Re: The Shadow Games (1 other person)
Donik sat atop the high stone wall looking at the sun, slowly sinking into the ocean, with half-closed lids. He had climbed the stairs to the stone bird’s nest and relieved the previous guy at three that morning. It was eleven AM, and, thus far, nothing reportable had occurred. Donik growled. He could be training, or reading, or whatever else, but no, he was assigned to guard duty. Who in their right mind would attack the fortress, honestly? There were 10 cannons and four mounted MAG Rocket Launchers flanking him in that corridor alone, and countless more throughout the rest of the facility—all ready and waiting to be fired.
Nothing had attacked the Fortress directly in over a decade, so, why would that change now? If anything actually appeared while he was on duty, he would probably be stunned for a few moments from sheer surprise. There was no reason for him to be there. Nothing’s going to hap—
At that moment, something happened. A black, reflective mound, no… pyramid slowly rose from the water. After a moment or two, it stopped, reaching to about twelve feet above the surface. Donik narrowed his emerald eyes.
“What the crap…?” he muttered—pushing the red intercom button.
A crackly voice answered to the inquiry. “What is it, Tower Four?”
“There’s a sighting off the Eastern side of the island. Initial observation: looks like a black, stone, pyramid. It seems to have risen out of the sea. How should I proceed?”
Donik could hear muffled shouts and commands barked out by the voice on the intercom. He managed to make out the word, “submarine,” which was repeated often. Then, the voice came back with the same cool restraint as before.
“Commands, Tower Four: Fire one shot at it with a MAG Rocket; I have an initial response team at the ready if a situation develops.”
Donik nodded to no one.
“Roger.”
Donik quickly grappled the nearest rocket launcher, placed the obsidian pyramid in its sights, and fired, the mechanism recoiling into his hands. The rocket was off like a shot, reached the pyramid, and—
Everything went black. Donik felt this strange, simultaneous, sinking and pulling feeling playing across his body. When it stopped, he was in a… cage, he supposed, surrounded by Shadows with eyes. He reflexively reached for his staff, but one of the Shadows quickly smothered his face, and he fell asleep.
[A few hours later]
Donik’s eyes shot open. His cloak was still on, which still bore the weight of his weapons. Good. At least he had some tools to work with. Donik groaned and stretched his left arm, touching a cloud of purple smoke, which responded like cold, hard, steel. He was in a smaller cage than the one he hazily remembered from before. Then, Donik realized that his field of vision was gently swaying back and forth. Adrenaline leapt into his veins with the perilous realization, causing him to immediately sit upright.
He and his cage were dangling from the sky. Donik looked upwards. Nothing was connecting his cage to--
There was no ceiling.
Immediately, Donik skimmed his surroundings. He was in an arena filled with thousands of Shadows, all sitting in rows upon rows of comfortable looking seats, cheering and exhibiting various forms of clamor. A lot of them seemed to be fixated upon him.
This was the freakiest and most frightening sight he had seen in ages, but that didn’t even dawn upon him. His survival instinct was in full gear.
Immediately, Donik prepared himself as if for a severely outnumbered battle. All signs seemed to point toward that direction, so he went about his work quickly. He unzipped his back pocket, pulled out his scroll, unrolled it, and placed his hand upon it. His mind navigated for a moment until it reached his desired object: his steel rope. Within about fifteen seconds, he had unpacked all twenty feet of rope and threw it about his neck. Then, he quickly unsealed his electric generator and thick rubber gloves, which he then put on, tied the rope to an exposed portion of the generator, and flicked the device into “ready” position, holding the generator in his right hand and the rope with his left.
He was just about to go for his bombs when a Voice bellowed out from below him.
“Silence!”
The excited clamor stopped in an instant and Donik looked below him to examine the Voice’s source. There, standing before an enormous stone platform, was the largest and most terrifying Shadow of them all, an indescribable mass of black smoke with glowing red eyes.
“Welcome to the Shadow Games, Creature from Above.”
Donik narrowed his eyes. Wait… he’s not addressing me. The Shadow’s eyes were directed down and across from him. Donik followed the spirit’s line of sight until he spotted a--
Giant Worm…?
And the thing was shivering in fear.
“Who – What are you and what do you want with me?” it screamed, Donik’s face twitching in irritated empathy.
“Is it not obvious?”
The audience roared with cheers and laughter.
“You are here for our entertainment. You shall battle another creature from above until I deem a victor. If you attempt to escape, you die.”
Another round of cheers.
This doesn’t bode well...
“No more talk, sniveling Mortal, prepare to battle!”
At that moment, Donik’s cage freefell to about eight feet above the arena floor, past the Shadow’s mocking red eyes, then turned on its side, and opened an unseen latch, sending Donik toppling to the dirt Arena floor.
A gong resounded throughout the stadium, while Donik quickly gained his footing and locked eyes with the Worm. He grit his teeth in frustration, not in contemplation of how to fight the Worm, but how to outwit his and, assumedly, the Worm’s ghostly captors. Donik didn’t want to fight the thing if he didn’t have to, much less kill it, so improvisation was in order.
He called it, ‘Creature from Above,’ which means that he doesn’t know its origin, which means that he probably doesn’t know mine either...
Donik motioned his arm toward the Worm and held his hand in a “Stop” position. The creature noticed this instantly and stared at Donik, head cocked in puzzlement. Donik smirked slightly, now confident that the Worm wouldn’t attack him while his preliminary plan was in action, then wiped the expression off his face and replaced it with one of deathly seriousness, and turned toward the, presumed, Head Shadow.
Donik bowed low with a fliffy rotating motion of the hands, rose up, looked the Shadow right into his red eyes and said, “Greetings from the planet of Dono, your Grace. I thought that, as the Worm was given a chance to speak, I may, perhaps, be given permission to make a statement before I engage in mortal combat.”
The stadium filled with subdued murmurs, while the Head Shadow seemed to examine Donik from his stony perch, like a falcon over a rabbit.
“Your flattery is slightly amusing, but tasteless, Mortal…” The audience chuckled. “I will allow one statement. What is it you wish to say?”
Donik smiled as sincerely as he could force himself to.
“In my country, there is something quite similar to this called, ‘The Coliseum,’ in which warriors fight each other for eternal glory and fame. I, as others have and will always do, have been chomping at the bit to fight in The Coliseum to prove my worth. Now, as you have called me here, I will simply replace the glory I would have received there for the greater glory of fighting with One from beyond my knowledge of space and time.
“Thus, I have one request, for the sake of you pleasure and that of your guests.”
The Shadow stood at attention.
“Yes?”
“I would wish for your arena to match the conditions of my world’s Coliseum, which, as I can see, entail a few easily remedied adjustments.”
The Shadow growled.
“Why would this bring me pleasure, Mortal?”
Donik continued on in a faux-composed manner.
“Because it would enable me to fight to my best, and give you and your patrons that much more pleasure in the watching of it.”
A relatively excited murmuring roved throughout the crowd.
The Shadow motioned for the crowd to silence.
“What do your alterations entail?”
Donik inwardly smirked.
“For you to show myself and my opponent the full measures of your company’s power that will befall us if we attempt to escape or fail to perform to the best of our mutual abilities--as it would heighten my feeling of imminent mortal danger, thus, forcing me to perform higher than my usual standards.”
Donik was playing Russian Roulette, and he knew it. If he hadn’t thrown in the bait of a “good show” or heavy doses of high-flattery, he would probably be dead by now. At this point, all he needed was for the Shadow to be tempted one last time. He needed to know how to fight ghosts.
After a long pause, the Shadow made a slight motion with what appeared to be the foggy outline of a hand.
Immediately, an enormous black cloud hovered over the arena floor.
“This will devour you, and, if this fails, I will use my own power to crush you, down to the deplorable pit of your disgusting soul, Mortal.”
Oh.
Donik creaked out a smile.
“It invigorates me, my Liege.”
The Shadow made another motion and the cloud vanished.
“Very well. Fight.”