The heavy oak doors burst inward, spraying rain and splintered wood across the flagstones. A mercenary clad in rusted mail, his face a map of jagged scars, steps over the threshold. He ignores the guild master and the shimmering, unnatural aura surrounding Arion.
Vargus
Guildmaster Thorne! The bounty on the rift-walker in the lower districts has doubled. I have the markings right here.
Arion Touvengard
The mercenary is a conduit for chaos, his presence reeking of spilled blood and erratic intent. His soul is frayed, ripe for the reaping if he dares impede my path.
Arion Touvengard
You interrupt a transaction of consequence, mortal. Lower your voice, or I shall ensure it is the last sound you ever utter.
Guildmaster Thorne
Enough, Arion. Vargus, take your scroll and leave. My hall is not a place for your bloody errands today.
+ Scene Quest Added
Investigate the rift-walker bounty
“"When did riftwalkers begin arriving in the city? I thought that the eight kept the city free if such monsters"”
SUCCESS (Fair Perception, rolled +1)
Vargus
The Eight? They are long dead, or else hiding in their ivory spires. Rift-walkers are swarming the lower docks like rats in a sinking hull. I do not care for your riddles, sword-wielder, but I care for coin.
Arion Touvengard
If the seals are shattered, the barriers between realms are bleeding. My duty was to guard the veil, not to rot in this steel prison while the filth of the void leaks into the world.
Arion Touvengard
Tell me, Vargus. Do these invaders possess physical vessels, or are they mere echoes of the void? If they have flesh, they have something I can tear.
Guildmaster Thorne
Vargus, look at him. That is no mercenary you speak to. The energy leaking from that blade is cold enough to freeze the blood in your veins. Leave, before you find yourself the subject of a much darker bounty.
Vargus
I have seen worse in the pits. If he wants a fight, I will show him the edge of a real blade.
“"I do not mind a friendly spar, guildmaster is the training grounds open? This could be a valuable trsining lesson for Sivanus"”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled -2)
Arion Touvengard
A spar is exactly what this tension requires. If you are so eager to spill blood, mercenary, the training grounds will provide a far more hospitable floor for your demise than this hall. Guildmaster, I trust the arena is open for a lesson?
Arion Touvengard
The boy’s body is sluggish, but the blade remembers the rhythm of slaughter. I shall teach this Vargus that some steel carries a weight no mortal arm can measure.
Guildmaster Thorne
You are both mad. Very well. If you intend to tear the building down, do it in the pit. The damage there is already accounted for in the quarterly repairs.
Vargus
Fine. Let us see if you move as quickly as your tongue runs.
The Guildmaster waves a hand toward the heavy, iron-bound doors leading to the subterranean training pits. Arion pivots, his movements eerily rhythmic and stiff, the teal light pulsing beneath his skin as he follows the mercenary toward the dark stairwell.
“Arion sivanus and Vargus head to the training grounds”
SUCCESS (Great Athletics, rolled +3)
Vargus
Do not think your ancient parlor tricks will save you once the steel starts singing, puppet.
Arion Touvengard
He is brimming with the arrogance of the short-lived. He believes his strength lies in muscle, oblivious to the fact that his lifeforce is already flickering like a candle in a gale.
Vargus moves with the practiced efficiency of a street-hardened brawler, but his pace slows as he catches the first glint of teal light spilling from the sword's pommel. Arion walks with a jerky, unnatural gait, his host's limbs moving as if yanked by invisible strings. They descend into the training pit, a sunken octagon of scarred stone and blood-stained sand. The air is stagnant here, heavy with the metallic tang of old battles and the suffocating pressure of Arion’s own looming presence. Vargus plants his feet, drawing a serrated broadsword that rasps hungrily against its leather sheath.
Vargus
Enough talk. Let us see if you bleed when I carve the spirit out of that stolen shell.
“"Its not stolen, but freely given." Arionsheaths his sword and readies to face his opponent unarmed.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled +0)
Arion Touvengard
It is not stolen. It is a vessel, freely given to hold what your fragile mind cannot comprehend.
Arion Touvengard
The mercenary is a fool. He sees a man, but he is staring into the abyss of an aeon. This body is merely a conduit, and I will show him that steel is unnecessary when one commands the very fabric of reality.
With a fluid, chillingly precise motion, Arion sheathes the ancient blade into the air at his hip, where it vanishes into a fold of ethereal teal light. He stands in the center of the pit, his movements losing their puppet-like twitch for a singular, terrifying moment of stillness. His teal eyes glow with a cold, piercing intensity that seems to drain the heat from the subterranean chamber. Vargus pauses, his serrated broadsword lowering just an inch as he recoils from the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The air hums, vibrating with the suppressed force of a godling standing in a common grave.
“Arion begins striking vargus to teach a painful and lomg lesson. Leaving vargus bruised but whole.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Melee Combat, rolled +4)
Arion Touvengard
You seek a lesson in humility, mercenary. I shall provide it, though your fragile frame may find the instruction... excessive.
Arion moves. To the human eye, he is a blur of teal-tinged motion, his feet silent against the stone. He closes the distance before Vargus can even blink. A palm strikes the mercenary’s chest, not with the force of flesh, but with the concentrated density of a collapsing star. Vargus gasps, the air forcibly evacuated from his lungs as he is propelled backward into the sand. Before the mercenary can recover, Arion is upon him again. A series of rapid, rhythmic strikes land with surgical precision on pressure points and muscle groups, bruising, numbing, and overwhelming. Vargus attempts a desperate swing, but Arion parries the broadsword with a mere flick of his wrist, sending the weapon spinning away into the shadows. Arion pins Vargus to the ground with a single boot, his eyes devoid of anything resembling mercy.
Vargus
What is this thing? He isn't fighting like a man. He is fighting like he’s rearranging a tomb.
“After pinning vargus, Arion turns to Sivanus "did ypu see the weakness in his stance?"”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled -1)
The training pit grows deathly still, the only sound the ragged, desperate intake of air from the broken mercenary beneath Arion's heel. Arion stands like a statue of cold marble, his teal-rimmed gaze shifting away from the groaning Vargus toward a figure standing near the perimeter wall.
Arion Touvengard
Sivanus. You watch with such intensity. Did you see the weakness in his stance, the hollow desperation that precedes a complete structural collapse?
Sivanus
I saw a man who underestimated the weight of his own shadow, Arion. But even a shadow can leave a stain if you aren't careful.
Arion Touvengard
He speaks with a hidden edge. Does he recognize the echo of the void, or is he simply another moth drawn to the flame of a superior power?
Guildmaster Thorne
Enough, Arion! The lesson has been taught. Vargus is no longer in a state to offer you anything but blood on my floor. Release him, or I shall be forced to intervene myself.
“Arion releases Vargus and addresses the guildmaster, "so about the riftwalker, what is the reward for ending it?"”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled +3)
The pressure beneath my heel dissipates as I step back, allowing the mercenary’s lungs to draw a ragged, wheezing breath. The teal glow surrounding my skin flickers, dimming to a soft, rhythmic pulse that mirrors the uneven heartbeat of this shell. I turn, my movements stiff and calculated, to face the Guildmaster.
Arion Touvengard
Keep your lectures, Thorne. Combat is merely a language of efficiency, and he was illiterate. Now, regarding this rift-walker. If I am to hunt these aberrations from beyond the veil, I require the bounty. What is the sum for ending a creature that should not exist?
Arion Touvengard
The Guildmaster’s pulse quickens. Fear, or perhaps greed? Both are useful tools for one who requires the resources of this crumbling world.
Guildmaster Thorne
You speak of coin while you dismantle my hall? You are a walking calamity, Arion. But if you truly intend to track the rift-walker, the Council of Eight has authorized a purse of five thousand gold crescents for its head.
Sivanus
Five thousand? That is enough to buy a fleet of astral ships, Arion. Are you certain this is merely a simple bounty?
Quest Complete
Investigate the rift-walker bounty
New Gift: Rift-Walker Insight
+ Story Quest Added
Hunt the rift-walker for the Council of Eight