lifted him up gently and sat him down upon his great shoulder and said, “We go now…”

     Owen took this as a positive answer and casually remarked to himself, “This could be one hell of a ride…” as Brandon jumped into the distance.

 

Some great time ago…

 

     “All right, spread out… and a lump sum to the thief who brings me the head of Dieben!”

     “The Chameleon gang flew into action in the town of Qualex. Rumors had always existed as to why they could not be stopped, mostly aiming at their leader, Jacob. He was said to have an affinity for speed that far surpasses that of any man, woman, or beast. He could even enter the hall of a great duke, backstab his entire court, and escape before anyone hit the ground.

     Regardless, his gang had always reigned a noble terror on the rich, and sometimes helping out the misfortunate, but don’t press your luck.

     Diebin was the unlucky customer for today’s business. He had a stern but sneaky demeanor, and never got caught by anyone… at least until he tried to make off with the Red and Black Aura Daggers, Jarel’s prized weapons. When struck with the Black Aura Dagger, if the blow doesn’t kill you, the most lethal form of poisonous energy coursing through your veins will. The Red Aura Dagger on the other hand… well, that’s Jarel’s little secret.

     The streets were unusually crowded today, but for Jarel, the old man walking with a fake limp, and covered with a cloak was as bright as day. Bug and Nyk were already on the attack, leaping simultaneously from the shadows with daggers bared, and continued to fly past the “old man” when he made a swift side step. The old flower seller flew into a psychotic rage when her cart exploded in a fury of petals, and two known thieves lying on the ground. At least until she attacked them with a bouquet of old roses, causing Bug and Nyk to run to the hills, picking out thorns all the way.

     Adam sighed at his comrades, all the while keeping a close eye on Diebin as he tried to hide in the shadows, while the flower commotion was going on. He fanned his favorite weapon, the deadly royal flush… specially made playing cards made out of flat throwing blades… perfect for the underworld poker games.

     But the second he lost sight of his target in the shadow, he let the royal flush fly to try and end it then and there. After a couple seconds, Adam couldn’t see any change, so he either hit his target or air… either way, he wanted to retrieve his playing cards. However they came back sooner then he thought, as the cards were flung back from the shadows. They caught Adam’s clothes, and pinned him to the wall. Diebin then stepped out from the shadows, brushing his hands off, and thinking he was home free.

     Jarel suddenly materialized behind his enemy and replied, “You want my daggers? All you had to do was ask…” as the Red Aura Dagger plunged into his chest.

     Almost imminently, his skin began to boil and melt away from the rest of his rotting flesh. It appeared that was decomposing naturally, at an unnatural rate…  but regardless, Diebin was still alive, and wishing to every god that would listen, that he wasn’t.

     Jarel just stood there grinning while his minions picked themselves up. All he said was, “Guess I win…”

     “You BASTARD!!!” shouted the voice of a young woman. Then Jarel was on the ground with a very beautiful woman standing over him, and a finely crafted katana at his throat. “I wanted to kill him. He was rightfully mine!”

     Jarel looked up in intrigue, and then disappeared when she blinked.

     Bree fell very silent when she realized that the person she pinned on the ground, now had a dagger to her throat, and his head very close to her ear.

     He said, “Let me tell you this… you are only alive because no man has ever been able to take me like you just did…”

     Jarel started to run his nose across her shoulder and hair, taking in the seductive scent of her body. He finally commented, “You are a most remarkable girl.”

     Bree’s eyebrows curled up furiously as she forcibly remarked, “Right on one account!”

     She then channeled an incredible blast of chi through her body, which knocked the dagger away from her neck, and Jarel back into a brick wall.

     He scrambled to his feet, complaining irritably, “Why does it always have to be a brick wall that breaks my flight… never a soft hay-bail, or fat person… mumble mumble…”

     Bree unsheathed her other sword. It crackled with a strange electrical power in it’s yellow tinted blade. “You’ve got spunk… I like that!” shouted Jarel as he regained composure. “With a powerhouse like you on the team, the Chameleons would be unstoppable….”

     Bree’s face turned sour to which she quickly replied, “Honestly… why would I want to align myself with a black hearted their?”

     She then slapped her blades together, which transferred the electrical energy of one sword into the other, thus magnifying it power. With lightning reflexs, lunged at Jacob with her charged katana, but only touched dirt… however she left a large crater in it’s place, and kicked up a lot of dust, thus losing Jarel again… until Bree felt the cold blade of his dagger on her throat again.

     “We’re not that different, you and I…” Jarel said sinisterly.

     “How is that possible, Thief!” she replied with a spit.

     “We share the same tastes in fashion…”

     Jarel released the dagger and quickly held out his right hand to reveal a glowing black gemstone ring.

     Bree quietly gasped… she then slowly raised her right hand to reveal a glowing purple gemstone ring, nearly identical, except for a few small cosmetic differences.

     Silence passed over the square, and the world seemed to disappear from reality… they held up their rings as they gentle pulsed in unison with each other.

 

     Owen mopped about his glass, at an inn that still hasn’t heard of the exploits back at the coliseum.

     “I tell you, Brandon… I have no idea how we got into this predicament. Why do I have to take on the Master of Fire? I mean… how do you conquer a master, when I’m just an apprentice. And not that you’re a greenhorn, by any means… but if you get injured so easily by an minion of fire, what will the striker do to you?”

     Brandon sat across the table from him, lost in his own little world. He still sported some minor scars on his face. Owen slammed his drink on the table and ordered another. The innkeeper came up and asked, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

     Owen stood up furiously and shouted, “Just BRING ME MY MILK, DAMN IT!!!”

     The innkeeper poured Owen another glasses and then hid behind the bar. Behind him, a large chunk of his wall was frozen solid, and slowly melted… however, he seemed nervous just the same.

      Owen slumped back into his chair and looked at Brandon… still lost. He stared into his glass and remarked, “We need help…”

 

     Warriors, Fencers, Samurai, Barbarian…

     All very similar class of physical combat, all fairly common… but there is one class of fighter rarer than a blue moon. An ancient creed long forgotten, and as old as time itself.

     The delicate balance magic and steel, forged with a skill that is surpassed by no normal warrior.

     Fire minions by the hundreds have laid siege to the town of Arcania. All with one clean chaotic mission… destroy!

     Tim stood in the town square like a statue, poised and ready for the battle of his life. He raised his left hand and a small buckler materialized. He raised his right hand and a simple long sword appeared. He threw back both of his hands, and a series of plates materialized one by one, until he had a partial set of plate mail to cover his upper body.

     It has begun… Tim heard screeches from all around. He blocked the first incoming sword with his shield, then quickly stabbed back, then moved onto the next one.

 

Owen, back at the inn, continued to chug his milk. He remarked, “Someone who is strong!”

 

     Tim slashed through three more minions in one swing. He shouted nobly, “You will not take this peaceful town! I WILL stop you!”

      He then picked up a dead minion’s body and tossed it at a large pack, knocking them all to the ground.

 

     “Not to say that your not strong… but we also need someone who’s fast!”

 

     Suddenly, a well-placed blade tap sent Tim’s sword flying. His eyes trailed it for a brief moment, but then he quickly played leapfrog over a charging minion, and gave it a good hard bash on the face with his shield. Tim then dodged a small fire trail that was following him on the ground. He looked up and saw which minion was casting the spell, and swiftly gave it a drop kick.

     It stopped the fire spell under further consideration…

 

     “But mostly, we need someone who knows what their doing! More so then we do…”

 

     Tim backed off for a brief moment to catch his breath. “There’s too man… this is a battle that needs to be won another day,” he thought to himself.

     Tim threw back his arms up and in a flash of light, his armor and shield returned to the nothingness from which they came. He then closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and summoned a large blue stick with a wicked looking curved blade on top.

     He took one last second to focus, then charged out into battle again. Twisting and turning to avoid as many minions as possible, however any that got in the way of the blade was suddenly encased in a prison of ice.

      Running faster and faster, Tim thought about how much he hated retreat. Admitting that there were situations that he couldn’t handle, and some tasks impossible to reach. Suddenly he realized that the way had gotten a little barren of enemies, but the sun had also been shaded.

     With a gasp, Tim saw uninjured minions channeling their power into one huge fireball. His eyes grew wide with fear. With a fleeing thought, Tim dissolved the sickle and ran as fast as his legs would take him. Within seconds, he reached the edge of the river that traveled through Arcania. With one last deep breath, Tim dove in just in time.

     It seemed like an eternity underwater, following the strong current as the hell like flames circled above.

     Some time later, Tim popped his head and looked back at tapestry of fire and flames that engulfed his once proud town. With a grinding in his teeth, he turned back to the current and continued his way, with a single thought on his mind…

 

     The Fire Striker will pay for this…

 

     Owen had moved from the pub to his room for the evening, resting as peacefully as can be expected.

     He tossed and turned violently, sweat dripping from everywhere… Images of fire and laughter and some strange man… nothing made sense. They filled his dreams and reached deeply into his very nightmares. Rising more and more intensely as Owen’s ring began to glow brightly.

     Suddenly Owen let out a blood-curdling scream…

     “We need to help him now!” he shouted.

      Brandon also jumped up and shouted, “Little sword man burned like Brandon!!!”

      He then leapt out of bed, straight trough the roof, and off into the night.

      A little stunned, and still not quite used to his companion’s ways, Owen rushed outside. He planted his feet firmly, then twisted as far to the right as his body would allow, fanned his fingers, and twisted back to the left as fast as he could to get a spin going for a transportation tornado.

     He hovered slowly at first, as a small tornado formed under his feet. He gained his balance, and then pumped his arms down and blasted off into the night. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew it was of earth shattering importance.

 

     A great distance away, in the center of a hollowed out volcano, Tim marched straight through the front gate of the fable creature, the Fire Striker. He slaughtered any and all minions who tried to stand in his way… Tim was certainly not going to let them stop him this time.

     In the main hallway leading up to the great hall, bars of fire shot up to form a prison like gate. Tim lightly touched the bars and quickly pulled away from the heat.

     He thought for a brief moment, then looked at his sickle. With some concentration, he reduced the size of his weapon to gain some excess energy. Tim then threw up his arms as flames surrounded his body and seemed to soak into his leather armor. After all was said and done, his armor glowed with a red tint. He grabbed his sickle, and walked through the fire, virtually unscratched.

     A minute, and a few dead minions later, Tim stepped into the main hall of the Fire Striker. He saw a middle aged man slumped over a series of maps, small chess-like pieces, and a large crystal shard showing random images of the fire minion’s destruction.

     Tim stood ready and shouted, “You will pay for you’ve done to Arcania!”

     The Fire Striker paused for a brief moment, look up and stared for another moment. It then went back to work. It remarked, “Oh it’s you… I thought I had you destroyed, ring barer…”

     Tim replied, “Not good enough…”

     “No matter… you are no more than an annoyance.”

     The striker lift it’s hand up and huge fire bolt flew from it’s fingers, through the air and slamming rather unpleasantly into Tim’s chest, sending him flying into the back wall. The striker returned to work.

     Tim scrapped himself up, and noticed his armor was damaged slightly. He closed his eyes and concentrated, focusing his energy. Slowly the leather mended itself, and the slight red glow grew more intense.

     Now pissed, Tim charged full force and sickle flailing, slicing the striker many times. And with each slice, ice blots formed in each wound, affecting it greatly.

     Gaining control of the intense pain, the fire striker gently set down the chess piece that he was fiddling with, slowly turning  his attention to Tim, trying to keep a pleasant demeanor.

     “Okay, you wanted my attention… you got it!” said the Fire Striker created a ring of fire to entrap Tim. It intensified the flames methodically, as Tim writhed in pain.

     “You thought you could handle the heat? Well… we’ll see how long you like it after I burn your armor away… however, I must say I’m impressed with how long you lasted… I almost broke a sweat.”

     Tim could feel the straps in his armor burn rapidly and start to loosen… however a freezing blast from behind the Striker caused him to drop to the ground like a rock.

     Brandon rushed into the room and slammed his arm into the unsuspecting Fire Striker, causing it to fly into the side of the volcano.

     Owen ran to help Tim off the floor. Tim shouted, “Stand aside, Water Mage… This isn’t your fight!”

      He just looked oddly at Tim and replied, “Like hell it isn’t!”

     “Look kid! You’re in waaaaay over your head…

     “Oh! Look who’s talking!”

     The two continued to bicker insipidly when suddenly, Brandon flew over their heads, riding a rather uncomfortable fireball. Owen and Tim looked at each other in silence for a brief moment, followed by a simultaneous nod.

     Owen raised his hands and started a powerful stream of water.

     The Striker casually raised his left hand and warded the attack with an invisible shield.

     Tim came from the side, sickle flailing wildly again. The striker tossed more bolts with his right hand, however Tim was much better at predicting the bolts placement, and could easily dodge. He sliced the Striker deeply across the chest.

     It winched, but managed t hold off Owen’s constant attack, and waved his right hand violently to throw up a brief wall of heat, that knocked Tim back just as violently, dissolving what was left of his armor and weapon. The Striker angrily shouted, “I will not be beaten!”

     It then turned both hands on Owen, engaging in a true mage battle. The Striker slowly pushed back with a similar fire spell. Sweat formed in huge droplets on Owen’s brow as he desperately tried to press the attack again, but to no avail. The Striker’s magic was far too powerful, and Owen was engulfed in a huge blaze.

     “That will teach you not to play with fire, water mage…”

     “And this will teach you not to turn your back on a weapon lord!” shouted Tim.

     The Striker wheeled around only to see a golden trident flying at incredible velocities, and a slumped weapon lord with a fiery passion in his eyes.

     The Water Trident pierced the Striker’s midsection and pinned it against the wall. Steam formed as fire met water, but this time, the water overcame the fire. The Striker screamed in agony as it’s body disintegrated into a pile of gelatinous muck.

    Tim stumbled up to his feet, walked over to his trident and yanked it out of the solid rock. He smiled and casually remarked, “Smoked that one…”

     Owen and Brandon both groaned in pain (both from physical wounds, and Tim’s dry cool wit). Tim kneeled over the remains and found three sparkling gemstone. One blue, one red, and one orange… no small coincidence that the colors match up with the ring colors of the people in the room.

     Almost instinctively, Tim slipped the red stone into one of the imperfections in his ring. Without wasting any time, the stone fused itself together, as if never separated.

     Owen took Tim’s hand and shook it saying, “So, you still think this is just your fight?”

     Tim handed the blue gemstone to Owen and replied, “We have many enemies ahead…”

     Owen slipped the stone into place and concluded, “Then we will face them together… but first we should pull our comrades head out of the wall.”

     They looked over to see Brandon’s limbs flailing wildly… and his body, very urgently nuzzled in the rock face.