First Reckoning (Part I)

Bordering the Northwestern edge of the Oaknysian forest was a bowl-shaped valley known as "The Cirque." Here, a wide, circular depression pressed deep into the earth, forming an amphitheatre-like landform that served as the perfect natural arena for the Connelier. Spectator stands of wood and stone had been constructed upon the rim of the Cirque, from which tens of thousands of humanoids and demihumans now gazed down upon the open pit.

A gentle mist permeated the morning air, infusing the atmosphere with a dewy yet soothing quality that tempered the electrifying excitement brimming from the crowd. The flag of the Standard of Peace fluttered amidst the soft breeze as it sat in the center of the basin, projecting a field of protection that isolated the pit in a transparent bubble.

From atop the Luminary Terrace, a marble balcony attached to the forefront of the stands, the three most esteemed individuals of the City State Alliance sat around a circular stone table.

Lord Sagittar Elothris of Karnassus, Leader of the Elothris Coalition: An ancient elf of tall and regal stature, whose long silver beard trailed all the way down to his waist. His emerald eyes retained a formidable sharpness despite his age, and an indomitable aura exuded from his seated frame.

Lady Ri Laris Kabelia of Bebad, Leader of the Kabelia Coalition: An attractive woman in her thirties, with coffee colored hair tied into a neat ponytail. Her features had a carefree and welcoming quality to them, but the occasional gleam of her turquoise eyes indicated a subtle, underlying cunning.

And finally, the Oracle of Oaknys, Appointed Representative of the Brave Coalition. Draped in the same oversized piece of cloth, her head barely reached the top of the table.

The names of Elothris and Kabelia represented the dominant power of their respective cities, Karnassus and Bebad, over the rest of their Coalitions. Their rise to power served as the catalyst through which the current order of the City State Alliance was born.

Even before the emergence of the Sorcerer Kingdom in the West, Lord Elothris had begun scheming to expand the power and influence of the Karnassus City State. Through his long lifespan, incredible patience and intellect, he had worked to gradually set the stage to reclaim the glory of Karnassus over the rest of the City State Alliance.

That opportunity finally came with the advent of the Equestrian War following the Great Vanquishing, over ninety years ago. Using a counter invasion as an excuse, he roped in Beppo Allo, East Gaith and West Gaith to form the Karnassian Coalition to combat the Equestrian King.

As the coalition won victory after victory in their unity, a long suppressed national identity rekindled once more under the banner of Karnassus. After a decade of further political maneuvering, Elothris renamed the Karnassian Coalition to the Elothris Coalition, fully consolidating his power over a great chunk of the City State Alliance.

The first to respond to this sudden emergence of unity amongst the city states was the Kabelia family of Bebad. Weary of Elothris's continued growth, they leveraged their imperial connections and their lineage's long history of governance to expand Bebad's presence in kind. In a conspicuously short period of time, the Kabelia Coalition began to take shape as the cities of Grand Wythes, Franklin and Ris fell under their sway one after another. Rumors of the Kabelia family confiding with mysterious powers beyond just the Empire eventually began to spread, but not before the identity of the new Coalition solidified for good.

Seeing the rapid splitting of the City State Alliance into two halves, each led by a hegemonic and power hungry authority, the swordsman Brave foresaw the inevitable civil war to come if nothing was done to counteract the new fissure in the Alliance. Thus, under his own banner, he united the cities of New Orcneas, Veneria, Greater Listaran and Oaknys into the Brave Coalition.

Unlike the other two Coalitions, however, no singular entity dominated over the rest. It was founded under the principle of mutual peace and equality between all its member cities. A principle that would be more or less maintained to this very day.

As a respected figure both within and without the Brave Coalition, the Oracle often served as their symbolic representative during the Connelier and other meetings of importance. Once every four years, she would uproot herself from her grotto and become the mouthpiece for not only the Wisps of Oaknys, but also the cities of New Orcneas, Greater Listaran and Veneria.

Behind each of the three individuals at the table stood a supporting advisor. As the lead organizer of this year's tournament at Oaknys, Quartermaster Randell Forris found himself chosen from the ranks of the Brave Council and thrust yet again into the political fray.

Standing to the back of the Oracle, Randell narrowed his weary eyes as he examined his two counterparts of the other coalitions.

Behind Lady Kabelia was a Lizardman draped in a brown cloak that concealed all but the strange sight of a pure white snout jutting out from underneath its cowl. The demihuman's powerful, muscular frame suggested that it was male, but not much more could be discerned save the glistening hardness of its albino scales.

At Lord Elothris's side was, well….no one. The elven lord sat alone at his side of the table, but Randell had a feeling that his inability to spot any presence at the elf's side did not necessarily indicate the absence of one.

"Lord Elothris," the Oracle began in a firm tone, "we have been nothing but tolerant and cordial towards you in the past few months, but your most recent encroachments have tested the limits of our patience. The great Wisps themselves are increasingly distressed, for they foresee signs of devastation to come."

Randell tilted his head slightly in approval as he heard her initiate the conversation as she had been briefed. While the Oracle was hardly a politician, she served as an effective spokesperson by delivering the talking points of the Brave Council while adding in her own clairvoyant warnings. If she ever steered off course, it would be Randell's task to steer her back in the right direction.

"Tolerant and cordial?" Elothris questioned the Oracle in a mild voice "I did not request this supposed leniency of yours, Oracle. If your Wisps take offense at whatever it is you are accusing me of doing, then feel free to send in your levies to investigate."

The Oracle's pale reflective eyes hardened formidably, and her demeanor suddenly transformed into a sharp and unyielding guise.

"You know full well that we have tried." she rebuked. "Whatever your goal is for these incursions, it has to stop. We have coexisted in relative harmony for all this time, why choose now to shatter it all? If you insist on this stubborn course, we will have no choice but to mobilize for open war."

"Then do so." Elothris replied with a dismissive shrug. "Your words carry no weight; your threats as empty as the peace you cling upon with such stubbornness. Do you not see? A harmony so fragile and contingent upon the cooperation of others is no harmony at all. We have held on to this brittle alliance for all these years, but when true adversity rises from within or without, will we truly have the strength and unity to withstand that coming storm?"

"It is time," he continued "for these fragmented lands to be united under a single banner. With the power I have at my disposal, I will end this cycle of complacency and stagnation once and for all. What I do, I do for the future of Karnassus."

The Oracle opened her mouth to respond again, but not before the silky voice of Lady Kabelia interjected for the first time:

'I do wonder...how exactly have you been conducting these lightning fast operations, and what is this "power" you speak of? Finally utilising all of your covert forces and magic casters, I presume? If that's all there is to it, I'm not sure such confidence is warranted.'

Elothris narrowed his eyes at the woman's statement. While his composure remained calm, a sliver of wariness entered his gaze-the true rival of the Elothris Coalition was not the reserved city-states of the Brave, but the equally ambitious and dangerous Kabelia Family.

"So even the infamous Ri Laris Kabelia has moments of ignorance," he replied in a cryptic tone. "You will see soon enough. I dare say even the likes of you would be surprised."

"Hoh, is that so?" Lady Kabelia mused. "I doubt it."

The Oracle gazed inquisitively towards the leader of the Kabelia Coalition: "Why do you receive his words with such indifference? Do you not fear the chaos that will seep into this land? The countless lives that will be lost when the balance between our three factions has been thrown into disarray?"

"Perhaps we can form a temporary accord," the Oracle offered, "and join together to take a stand against this-"

"Join together?" chuckled Lady Kabelia before the Oracle could finish. "The offer has already been extended to you. You need but accept it."

The Oracle tilted her head in confusion towards Randell, who abruptly interceded in her place:

"Offer?" he asked with a frown. "Our Council has not received any such invitation from the Kabelia Coalition."

Lady Kabelia simply sighed at the Quartermaster's question, ignoring it in favor of the Oracle's earlier inquiry:

'I am "indifferent" because, unlike the two of you, I possess a sense of scale. Elothris will not succeed; these lands do not belong to him. It is that simple. The territory we call the City-State Alliance has already been claimed. These efforts of preservation and usurpation are little more than insignificant games playing in the shadow of something far greater than you can imagine."

"So there is no cause for concern." Ri Laris Kabelia concluded in a dry, unconcerned tone. 'There is only one Justice in this world, and it is not on your side, Sagittar Elothris. Proceed with whatever "plans" you have at your own risk, for you will learn soon enough just how out of depth you truly are."

Lord Elothris and Lady Kabelia locked gazes, and a stifling pressure seemed to descend upon the Luminary Terrace. After several seconds of silence, the elven lord finally turned his gaze away to stare out across the expanse of The Cirque. His eyes lingered upon a certain part of the natural arena, and a sly, confident smile spread across his wizened face.

"We will see about that….."

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Down within the eastern section of the Cirque, Solina Mathis stood at the ready among a loose formation of the ten Chosen of the Brave Coalition. Her violet eyes stared out across the impending battlefield, locking upon the Standard of Peace in the distant center of the pit.

The Standard projected a magical field in a designated radius, which could teleport anyone hit with a fatal blow to outside of the invisible dome. The field had the added utility of being a barrier that isolated the competitors from the surrounding spectators, thus preventing any destructive effects from leaving its radius.

Thus, logically speaking, Solina understood that the worst thing to happen in the upcoming battle was the dishonor of defeat. While the Connelier was a serious clash of might, it was not a true battle to the death. Those who entered the fray could demonstrate their prowess and ability with a basic sense of security; a catharsis of intersectional tensions could be achieved without the stain of bloodshed.

And yet….

Solina frowned as she felt the pricking unease throughout her body. Despite the reassurance of safety granted by the Standard of Peace, she could not quite shake off an inexplicable tingle of danger. Her dominant hand reached reflexively towards the hilt of the scimitar at her belt, but as her fingers wrapped around the leather handle, she felt her usually firm grip give in to a slight tremble.

"Solina, are you alright? You're looking a bit pale…"

Solina turned towards the voice to her right, where Hothris stood looking at her with soft eyes of concern. The elven mage had managed to pass the final selection trial in the end to be chosen-not that she was surprised. In terms of power, Hothris was quite gifted and almost as effective in combat as Vamir or She'zak. His cowardice against the Death Knight had been the sole stain on an otherwise promising record, which made her wonder just exactly what he'd read about the undead monster in question.

"Ah, I'm fine." she replied, in part as reassurance towards herself. "I might just be a bit nervous, that's all. All my training has been leading up to this moment, and I suppose I might just be feeling the brunt of the pressure."

"So it's not just me." sighed Hothris. "I still feel so inadequate for this role, considering the individual taking up my current slot could very well have been Sir Momon instead, had he agreed to compete. He would've surely been a massive boon to our roster-much more so compared to myself or any of the other Aspirants."

Solina silently agreed, but said nothing. It didn't feel right for her to comment on degrees of worth when it came to competing in the Connelier, for Hothris and the other Aspirants had worked extremely hard for an opportunity to participate and deserved their due recognition. However, she could not deny the great gulf between them and the warrior in question.

She recalled the way those massive black swords had smashed into the armor of the monstrous Death Knight, and how effortlessly the man had pummeled the creature into dust. If those same blades were turned against their enemies in the Connelier….

Still, she hadn't been surprised or disappointed when the mysterious warrior declined the Quartermaster's invitation to compete. If anything, it had felt like a matter of course. Individuals like Momon were entities confined to legend; presences that lingered only so long as for their shadow to be imprinted upon the land, but never so involved as to become a figure of familiarity.

For someone like that to help them out in a tournament would have simply been too….easy. Too mundane. So when Momon had disappeared over the previous night, leaving only a note indicating that he had other things to attend to, it had felt like a natural end to his fleeting tale.

The mysterious warrior, clad in black, who had appeared in the wilderness to effortlessly strike down a monster that bested three of the most seasoned combatants of the region. Gone in a flash by the end of the next day.

He had come and gone like the wandering hero of some childhood fable, and Solina wondered whether or not she would even remember the encounter as the years flew by. It was a memory so extraordinary that it could be confused with a dream or figment of imagination, and perhaps with enough time, she herself would question the very authenticity of that recollection.

The loud toll of a bell resonated suddenly from above, and Solina broke away from her thoughts, redoubling her effort to steady herself for battle. This was the second bell of the day, which signalled for the combatants to be ready and in position. The first bell had been rung when they first descended into the pit, and soon the third bell would mark the official commencement of the first event of the Connelier.

When that happened, all three Coalitions would advance towards the center of the pit, and chaos would ensue. These three-way clashes were often crude and simplistic in their violence, as fancy strategy and schemes were widely considered taboo in the Connelier. Basic formations and flexible teamwork were fine, but attempts to circumvent direct combat would be met with boos and jeers from the audience.

Victory was declared when only the members of a single Coalition remained within the arena, marking the end of the first event. The rest of the day would be dedicated to hosting one on one duels, where the winner would be declared through a sequence of elimination rounds.

Solina turned away from Hothris, squinting to gaze out towards the opposite side of the Cirque, to pinpoint the Chosen of the other two Coalitions.

She grimaced upon seeing that her vision was increasingly obscured by the emerging fog. Only moments ago, it had merely been a faint morning haze that permeated the surroundings, but the prior mist had slowly intensified into a veil of semi-translucent white smog.

The longer she scrutinised the fog around her, the more keenly she could feel that prickle of unease she felt within. A sensation of disturbance that echoed the triggering of her [Sense Evil] began to rise within her very chest, but before it could fully take form, the third bell tolled.

She gritted her teeth and forced down her discomfort to join the rest of the formation as they advanced forward towards the center of the pit. The soles of her studded leather boots squelched against the slight moisture of the dirt and grass beneath her quickening stride.

As she drew close enough to see the encroaching silhouettes of the enemy, Solina heard the distant eruption of raucous excitement from the crowd. As an atmosphere of raw excitement descended upon the natural arena of the Cirque, a hot anticipation shot through her, momentarily flushing out her concerns.

It's finally time….

In one practiced motion, she drew her scimitar from its sheath and set it aflame with a silent enchantment as the three groups of Chosen met in the center of the pit.

Several of the more hot-headed warrior types rushed forward and collided in battle immediately, erupting into a series of small-scale brawls of steel and claw. Solina opted for a more cautious approach as she edged closer towards the enemy, her violet eyes darting back and forth in search of an appropriate opening.

Suddenly, she felt her eyes drawn to a particular corner of her field of vision. Through the cluster of clashing bodies before her, Solina's gaze fixated upon a female figure with raven hair, garbed in the green colors of the Elothris Coalition. A dreadful feeling clenched upon Solina's chest as the woman turned towards her as if sensing the former's observation, revealing a pair of eyes blacker than the deepest night.

The raven haired woman raised a hand, and Solina felt all her hairs stand on end as tendrils of azure energy sizzled upon the woman's palm. But before aught could be unleashed, something changed in the essence of the very air.

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