Games

The bellowing roar of an eager crowd echoes in Phariah's ears as she stares out onto the pitch of the largest stadium in all of Azotara. Every second feels like it takes too long as she waits for the grate at the end of the tunnel to rise and permit her entry to the battlefield. The place where she’s sworn her life long vendetta will finally reach its end.

An unbidden hand grasps her arm, "Good luck out there, Phariah! We're counting on you!" The voice of her teammate Cobalt registers as a dull whine from amidst the cloud of noise.

"Whatever." She spits back without turning around. Finally the door to her metaphorical cage begins to creak open, and she proceeds forward without another word. Out of the archway and into the arena. The blinding light of the sun shines harshly down onto the Grand Magic Stadium and she's forced to shield her eyes from the glare. She slowly scans the ring as reputable wizards from all over the nation pour into the arena. Most of them mean nothing to her but a few stand out… 

Andrius, one of the fools who interfered with her plans for the peace conference… a stranger who looks suspiciously similar to the king of Drachmeer, and even Leomara Fenhardt, the princess of Drachmeer herself. She's more than enough to be worthy of sharpening a blade, but luckily for her, there is someone more worthy of her attention in attendance. 

The one she’s been seeking her whole life, the one most deserving of the sharp edge of her knife. Otto Fenhardt is somewhere in that massive crowd, only a few hundred feet away. She’s planned for this moment her whole life, all it will take is a few uninterrupted moments and a lifetime of suffering will finally be repaid…

The infernal weasel takes the stand and attempts to reign in their attention with an airhorn. His instructions are needlessly drawn out and complicated, his voice as shrill and piercing as ever, and she hears only the most essential piece, “To begin, participants need only name your enemy…”

Her eyes shoot up to bore into the despicable rodent, “Simple. I name Otto Fenhardt.” The spectators gasp with shock and awe, shifting to the edge of their seats and leaning in for a closer look at the next offering of action for their petty minds… and she hates it. The idea that all her torment and hatred has been reduced to a game for the amusement of the public has left her jaded… but it doesn’t change her goal. She came here for one reason only, and it’s not to play a game.

A spotlight over the stands alights and identifies a single person, the monster from her nightmares, the cruel eyes she’ll never forget… Otto Fenhardt. He stands in response to the challenge as the heads of the spectators rotate to examine both of them in turn. Their eyes lock and Phariah hears nothing but the pounding of blood in her ears… Do you remember my eyes…? From the lifeless corpse of my uncle you left in your wake…? Or are they lost in the sea of your countless victims?

As the surprise settles from the crowd, the weasel slowly grows one of the nastiest grins she’s seen from him yet. But before he can continue, another determined voice rings out, “Well in that case, I also name Otto Fenhardt!” her declaration rings as convicted as Phariah’s, but it is the voice of a stranger.

She spins to face the second accuser. There is no name in her mind for this person, but she has seen her before. On magazine covers usually, interviews, posters. The girl struts to the front of the crowd of challengers and locks her hips with a confident attitude. On her hand is the telltale sigil of a winged heart cradling the spark of hope, and yet Phariah knows she isn’t on the Phoenix Wing team… it seems she isn’t the only one here with complex loyalties.

Though before even a moment can pass, one final voice issues a challenge, “No! My uncle is the responsibility of Drachmeer and the Fenhardt family! I also name Otto Fenhardt as my enemy.” context and tone of entitlement alone are enough to place that voice. The princess makes her royal decree and strides out to join the other two in the center of the half circle. 

Somehow the weasel’s grin has only grown nastier in those few seconds, “............. Well then… if there are no more SPONTANEOUS INTERRUPTIONS….! Maybe you’ll let me finish the instructions.” he claps on his fluffy chest before continuing, “Ahem! All those participants that select the same enemy must fight for the opportunity to challenge their true foe! So if the rest of you scum could clear the field… we’ve got a grudge match to watch! Hehehe!” the spotlight on Otto cuts, and instead three spin around to illuminate the three challengers standing in a triangle in the center of the arena.

She scans her eyes slowly over the talented wizards fate has stacked against her this time. So this is how it must be. Two more obstacles rise to block her goal once more… but they won’t hold her back for long. She raises her hood and starts to slowly scan the surroundings as the challengers thin around her. In no time at all, the ring has been abandoned except for the three scorned women all vying for a chance to right years old wrongs. Once more, she barely registers the noise around her as she begins formulating a plan that will ensure her victory. 

Suzy floats over them on a hovering platform, “Alright ladies and gents, keep a close eye on this one. We’re setting up for a ruthless bloodbath between Winny, Phoenix Wing ace, Leomara, princess of Drachmeer, and Phariah the thorny assassin! You’re not gonna wanna miss this…ahahaha!”

“What?!” Winny exclaims and points bitterly into the stands, “You don’t understand, me and that bastard have a score to settle!” she shouts to the unsympathetic gamekeeper who only giggles in response.

Leomara exhales tersely at her outburst, “I assure you, Otto Fenhardt has no shortage of crimes to atone for. I recall from our squabble in the cafeteria this morning that you seem rather self centered…" that scene certainly had been ugly, and more than enough to solidify these two have conflicting personalities, "so the fate of others likely isn’t a concern for you. My nation will have reparations, and my father will have peace, even if it means I must dispose of you to achieve it.” she turns a cold and clinical gaze on Phariah, “... and then, when I finish with that… I’ll be taking the traitor into custody.” she announces as an aside.

Phariah doesn’t rise to that bait. The princess is drunk on her family’s delusional rhetoric, but in her experience, a sharp blade can be very sobering. She has no interest in engaging with these squabbling nuisances. She’s far more concerned with the dimensions of their chosen battlefield, the path her true foe will take to the field, the weight his feet will displace as they step into the arena…

“Hey! Don’t count me out! You’re talking like I’m already beaten, princess!” Winny jibes back with a sultry wink, forcing the princess’s attention back onto her. 

Leomara wheels on her once more, “You think a fan club and trading cards means you're on the same level as the Griffons? You'll soon learn why I prefer to be called lieutenant over princess…"

Winny traces a fake tear down her cheek, "Oh boo hoo…  What's wrong? Mad cause I'm prettier than you…? Don't worry, I'll make sure your girlfriend doesn't get too long of a look at my good side…" she flips her hair salaciously.

Nonsense… what total nonsense...

Electricity begins to crackle around her fists, "You'll regret that-"

An awful buzzer drowns out the end of her threat. The three wizards stare each other down, princess, prodigy and prisoner, and the weasel shrieks, "BATTLE…. START!" 

Surprisingly, their newfound feud has made it absurdly easy for Phariah to fade into the shadows… aside from Leomara's lingering threat to arrest her, they've all but forgotten she's there. The ninja stalks around the perimeter, taking her time to make sure her plan comes together perfectly and observing what happens next as if she's not even involved… 

To start, Leomara unleashing the building power in her arm. It's a massive thunderbolt, a bold demonstration of the skill necessary to hold her spot in her guild, but Winny reacts in the nick of time, "Mimic: fairy wings!" She exclaims and leaps from the ground to the safety of the air. The lightning careens past her to strike the ground she stood seconds ago, "You know, I think I'd make a good princess… I bet my looks would really turn heads in Drachmeer, dontcha think?" The rainbow wings on her back rain down a shameless sparkle as she strikes some dramatic poses.

Leomara bears her teeth and growls, "rrrugh! Stop saying such strange things! Have you forgotten what's at stake here?!" She shouts up at her.

Winny blinks innocently and rests her chin in the crook of her hands, "... why? Is it bothering you…?" She teases, "You know jealousy is a terrible look for a princess…"

She narrows her eyes, "... Don’t think for a second that you’re safe in the skys! Lightning Strike!" She calls as the space above the flying wizard cracks with a flood of energy. It strikes dead on… bright enough to blind anyone staring directly at it. When the blast fades, there's nothing left but a scorch mark on the ground…

That is, until Leomara hears a chuckle in her ear, "Haha! I learned that one from Lucius!" She leans in close to whisper, "Mimic: illusion!" She explains gleefully, "Now how about a taste of your own medicine… Mimic: fist of the thunder dragon!" And her own crackling fist slams into Leomara's stomach and sends her flying. She lands unceremoniously on her side and rolls a few painful rotations and Winny follows. 

They exchange a few more trades of magic, but every lightning bolt Leomara conjures meets with a deliberate counter. A blade she borrowed from Andrius to act as a lightning rod, a cotton shield from the celestial spirit Aries, and a gust of a maelstrom to knock her off her feet once more. Leomara’s single fold magic is no match for Winny’s infinite responses.

Suddenly her expression has grown far more serious as she closes in on her foe, “... You underestimated us. Just like everyone else. When people heard we were betrayed, they assumed we were weak, washed up, forgotten. That the time of Phoenix Wing had come and gone. You were more than happy to believe I was nothing more than a dumb airhead. They were wrong. You were wrong. I’ll show you the strength of Phoenix Wing! Of all of us!” She raises her arms up high above her head as mimic magic swirls around her, “I’ll show you the strength to do what must be done!! MIMIC: PHOENIX FORM, BLAZE OF GLORY!!!” 

She can’t assume the form itself, but instead summons a projection large enough to block the sun and cast a winged shadow on the dirt below. The firebird screeches then dives directly towards her enemy. It explodes upon collision, and Leomara is easily bested. Just in time, as Phariah has just finished laying the groundwork for her plan. She emerges from the gloom to greet the victor. A single hooded silhouette still standing amidst the demonstration of virulent destruction she caused only moments ago.

Using Lukas Urfang’s magic has taken a lot out of the girl, she’s winded and the exhaustion shows in her eyes when she turns to face the ninja, “... Alright... And what do you do?” she asks at last with a clinical gaze.

Without a word Phariah runs at her, and elbows her in the head and down onto her knees, “You’ll never find out.” she hisses.

Winny’s caught off guard, “Huh?” still dizzy, over exerted from her display, she can hardly react as the nimble warrior kicks her down into the dirt.

She plants a foot in the center of her chest, “You already showed your hand. You use your magic to counter your opponents… but you have no idea how to fight me if I don’t use any.” Their eyes lock, and the determination in Winny’s eyes nearly takes her breath away… 

The hatred, the expectation, the frustration of tripping here at the final hurdle… Phariah knows exactly how she feels. In a different world under less complicated circumstances, the battle between these two powerful wizards would be an extremely challenging one. But Winny wasted far too much energy to make a statement… even if the words she spoke had value, her emotions got the better of her, something Phariah has worked for years to avoid. Their goal is the same, and when Phariah speaks again, she does so with respect, “It’s time to do what must be done.” she quotes the words Winny used only moments earlier and implores her understanding with her eyes.

A long moment of silence passes between them. Winny, emotionally little more than a child, never taken a life before and would likely falter in the act, raised under the strict moral bindings of Phoenix Wing, and extremely exhausted. Winny stares back at the stern emotional mask of the master assassin. The differences between them are enormous, but she slowly registers her assailant’s words, and the true meaning implied in them. Our goal is the same, but I am the one who can achieve it. Stay down.

The young prodigy gives the slightest nod, only visible to her opponent and does not move again. 

The crowd cheers, and yet they have no idea the depth of the interaction that’s taken place in front of them. Phariah returns the discrete gesture, a promise. I will succeed. For those we’ve lost. They will have vengeance.

Portals to the weasel dimension remove the fallen and Phariah is left alone on the field. She’s in prime form, hardly exerting an inch to reign victorious in this battle. The spotlight illuminates Otto once more, and just as she planned, he walks down the steps and vaults down to the ground of the stadium. 

The second his feet hit the dirt, it explodes with an array of thorny vines. They entagle him tight enough to restrict movement, and any attempt to escape results in a thousand tiny cuts. Phariah didn’t spend even a single iota of her magical potential on the other two challengers. From the start, she saved every bit for her true target. Her trap activates like clockwork, and he is caught in her snare. 

No hesitation. And she advances on him. The distance in his eyes tells her this is not personal for him. He has no idea who she is, but that doesn’t matter. She hasn't come to taunt him or force out an apology. She doesn’t need him to beg before she makes him bleed. She draws a hidden blade from her boot and brings it towards his throat.

The second she gets close enough and he recognizes the weapon, he struggles defensively, “U-ultramafic!” he exclaims, and suddenly releases a pulse of heat so intense it burns just to be near him. His veins glow with volcanic energy, so the rumors are true… you have changed magic. It won't save you. The vines burn away under the magic, and he stumbles to his feet. 

She recovers quickly, if I can't get close, range will suffice. She draws a shuriken and looses it towards him. It sinks deep into his thigh, but the response is a roar so violent and loud that she feels it from her head to her toes. It echoes from above and fills the entire space of the arena, truly deafening. The stadium falls into a chilled silence, baffled by what could produce such a terrifying sound…

But she can't question that, can't afford to hesitate again. Whatever happens to her after doesn’t matter, as long as Otto dies. The sedative on the shuriken is rapidly coursing through his body and she has to take advantage. More mushroom traps erupt beneath him with clouds of spores, in the confusion, she tackles him to the ground and straddles his waist, blade to his throat. She hears his fiance scream his name from the stands but pays it no mind, "Otto Fenhardt. Today you pay your debt."

Her wrist moves at the same time a massive weight slams into her side. In an instant, her mind sets to work trying to puzzle out what's happened. A vice around her, jaws. Large enough to enclose her completely. A smell of decay and death that bodes certain doom if she doesn’t escape. Sharp serrated teeth and a forked tongue. A monster unlike any she's ever encountered. The beast tries to swallow and she struggles to prop herself against the jawbone. It takes all her strength to force the mouth back open and see a sliver of daylight in the moist cavern. And what she finds chills her to her core…

Otto, back on his feet and still infuriatingly alive. He stalks towards the giant creature with a vile smirk on his face, "... Well done Quetzal. I say it's time we send Phariah to her family reunion, don’t you think…? Finish her.” 

Then, with a strength unlike any she’s ever faced, the jaws clamp down on her. The final sensation she registers is a horrifying CRACK as each of her bones are splintered in the monster’s grasp.

“AHH!” Phariah gasps with shock as she sits up straight. The world around her slowly materializes from a blur, boundless green, as far as the eye can see. One of her favorite sights, the Drachmeeran fields in early summer… above her is a sky so broad that staring straight up makes you feel as if it could swallow you whole… 

That analogy was perhaps a little poorly timed, and she feels her stomach turn as she forces her eyes back to the ground.

“Woah, hey Phar… easy there…” Wolfgang’s voice is like an anchor is a horrible storm, and she feels herself clinging to it. It’s a stark contrast to shift back to relying on him after just recalling how distant she used to be, “You alright…?” 

She slowly raises her eyes to him, he seems concerned for her, but otherwise content. His back rested against the trunk of the only shady tree for miles, “... Yeah. Just a bad dream…” her gaze trails down to the broken stick in his hands, almost certainly responsible for her sudden shocking awakening. It had all felt so real, like she was back there all over again. Everything happening precisely the same around her, almost like she was given a second chance. Right up until Otto commanded his monster to eat her, of course.

That part didn’t happen in reality. No the true outcome was far worse… her lifelong enemy against whom she swore vengeance… made an example out of her. After he forced the serpent to spit her back onto the ground, he proceeded to make a grand speech. All about the forgiveness he was shown in Serpent’s Hand and his new purpose as their champion. Every syllable rang in her ears like an explosion painful enough to deafen. Rather than repair her shattered past, it made it even worse to be used by him in a display of forgiveness she would never reciprocate. She spent those moments digging her fingernails deep into the ground and spitting dirt from her mouth as they cheered him… as the blind masses cheered the monster who killed her family… her hatred had never been stronger.

And yet… here she is. That anger left her stranded in the Drachmeer dungeons but through circumstance she has arrived back in the place of her origin… and when she looks now upon her chosen companion, anger is certainly not her prevailing feeling. In fact, her lingering spite from the dream seems to fade away as she finds herself reciprocating his gentle smile. There was a time when she believed she had nothing to live for but ending Otto Fenhardt… but since then she’s been shown there are other things for her in this world.

He fishes his flute out from his pocket and holds it up, “... You never did tell me what you thought of the new song I wrote… put you right to sleep though. Can never tell if that’s a compliment or not…” he muses while scratching his chin.

The idea is absurd, that she of all people would take a nap. Sleep is meant to be in even increments only taken from dusk till dawn and yet… somehow being around Wolfgang seemed to relax her in a way she never expected. Suddenly her cheeks flood with heat as she recalls his newest melody, and she can’t manage to look at him anymore, “... it was beautiful…” she mumbles pathetically.

He cups a hand around his ear and leans in, “What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that...?” he teases with his trademark grin. It melts her enough to make her whine in protest and he scoffs, “Don’t worry, even if you’re tongue tied your magic is speaking for you…” he points casually down to the pouches on her waist. A single tendril of heart shaped blossoms pink enough to match her cheeks are slowly emerging from the leather binding, growing without her even willing it…

She yelps and quickly scrambles to jam it back in the pouch, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” she protests.

He chuckles slightly to himself, “... Hey, Phar… whatever you were dreamin’ about there seemed pretty nasty… we should talk about it. The two of us have way too many skeletons in our closets to try and hold ‘em in. If we do, the doors probably gonna collapse on us.”

If anyone else asked her to relive that horrible day, she might just skewer them… but if she’s honest, a part of her wanted Wolfgang to know. She wanted to share all of their dark pasts… and this seemed as good a place to start as any, “I ... I was back in the Grand Magic Games…” she begins, with the intent to share as much as he was willing to hear.