by Hugo Damas
“Evenin’!” Hugo screamed at the couple waking up terrified as he ran past their room, and then across their hall and living room.
The Circus Freak exited through their bathroom window which was just a little square on the wall that he managed to fit through by bringing his legs and arms forward, and head down, that way reducing his height to half of that of his torso.
The guards were unable to follow.
Hugo still met with a few more raiding parties, each time having to sweat his way through a house.
Just before the end, the Circus Freak found himself outrunning someone else on a rooftop. It was some girl with two short yet thick braids sticking out the sides of her head, and a tight-fitting jump-suit.
“Nice suit!” Hugo yelled.
“Uh, you too?” She replied, and as she did so, Hugo swiped her feet and sent her tumbling off the building.
Her falling yelp was hilarious.
It was a low building which meant she wouldn’t die, and so he wouldn’t be disqualified.
The Circus Freak escaped the city in about fifteen minutes. As a result, he was pretty winded by the end of it, which still didn’t stop him from laughing.
Hugo was still laughing over what he had done to the dark girl in the jumpsuit, even after all that.
The Circus Freak had taken out two others the same way back in Edho. One had been some oiled up half naked guy that had challenged him to a ‘competition of physical feats,’ whatever that really meant. And some other guy who was trying to stay hidden, but Hugo had stopped running from three guards to point at him and yell “I see you”. He had then narrowly avoided a tackle before running off laughing.
The raids had been his favorite part, by far. The escape routes were shared, and everything happened really quickly, which was definitely how he liked it. The whole thing was turning out to be very fun, so he really wished he was going to the next round.
Looking over the scroll, Hugo found out that he was.
He could also see the name of the location where the next and last match of the competition would be held. He squinted at the name, though, not recognizing it in the slightest.
“Prusnia? The void is that?” The Circus Freak looked around in confusion, scratching his head, “I…am gonna need a map!”
The Defending Champion
The Sorcerer read the most recent message yet another time, for the information in it was a bit odd.
The Final Match will be in Prusnia.
0 of 8 Contestants have arrived.
Countdown to Begin: 259023 seconds.
Prusnia was an empty city, and none other knew that better than the Shadow Conclave, whose creation had emerged from the city’s legendary destruction.
Decades ago, a mist had arisen, and a race of dark beasts had laid siege to the city. They caused the death of all occupants in the time it took for the three founders of the Shadow Conclave -- Shadow, Sorcerer and Dark Runner -- to steal a vital part of their transportation vessel, which caused said vessel to go back from whence it came, and the beasts followed.
Prusnia was still, to this day, very much uninhabited.
The Sorcerer rolled up the scroll and took out another one. She checked back with the House of Magni, to make sure the information was accurate, and upon confirmation, began to cast a teleportation spell. Because of the distance, it would take a few jumps, but she would not immediately go to Prusnia. Instead, she would stop at Bolkevich, a neighboring city that was smaller, and while it wasn’t the place of the event, it had people. And restaurants.
They had been given three days to reach Prusnia, which made sense for the others since they had to travel half-way across the continent. However, the Sorcerer had the best mobility of all thieves when it came to long-distance travel. Her teleportation spells were her trademark, and she would use them to have two days of relaxation.
While casting her spell, she thought about nothing but the location she was teleporting to. The Sorcerer held her hands in front of her, on top of each other, and pictured holding the top of a staff. Slowly, smoke began to be generated from its bottom. It spiraled, purple in nature and growing in volume until she was surrounded. Slowly, it subsided and was sucked back into her fake staff, her hands, and gradually revealed a new alley, in a new city. Bolkevich.
That wasn’t the teleportation spell she was known for, people only knew of its quicker, more costly counterpart.
The Sorcerer undressed the robe and hood that identified her -- they were colored dark purple to match her spells -- and put it away in her own personal magical handbag. She pulled her hair back from her chest, allowing its entire length of blonde to fall along her back, feeling it brushing against her butt while it settled.
Finally, the Sorcerer whispered a few words and waved her hand around her face, dimming the magical glow on her blue eyes and pink lips.
The Sorcerer regarded herself, pleased with her refined and intellectual figure. A striped buttoned shirt and light-colored pants, both complimenting her clear skin and hair. She added spectacles, just for show, and then she was ready to interact with the city as an exceptional matured woman named Morgana.
Morgana was short and slender and had a straight, lean face that did not look friendly or inviting. Despite it all, she behaved herself with the grace of royalty, and thus, eyes were upon her the moment she entered the establishment.
She was nearly as accustomed to that kind of attention as she was to ignoring it.
Morgana asked for a heavy meat dish, which seemed to come as a surprise to the bartender, accompanied by a strong alcoholic drink she couldn’t pronounce. She ate and drank with dignity and, most importantly, in silence. She thought best during a good meal, so she used the time to consider the competition.
Disqualifications were The Bronze Alchemist, Thieving Magpie, the Schoolboy, the Illusionist, the Magnificent Magician -- my word all these complicated names. Regardless, what matters is who I know is in the competition still.
Morgana took a tamed sniff at her drink like it was wine, rocking it slightly as if preparing it to be sipped and tasted even though she had drunk two glasses of it already.
The Shadow, of course. The Circus Freak, the ghastly man I met and hope to never again encounter. The Hunter, who caused my arrest, a favor which I really must return. Then there’s the Don, a silly sort of thief, I’m surprised he is still in the competition. So that leaves three that I am unaware of…
The Sorcerer finally drank the glass, in one shot, counting her blessings that the Illusionist had lost already. She had witnessed him getting the Circus Freak into jail by making him see a window where there was none. Confident she had made enough money to survive the round, she followed him until the raid started, and then hit him with a flare spell at the right time. It disoriented him long enough for some guards to catch him.
Being in jail by the time the round ended cost a lot of points. The Illusionist was a rather troublesome foe to contend with so she was relieved he was out of the competition, even if he was also competing on behalf of the House of Magni. She didn’t much care about any of the others, except for maybe the Zookeeper, who was also blissfully out of the competition as well.
I see no reason to change my modus operandi, Morgana remarked, nodding at herself, with her mouth full. Still, very disappointing that the Dark Runner lost so soon this year. He proved quite able last time around.
After her meal, Morgana headed to the bathroom and teleported out. It was time to find a place to sleep, so she went to a hotel and asked for what rooms it had.
“I see. I’m terribly sorry to admit but I have made a mistake, I cannot afford that kind of price. Thank you for your time.”
“Not a problem, mam. We have cheaper accommodations, however?” the man tried.
“No, that will not be necessary. I merely wanted to avoid having to ask a friend, but I suppose we should just be grownups about these things. I shall stay with her after all.”
“I think that’s go
od, friends are important, especially when we can count on them,” the nice manager told her.
“Certainly so. Good day.” Morgana left the hotel, turned and headed to a spot where she wouldn’t be seen, and then teleported into one of the empty hotel rooms. She wouldn’t be able to have room service, but after the meal she had enjoyed, she wouldn’t need it.
Morgana undressed down to her underwear and smiled gladly from beneath the silky smooth covers of her bed. She was ahead of all the thieves and about to enjoy some well-deserved rest. A good bed, a good meal, and with the Shadow on her first run and the Dark Runner already out of the game, the competition was pretty much all hers to claim.
Life was good.
* * *
Countdown to Begin: 3 seconds.
“At long last,” Morgana said, utterly tired of waiting. She had been waiting for three hours.
The Competition in Prusnia has now begun.
Morgana stood up, shaking a bit as if to wake her muscles. She brushed the dust off her cloak and looked around to decide where to go first. The hood was back on, the eyes and lips once again glowed purple to match her cloak, and her yellow hair once again flowed into the cloak at her front like a scarf she had not rolled around her neck.
She decided to just go.
The Sorcerer took the time to pick the lock the normal way and, going in, she was soon to discover the house was empty. While it looked ready to accommodate a family, it was obviously uninhabited. Prusnia was, as she thought, still a ghost town.
Yet, there is bound to be some sort of challenge, Morgana considered, emptying a cabinet of valuables into the dimensional void that was her pouch. The conclave would not have chosen this city were it completely devoid of difficulty.
By the time she left the house, the surroundings now offered less visibility than before. Looking around, she observed that fog was settling in at a very fast rate, enveloping all around her in its natural cloak of obfuscation.
“Hm.” That was worth pausing for.
Deciding to be cautious, Morgana focused and cast a spell to sense for abnormally large physical exertions. The idea was to learn of any thief operating near her. “Might as well be doubly careful…” She concentrated, holding out her hands together, as if holding a staff.
Her hands glowed purple, and that glow slowly formed the figure of a staff that she would be holding, thickest at the top and near invisible at the bottom. On that upper tip, on the palms of her hands, a sphere of fluorescent purple pulsed into existence, and then began growing wider each second.
“Complain to me, o’ universe. Locate for me, such waste of force,” the Sorcerer quietly whispered. The sphere blinked and became a two-dimensional circle facing up. That spat out a sphere, which floated forward a bit, and then breathed out smoke. This smoke, powered by the purple aura, was a projection of a three-dimensional image of what surrounded the floating sphere.
“Good,” Morgana said, nodding content. The floating sphere reacted to the nod by moving up the street. “It is a pity that I can handle only one of these.”
The Sorcerer felt certain the Conclave had prepared something special for that last round, so she had elected to do her initial rounds the old-fashioned way, which is to say, the powerless way. She wanted to be sure she would not expend her energies teleporting about unnecessarily. Additionally, she would eventually cross paths with competitors and would need her power. This meant the need for a scout, to make sure she would never leave a house into a trap, and that no competitor would surprise her by coming in after her.
Morgana went inside a three-floor building, stealing her away across all floors, leaving her probe at the door. Returning, she moved the probe up and down the street a little and, satisfied, jogged to the next building.
The Sorcerer was at it for a couple of hours before she had to deal with the first of the competitors. As she was leaving a building, she saw through her probe that there was a boy at her door. Giving it a closer inspection, it became apparent she was dealing with a young street urchin, and he was eyeing her sphere quite perplexed.
Well, this is…odd. What is a child doing here? Or is this some trick? Morgana gave the matter thought but, with the illusionist out of the fight, there was no one else who could conjure up the image of a child. However, maybe one of the thieves she didn’t know was responsible. She thought about avoiding it, but she saw the kid calling out to someone. He looked very scared, so she decided to go meet him.
She opened the door, very much startling the boy. She looked from inside her hood at the boy who looked back at her wide-eyed and terrified. She took her hood off and smiled at him. Immediately, he softened his gaze into one of relief.
“Well then, and who might you be, youngling?” Morgana kindly inquired.
“Name’s Billy, suh,” the child timidly replied, cutely holding timid hands behind his back, “I’m afraid I’m sortah lost.”
“Lost?” That was incredibly suspicious. Unless the boy had gotten lost far outside Bolkevich and taken the wrong road. For two days.
No, there was something off there. Morgana paced back.
“Okay, what is this?” Her mind ran trying to find reasons. “This city stands absolutely deserted, there is no way you just got lost.”
“No, really, mum! Some mean person brought me here as bait, they said,” and then it finally occurred to her, all while she felt the willingness to believe the boy, and the compassion to help him. She fought it thanks to the realization of who that might be. The Street Rat.
The Sorcerer put her hood back on and closed the door in the child’s face.
Walking away, she watched the projection of the circle and witnessed as the child’s face contorted into an amused smirk. It was disturbing.
The Street Rat was a title that had only been held by three other individuals, despite the fact the first Street Rat was contemporary to the first Shadow and the second Sorcerer. For that reason, the title was as infamous as it could get, but so seldom in use that it was hard to remember it.
I am not aware of what the Street Rat is capable of, but I do remember they are supposed to be young street urchins, Morgana thought, I believe I should just leave and avoid the confrontation.
The Sorcerer made the sphere lift up, still catching a glimpse of the child opening the door to follow her inside. She skipped up the stairs and used the sphere to see the surrounding roofs, intending to teleport to one of them.
“Miss, please,” the child called out, sounding scared. “I’m scared.”
Morgana really wanted to help. Whatever part of her cared for other people wanted to give the child what assistance she could. But she could not lower her guard that easily, she would not.
“You must believe I am the sort of idiot to fall for your ruse,” she yelled down the stairs, all the while concentrating, preparing her dislocation spell, “but I assure you I am not.”
The Sorcerer whispered the words and vanished away, leaving behind nothing but a smoke-like residue of the magic expended to cast the short-range teleportation spell.
Once outside, she took a moment to look around and gain some situational awareness, and couldn’t help but noticed how much thicker the mist had become in the hours that had gone by.
“Eerie,” Morgana commented. Then, she focused on gaining more distance with one more teleportation spell. She said the words, and away she went.
“WHA!” The yelp startled her, surging as soon as she appeared. Gasping, she looked to see a disheveled young man wearing an eye patch, looking back at her all startled.
“Who ar–”
“Gotcha!” He yelled, and leaped at her. She tried to step back and out of the way but he was fast and swift, and she was completely caught off guard. He tackled her to the ground. “You’re under arrest in the name of the law!”
“What?!” Her mind raced while she struggled against his hold, “what law?? Unhand me!”
“The law of money, of course,” he celebrated, chuckling and puttin
g a blade to her neck, which presented enough motivation to stop her struggling. “I’m being paid good commission dough for every one o’ you I take to a jail cell. So let’s get going!”
Paid? To arrest us? The Sorcerer frowned. What?
The Sorcerer could try to teleport, but as long as they were physically connected, he would just go along with her. “Who are you?” Morgana asked.
“Name’s Dazin, prime time thief from the northwestern lands. But then, you wouldn’t know about me would you, miss world greatest?”
Morgana opened her eyes in realization.
The Shadow Conclave had hired reject thieves to hunt their contestants down. Thieves knew how they thought and operated, and had their senses doubly trained to boot. They’d be quicker on their feet, too. She hated to admit it but luck had wronged her far too much in that momentary instance, Morgana had completely chosen the wrong rooftop to teleport to.
“Just let us maintain calm, Dazin. You have caught me, congratulations.”
“You’re very right. Haha.”
Morgana was taken to jail, and while escape would be simple, the time she lost walking there was bad enough of a loss to contend with.
She couldn’t help but grow very cross with what had happened. Indirectly and through no actual attempt, the Street Rat had severely inconvenienced her.
And the brat wouldn’t be the only one. The Sorcerer met with the Hunter in the jail cell. The building was abandoned and broken down, but one very large cell was still available for use, it seemed. The bars had been replaced with something more legitimate.
“Oh, look, how nice, you’re not the first one to get caught!” Dazin mocked. “At least, you’ll have company for the night, eh?”
“Riveting,” Morgana said, rolling her eyes.
“Who caught you, girl?” Dazin asked of the jungle woman, shoving the Sorcerer in, which finally gave her some respite from his body odor.
The Hunter didn’t reply, she simply stared back in silence from behind the large collar of her scarf-like cape. Her silver hair glowed in the moonlight, or what little of it got through the mist and past the window..