::FTOCT:: Round 4 pre-fight spec entry

            A loud blast echoed through Armstrong Falconsteak’s house as a powerful attack was launched at the living room floor. The furniture rattled and dishes fell from the shelves, bouncing harmlessly off the indestructible floor showing that they too were unbreakable. Ichaerus shouted angrily at the floor waving a garden shovel sized spoon in the air before enchanting it once again and fruitlessly slamming it against the room’s wall.

            Volynian sighed heavily as he watched his friend and partner pointlessly continue his onslaught against the Falconsteak home. It was evening when they had regained consciousness from the single attack that had defeated the team. Everything in the house was large, heavy, and tailored to the most powerful man in existence. They could easily see through the windows, but the latches required an unobtainable amount of strength to open and the glass was equally unbreakable. Despite being incredibly powerful, the big cat now suspected that Falconsteak was also quite clumsy.

            As Ichaerus tested each inch of the wall and floors with the spoon (which he assumed would be more useful for digging than a sword), Rob and Tsuki had explored the rest of the house.  They had found a large Ping-Pong table in the corner; which after four or five hours of escape attempts they decided to pass the time with.

            Watching his partner begin to edge on the brink of insanity after twelve or so hours started to wear on Volynian’s patience. He was about to stand and make Ichaerus stop his futile attempts when there was a click at the door. Everyone stopped. An oversized Ping-Pong ball loudly bounced across the silent room. A second click sounded as a large key turned in the lock. The party of fighters gathered themselves for a second fight, or at least a run in escape, when the door opened. The large indestructible door opened just a crack as the unexpected figure of a small plush giraffe walked in with a dignified posture about him.

            “I see you have met our oaf of a host,” scoffed the Dark Lord Stephen in his high-pitched squeaky voice. “That beefcake idiot no doubt informed you that he doesn’t have what you’re after. The man talks too much for my good.”

            “Why are you here…?” Volynian cautiously asked, signing to Ichaerus and the others to make their move if they could.

            “Call them off pussycat, I mean you no harm… yet,” the toy threatened. “I have a proposition for you which comes with your freedom. I’m sure you understand there are no better options for you sniveling peasants.”

            The door was open as the fourteen inch Dark Lord paced up to the eight foot Shirr’harr Elite. He didn’t try to stop them from leaving but knew enough about Volynian to know that the cat would never pass up additional information. The catfolk couldn’t help but be unsettled by this, but he listened intently.

            “No doubt that dolt explained that he doesn’t have the ‘Amulet of Shadran’ that you seek. I’ll tell you even more,” Stephen began. “My surveillance has caught wind of a few pieces of information you could use. The main sponsor of the tournament is a person who hides his name and has apparently befriended the cloud imp, Kyumi. He apparently bears a resemblance to that fire and plant mage couple that fought today. Same species.”

            Volynian’s eyebrow rose.

            “Also,” he continued, “your translation of ‘Shadran’ may be incorrect. It is possible that the name you are looking for is ‘Arisile’.”

            The cat’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent.

            With no emotions on his face, Stephen turned away and walked to the door. “My forces are making an attempt to capture this person. I want to know what he knows,” he said as he waived a plushy cloth hoof towards the exit. “You are free to go. Do as you wish, just make sure and trip that Oaf up for me. Besides Armstrong, you’ll also want to keep an eye out for a suspicious group of ‘friends’ that Shar tends to have around. They are up to something and might be a problem if they got in your way.”

            Heavy doors closed behind them as the party made its way towards the Armstronge Hotel from the house determined in their new objective.

            “So… Now it’s okay for the giraffe to know about the amulet?” Ichaerus asked quite annoyed.

            “No. This is a very bad development. The Dark Lord Stephen was the LAST person I wanted knowing about what we’re after, but he’s given us some information and the mission has changed,” Volynian grumpily replied. “I don’t like that he knows so much about us but we don’t know much about him.” They continued to run through the dirt field. “The strangest part is the bit he brought up about Arisile. I’ve read that name before as well. Galatas Blackgaard was involved. If Stephen has spotted another kryoneel off their home world, it is very likely that it’s actually him. Our target isn’t an artifact anymore… It’s a very powerful mage.”

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            The hallway was empty; save for Strawberry and the many motionless stuffed animals and action figures which adorned the tables and walls. He knew a certain someone had to come along soon and stood his ground keeping an eye out in both directions from his well-shadowed perch in a corner of the ceiling. Thus far, information on the target had been good. He had even recently been able to scout a conversation between Judge Kyumi and the target, which lead to this expertly planned ambush.

            From down the hall, the sound of calm footsteps could be heard bringing the bat back to attention.

            “Hold,” he whispered into his headset waiting till the target was visible. “Make sure we have him surrounded, then attack in unison. Over.”

            Small teddy bears, action figures, and a few large plush animals sat neatly against the walls of the hallway. Innocent and not entirely out of place with all of the action the Fistpunch Arcade had been getting. The plan was flawless! No one would ever suspect them!

            A figure wearing a long blue coat appeared around the corner of the hall, a hood over his head. He walked with long purposeful strides but there was considerable wear in his demeanor. He was an old, easy target!

            The hooded figure paced his way down the hall dismissing the presence of the plushies and likenesses of many of the contestants as if a child’s mess.

            Suddenly, “ATTACK!!” cried Strawberry. Twenty-two teddy bears sprung to attention drawing long needles they had sheathed in their fabric. A unit of five large bears sprung up from the corners wielding longswords. The thirty strategically placed action figures of many contestants (about ten of them being Shar) ran towards the target to grab at his ankles.

            The hooded man whirled around, creating a long thin blade out of ice, and started fighting them off as best he could. The plush bat in the corner recorded the ambush for his report.

            The target soon realized that stabbing the plushies didn’t do much to them and slashing at them merely seemed to inconvenience them temporarily. He continued his wild fighting until one arm was grabbed by a large stuffed bear, then another, and finally he was held still.

            Strawberry flew closer to get a look at him, hovering in front of his soon to be uncovered face. A pair of Shar action figures pulled the hood off to reveal… not Galatas.

            Instead a humanoid figure made of ice wearing the target’s coat was what they had captured. The well-sculpted face smiled and seemed to laugh without sound before shattering across the floor. They had been duped!

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            Galatas chuckled excitedly to himself as he released control of his puppet. He hadn’t used that trick in a very long time but it was always so satisfying to pull off. Now that the prying eyes were led elsewhere to ambush “him”, he could make his way to the room Kern and Wryn were staying in.

            Walking down one of the lower halls of the hotel, he approached the door. A gold fist stood out from the middle at about eye level indicating the number across its knuckles. C405. This was it. He knocked on the door.

            Shuffling could be heard from behind the door and then a loud thump. “Hold on!” Wryn called. “Almost there!” The door opened to reveal a young female kryoneel wearing shorts and a tank top. Warm, humid air wafted from the room and plant life peeked its way out of the door. “Oh,” her smile turning into a surprised expression from seeing an elder scholar of her species. They had been gone so long. “May I… help you, Asha…?”

            Galatas chuckled at her use of an honorific he hadn’t heard in millennia. “You don’t need to know my name. I merely wanted to give you some information on the man you fight alongside.”

            At his mention, Kern stepped into the room from the shower. He was already dressed but his hair remained wet. “Who is it, Wryn?”

            “An older gentlemen I’ve never met, hon. He’s from the home world, I think.” Wryn spoke over her shoulder, “Come in Asha… um.. yeah… just have a seat somewhere.” She nervously arranged plant stalks around the room to make some seats and pulled the table closer.

            Galatas watched her, slightly amused, as he stood next to Kern who suspiciously analyzed the stranger. His robes and the way he carried himself indicated he was highborn, but there were things about his attire that showed he had been around. Unfamiliar fabrics were used for some of his clothes, as if they had been made off world. The most intriguing thing Kern had noticed was a journal hanging at his waist, with two kryoneelic letters written at the bottom corner. “G and… U…?” Kern thought, cursing how little time he actually spent trying to learn to read and write from Wryn. Besides already being a slow reader, these letters were in a different handwriting from his wife’s lessons and many kryoneelic letters looked alike in his mind… “It could be a B… or a V…?” Kern decided to focus on the ‘G’ that he knew.

            The three sat down around the table from which Wryn had moved several containers of flash composted dirt for planting. The old man didn’t waste time.

            “I’ll get straight to the point. You have a Spirit problem,” he began. “Arioth, Champion of the Burning Skies, is not a spirit to be trifled with, boy,” Galatas shot a superior glance towards Kern. “I won’t ask you how or why you struck a deal with it because it is past the point of pointless. I will, however, tell you what I know about him. I have seen the legendary fire spirit in action twice before at the end of its cycle, you know?”

            Suddenly it clicked in Kern’s mind. “G.B!” he slammed the table with a metallic thud of his palm. “You are Galatas Blackgaard!” he exclaimed.

            “Keep it down, you idiot!” the old man whispered aggressively, rising from his seat. It was obvious to him now that this swordsman’s powers of perception were quite impressive. Wryn stared at the two in amazement. She had no real clue what just happened but the name rung a bell.

            “Wait…” she pulled a satchel to them with some hanging vines and produced a folded sheet of old paper. “We’ve heard of you! You wrote THIS!” she unfolded it showing the tattered sketch of the 9 Fall Asters and the faded writing around it.

            “You have my writings? You must have been around… I rarely write anymore,” Galatas peered at the sheet. “If you have this, surely you must know everything I know about it…?”

            Wryn’s expression saddened, “Are you saying there’s nothing more?  All you know is that the Asters show up and the fact that it hurts Kern to use Arioth’s power?”

            Galatas’s eyebrow rose, as if questioning whether she was serious or not. “No…?” he tilted his head. “Did you not read it all?”

            “Of course I read it all! Top to bottom! Did I miss something? Is it too faded?!” Wryn squinted at the page, held it closer and then farther, but nothing changed. Kern sat silent, thinking.

            “Is there some sort of hidden message?” he spoke up. Kern remembered the secret notes he used to write to Wryn with special ink made from plants, but they hadn’t tried tampering with the old manuscript paper for hidden information. He was sure other creative people could figure out different ways of hiding information on sheets of paper.

            “Hidden? Oh no, not quite hidden. This information was supposed to be helpful to anyone who found it. The book I wrote it in should have had two transparent shards hanging from a cord,” Galatas explained, making hand motions. “You would use those to read more of it. You see, paper was a commodity in some worlds, so I developed a way through which I might use and re-use a sheet. By making each sheet into three by writing in different colors, I could triple the information contained in a journal.”

            “We don’t have the book. Someone only gave us the sheet,” Kern sighed.

            “I see. In that case, I must tell you what I can remember,” Galatas said adjusting his glasses. “You are aware that there are nine Asters in total and that Kern now sits at three. With each ring his power intensifies.”

            The couple glanced towards each other and joined hands under the table. “I’ve felt that, yes,” Kern admitted. “It takes less effort to use more fire now, but also more effort to stop.”

            “That is because you want to stop, but Arioth does not,” the old man immediately retorted. “Take a look at your woman’s hair, boy. See how it glows with her spirit’s energy?”

            Wryn grasped at her braid, “I have always wondered about that, actually. Some people glow and others don’t… I guess I always assumed it was just how much of a show off the spirit is.”

            “If that were the case, your husband would outshine us all. In a way, you’ve seen it happen twice now. Fall Asters are nothing more than a demonstration of what I like to call spiritual synchronization. They are a sign that Kern and Arioth are on the same page, even for a moment.”

            “Are you telling us that having an ‘agreeable relationship’ with a spirit is what makes kryoneels glow?” Kern asked. “I can see that I guess… Wryn and Darra actually talk to each other and everything. It’s been a long while since Arioth and I have exchanged words.”

            “Indeed. It doesn’t always manifest itself with light, though. With my spirit, I simply had a change in skin color… and then my hair turned blue. It didn’t take much to synchronize with mine. It was a very weak spirit… didn’t even have a name of its own,” Galatas reminisced. “Now, I’ve only seen a host of Arioth twice, and both were only about as far into the cycle as you, perhaps just a little farther. I am rather eager to see what would happen if you fully synchronized with him. Besides, the tournament is almost over, and the sooner you defeated your opponents the sooner you could solve the problem!”

            Wryn stood and menacingly tilted towards the old man; her knuckles turning white as she gripped the table. “Are you a complete fool?! How can you suggest that Kern use more of Arioth’s powers? It obviously hurts him to do so!”

            “That’s… not entirely accurate, dear.” Kern interjected.

            “What’s this now?” she turned her angry face towards him as he slowly tried to scoot his plant chair away meeting with obvious resistance.

            “Technically yes, using fire is what causes the spirit burn, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t feel it when I’m fighting or using the fire. It hurts when I stop.”

            Wryn stared at him as if he had just wasted her time, “Of course! Whatever! That doesn’t matter! Hurts before, hurts afterwards... it HURTS YOU, AND IT’S KILLING YOU!” she shouted.

            “The Asters are evidence that the cycle is ending,” Galatas interrupted. “I suspect, based on evidence, that no amount of holding back or restraint will make a difference. The cycle is time based, not a container that runs out of drink. All Kern can do now is go along with Arioth’s desire for battle but point it in a beneficial direction.”

            “Do you KNOW this for certain?” asked Wryn, still standing.

            The trio fell silent for several seconds. It felt longer to Kern.

            “I admit it is a theory but it is well founded,” Galatas spoke unshaken.

            “So, you want to test your ‘theory’ on MY HUSBAND!? What is WRONG with you?!” the woman used every bit of constraint to keep herself from lunging across the table at the old kryoneel.

            “Dear, listen,” Kern began…

            “Don’t you ‘dear, listen’ me!” she cut her husband off. “None of us really know ANYTHING about Arioth! As ‘synchronized’ as I seem to be with Darra, there’s a lot that goes on in their realm that she never talks to me about AND ARIOTH DOESN’T SPEAK TO YOU AT ALL!!”

            Galatas hesitantly nodded in confirmation. Wryn grabbed the iFistpad out of the satchel and tapped the screen a few times. “Look at this, okay. Katsvelte Don Debeo. She’s an… ‘elf’,” a picture of Kat appeared on the screen beside a silly picture of the couple.

            “I’ve met that girl. Our first day here in the hallway,” Kern remembered. “She seemed eager to fight but didn’t seem to be a cold blooded killer like some I’ve met.”

            “Yeah well this ‘girl’ is our opponent next round.” She tapped the screen a couple more times to bring up her information and a history of her fights in the tournament thus far. “Look, hon. She has two swords and can jump really high. That’s it. Do we really need to test Asha Blackgaard’s theory on this fight? You can handle a swordsman, right?”

            “A swordsman who defeated Shar, the Void Witch, last round. No doubt you’ve seen her fight on the television between your own rounds. The media around here has its own Shar channel now that just reruns her fights,” Galatas said also standing. “Do NOT underestimate her.”

            “Asha Blackgaard, I’m sorry but this conversation no longer concerns you. You have given us your knowledge and theories, thank you. Now, please leave,” Wryn pointed at the door, looking away. Kern hoped Galatas wouldn’t resist… they had just been treated by Medico and he didn’t want to return this soon…

            Galatas resumed his posture and adjusted his coat, taking a deep breath. “Very well,” he said, turning and walking towards the exit. “Regardless of what you decide, I will observe the next round. I wish you both the best of luck.”

            The door opened and closed. Wryn sat down bordering on tears.