Prologue: Ready For an Adventure
“How would you like to save an entire realm, Mr. Luther?” whispered a deep, time-stretched, voice directly into my ear. Turning back around, I swept my gaze across the white cobbles of the Parisian street. The city bustled with the white noise of hundred of moving tourists, of which I was no exception. When nothing caught my eye, save for a remarkably obese couple wearing egregiously bright Hawaiian patterned shirts, the likes of which gave an American like myself a poor representation; I figured I had either misheard or someone just had a matching name. It was certainly possible, but it had sounded too close, too intimate. Finding nothing that grabbed my attention, I was just about to turn face and begin telling myself that perhaps I’d imagined it, when I heard the voice again. “Over here, Alderam Luther, and do try not to be a fool if you can help it.”
I still couldn’t tell where the thrumming voice had come from. It was like a bell, its dominant tone piercing the air, but might have come from anywhere, judging by the way it maintained an air of strength as it vibrated through the air. All the same, I felt my attention drift toward the left where a broad-shouldered man sitting at a street side café table that would not have been remiss if it were in the fabricated set of a romantic movie. A hot cup of some pitch black liquid steaming in a rather stylish cup and saucer, meant to look like brushed steel so as to seem more than a mere container of liquids for countless clients. Underneath laid a pristine, white table cloth that gave off the slightest hints of a glow from the reflected sunlight. The iron work of the chairs and visible table legs swirled with such grace that the metal work, meant to mimic leaves, looked ready to stir in the slight breeze that brought countless shop scents out to tease prospective patrons into them.
The man just sat there as I a continued to gawk, mouth open as the chair beside him moved back. I couldn’t see which foot he had used, as they were blocked by the table cloth, which I stood a few feet away from.
“Please, sit down,” he said, his tone, unchanging, holding an air of natural authority that sounded all too natural. As I began to move toward the seat, he added, “Oh, and don’t mind the noise, it’s just for a bit of privacy,” almost as an afterthought. I just smiled, not sure of what he meant until my rear-end touched the seat. Instantly, all noise vanished. I was frozen, my mind reeling at some way to explain the sudden drop of noise.
“Now I know you probably have some questions, so let me get a few of the minor questions you feel are important out of the way,” the gentleman said, my head snapping in front of me at the sudden start of noise outside my own heart, which now seemed to sit in both of my ears. I knew I was looking at a man, I had to be, but whenever I tried to focus my eyes forward, they would slide off of him like water before I could get so much as a glance. I was left with little more than a dark impression, like some part of the background of a picture had come forward but brought no clarity with it. “What you’re witnessing is indeed an act of magic. And no, it is not the act of some unseen fallen angel, which is sadly the closest thing that you’re even allowed in this world.” Something about the way he added a subtle emphasis on ‘this’ made my eyes jolt toward the sound in front of me, only to have them flow away against my will. “Yes, it is also how I know your name. And no I did not breach the sanctity of your mind in doing so. I honestly have to thank you more than me considering you carry several photographic identity cards of some kind upon yourself which were easy enough to scry upon. And no, I won’t reveal myself, both for your protection and my own. Well then, shall we continue?”
Giving pause, I was suddenly under the impression I was supposed to say… something. And while I couldn’t prove it, I was reasonably sure he had been wearing an all too smug grin since I’d sat down. Not that I could blame him, I know I would be pretty smug if I knew even just a little bit of magic. But it was the fact that I’d been selected that was bothering me. This wasn’t some story, and even if it was, no one picks the random Joe off the street. That wasn’t how probability, fate, or whatever word any particular brand of theist wanted to use, worked. And it certainly wasn’t an angel; even the bad ones had a history of preferring to show their bodies off in basically every written instance in literature. But that was starting to get off topic. And I had already used up a good thirty seconds trying to distract myself with my racing thoughts so I wouldn’t make some god awful mistake, like saying something that might offend this person and end up a smoking crater. But hell, if my life wanted to come at me like a story book, then I would come at it harder.
Taking a small breath to steady myself, I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking, and placed them on the table. “What do you want?”
“Why, I want to save a world Mr. Luth-”
“You’ve already said that. What do you want from me? A magicless creature, to do for you what you seem incapable of doing yourself?”
The world began to slow down quite literally for a few tense seconds, as every person and thing around me began to move like they were fighting against a tide of frozen molasses, and a distinct chill made my breath appear in front of me. Whatever it was, it only lasted a mere second, through it was hard to tell. Before the world returned to the normal, I learned to tolerate, and despite the fact I was now able to see my breathe I was glad for the sudden chill because that masked the effects of adrenaline that vibrated through me.
“How fortunate for me,” he said, in a way that made me believe he’d wanted to say ‘you’ proceeded by something that would cause me great pain, “that you have shown such intelligence and nerve before me, though I do hope you won’t interrupt me again as it is rather impolite. To put it simply, I wish to enter you into what these great beings call a game. You will be moved across time and dimension to another world for this. But rather than simply having a chosen champion face off against another, there would be multiple champions upon the chosen field of battle, which in this case will be roughly 537,640 miles square. I need you to assist the champions who will work in opposition against a being known as Tirek and his champion. Though I should mention there will most likely be others in league, with each considering their causes. Once that is accomplished, the battle should be over, but I know that fool is entirely incapable of keeping his word, and they will then need to destroy him. Your part will be accomplished once they have found the weapon that will kill Tierk. And as you have well surmised, this is indeed a lethal-force kind of situation. But before I hear your answer, I would let you know that those who I would send you to aid are not of the soundest minds. So, what is your choice?”
“I should like to say yes, but I want to know two things first,” I said, bringing my clasped hands down so I could begin to pry them apart. They were beginning to lose circulation from how tight I was holding them.
“Oh?”
“Why me, and what about my life here?”
“Your life on this plane of existence will end, although if you truly care so much, I can arrange it so that you look to have died in an act of heroism, perhaps using your body as a shield to protect the innocent in some way. But as for why, well, that’s because a world bereft of magic knows what it’s like to work, and I believe you have something of a saying regarding idle hands. So, what is your answer?”
Another chill went through me, but my mind was ablaze. This was absolutely insane, but insane or not, someone had come to me to save a world. What are you supposed to say when innocent lives were at stake?
“I’d like to try.”
“Well then,” he said, his voice now tinged with something akin to mirth, “please follow me, we’ve need of Notre Dame.”
“Wh-”
“Ah ah ah, ask no questions and I’ll tell no tales,” he said as his chair scraped against the stone work, and the noise of the crowd came flooding back. He most certainly got a kick out of his position of power, but he didn’t seem to be haughty about it, more like jubilating at having won a gold medal. My assumptions aside, what I was quite sure of was that the quiet laughter put my frazzled mind in a more calmed state.
As I began to follow behind the wizard, or whatever the nameless man’s name was, I noticed the crowd parted around him like water, leaving a noticeable gap in the sometimes shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. But what really caught my attention was that even with the noise of the crowd back, I could hear the quick pace of each of his steps clacking against the road. He must have had those Japanese clogs because the way the very air seemed to carry itself around him made it very hard to imagine someone like him to wear anything like Swedish clogs from The Sound of Music, which was the only other thing I could think of that would make that noise.
The phenomena continued all the way into the great church, which, in the angled afternoon sunlight was resplendent with multicolored light from the vast stain-glass windows and allowed us unmolested passage up a great number of narrow flighted stairs. Eventually we came across a balcony without rail guards. The view was spectacular, but I half suspected I only thought so due to it most likely being the last I would see of Earth. A true work of storybook fiction had simply jumped out at me. It was almost funny, except for the fact that it sounded like I could very easily lose my life on this venture.
Shifting my eye to my feet to quiet the gnawings of vertigo that had begun to threaten me, the Eiffel Tower is an overrated structure anyway, I began to mull over my options. Honestly, I could simply turn around and run away. The thought made me smile. A whole world was apparently at stake, and I had been thought to be able to do something about it. There was nothing else I could do but go on. Besides, the wizard would probably kill me for showing him such discourtesy. Anything was possible now.
“We’re here,” I heard the wizard say, his deep, time worn voice shaking me from my thoughts. We were in the bell tower, surrounded by bells I could easily hide my six foot six frame in if I bent down and hugged my knees, even with the bell clapper still in there. The slight gleam off their metal surface that seemed to repel the dust brought in by the wind was a testament to their well-maintained state. At least that was what I thought until they began to shine a little brighter, it wasn’t until a sliver of silver light started encompassing the surrounding bells that fear finally clutched at my chest. The unknown was about to come crashing down upon me with a force that no man, woman, or child, had likely ever known. It. Was. Exhilarating.
Looking over to the spot where I assumed the wizard stood, rather than my eyes sliding off his form, they were able to stay in place, not that it mattered, as he too was covered in a dome of the same silvery light. Tendrils of the light began to twine around the bells, cocooning them. I winding pressure creeping up my legs brought my attention to the strands of light that were now doing the same to me. Looking over to the spot where the wizard had stood I tried to call out to him but the lights had already reached my throat and cut out my cry of pain in a choking gasp. As the tendrils encompassed my head I saw the pale they had change color from a pale white to a deep blue. Choking on the spittle that I could no longer swallow a sudden clarity of thought pierced my mind: how: How was I supposed to find the pieces of the weapon, how was I supposed to find the “six heroes”, how was I supposed to even recognize them? In my growing panic, unable to utter a single word and growing dizzy from want of air, I heard his words whispered in my ear, “You’ll figure it out. Your kind always do well in these situations.”
As the blue light started turning black before my eyes, my lungs no longer hurting quite as much, I was given a sudden spike of pain as my skin began to feel like molten lead and the roaring sound of one thousand seashells rang in my ears. With a sudden tightening jerk I felt my ribs splinter and pierce my lungs before what felt like my body being crumpled like a wad of paper proved to be too much to remain cognizant for.
***
My first waking sensation was pain. Dull and achy, yet leaving me surprisingly warm, like I’d been stretching. The second was the smell of sugar, I and my sweet tooth would know it anywhere. My spatial sensory flashed back in and I knew I was laying down from the horizontal pull of my back towards the cool and ever so slightly damp ground, but I’d have to get over the fact I had be temporarily blinded, judging by the warmth of the sun on my skin. So, leaning up I moved my arms up to my eyes in preparation to rub out whatever eye crust was in there before it got too dry and painful to get out. They came a hair slower than I expected. I really must have done a number on my body. Opening my eyes, I immediately regretted how much light I was able to see, completely blighting my vision to the point that my arms appeared slightly bloated and grey through the glare, but they quickly grew into focus and back to normal coloration. Deep down I could already feel my mind beginning to crank out worst-case-scenario rationalizations. I could no longer feel the weight of my pocket knife, wallet, or any of my other effects, and above my prone position I could see a tree above me with doughnuts strung along the tree branches. That’s just a good waste of sugar. An odd sort of calling card? Hypnosis surely didn’t work that way, so I could only have been drugged, possibly through touch, and then mugged.
I knew I should have felt more… something, anger, maybe frustration, but the singular oddity of the tree in front of me was just too much of an attention grabber. Slowly rocking myself up so I could stand up, I walked over to the tree. Now that I was closer, I could smell the warm glaze upon the doughnuts. The scent of freshly made pastries wafted around me and it was enough to draw my attention from the tree before me to gaze at the trees, all spaced equidistant from each other and bearing circular pastry upon their own branches. It was like stepping into a dream by Mr. Wonka. But there they were, and now that I was closer, I couldn’t see any strings. Must have been the thin stuff, probably fishing wire of some kind. Looking towards one of the glazed doughnuts, tied at a branch laden enough for me to simply reach over, I tried to pluck one off. But rather than part of the doughnut being sliced through by a small wire it clung to the branch moved with the light pastry for a few inches before lightly snapping back, now bereft of it’s small treat. Looking closer at the sticky pastry, I now expected to find some sort of glue on the back side, but flipping it over only revealed an odd green spot and what looked like the brown stem of an apple but much softer. Giving the doughnut a slight squeeze, I saw something white ooze out the tip. Bringing my finger to brush against it, I brought the thick white substance to my mouth, and before I could quite think what I was doing, the substance was scrubbed off by my tongue which rejoiced at the taste of processed sugar.
“By the stars,” I heard a deep voice say, causing me to drop the… organic doughnut, “what do I pay those farmhooves for if they can’t keep out a simple pest.” And before I could respond, a strange tinkling sound buzzed around my ears, immobilizing me, and turned my world into a sparkling shade of brown. “You have got to be the ugliest and most malnourished bearsickle I’ve seen, but I can’t let even something like you get away with stealing from my orchard,” the voice said through the surrounding tinkling. Before I knew it, I was flung into the sky and far away from the ground, which had blurred slightly as it flowed below me in a river of green and a few specks of brown spattered within.
Just a few more seconds of life left for me and I simply enjoyed the silence. Who the hell would hear me scream anyway? Besides, my stomach was up in my mouth now that I was descending and it was making me feel funny. Heh, my last moments of life, and I couldn’t even muster up enough fear to scream at my impending death. With a single second left, as the ground came rushing towards me, my left arm shattered and was ripped from its socket with a sickeningly wet popping sound along the trunk of an enormously tall tree, and rather than my life flashing before my eyes I instead found myself contemplating the sort of red tinted blast radius I would leave once I- *SPLAT*
…
…
…
…
‘Whoa, now *that** was a splat.*’
…
‘Shouldn’t I be dead?’
Raising my head, I found that I was surrounded by a nearly perfect circle of what looked like grey putty. I had no idea how deep I was in this miracle cushiony material, but I wasn’t going to question God on his serendipity. I was alive.
Bringing my arm up to once again block out the glare from the sun above me I was greeted with what looked like a poorly sculpted version of an arm. The surface, a sickly grey, slowly shifted upon itself like an oozing tide of candle wax. Without thinking I brought up my other arm, finding it similarly coated, I began to touch it and immediately recoiled as I stared at a crude impression of a handprint on my forearm before it smoothed itself out and then looked to the arm that I had seen rip from my body but a few moments ago. Craning my neck down I saw a small circular expanse, roughly twelve feet in diameter, three inches below my chin. Not wanting to think too hard about the implication of what sort of radioactive sludge I might have fallen into I put my hand through it and try to swim my way to the edge of whatever this miracle cushion material was and get the hell out of it. but as my hand touched the surface of the pool my hand slapped down and passed through half an inch of the stuff before it came to an abrupt stop. Catching my breathe I watch as the goo parted slightly around the my similarly coated hand and in the small break between them I saw the green and brown rot of dying tree leaves and dirt.
As the sound of my rasping breath began to quicken the edges of the grey ooze began to waver and pull towards my head, which began to pull away from the ground. I was grateful when a rustling sound in the nearby brush took my attention away from my plastic form. Snapping my head towards the sound I reeled slightly at the sudden one hundred and eighty degrees of movement. I didn’t have to worry about any paralysis as I jumped back and released shrill, but manly, in my head, scream as what looked like a large grey snake was rapidly slithering towards me. Trying to turn myself around my limbs floundered as I quickly spun in a tight circle, my left leg moving when I tried to move what look like my right. My panic turned to terror once the grey snake latched onto my foot then burrowed into it and was gone from sight. At a loss I stood frozen in place, each passing second a freakish eternity as I waited to find out what it feels like to have your organs devoured from the inside as I looked down at my toe which... wasn’t spurting out any blood. Rather, it looked much like my arm, a crudely crafted facsimile of a human limb made from oozing grey sludge, minus any toes. In fact, the whole of my foot looked more like a cone, a thick circle at the bottom then slowly tapering as it came to my knee. A shaft of light struck its way across me as a small breeze ruffled the tree tops, allowing me to see a slight shimmer, like the mucous of a snail, interspersed with the grey ooze that coated me. Raising it to catch the light before it disappeared, one of the clear veins that caught the light seemed to go in several inches into my arm. My gut tightened. Something like that shouldn’t exist without me about to feel an intense wave of pain, the likes of which I’d never before experienced in my life. Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth I waited for the pain to hit me, yet after several seconds nothing came and I slowly opened my eyes.
‘Champions... he’d said. And in every tale where champions were involved, there was always something special about them. Perhaps I had been elevated to this state? It’s the best theory I currently have. Though, I’m not quite sure what the benefit of this power is, accepting I seem to be able to survive terminal velocity falls, and most likely a wide range of blunt attacks, through I certainly don’t want to test the extremes of it any time soon.’
Taking a tentative step forward, my right proto-foot gave a slight resistance, making a small schlurking sound as it peeled off into the air. Not wanting to stare at the dripping bits of forest detritus falling off of it, I sent it forward, wishing that it would become the foot I’d grown up with. The change came almost instantly, leaving me in a state of equal parts revulsion and awe as I gazed at the obscene twisting and molding it quickly underwent, as I continued to stare at what now looked like an ordinary human foot. After a few moments of uninterrupted silence, save for the creaking of wind kissed tree branches, I placed the foot down in front of me and marveled, again, at how painless it all was.
“Nooo,” I whispered in a soft incredulous voice, which I only now noticed had a slight bubbling characteristic to it, as through a simmering pot of tar had been given the ability to speak. As I raised my right arm, I pictured the head of a mallet. Again, the end of my appendage swirled in a way that made my skin crawl, but the result was a large grey mallet head, devoid of any slick overcoat of slime, and that rivaled the size of a watermelon.
I imagined that my grin was about to part the top of my head from my body, though I only felt a dim impression of a smirk. As I willed another change, I was surprised to see that the crab claw I’d imagined not only came out in the shape I pictured it, but also in the dusky red, nearly brown color as well. Though, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have been too surprised. Hadn’t my arms looked flesh colored after I had woken up?
Across time and dimensions, on a battlefield that was some 500,000 miles round, and I had to assist the champions that opposed Tirek, who was hell bent on taking over the world. A world where pastries grew on trees. Would I find lunchboxes with cold milk and sandwiches inside them next? If I did, then that would make any sand I ever saw a death sentence. I had no idea what could be dangerous or what couldn’t be, and I was supposed to find six other people in this? The prospect left me feeling quite small. Taking a deep breath, I took another step forward into the unknown, the plans for acquiring a blanket of safety being placed high on the priorities list, just one foot in front of the other.
Of Course You're Ready For an Adventure
The pool of shallow water stood still in its simple stone fountain, its grey sides turning to a sparkling blue haze as the spiral of runes were brought to life. The purified water began to darken as it reflected the void it pierced through until the flickering gaze stabilized into an idyllic forest scene, the southern sugar forests of Atlantis.
As I could now see, the human had been flung hundreds of feet through the air, by an alicorn no less, and was now learning of his altered state. Seeing it in action, I couldn’t help but give a well deserved chuckle at the simple brilliance of it. Many other champions would be crafted to perform great works of magic in tandem with great speed. Mine, however, was a champion unlike the others. A creature of nearly pure defense, unable to be destroyed by any form of physical attack. It would take great works of elemental or magical might to do him harm, and once he would be able to more consciously control how he replicated his cells, he would be an awe inspiring weapon. Combined with the fact Alderam now possessed the ability to mimic the shape, color or sound of any object he put his mind to, as well as absorb loose material to increase his own mass. It left me safely within the boundaries of the rules. After all, Scorpan outright had the ability to fly, whereas Alderam Luther could only approximate the ability to glide, leaving him unable to kill Tirek’s piece from the outset.
Zooming in, through the pool, I was able to see all the little human’s reactions: his bewilderment at a sudden increase in power without even beginning to grasp the potential of it, the fear of having a body so unlike what he once had...
‘So much like myself, all those forgotten years ago, excepting that *I** had been able to choose my path.*’
The echo of that ancient memory popping upon the wellspring didn’t last for more than a heartbeat before it vanished, but its effects would linger, dulling my mental acuity. Taking one last glance at the pool, I saw he was heading north, towards the mountains, and soon enough to the capital city of Atlantis itself, a hub of energy both magical and mundane. The forces at play would, at the very least, send one of the champions of harmony there. Mr. Luther would do well enough without my watchful gaze for some time.
Leaving the small chamber, I canceled the channel of energy, the runes inlaid along the pedestal darkened back to the grey of the surrounding stone. An ethereal Hellfire claw stretches out from my left horn, the blue-black light shimmering across the ebony stairway, as the stone door closes silently shut. Forgoing the use of levitation, I elect to walk down the spiral stonework, my cloven hooves treading silently forward. Down three quiet flights of my tower study, a silencing spell having long since been enchanted on it, the stairwell gives way to an open archway and I am once again greeted by the city, my city, of Tambelon, the shining jewel in my crowning failure.
Stepping through the archway, I am bereft of the quieting aura of the tower, the dead wind mocks me, caressing my deep blue fur, as it freely moves through and away from my sanctioned prison space in Tartarus.
The clicking of bone upon stone work comes from behind, and then stops.
“Your bidding, master?”
My eyes stilled trained upon the swirling soul draining eddies of black and grey mist beyond the ramparts. The crisp tone of my skeletal razorback had taken years to perfect, but it sounded as though it were alive. Though, anyone familiar enough with such a creature would have been hard pressed to recognize it by vitality and cultured voice of the speaker. Pulling myself away from the amusing distraction, I replied, “Set the tearoom, I will be there shortly.” The steady clicking of retreating feet replied, and I was again left to my thoughts.
Having already begun musing upon the past in the tower, I allowed the sight of my city to bring back the memory of that failure. While expanding my mind’s eye, the hand of time circles back and begins tolling the anthem cry of my assailants. Despite all the deadly spells I had sent raining through the air, they actually had been singing. Dodging nimbly about every death-dealing blow with the ease of water twining around a boulder-filled stream, and they had been singing all the while. And rather than change my tactics, I had let my emotions get the better of me and merely drawn in more power from Tambelon to increase my rate of fire. Those winged fools could have been brought down by a mere increase of gravity, or a blanketing swath of power instead of individual lancing bolts, but I had let them get the better of me, and now I was confined to Tartarus, never allowed to personally step foot out of it so long as the city I had bound myself to resided within its grasp.
Noting the repeating motion of the mists, the half-formed ideas of greater demons and things much worse flew about just beyond sight. A new warden must have been given charge of this sector of space. A seasoned one would not have given into boredom and changed the set pattern, thus risking to mentally stimulate their charges. Leaving the uninspired view, I crossed the stone skywalk to the guard tower turned tea nook, the air stagnating inside and allowing the scent of tea to permeate every pore both stone and wood. Drinking in the smell, I moved over to the utilitarian-designed stone bench and matching table. The tea sat within a very old mug that, in just the right light, one could just make out the last flecks of paint that had once adorned the outside of the great clay cup. Grasping with both my hooves, I raised it to my lips and quickly drained three quarters of the steaming brew. The aftertaste that only five lumps of sugar and two teaspoons of honey could affect brought me a measure of satisfaction. Taking a pause I swirled what was left of my tea before I finished it off in a single gulp and then gently placed the clay mug down upon the stone table before leaving once more for my tower. The break had done its job, and now it was time to get back to observation, there were many other creatures to gain knowledge of, and precious time to do it in if I was to have enough kingdom left to be a king.
***
While I stared into the fire the weight of my reality was finally sinking in. It was too dark to see anything outside the small ring of green fire light, courtesy of whatever sort of chemicals suffused the sugary scented wood. I had abandoned a world that, by all rights, I was quite fond of, on the chance of seeing a magical world. The building sense that all the fantasy worlds I’d read all throughout my life gaining the possibility of actually existing. But the way I’d acted, so boldly, and without fear of the unknown. A whole of existence that I had always known couldn’t possibly exist, and I had bluffed my way into getting pushed into it, as though it held no possibility of danger.
Flicking my right hand in front of me, I pulled my concentration to the palm and felt my hand smoothly move from a human sized crab-claw to a circular saw, hammer, and a slender three-fingered alien hand; before I let it all go and watched my hand turn back to an even duller-shaded grey goo.
My head hurt, and not just from the overly sweet-smelling smoke, like caramelized sugar. A very large part of me was thrilled nearly out of thought by the possession of Clayface’s powers, or some facsimile thereof. However, the little Marvel boy in me staunchly rebelled at this conclusion, but I needed some starting point to at least attempt working off of. I needed something familiar, if only the imagined works of some artist I would never meet, more so now that I was in an entirely different world. After all, fully formed chocolate doesn’t grow on trees. Not in the real world.
Taking in a deep breath to calm myself, I quickly choked it out when I saw my chest expanding like the throat of a frog. That was when it went white, and then black as I felt something in me simply fall to pieces. The world tilted slantways, and twisted in an increasingly tighter spiral until something cold crunched beside my head.
‘What are the rules?!?’