Picking Flowers

Nestled within the northern reaches of the Sodality of Rain lay a hidden treasure—a serene valley cradled beside a magnificent, crystalline lake. Encircled by sheer vertical cliffs that seemed more like protective sentinels than mere mountains. Nearly entirely enclosed by the terrible mountains, it left only one slender passageway for entry and exit to this secluded paradise. Nature's embrace here was gentle, with soft, temperate breezes that never raged nor abandoned, and temperatures consistently hovering at an inviting coolness, perfect for outdoor pursuits without the discomfort of humidity or excessive heat.

The landscape was a vibrant tapestry, with lush, emerald grass covering rolling hills that led into enchanted forests bursting with a kaleidoscope of life. These undulating hills eventually gave way to a broad, sparkling beach of golden sand fringing upon the expansive, glistening azure of the lake. The water's clarity was astounding, revealing the lakebed even at its deepest points, a testament to its pristine serenity. It was that the valley would eternally remain in this state of perfect climate that it was once often compared to the country of smiling skies.

A large umbrella was firmly planted on the open beach just by the hills. Standing quite tall, it could shade at least five laying men and would be taller than all five of those men stood upon each others shoulders. The umbrella's canopy boasted a playful pattern, with myriad small yellow dots adorning its pristine white fabric.

Beneath the protective canopy, a lengthy day lounger in matching sunny yellow beckoned, its elegance accentuated by a dainty floral parasol propped nearby. Resting upon the day lounger was an imposing figure, tall and deathly pale. He donned cobalt blue swim trunks that gracefully reached mid-thigh, embellished with whimsical rubber ducks joyfully quacking across the right leg. The man's face was entirely covered in a strange white cream, concealing every inch of his skin, while his eyes remained veiled by thin slices of a succulent green vegetable.

Far behind the man sunbathing in the shade where the green rolling hills met the sandy beach, there was a vast and formidable legion of mogwai. These sinister creatures possessed a multitude of limbs and teeth, presenting a nightmarish diversity that was as unsettling as it was menacing. Among the mogwai, one could find giant, leathery behemoths reminiscent of apes. Some were twisted, writhing tangles of tentacles, while others bore eerie resemblances to skeletal imitations of more benign creatures. This gathering of mogwai seemed like a chaotic amalgamation drawn from the entire spectrum of the many mogwai species. It even included a collection of the elusive and rarely-seen avian-like mogwai.

There was quite a dissonance in seeing them traverse the peaceful valley in which humans, the mogwais' greatest enemies, once lived. The legion of mogwai was heavily armoured and just as heavily battered. They had returned from a battle, one in which, by looking at the group, it would be difficult to know whether they had won or lost.

Though appearing worn and fatigued, the army continued to bear their standard with unwavering pride. Adorned upon their banners was the infamous emblem of their fief, a flower grandly smiling to reveal its two sharp fangs protruding. The battalion was covered in grime and blood, and in the centre of this group was the cause of their pain. It was a colossal behemoth, its enormous head sporting a grotesque countenance adorned with fifty unblinking eyes, while its segmented thorax sprawled with countless bat-like wings. Tied to the thorax by a few straining tendons were two thin legs contorted in clearly disfigured horror. The abomination was shackled to a large carriage, drawn laboriously by a team of the green, ape-like mogwai. 

At the forefront of the legion, a short and stout mogwai assumed the role of the guide, leading the procession towards the man sunbathing in the shade. The guide was adorned in a coat of dense metallic fur that concealed its iridescent purple scales, and its single eye, perched at the terminus of a four-jointed stalk, remained fixed on its intended destination. The mogwai's two stocky arms that protruded from its back casually swayed with the steps of its gait. To top off its striking appearance, the creature was attired in a flawless, sleek tuxedo complemented by a dainty rainbow bowtie.

With their well-dressed guide, the battalion finally arrived at the man sunbathing in the shade. With a raise of the guide's hand, the horde of mogwai stopped. The guide then walked under the umbrella's shade and positioned himself next to the man sunbathing in the shade. The guide stood tall, a perfect replication of the posture taught to him by the noble human slaves. He moved his eyestock directly over the man and looked down at his vegetable-covered face.

"Uaagh! Master, what happened to you?" The short guide exclaimed as his eyestock shrunk away closer to the protection of its sturdy body. 

The Master, as if just stirred awake, slowly peeled the vegetables off his eyes and shot an annoyed glare at the guide. "It'z a human ritual. It cast a zpell of relaxation on the uzer. It iz not meant to be interrupted." The Master said with mild irritation in his voice. As he spoke, he revealed a pair of extremely long and sharp fangs present where a human usually bore canines. The Master placed the small round vegetable slices back on his closed eyelids and let out a deep, calming breath.

"Oh, I see. Well, Master, we have finally returned from our excursion, and I think you'll like what we found." The short guide sputtered proudly.

"Back zo zoon?"

"It has been five years sir," The guide replied, surprised at the Master's response. 

"Vell I vould be imprezzed if you got anyving vorth vhile zo quickly."

"Well, prepare to be impressed!" With a grandiose motion of his arm, the stocky guide called. "Bring the beast over!" the team of green ape-like mogwai pulled the carriage and beast before the lounging Master. The beast was still breathing, although it was sporadic breaths softly released with incredible difficulty. Even if the creature had the strength, it seemed to be aware that it would not be able to escape from the man sunbathing in the shade. Throughout the entirety of its journey in captivity, this formidable beast had relentlessly lashed out in violent attempts to break free. However, at this moment, it lay utterly still, save for the subtle quiver that coursed through its body as it fixed its gaze upon the man leisurely sunbathing in the shade.

The Master retched forward so abruptly that his vegetable glasses were sent flying into the sandy ground. and exclaimed with a gag, "UGH! Vhat iz that horrible zmell?!" The guide hurriedly signaled the green mogwai to take the carriage away. In a hurried motion, the Master hastily covered his nose with his left hand, seeking to shield himself from the pungent olfactory assault "You zpent five years hunting that!? I had no idea I vaz zuch a failure as a leader." The Master hung his head, shaking it with a distraught somberness.

"Sir don't say that! You are an exceptional leader. No single army can rival your Pleurothallidinae— well, except for possibly the mogwai surrogate revolutionary army. But even then, you're comparing yourself to a god-killer."

"If I vaz zuch a great leader, then vhy iz it that you are ZO VEAK! That the best you can hunt iz that?" The Master arose from his lounger in his passionate exclamation. "Do you zmell it?" The Master, standing over three times the guide's size, approached him, awaiting a response. "Vell do you? Do you zmell it? That iz not the zmell of quality blood. Did you really vink I vould be villing to have that vile creature'z blood touch my lips?"

"No sir."

"No zir iz correct!" his energy drained as he collapsed back into his chair. "Zobriquet," The Master tiredly sighed. "Your name iz Zobriquet correct?"

Sobriquet was stunned that this great Master had bothered to remember the name of this humble servant. Sobriquet was very prideful of his job and skill at said job, so he quickly recollected himself. "Yes sir."

"I apologize for raizing my voize at you. It iz juzt hard you know?" The Master, formerly sitting on the day lounger, allowed gravity to take its course, letting himself inelegantly plop down into a reclining position.

"I VANT TO ZUCK ZOME BLOOD!" The Master threw his arms and feet into the air as he shouted his dreams to the sky. "Do you know how long it haz been zince I had nourishment Zobriquet?"

"two hun-"

"TWO HUNDRED YEARZ ZOBRIQUET! It haz been two hundred yearz zince I have had that delizious succulent red liquid." The Master was beginning to salivate and a discomforting grin stretched across his cream-covered face. "There must ztill be creaturez powerful enough to have quality blood…right? How about that Hero of New Heireron zomething guy? He killed Ardor, zo he must be pretty ztrong. Ahh, I vish Ardor vould have at leazt let me have hiz blood before dying, the greedy jerk."

Sobriquet, while listening to his mad Master's meanderings, was desperately trying to keep in his panic, but the worry was visibly seeping through his eye. "Sir do not say such things! I know I said that your army is the single most powerful, but the humans have never been more unified than they are now. To kill the Hero of New Heirisson conquest would be to declare war on the entirety of the Pangean entente!"

"Yez, yez you are right. It vould be too much trouble. How about a dragon?"

Sobriquet came to the realization that today was destined to be one of those days where he remained perpetually trapped in a state of profound shock. "I—I I appreciate your sudden confidence in your troops sir. But I don't think even our entire army combined could slay a dragon, let alone make the journey."

"You don't have to kill the three-armed dragon. Just any dragon vould do."

"Unless you went with us sir, we would never be able to kill any dragon. Strange limb count or not." 

The Master had picked up his green vegetable slices and tried to wipe the clinging sand off it.

"Would you like me to get you another cucumber sir?"

"No, no, I got it. And I am not going to that zwamp. Vhy do all the powerful beingz live in zwamps! No, I don't think I can leave this valley again." The Master placed the two cucumber slices back on his eyes and rested as comfortably, almost melting into the day lounger. "You know, vhen I firzt invaded this valley it vaz just because I though it vould be funny to kick the humanz out of the Sodality of Rain'z mozt beautiful view. But now that I am uzed to it, I understand vhere those humanz vere coming from; no more going back. No more zwamps, dank forezt, or ztormy ocean-zide cliffs. AND NO MORE DEPREZZING GOTHIC MANSIONZ!"

The Master stood back up, removing the cucumbers from his eyes. He tilted the giant umbrella slightly so that there was a clearer view of the rolling hills behind the beach. "Do you zee that?" he pointed to a white mansion far out in the distance. The structure boasted a sleek and minimalist design, characterized by its expansive glass windows that spanned entire walls. The estate possessed a cubist aesthetic, resembling a playful arrangement of oversized building blocks stacked together with a childlike imagination.

Emerging from the already towering structure, a massive pole extended upwards, culminating in an enormous metallic circle tilted toward the day star. This colossal metal disc effectively shielded the mansion from direct starlight, casting a shadow so vast that anyone in the vicinity found themselves entirely enveloped in darkness, with the star's brilliance wholly obscured by the imposing metal canopy.

"That iz an Auguzt Chichi right there. He perzonally came up to me one day, and zaid that he vould create the grandest creation I had ever zeen."

"It is beautiful sir."

The Master looked longingly at his beautiful mansion in the distance. "Much more zo then that awful cathedral in the Mokoi badlandz I vonce had. This vaz hiz last vork you know. Everyone zaid it vaz his magnum opus. They zaid that he had an inspiration and motivation vhen dezigning it that no one had ever zeen him have before. I vander vhat happened to him." The Master pondered curiously.

"He killed himself sir… after the loss of his family."

"Ah yez, I remember. I thought hiz genius architect vould enrich the tazte of hiz zon'z blood."

The Master's hands clapped in excitement as he leaped to his feet. With a snap of his fingers, he pointed to Sobriquet.

"Izn't there a rogue Tian-Hu hiding zomevhere? Ve von't be causing a var because the divine counzil vants to kill her azwell; she can't have too many alliez becauze then she vould have been vound already. And mozt importantly, she haz Tian-Hu blood running through thoze lovely, lovely veinz of herz. Dragon blood quality vithout the hazzle!"

Sobriquet furrowed his brows, calculating the cost and effects of this task. "Alright sir, I will form a scouting party to locate the rogue Tian-Hu." 

Suddenly, a loud bell chimed in between the Master and Sobriquet. Between them, there was what seemed to be a small pink rhombus that grew out of thin air, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other shapes. The pink shape finally locked into a form resembling that of a featureless human with only one limb. The arm was outstretched towards the Master, holding a glowing parchment: It read.

You have been invited to

The Tournament

You are The Vampire