.^^ Duncan ^^

— Duncan —

The guide spoke that same language he'd spoken to the water spirit, with a casual expression, but I saw his fingers curling slowly, almost like he was subconsciously getting ready to fight.

Seeing this, I tightened my own muscles, and took a deep breath, readying myself for anything.

The giant demon we were speaking to, the Greenish-Blue four-armed creature, sighed, his tentacles glittering a bit with what looked like steel piercings, much like tongue piercings for humans. "Yes... he has become one of The Cursed, unfortunately... but a human was sent to battle him?" He asked, peering at me closely.

"A young one. He is only a boy, really. He will grow much bigger, his Clan is very big and strong, all warriors of great renown and power." Rune embellished my clan needlessly, and then punched my kidney swiftly when I went to humbly correct him, effectively silencing me as the Deep breath I'd taken left my body in a quiet cough.

"Ahh, and such a Clan would wish him to kill many mighty foes, to prove himself a warrior even as a boy!!! I respect that. Come, then! An Arena will be prepared!" The long tentacles slithered and sucked back into his face almost instantly, showing many rows of jagged black teeth, a terrifying display he apparently meant to be a happy smile, then began leading us into what, besides it's denizens, seemed like a normal forest village.

I got out my sketchbook, covertly, and drew the scene with a charcoal pencil, stuffing it into my new jacket when the guide looked at it curiously.

He smiled. "Nice shading. If we survive and you kill this thing without my help, I'll get you some red chalk, spice up your work a bit."

"No idea what you mean." I muttered.

He shrugged. "Whatever. Get ready, you're about to fight a Cursed Callywomp. Go for the back of the neck and the bottom of the jaw, those are their weakest points."

I hummed. "He's chained up, though, isn't he?"

He laughed. "You think they're going to leave him chained up for you? Do you like things the easy way?" He shook his head and walked forward, speaking again in the odd spirit-language. "Das Orderin Fasul? Achtun, Deal?"

The demon creature laughed, and slapped the guide's shoulder, holding out a sack of what sounded like bones. "Deal. Eight Drol pelts to the winner!"

I blinked. "What's a Drol?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's another name for the Matron's of the Weizenbeasts. Very, very nice pelts. Very soft, yet sturdy enough for a shield, and still fireproof." He looked down, and hummed, still about two feet taller than me. "Will you be wielding that blade in the Arena?" He asked.

"If He isn't armed, I can't see how that would be honorable." I shook my head.

He made a curious sound, and shook his head. "Ahh, Humans, and their curious concept of Honor... Well, fine, but no one would fault you... he does have the Steel-Hide, after all."

"And that means... what?" I asked.

The guide looked at me, then pulled my sword off my belt, running it along his skin. Not even his hair was parted, much less the skin. He pressed deeper, and nothing happened. "It's alright, his sword wouldn't pierce anyway." He shrugged, and sheathed it on my belt again.

I blinked in shock, and checked my blade, which was now visibly dulled. "How, by all the god's... did you do that?" I asked slowly.

"I told you I was one of the Gifted, right? I'm the opposite end of the spectrum from this Cursed one, Fasul. So go for the weak spots, use your sword, don't be stupid, and maybe you survive." He chuckled.

Lady Dashiva cleared her throat. "Our mission was to give him battle experience, not put him in an arena with no actual means of killing his adversary..."

Lord Raava shrugged, and poked his sword into the Guide's arm, casually. Upon seeing it cut just slightly, with a generous amount of force, he nodded, and replaced my sword with his own. "There. Now he can cut his enemy. And we'll give this Fasul character Duncan's sword, to even the playing field." He said simply.

The demon-creature shook his head, making that curious sound again, which I finally categorized as almost a Scoff. "Yes, Yes, fair play and all that, now if you don't mind, I'd like to get this battle started?"

I nodded and stepped forward, as we had reached a large wooden structure, interceded with stone stalagmite-structures, which was odd, because we were in a valley with no Red Trees, and no cave-like structures around.

It was daylight, now, which was nice, though even without any trees, the canopy reached very far away from the tree line, and blocked a lot of the sunlight that would have naturally been filling this valley/meadow.

The wooden gates closed behind me, with only the guide and lord Yeshiva with me, (Yeshiva looking confused and afraid, as was his norm,) as the Demon-Creature joined another, and helped to hold down a third, snarling and snapping its maw at his compatriots.

A tall, thin creature, very different from the others, stepped up and began speaking in a booming, Gladiatorial Announcer Style voice. His skin was reddish in color, and he had tusks and horns, instead of tentacles. "Alright! Gather Around, my friends, we have today, this hour, a Battle for your entertainment!!! A baby Giant, an Elfling Mage, and a Gifted, fighting a Cursed, and two adults of his Clan! Three fully grown Demons, Three baby Mortals, and only One Victor!!! This battle will not be to the death, but until yield, and if a yield is not given, then and only then is death allowed! The astonishing prize of Eight Drol Hides, furnished by Exil and Rune, As well as Fasul's Belongings, has been offered as Prizes, because, let's face it, he's not going to survive!" He cackled.

"I decided to give you some help." The guide shrugged. "Wanted better than Twitchy here, but he wanted the three youngest." He said dryly, nudging Yeshiva.

"How'd you manage that? We were right next to you?" I frowned.

"The Announcer? He's an Orc Necromancer. He has some basic telepathic skills, and I was talking to him and Exil from the moment we entered the village." He smirked.

"Oh... that's... interesting?" I shivered.

"Don't worry, he won't mess with your mind. But if you die, he'll use your body as a puppet until it falls apart." He shrugged, and handed Yeshiva a large crystal. "Stay out of the way, cast from a distance, don't hit me or Duncan. Anyone else is fair game." He said calmly, and then stepped away, as the two demons on the other side unceremoniously released their captive.

He lunged at them, but with a hearty backfist from the 'Exil' character, he was sent reeling, and spotted us, the apparently easier prey. Now he sprang forward, catlike, his shorter set of arms out to the sides as his longer set and his legs worked in sync, sending him skittering towards us like a rather large, terrifying spider/squid.

The guide, (whose name I didn't believe was actually Rune, but what do I know of half-elven names, really?) leapt forward, roaring a challenge, and equally as unceremoniously tackled the creature, pounding away at its face with his fists, completely ignoring the beautiful sword, which he had dropped to one side with his cloak and shirt. He seemed to be baring his chest in some sort of barbaric display of strength, charging into battle unarmed and unarmored to prove his absolute superiority.

I drew my own sword, and faced the two remaining, with Yeshiva at my back. I took a step into the arena, feeling him follow swiftly, and made my way towards them, as they'd moved off, out of the way of the action.

They seemed surprised at my steady approach, but the second one simply leaned against the wall, leaving us to his compatriot, apparently. I frowned, and glanced over my shoulder at Yeshiva. "Cover my back."

He squeaked, pointing over my shoulder. I followed his finger, and found the larger creature, Exil, standing directly in front of me, without a sound. "You know this battle will end when Rune kills Fasul, right? There's no need for us to actually fight." He said casually, flicking my sword away from where it had reflexively tapped against his throat.

That small tap made the sword jerk, almost ripped out of my hands completely, and I frowned, holding on tightly. "Yes, well, I believe a wager was placed! Now En Garde!" I snapped, and readied myself.

He hummed, and shrugged carelessly. "Alright. If you say so... maybe I'll get to fight Rune, finally... they say he can rip a Weizenbeast in half. I'd like to see for myself, so I'll make this quick." He reared back one hand, and I leapt reflexively.

His face filled with confusion, as I was now landing behind him, and I stabbed down, through his knee, and into the sand, then ripped it out, and sliced the opposite Achilles' tendon, before leaping away.

He roared in pain, and looked up slowly, as Yeshiva tapped the crystal to the part of his face that represented his nose, almost chidingly. "Boop!" He grinned, and the demonic creature was launched backwards by an arcane blast of blue lightning, and slumped, unconscious, against the far wall, his face charred and effusing blue-green smoke into the air around it.

The one who had left him to us flinched, and drew a jagged, corral-shaped sword, charging us with incredible swiftness. As it did so, I threw my sword like a javelin, aiming at the ground in front of his feet. The speed that he was moving at worked in my favor, as the blade entered his foot, without any contest. He had seen it moving towards the sand, and ignored it with a cocky laugh, until it was pinning his foot down.

I grinned and rushed him, leaping over his swing with the corral sword, and slammed a knee into the bottom of his chin, making him lurch back half a step, screeching in pain. While he did this, I grabbed the sword, and ripped it out, kicking his feet from under him, and then kneeling on his chest, the sword pressed against the same spot I'd knee'd.

"Yield." I demanded, glaring down at him.

He chuckled softly, and released his weapon. "You earned it, Little Giant. Take it."

I nodded, and stood, picking up the corral blade. The edge, I could see it now, was one long strip of the sharpest Obsidian I'd ever seen, while the rest, flowing seamlessly back from the Obsidian, was a red-black corral substance. Once it was in my hand, it shivered a bit, almost like a living creature, and then settled down. I turned to the last remaining enemy, and frowned, seeing the two of them still trading blows savagely, the dirt shaking under them visibly, with each blow.

The guide was covered in small scratches, but his opponent looked like he'd been tossed through a meat-grinder. His flesh was oozing blood from multiple bite-wounds, his face was even uglier than it had started, beaten, battered, bruised, and broken, with his maw visibly destroyed; from the spiral-shaped teeth-marks on Rune's left fist, he had jammed his fist down his enemy's throat, and broken almost all the teeth inside.

I cleared my throat. "Are you done?" He snarled wordlessly, and kneed his opponent in the face savagely, knocking him back. They began circling each other, and I sighed. "We handled our two already!"

"I don't often get to fight someone on even ground! I'm savoring it! Keep your blessed white panties on, Boy-Squire!" He snapped, glaring at me.

In that apparent moment of lost concentration, his opponent leapt at him, thinking to catch him off guard, but instead caught a fist to the face; as the guide turned, his fist gliding with a savage elegance through the air in a perfectly executed right hook.

It looked, though technically perfect; totally mundane... until the red, demonic chains appeared around his muscles, then began stretching, with an eerie, unnatural, and ethereal howling cry, and the chains were apparently forced slightly apart with the force of the punch, because his arm didn't bulge any bigger than seemed normal, and some part of my brain figured that bulging muscles wouldn't affect ethereal chains in the first place. That made my mind up, that this particular attack was full of magic, as well as brute force.

Upon connection, his opponent's head, in a grotesquely fascinating fashion, separated from his neck with a wet ripping sound, pulling along the spinal cord, which hadn't apparently broken with the force of the blow.

The crowd, whom I could now see were a myriad of different demonic beasts, instantly roared loudly in approval of the spectacle, and music started playing loudly in the background. This was apparently a somewhat normal occurrence, and only the demonic Gobbers/Callywomps seemed to show any emotion for the dead one, whose head Rune picked up, and shoved into my chest rudely.

"There, I killed him, are you happy?" He growled, and I blinked at the deadly, feral light in his eyes, unnerved for a moment, before it faded, and he walked away.

Once he'd reached his pile of belongings, he poured water all over himself, then pulled his armor back on with a wince of pain from the many, many blows he apparently took in that short period of time. He still dished out a much heavier beating, however, and had apparently been only toying with his opponent, if that last blow was to be any judge of his full potential.

I shoved the head into my new (empty) magic pocket, with a disgusted shudder. Proof of the deed would be necessary, horrible as it was. With that done, I walked over to Exil, the Sentinel, and felt for a pulse, finding nothing.

His companion, whom I had made to yield, limped over and placed his fingers on an entirely different spot, (his temple,) and nodded after a moment. "He lives, do not worry for him. He is Unconscious, and surely scarred mightily by that attack, but in no mortal danger." He said softly, and I noticed his voice had a very maternal tone to it, but I was focused more on the wounded creature.

"Well, that's good... should we wake him?" I asked.

He laughed. "I will wake him, once he is in our bed once more, and his burns have been tended to the best of my abilities. You will go with your allies, unless you wish to spend the noon-day hours with Rune, trading in The Bazaar." I blinked, processing that statement, and he looked back at me. "Do you not know what a bazaar is?" He asked curiously, but not rudely, as if he was honestly concerned.

"Oh! No, no, I was just-... nevermind, it is only more human idiocy, I'm sure." I shook my head, and glanced at his throat, looking for an Adam's apple, or something to signify gender on these multi-limbed, semi-faceless, amorphous beings.

He grinned. "Ahhhh, that's your confusion. We do not have the same genders as you humans do, Little Giant. The concept of Male and Female is useless, in determining our status in the Mating Cloud. We are all He, She, They and Other, in whatever time we choose. We go by 'He' in these languages only for basic convenience." He chuckled at my confused look.

"Oh! I-... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

He shrugged, cutting me off. "No one is offended, really. Now go, Little Giant, and speak with your companions about trading... we have recently caught a large number of Fishes, and simultaneously experienced a shortage of Rock Salts to cure them with." He pointed at the wall, as it was being rapidly disassembled, and reassembled as the many roofs of small stalls, which apparently made up The Bazaar.

I turned woodenly, and walked away a few steps, then turned back. "I am Sir Duncan... What is your name?"

He blinked, and smiled that horrible smile. "I am called Galen, Sirduncan, Little Giant!"

I chuckled, and nodded. "Good to meet you, and thank you for the sword, Galen."

"It was a good match, and you proved yourself to our People, and, hopefully, to yours." He nodded sagely, and threw his partner over his shoulder casually, walking towards the residential district of the village, which stretched much further than I'd originally thought, apparently filling the entire valley.

I looked at Rune, looking elegant and yet functional once again, and frowned. "Your map did not show the significance of this city."

He blinked slowly. "You realize this continent is over 4,000 Miles across... Yes?"

I paused at the massive number. "Truly?"

"Yes." He nodded.

"So... that tiny, seemingly insignificant dot which I assumed was a tiny, ramshackle village..." I slowly came to a confusing conclusion.

"And I allowed that misconception, yes, that tiny dot is indeed the Demon City of Armada, where some of the finest Jewels and Metals can be bought, though the Gnomes and Dwarves are the ones who actually Work the material, so we'll have to go there, if we want any finished wares." He nodded casually.

"So... what do you sell? You Deal in finished product, correct?" I rubbed my temples slowly.

"I usually sell basic materials here, where they're refined and sold back to me at a small loss, but it's a good deal, as it makes my own work of an even higher quality, starting with better ingredients." He shrugged.

"They need salt... are we staying here for the night? I honestly want to learn more, and see how my father got his information. Is there a... I don't know, a message-carrying system? A Grapevine?" I asked, half-joking in exasperation.

He blinked slowly. "Well yes... how'd you guess?"

I stared at him blankly, for a few awkward moments, before turning and walking into the Bazaar.