By Philip-Gianni Gaspari
A lone figure sat perched on the high branch of an old oak. No one could see through the shadows that shrouded this oak, and not even the sound of silence could pierce the veil. Yet, the man coming over the hill yonder knew the lone figure was amongst the darkness. The Dark Mage was expecting him. As the man drew closer, the veil began to part, slowly dissipating.
“Your journey has been quite a long one,” the dark mage bellowed as he dropped from the high branch into a low crouch at the base of the tree.
He rose. The hood of the cloak was up, made from the pelt of his old Master – slain long ago, the black bear, Bokacho. The other man stopped walking as the Dark Mage was rising, his own garbs fluttering in the wind. His long grey hair, and messy grey beard gave an impression of old age. But, one look into his light blue eyes and clear skin, they would see that they held the spark of youth. The long hair was from experience, rather than age.
The Wizard’s garbs seemed almost clerical, as if he were a pope or bishop. They were a light blue, and the man did not sport a hat. He revealed something from the sleeve of his garb, a wand, short, with an unmistakable stone at its tip. This stone was not unlike a sapphire but it was an item of far greater value: a Forbidden Stone. A brief flash of surprise crossed the Dark Mage’s face, shocked as he recognized the precious item in the possession of the Wizard. Without a doubt this was indeed the man – no, Wizard – he was expecting.
With his right hand, the Dark Mage yanked something from the small of his back, a gift from his current Master: an ancient, jeweled, ceremonial dagger. Rune ran along its blade, embalmed from a time long ago forgotten. He drew back his pelt hood, revealing the etchings that scarred his face and body; an amulet with his own Forbidden Stone dangled from his neck. The infernal violet colored tattoos all along his flesh pulsed with the beating of his dark heart, while the Stone shone bright with power.
The dark mage uttered, “Shall we get this over with?” as he twirled his dagger.
Many years ago…
The Arena was particularly packed. Many from different corners of the Multiworld came to see this legendary gladiatorial event; they were known across the realms as “The Pits” to the common folk. Different provinces and states in the realms each had their own gladiatorial grounds. Pit Champions often travelled to different grounds in order to showcase their prowess, and chase fame, gold, and glory.
The current Champion of the Arena had been challenged by the most recent conqueror of both the Crucible and Coliseum; two highly reputable gladiator grounds. The Champion was a Dark Mage by the name of Shir Nahn. A young fellow, he had gained popularity amidst the Pits quickly, and fashionably. Well known for his excessive Magikal displays, he swelled the seats, and the coffers of the Hosts. In a short amount of time, Shir Nahn earned his first Championship, slaying the reigning Kos Vanderbierd; a great warrior who held the title for well over five of the Suns’ rotations.
Shir Nahn was already in the Arena, fascinating the over-populated crowd with displays of wicked Magiks, as he awaited his opponent. Horrors, zombies, and other reanimated creatures fought each other through the Dark Mage’s will. In the center of the sandy ground of the Arena, Shir Nahn was seated on a throne made entirely of bones. The Mage watched his own spectacle while he waited impatiently for his opponent. The fresh pelt of Bokacho, the black bear, which he styled into a cloak, glistened in the light as he twirled his jeweled ceremonial dagger.
The prized blade was a gift from a being of pure ambition, and power, worth more than any fortune he could claim in the Arena; or so he thought. His being here, the fame, the accumulation of wealth, was all part of a grand plan that not even Shir Nahn could fully surmise at the moment.
A massive horror clobbered several reanimated skeletons and undead with it’s huge bladed arms, scattering their remains across the Arena’s sand. The twisted abomination shifted quickly in the directions of the Dark Mage. Staring at him for just a moment, it snorted and howled. Suddenly, it had decided to charge its master out of pure rage. The massive horror shrieked, stomping closer and closer, its huge scythe-like arms swinging like bat-wings.
Shir Nahn remained seated, grinning, as he watched his minion get closer, and closer. The Dark Mage raised his left hand and chanted a sinister incantation harmoniously, abruptly jumping out of his throne. The horror halted, perfectly still for the briefest of moments, as dark matter began to flow from the tip of its temple, across the air, and into Shir Nahn’s left hand. Another suspenseful moment passed before the huge horror disintegrated before everyone’s eyes.
Loud roars and cheers erupted from the massive crowd once again as Shir Nahn retrieved the energy sustaining the horror. A bow followed, for his spectators. The Dark Mage chuckled as mana flowed all around him, it’s strange purple essence spiraling as everyone rose from their seats. Clapping, screaming, the audience became anxious to see this Champion fight their own.
As if on cue, the southern gate opened, and the renowned drums began to sound as the Announcer came into view from his booth above the gate. The low sound of the drums vibrated along the walls of the Arena. The trembling complimented the Announcer’s voice as it began to boom.
“Ladies and Gentleman, it is with great pleasure that I finally introduce this fine young contender! A master of torments, Champion of both the Crucible and the Coliseum, the slayer of the Great Black Bear, Bokacho… Shir Nahn!”
With the crowd once again in an uproar, Shir Nahn bowed deeply in the direction of the Announcer’s booth. Shir Nahn erected from his bow in time to see a man appear before the entrance of the south gate.
The man had short grey hair, very light blue eyes, and held a short wand with what was unmistakably a Forbidden Stone at its head. This particular Stone was clear like a crystal, but any close observation one would know it held something far greater than just light. Silver bracers adorned his forearms, while also sporting the fashionable pants and leather boots of the town. He wore nothing else, and his figure was surprisingly muscular for a Wizard; the suns of the Multiworld shone on his toned body. The large diamond-like tattoo on his chest indicated that he was excommunicated from a school of Magik, most likely cast away by a Master.
Shir Nahn would have been interested in hearing this one’s tale, but unfortunately the circumstances were different. He broke into a grin at the thought as the Announcer continued his ceremonial presentation.
“Today, we have the finest fight amongst all of the Pits, ladies and gentlemen. Today, Shir Nahn will fight… your Champion”
At this, the crowd’s cheers simmered down, and they began to stomp in an odd synchronization with the drums. The Arena’s Champion stepped out into the light.
“The Exile Wizard, a shaper of the arcane, wielder of a Forbidden Stone… I give you Lacdantilus!”
The Wizard raised his wand arm high and proud as the crowd erupted once more.
Whispers swarmed Shir Nahn’s mind: this one has what you seek, my apprentice. take it.
Shir Nahn licked his lips and smiled with a sadistic glee.
The older Wizard stared at the being that had once been Shir Nahn. Lacdantilus never forgot the power he had felt when they first faced each other. Now, the Dark Mage had become entirely something else; something much more powerful. Fortunately, the Exile Wizard had also grown in power. He survived death over and over again through a series of miraculous events which have all led up to this moment. He vowed it would not be for nothing. The mana and energy that flowed between them was intoxicating.
“Shall we get this over with?” Shir Nahn’s grizzly voice echoed over the Exile.
A smile crossed the Wizard’s face as he looked upon the bloodthirsty being that is, or was, Shir Nahn. The Dark Mage had no doubt fused with whatever he called Master; the intricate pulsing tattoo’s could attest to that. It would seem that his arrogance, like his power, has doubled since their last meeting. Lacdantilus intended to use this to his advantage.
Raising his wand arm high above his head, the Wizard’s robe sleeve sloped down enough to reveal one of the many brutal scars he had received all those years ago. His Forbidden Stone at the tip of his wand shone a bright arcane blue, and Lacdantilus recited the words of a spell.
His eyes shone the same blue which flowed and formed an arcane hue around his person. The Exile ended the spell with a savage shout, his head tilting upward as he did. A wave of the arcane energy pulsed around him before slowly dissipating. Snapping the fingers of his free hand, several arcane blue swords took shape and began surrounding him. They flourished while Lacdantilus continued to cast some other enchantments and wards; strange hieroglyphs began to appear and illuminate along his robes.
As the Exile cast his spells, the powerful being that was Shir Nahn also prepared his own Magik. Thrusting both his arms forward, the Dark Mage sent forth his evil energy surging into the ground before him. Like waves, the strange purple energy bounced along the grass, dipping into the ground and coming back up before continuing towards the wizard. For each bounding resurgence off the ground, a creature from the dark depths of the Mage’s mind was born.
Several nightmarish beings crashed uup from the ground sending an explosion of earth. They emerged simultaneously, all dripping in a strange ooze-like matter. Screeching in a horrid cacophony as their numbers swelled, something seemed to call them.
They all turned towards their evil Master before he began to laugh hideously.
Shir Nahn had other plans. While the Announcer was preparing to speak again, in order to continue the ceremonial entrance, the Dark Mage raised his left hand; he wasted no time and spoke a single vicious command.
Three beings began to form around him: A golem surged from the earth’s clay with a shrill moan. A wisp of purple and violet energy formed the other two creatures: horrors from the strangest corners of the Mage’s mind. They shambled and screeched with their bladed heads, and thrashed their giant scythe-like arms around frantically. Dark ooze-like matter flowed from their skin.
His throne made out of bones began to change as well, for it shook the ground as it stood upright. It stretched out, becoming a giant skeleton – a Gravelord. The bizarre mixture of sounds from Shir Nahn’s minions rose into the air while his evil smile widened.
The crowd was audibly frightened at the level of power they were witnessing so suddenly. Cries resounded over the Arena, doubling with the drums. Some cleared the seats closest to the spectacle, fearful of being snatched up by one of these creatures.Nevertheless, the Exile Wizard was unfazed, and he continued to observe. Lacdantilus had heard rumors of this Shir Nahn, specializing in unholy Magiks; he could not deny the Dark Mage’s power.
The thought came to the Exile like a flash: that he may be outclassed. His brief mental lapse was hit with the realization that with a Forbidden Stone, Lacdantilus knew he always had a chance against anyone. Quickly, the Wizard traced signs of light blue in the air in front of him with a finger, then shot out his right arm through the now-floating signs with his wand. Mana began to flow from the arm, now glowing with arcane mana, as it twirled. He began manipulating it and splitting the mana equally between his right arm and left hand as the Magik hummed therapeutically. Lacdantilus prepared himself in a low stance, awaiting for the perfect opportunity.
The clay golem was the first to move. It’s moan echoed and mixed with the Arena’s drums as it moved across the ground loudly, making it’s way for the Wizard. The horrors were moving at a slower pace, behind the golem. Sensing the opportunity arise, Lacdantilus’ stance broke into a reckless sprint, charging the golem with his enchanted speed.
As they neared each other, the golem raised both its thick and mighty arms, the intention of giving a downward clobber to the smaller being all too obvious. However, Lacdantilus’ dash was much faster than the animated being. Just before the golem’s massive arms were fully raised, the Exile Wizard at propelled himself upward, launching himself with a Magikally enhanced jump while at full speed. He unleashed an underhand swing with his arcane imbued left fist, giving the golem a devastating uppercut; the impact came right under the golem’s chin.
Upon connecting, the result was a vertical explosion of dirt, clay, and earth. Time slowed briefly as the golem’s headless body tipped, fell, then came crashing into the sand. Briefly floating in the air, Lacdantilus landed, then continued running as the sand kicked up around him. This time he moved towards the two horrors. The crowd’s energy and faith was renewed. Once again, they cheered for their Champion as he faced his next challenge.
A fraction of the Forbidden Stone’s power was great power nonetheless. Shir Nahn’s raucous laughter continued as more of his obedient monsters spawneds. In no time, there was a legion of the strange horrors snarling savagely, itching to be set loose, waiting for nothing else but their master’s bidding.
Their numbers blotted out the grass between the two Magik users. The Dark Mage turned to the large oak and moved to crouch at its base. Slitting one of his palms with the mystical jeweled dagger, Shir Nahn began whispering words in a forbidden tongue. The Mage then placed his bleeding palm against the tree while he continued to recite the phrase in the foul speech. Web-like energy spread from out his hand, turning into veins across the old oak tree. As the dark veins climbed and constricted their way across the bark, the tree began to wither, looking as if it died.
But suddenly it surged with life.
Shir Nahn backed away from the withered oak, which suddenly began to sway back and forth momentarily. The ground shook as a loud drone echoed from it like the toll of a temple bell. The sound stretched across what would be the battlefield all the way to Lacdantilus. In an epic surge the tree uprooted itself. Earth was cast into the air, as the corrupted tree now moved out bipedaly, a strange moan following each of its crashing footfalls.
The Dark Mage turned to the Exile, and sent his hand forward, signalling his minions to attack. The combinations of the monsters’ vicious sounds assaulted the Wizard’s ears as they rushed forward like a plague of locusts. The sound from the moment strangely reminded him of his days in the Pits. Yet there would be no spectators this day.
Lacdantilus’ arcane swords formed a spearhead-like formation before their creator. The older Wizard took a deep breath as he viewed the onslaught of frightening creatures before him. He saw the horde of horrors charging mindlessly at him, the animated tree closing in behind them, and their evil Master grinning sadistically over his minions; the Exile knew this would be the greatest test of his abilities. Bolstering his confidence, he reminded himself he would not have made it so far if he were not the Wizard he was. And so, he gracefully moved forward as the legion of horrors quickly collapsed on his formation.
The Magik swords started to cull the first wave of the monsters with peak efficiency. The sychronized strokes of the arcane blades hummed like a harmonic symphony under the wails of the dying creatures. Striding calmly behind his deadly wall of blades, Lacdantilus raised his sacred wand. He conjured and sent out five spherical arcane globes that began orbiting around his person. A horror miraculously made it past the formation of swords, charging for the Exile. A blue beam responded to the breach – the shot coming from one of the levitating orbs split straight through the horror.
It withered and died in the same instance with a faint crackle of sound. Although there were many, the initial ranks of the strange creatures thinned quickly while they attempted to maneuver their way through the arcane blades. Lacdantilus couldn’t help but feel that this would take a long time, as the next wave of horrors crashed through.
The Wizard’s heart pounded as he continued his dash.
The two horrors began closing in, trying to get a pre-emptive slash on the smaller human. Their long scythe-like arms swinging dangerously close as the wizard sped towards them. With his enhanced abilities he was able to deftly avoid their swipes; to the spectators, it seemed like child’s play. The Exile danced around their grandiose attacks, through their legs, it seemed as if he were toying with them. With the horrors so focused on trying to stomp and slash him, they were totally unaware of Lacdantilus’ tactics.
As he dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding multiple wide arcs of slashes, Lacdantilus aimed his right arm at the now perfectly lined up horrors. Unleashing the arcane enchantments off his arm, both horrors were caught in the line of sight: one taking the blast in its fiendish face, while the other was left with an abnormally large hole in its chest. The arcane bolt continued and smashed into the Arena wall, shaking its foundation, and getting a grand cheer from the crowd.
“What a maneuver from our Champion!” the Announcer boomed.
As the shambling horrors fell apart, Lacdantilus stood up, only to become blinded by the starling appearance of a misty veil of darkness. Recuperating quickly, Lacdantilus began to chant softly, getting ready to use some arcane energy to dissipate the veil. The ground shook, and the Exile Wizard knew that could only mean the Gravelord had been dispatched. A piercing voice came through the strange veil into Lacdantilus’ mind. He could barely hear the chants of the crowd as the voice spoke.
“The Forbidden Stone shall be mine, exile!”
The monsters’ ooze-like blood sprayed like jets of water as they were slain, slashed by the Wizard’s beautiful wall of arcane blades. Anything that made it past the formation was met with a barrage of bolts and beams from his defensive arcane spheres. The beasts’ lifeblood began to cover Lacdantilus as he moved through their legions, strolling as his own creations eviscerated a path towards the minions’ dark Master.
The Exile began to notice that the remaining horrors started to grow in size as their numbers were reduced. The initial scrawny framed horrors seemed to have disappeared. Now, the ones that attempted to break his line were physically imposing; they seemed larger, stronger. Sinewy muscles rippled along their glossy black flesh. The Exile saw a few undertake the mutations as they bulged and grew just before jumping towards his wall of swords. It took more time for the arcane blades to take these adaptive creatures down, thus slowing Lacdantilus’ advance.
The sword formation tightened as the horrors’ strengthened and became even more dangerous. Maintaining his composure as the situation became dire, the Exile assessed the scenario as the larger monsters began to get past the deadly sword wall. Arcane beams shot out, rapidly taking them down, while Lacdantilus searched for an opening to escape in the tightening space.
Willed by their Master to seize the opportunity, the horrors began flanking the Wizard’s position. To his left, a much larger horror trampled over its brethren, batting away one of the arcane swords and charging directly for the Exile. It’s loud, wicked snarl gave itself away. Lacdantilus shifted his stance just in time as he enchanted his right arm into a long and sleek arcane blade; reminiscent of the horrors he faced in the Arena long ago.
The much larger horror pounced at him like a jaguar, and Lacdantilus lunged to meet it in the air. His underhand swing sliced clean through the monster in a high arc. Not a drop of the ooze-like blood touched the Wizard as he continued to gracefully fly through the air. He narrowly avoided colliding with the sliced being while passing through its innerds. The orbs levitating near him continuously firing as he moved.
While passing through the sliced and smoking creature, several other horrors took the opportunity to converge upon the Wizard. Landing, he quickly extended the blade of his Magik arm even longer, and began surgically slicing any of the monsters that closed in. His savage cries could be heard over the fatal screeches and snarls of the dark creatures.
If Lacdantilus were to fall again, it would not be to the Dark Mage’s minions.
The crowd seemed to simmer down as the strange mist began to settle. Their cheers turned to gasps as the tension built in the Arena. The earth shaking sound of the Gravelord moving was the only telltale sign of something happening within the mist.
Lacdantilus tossed the remaining arcane energy along his left hand into the air. While the Magik briefly illuminated the area through the mist, something seemed to choke out the energy within the mist. It was not before long that it was snuffed out; the mist itself seemed to attack the arcane Magik as it consumed the mana from the Wizard’s spell.
Before he realized what was happening, the Exile was unexpectedly hit by a savage blow. Sent airborne, he flew for a few moments, landing brutally before rollinga few yards more. All the while, the ground shook as the Gravelord, and Shir Nahn approached him from within the mist. Their figures emerged through the strange fog like Gods from the old tales.
Lacdantilus grunted as he found the strength to get up. He hobbled briefly as he willed himself to stay conscious. Bloodied, the Wizard began to chant once again, quickly setting wards, and unique enchantments to have a chance at protecting himself from this powerful, evil Mage.
In an instance the strange mist transformed. It seemed to come alive and focus itself as it revealed the Arena oncemore, and shot itself towards Lacdantilus like a javelin. A strange whipping sound cracked the air as the evil mist rushed him. With the timing of a Master, the Exile Wizard stuck out his wand. From the tip of the Magikal device, the Forbidden Stone absorbed the evil Magik while Lacdantilus recited a cryptic command. The mist was all but gone. Until suddenly, it was released from the Forbidden Stone. Now, a dark blue blast shot out, his Magik redirecting the transformed mist back towards Shir Nahn. It moved at blinding speed with a high pitched whine following it.
The Gravelord stepped infront of the blast’s tragectory, and the dark blue energy crackled upon its massive figure before vanishing. The blow looked to be ineffective, and the giant continued to march forward in slow stomps as Shir Nahn gave out a hysterical laugh. The crowd had quieted down completely now, beginning to think that Lacdantilus was no doubt losing. The Dark Mage seemed about to say something, when he noticed the Exile Wizard grinning.
Lacdantilus’ eyes shone an arcane blue as his control Magik began to work. The Gravelord, with arcane runes crisscrossing its massive figure, shifted to face the Dark Mage. Lifting a huge, skeletal, claw-like hand in an attempt to squash Shir Nahn, he dove left, just in time to avoid the massive blow. A large and terrible tremor shook the Arena as the huge hand landed, kicking up a large cloud of sand. The audience gasped once more.
Quickly conjuring a ball of darkness in his free hand as he dove, Shir Nahn simultaneously chanted the words to a spell. The Dark Mage landed his dive expertly, rolling into standing position, howling as he tossed the abyss-like sphere towards the Gravelord. It connected, the short distance and big target making it difficult to miss. Struck, the Gravelord slowly began getting sucked into the small conjured void. The bones that made up the being began to crack, snapping like giant branches as they were forced into the small pit of nothingness.
The sand began to settle as Lacdantilus used his diversion to cast more spells. He snapped his fingers and maneuvered his left hand in a strange but methodical way as several arcane globes began to form around him. The wards he cast were unnoticiable on his skin; the only give away were his glowing silver bracers. Before the Gravelord’s entire arm was inside Shir Nahn’s abyss, the Dark Mage commanded the small orb out towards Lacdantilus. Releasing the orb had the effect of exploding the Gravelord’s skeletal body in a shower of bones. As the shards of bone scattered, the orb gained speed, seeking out the Exile Wizard.
Fearless, Lacdantilus moved through the skeletal remains that showered the Arena with the grace of an eel – directly towards the orb of darkness. The arcane globes followed as he deftly evaded the shards showering all around him. Once the abyssal orb came into view, Lacdantilus brought up his wand arm with expert timing. The orb connected with the Forbidden Stone at the tip of his wand, and a blinding light momentarily shone throughout the Arena. As quickly as it came, the light expunged, like the orb and the strength of the wizard’s wards, but Lacdantilus’ resolve strengthened.
He refused to be beaten.
The older Exile fought on despite the imposing horde that closed in around him. After giving another lethal horizontal swipe, extinguishing the existence of three horrors in one blow, Lacdantilus knew his energy would not last at this pace.
With enough space, and the support of his magical orbs, the wizard quickly planned his escape. He began by transferring the enchantment on his wand arm to the ground before him; it layed out like a pool of water. Lacdantilus ran and jumped onto what morphed into a tidal wave of arcane blue Magik. The wave rose high, and began rushing forward towards the bulk of Shir Nahn’s creatures. Like a master of waves, the Wizard rode on top it as the massive wave crashed over the ranks of the twisted creatures, swallowing them whole.
The arcane wave smothered the horrors, vaporizing them into a strange colored mist as it continued rolling through their numbers. The wave diminished in height as it neared the corrupted tree, which still lumbered forward. A creaking groan sounded as the tree lifted its trunk of an arm, aiming to fall atop the much smaller being infront of it. Lacdantilus atop his nearly vanished wave of magik, jumped into a tuck and roll. With the maneuverings of a master, he pulled the remaining arcane energy of the wave into a bubble-like shield, just in time to block the massive blow from the corrupted tree.
The massive arm exploded upon impact. The arcane shield sending a shower of blue sparks as darkwood splinters were sent in all directions; the corrupted tree reeled back with another ominous groan. A blue spark caught wind upon the tree, and it was set aflame; a flame of blue-ish hue climbed what was left of its trunk-like branch. The corrupted oak’s groans came sporadically now, it shook as the flame spread and pestered it more, and more.
The Exile Wizard, still in his bubble shield, sent himself airborne in a Magik assisted launch directly towards the massive, now burning, tree. In desperation, the being tried to swing its other trunk-like branch to clobber the fast moving projectile closing in on itself. Too late, as Lacdantilus’ bubble-shield burst through its center mass in an earth shattering crack that echoed for miles. Emerging from the other end of the corrupted oak, the bubble shield flickered briefly before fading, sending the Wizard into freefall.
He would not be defeated this time.
Shir Nahn could not deny the Wizard’s skill. He was a resourceful and tenacious opponent. The Dark Mage had never seen anyone face the powers of the Abyss head on, nor alone. His face turned into a grim expression, which quickly changed to one of fury as he once again grabbed his precious dagger. He took the blade to his right forearm.
Drawing the power of his blood made Shir Nahn grit his teeth as he cut deep and intricately. Lacdantilus was already moving towards him in that same instance, his speed unmatched. The Wizard sent out several of the small arcane globes that had been following him towards the Dark Mage. They flew out with a strange chime as they eventually crashed and exploded in blue showers on Shir Nahn. Like a horse made of iron, the Dark Mage did not react initially to the Magikal blows. If they had disrupted his concentration, the Wizard could not tell. His unnatural focus was foreboding, while the burns along his body began to bleed.
Simultaneously getting hit and singed by the Exile’s Magiks, Shir Nahn’s forearm was now soaked in blood. His body smoked from the arcane bolts that had struck him and in the final moment of ecstasy as his spell began to resolve, he reeled momentarily. His eyes, rolling in the back of his skull as the dark Magik coursed through his essence and being. The Wizard closed in. Lacdantilus knew he had to finish the Dark Mage quickly, and accelerated the final advance.
With the Exile closing the last few steps, lunging towards him, Shir Nahn regained his balance. The Mage’s face grew a sharp and sinister grin, as he raised the wounded arm, unleashing the spell. Lacdantilus, moving too quickly towards his opponent, had no time to evade the attack. The bloody arm surged out for him like a predator meeting prey. Shir Nahn’s arm transfigured into hundreds of bizarre purple tendrils, lashing out. Some clasped on the wizard’s body, others his legs, some his arms; it was over when they grabbed his neck.
Lacdantilus tried to scream as the multitude of tendrils held him in a vice-like grip. No breath could enter or escape his lungs. Time seemed to slow as the crowd went silent. They watched the horrifying scene passively, quietly. The brief hopes of their Champion’s quick death fading with every passing second. Shir Nahn laughed hysterically as his final spell incapacitated the Exile Wizard.
“I also feel this pain,” he said sadistically.
It was as if a shock went through the Exile’s body; Lacdantilus’ right hand gave out, and the wizard dropped his wand. He followed the magical device to the ground not even a moment later. The pain was excruciating, as if one of the Suns were entangling him with its flames. The tendrils tightened around him as he landed. Shir Nahn, clutching what was left of his bloody right arm, walked over to Lacdantilus’ writhing body with surprising grace, given his current condition.
Slowly, he picked up Lacdantilus’ wand with his functioning arm. The Dark Mage removed the Forbidden Stone from the wand’s head with a quick but savage verbal command. Shir Nahn lifted the Forbidden Stone high into the light of one of the Suns’ that went around the Multiworld. He spoke while admiring the Stone.
“I am intrigued by you, Exile, so I shall strike a bargain. Not that you have much of a choice. You will be sent away, and given a chance to survive. If you do, somehow, and find a way back… Perhaps you will have another chance at facing me…”
Shir Nahn pocketed the Stone and looked back at the dying Lacdantilus, then smiled. He crouched, and with a snap of his fingers, the Dark Mage willed the tendrils’ existence to cease. They melted along the Exile’s body. The Wizard gasped for breath. His body convulsed, and a weak noise escaped his mouth; it might have been a scream. Where the tendrils had touched the Exile were dark, burn-like wounds, they steamed and bubbled. Lacdantilus gritted his teeth and his consciousness began to fade.
In the sand, Shir Nahn slowly traced an ancient etching with his bloody right arm. Once he finished, he gave a profane smile to the exile, and using his newly acquired Forbidden Stone, sent Lacdantilus away to an unknown place. The wizard vanished in a puff of dark smoke, and the audience gasped in shock.
Shir Nahn was now the Champion of the Arena.
The Exile remembered his agonizing journey through the Dark Mage’s planeshift as he fell. He was left for dead on a plane he had never set foot on, with nothing but pain and the desire for revenge. This was all he could think of as he fell, swirling in the air, the rush of the fall triggering that traumatic experience from so many years ago. And yet, he never forgot for a single day what Shir Nahn put him through.
Lacdantilus sequenced a series of hand gestures as he remembered. His velocity slowed just before he was a few feet from the ground. His foot touched the earth softly as he regained his composure, his Magik once again saving his life. Behind the Wizard, the remnants of the corrupted oak cracked, sounding like thunder crossing the sky. It’s large branches, and massive trunk, now split, began to fall to the ground. Dust kicked up, as it had so many years ago, while the two rivals stared each other down, weary of one another’s presence.
The Dark Mage had been watching with a smile at the Wizard’s bold endeavours to reach him. He was impressed once again at the prowess Lacdantilus had developed since their last meeting. And once again, they faced each other as the dust spun around them, displaying a scene of tranquility despite the tension in the air.
The Exile had absolutely no idea of the power he faced before him.
Shir Nahn rose high in the air, above the dust. It whipped around him as the Mage’s Magik suddenly carried him through the air, laughing as he did. Lacdantilus waved his sacred wand in broad strokes, sending bolts of arcane energy towards the Dark Mage. The Wizard quickly cast an enchantment on his free hand, which turned into a glowing, arcane blue, circular shield.
The Dark Mage evaded the bolts effortlessly while he moved through the air; laughing as he zipped around like a djinny. Below him, dozens of skeletons from ages long past began to burst from the earth. They brandished rusted weapons of all sorts, along with what armor had not eroded. The Exile quickly sent horizontal pulses of deadly arcane energy in waves, his wand arm maneuvering like a sword as he did. These new enemies’ numbers began to overwhelm the scene despite Lacdantilus’ efforts.
As Shir Nahn began to pass overhead, his evil gaze fixating on Lacdantilus, the Wizard made another Magik-assited jump in an attempt to intercept the Dark Mage. As he flew in the air, his eyes locked on the man who spawned years of suffering and struggle for himself. He shaped his wand arm into an arcane blade. Winding up his arm as the blade formed, his eyes not losing focus of the evil before him; he could not help notice the same sadistic smile from all those years ago.
A voice he had never heard shouted in his mind.
Fool.
Bursting from the earth below, a long and large dark purple tentacle sent the skeletons and their weapons flying into the air. It streaked up towards the airborne pair like a shark. With the sudden emergence of yet another new foe, Lacdantilus had barely enough time to adjust his strike into a downward stroke. He split the tip of the massive tentacle in half, as he began to freefall once more. A strange cry resounded from below as another tentacle burst through the earth, this time smaller, but directly below the Wizard.
The purple snake-like tentacle slithered along the Exile’s leg and jerked him out of the air. Lacdantilus cried out as the tentacled yanked his leg so hard that it’s bones shattered. He slashed at the tentacle, freeing himself from its clutches, only for something else to collide into him along with a sharp pain surprising him from his gut.
The Dark Mage, Shir Nahn.
His beautiful jeweled dagger dug deep into Lacdantilus’ belly, and drank his energy. The pain increased as they fell. Time seemed nonexistent for the Exile now, the realization of his failed quest coming to light. The pair crashed into the ground, knocking the Wizard unconscious.
An untold amount of time passed, but excruciating pain woke Lacdantilus with a start. He wailed loudly as he had all those years ago. The Exile began panting profusely as he checked his surroundings. The Dark Mage was before him, and he could see Shir Nahn in all his evil; the ceremonial dagger was dripping with what he could only assume was his own blood. He tried with every ounce of strength to move but could not.
One of the Exile’s legs no longer functioned, along with one of his arms. His attempts at moving brought only pain, and that’s when Lacdantilus noticed what was lurking on his arm. A multitude of tendrils held him upright, and in place. Terror gripped the Exile. His mind went back to the Arena, his defeat, his escape from darkness and death. His redemption, his training, all the years of fighting and surviving across the planes, only to be back here.
Trapped, and helpless.
The Wizard was practically crucified. His robes had been stripped, he was naked and upright, as much as he could be while the dark tendrils held him in place. Lacdantilus’ tattoos were entirely visible, as were his scars: their thick burn-like quality crisscrossed his body, a visual reminder of his biggest failure, up until today.
Shir Nahn gave a shrill laugh that had a strange quality to it, as if something spoke with him. His voice literally intertwined with his Master. The Dark Mage twirled the bloody dagger as he walked around his prisoner. The strange voice came back as he spoke:
“Do not worry, Exile. This is nowhere near your end.”
The Dark Mage pointed the tip of his dagger at a newly etched brand that Lacdantilus had not noticed. It visibly steamed as the Wizard finally spotted it; he screamed in shock simply by contemplating the meaning of the brand.
“Your arrival is that of careful planning. Planning, which has spanned the years, and the planes.”
This was not simply the Dark Mage that Lacdantilus had fought years ago, but something more. This realization instilled even more terror as he heard the strange being continue to speak.
“You were supposed to return. More importantly…”
Shir Nahn drew close, so close, that the Exile could feel the Mage’s cold breath
“… you were supposed to return with a Forbidden Stone.”
Lacdantilus shot a freightened glance at the evil Mage, whose only reply was a large and sinister grin. The grin, amplified by the purple etchings that marked and pulsed on his face.
“Now, the next phase in our plan is underway…”
Shir Nahn continued to speak as hundreds of skeletons and horrors gathered slowly around him, and his prisoner. He grabbed his defeated opponent to still him, and began etching another brand into his flesh. The dagger seared the Wizard’s flesh, and Lacdantilus cried out in not just pain, but in horror, realizing what was to be done.
“You are now mine, and you will serve my ambitions.”
As the Exile Wizard continued to wail, the Dark Mage produced his Forbidden Stone, and began embedding it into Lacdantilus…
To be continued…
The Gianni Catalogue 
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