If Kogan was not at his castle in Ra’ah, he was here training other Explorers and presiding over the events. He never fought in the battles because no one would fight him; no group of less than twenty would fight him. Even so, he found enjoyment in coaching one of the most successful arena teams. When the horn sounded the commencement of any event with a cry that rang throughout Verdia, Kogan was there grinning and eager for the spectacle.
Today, the arena sands were fairly crowded. Many teams were sparring on the warm sand or practicing spells against target dummies under the shade of the high walls. A few spectators, bored or too lazy to do anything else, sat in the stands and munched on stadium food.
A hush fell over the arena, and a student sparring with Kogan dropped his sword, mouth open in fear and wonder. Kogan turned around and glared.
Viper walked through the arched entrance to the arena. His armor captured the sunlight, casting splashes of color across the sand. Dead silence followed him as he walked, broken only by the odd snap of a canopy or the clink of metal being dragged across sand as players slowly backed away from him.
Players came to the arena in truce, but Conquerors and Explorers alike found their hands reaching for sword hilts, axe handles, and bows. For the first time in a very long time, a common threat was in their midst. They hated each other, but they hated Viper more.
Viper stopped in the center of the arena. A semicircle of fighters stood facing him from the edges of the fighting area. Kogan loomed front and center, towering over all.
“I’m surprised you found the courage to come here.” Kogan’s voice crashed over the stone walls. “Have you come to settle the question? Have you come to face the truth?” A titan in white armor, his golden eyes burned with fury.
Viper shook his head, “I have something I need to say. In private.”
“You’ll say it here!” Kogan roared. “I have nothing to hide, and neither do you. It’s no secret what you are.”
“It’s not about me.” Viper clenched his jaw.
“Then I have nothing more to say to you.” Kogan stomped over to the low wall that ringed the arena. Resting there was his tower shield, a great slab of metal that grated against the stone as he lifted it, and his flanged mace, Sentinel.
He trudged to the center of the arena, stopped twenty paces in front of Viper, and let the shield sink into the sand. Kogan raised the mace and pointed an enormous finger at Viper, “I challenge you.”
An excited cheer dissolved the silent tension. Cries of “It’s happening!” bounced off the walls as players stumbled over one another to get outside and notify their friends. Energetic, nervous fingers pawed at Character Managers, and messages blazed across both Verdia and the real world in seconds. A question nearly as old as Verdia was about to be answered. Place your bets now.
“That’s not what I came here for,” Viper protested. Around him, players were clearing gear and obstacles off the sand. Rakes were quickly brought out and a team of NPCs ran in concentric circles, digging a fine spiral groove into the arena floor. “I need your help.”
Players were already pouring in the arena gates. Outside, the teleport pad hummed and popped as spectators arrived from throughout Verdia. They shouldered against one another, desperate to get a good seat in the rapidly filling coliseum.
“You need my help?” Kogan scoffed. “Why would I help you?”
“It’s not for me.” Viper was looking at the sand, avoiding Kogan’s piercing glare. “You know who it’s for.”
“Then why are you here?” Kogan asked.
“I’m here to apologize.”
Kogan leaned back and laughed at the sky. “I don’t want your apology. You’re not sorry for anything and we both know it. Why are you helping this boy?”
Viper looked up, “Because it’s the right thing to…”
“You will NOT lie to me in my arena!” Kogan roared. The ground at Viper’s feet trembled, dust fell from the stone walls.
For a brief moment, the players pouring into the arena balked and fell silent. They quickly resumed their chatter - oblivious to the conversation taking place below aside from a few calls of “You tell him, Kogan!”
“It’s the right thing to do,” Viper finished. “He hasn’t done anything to hurt anyone, and people… like me are trying to take away his only friend.”
“And you believe that?” Kogan frowned. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe even the lowest of the low can find some humanity within themselves. However, I don’t trust you. You will need to prove it. If this cause is worthy of my help, then it is worthy of your sacrifice.”
“What do you want?” Viper asked. “What will it take?”
“I want your helmet for my trophy room!” Kogan snarled, “I want to scatter your armor across this arena. I want to watch you walk back in here to pick it up, piece by piece, and wash the sand off it with your tears. I want to break you in front of the entire world, so they will see with their eyes what I know with my heart: you are worthless.”
“And if I win, you will help us?” Viper asked.
“You won’t win, but you have my word - which actually means something - that I will help.”
Viper lifted his gaze from the sand, and met Kogan’s blazing golden eyes, “I accept.”
Northern Plains
Grave twitched his ears in annoyance as Lockjaw tapped at his shoulder. Yellow eyes opened into slits and focused on his assailant, “What are you all worked up about? Can’t I take a nap fer’ a few minutes?”
“It’s happening in the arena,” Lockjaw said. “Kogan and Viper.”
Grave’s eyes opened fully, “Right now?”
“Right now.” Lockjaw braced himself as the Stryker ran over a rock and bounced violently.
“Well then.” Grave stood and reached for the dark box that held his rifle. He turned around and threw the case on the bench seat. Latches clicked open and he raised the lid. “I’d best get movin’. Tell White I’ll be back in ‘bout twenty minutes if’n he needs me.” Grave nodded to the four Conquerors that were riding with him; large men in dark armor. “Ya’ll come with me; I might need assistance cleanin’ up.”
…
“So you think you can help?” Bishop shouted back at Wisp, cold wind tearing the words out of his mouth. The dull roar of Christine’s booster wings forced him to shout at the top of his lungs.
Wisp braced himself against one of Christine’s many spines - his Bandit’s sense of balance coming in handy. He nodded at Bishop, “They wouldn’t enter Verdia without something that can handle dragons. You’ll need to drop me off so I can deal with it. You can pick me up later.”
“That seems dangerous to me,” Bishop warned. “They have guns.”
Wisp grinned, “They have to see me to shoot me.”
“Not necessarily,” Bishop replied. “Bullets don’t need to see you. I imagine there will be a lot of bullets once this starts.”
“Well hopefully they are all shooting at you,” Wisp replied. “If something happens, don’t forget the bail-outs. We can’t help Ben and Gabe if we lose our accounts.”
“Did you exchange contact info with Athena?” Bishop shouted, “In case you lose your account?”
“I can’t hear you, it’s too noisy.”
Far beneath Christine’s wings, green plains rolled through feathery clouds. A string of tiny black dots marked the approaching convoy. Twenty Strykers, spread out in a wide arc, barreled over the smooth terrain.
The air was frustratingly clear. Cloud cover would have been nice - a dense fog even better. It was very likely that Christine had already been spotted. Hiding an approaching dragon was impossible; the terrain was flat for miles in every direction. This was a blessing and a curse: Christine could not hide, but neither could the Strykers. Like grapes on a vine, the vehicles lined up for picking. They moved quickly across the flat ground, but not fast enough to escape flame and talon.
Bishop never directly controlled Christine, but the dragon knew what to do. She turn
ed her head and watched the convoy of Strykers pass far beneath them. Roiling clouds of dust followed the convoy, and it was not until these clouds were behind her that Christine stopped her booster wings. What was once a roar quickly died to a gentle fluttering.
Christine coughed loudly. Wisp shouted up at Bishop, “What was that?” Bishop shrugged, and Christine coughed again. This time, she shuddered violently, rocking her wings. Wisp was almost flung from her back.
“I think she wants you to hold on,” Bishop suggested.
Wisp nodded and hunkered down, grasping at a raised ridge of scales. “Okay, I’m good.”
Christine suddenly rolled over on her back and folded her wings. A shimmering meteor plummeted to earth. She held the free-fall until they were dangerously close to the hard ground below. With a loud pop, her large wings snapped open. Christine’s booster wings screamed to life, rocketing them toward the columns of dust rising from the Strykers.
…
“Hunter Actual, this is Bloodhound One,” Fischer called for White over the radio as he slammed the hatch shut above him.
“White.”
“Sir, the dragon we spotted is coming around. I believe it’s making an attack run on our six.”
White let out a pained sigh. This was not his finest moment - fighting dragons in a fantasy world. “Where the hell is Grave? Is this an actual threat?”
Lockjaw broke in from the Conquerors’ vehicle, “This is uh, Lockjaw. Am I doing it right? Okay. This is Lockjaw, Grave is running an errand. He’ll be back in about fifteen or twenty minutes. Uh, over.”
“That’s fantastic,” White responded. “Is this dragon going to be a problem?”
Lockjaw was silent for a moment before responding, “Yeah, probably.”
White grumbled before announcing on all channels, “This is Hunter Actual. Designate incoming dragon as Tango. Eliminate target, all weapons hot.”
…
Burning streaks reached up from the rapidly growing black dots. Christine shuddered, and a loud twang signaled a shell striking her chest. The shell spiraled away before exploding.
Bishop raised his staff and a translucent circle of light appeared in the air before him. Crucible was much more powerful than the old steel staff he had lost in the Agilar, and it was capable of producing an extremely strong shield. He guided this shield in front of Christine’s muzzle, deflecting the incoming fire. “You need to get lower, my dear,” Bishop shouted.” I can’t hold this shield forever.”
A spring shower of bullets became a summer hailstorm as they neared the convoy.
Wisp pressed his head tightly against Christine’s back, “This was a really bad idea!”
Brown haze engulfed them as they plunged into the dusty cloud kicked up by many heavy wheels. The air thundered and hissed; withering fire reached up for Christine. A thousand plinks and chimes marked bullets caroming off Christine’s armored belly.
Christine screamed, and a fountain of fire filled Bishop’s vision. They were low, skimming only feet above the grass. He kept his head down, but to side either he could see the Strykers. Christine was inside the convoy. Black beasts with bulky wheels, their turrets were swinging forward to keep up with Christine as she swept past. Muzzle flashes revealed soldiers shooting their automatic weapons from firing ports. Rifle bullets whizzed and rattled off Christine’s iridescent hide. Some of these bullets tugged at Bishop’s robe. The mage swung his shield of light around to protect himself and Wisp.
A sudden lurch nearly threw Bishop out of his seat. Metal screamed beneath him as Christine’s claws scraped against an armored hull. She lowered her head, and a jet of blue-white fire blasted out of her mouth. Within seconds, a glowing hole was melted into the crew compartment. Soon after that, the Stryker veered off course, drifting in a wide circle and slowing to a crawl.
Christine pushed off the Stryker with her powerful legs - launching herself back into the air and disappearing behind a curtain of dust. Bishop looked back to see how Wisp was doing, and realized that the Bandit was gone.
…
“Beagle Seven is down. I can’t raise the crew.” The radio chatter was strained, “Tango has vanished into our dust trail. This is a player initiated… we have confirmed that Tango has a rider… using shielding of some sort to deflect our munitions.”
“All units, this is Hunter Actual. Circle up on Beagle One,” White ordered. “Eliminate the rider if possible.”
Fischer opened the commander’s hatch on Bloodhound One and stood up for a better view. Brown haze clouded his sight as the column of Strykers bent itself to form a large circle. When it was complete, the dragon would face concentrated fire regardless of where it attacked the formation.
He shouted into his radio over the roar of cannon fire and dragon wings, “This is Bloodhound One, sir. We need to switch to Armor-Piercing rounds. High-Explosive won’t get the job done; we need to treat Tango as an armored target. I would also suggest bringing out the Stingers. Even our AP rounds may not penetrate if we cannot overwhelm Tango’s shielding.”
“Engage with AP rounds,” White barked over the command channel. “When we form the circle, Beagle Five and Bassett Eight will dismount and deploy Stingers.”
Shoulder-fired rockets packed more than enough punch to knock a multi-engine bomber out of the sky; they would likely be sufficient to blast through Bishop’s shield and eliminate a thirty-foot dragon.
“Beagle Five, roger.”
“Bassett Eight, affirmative.”
The Arena
Dreadful quiet hovered over the warm sand. Spectators shouldered each other anxiously in the packed stands that ringed the arena floor. Earlier, there had been shouting, and cheering, and the chaotic jubilation of an excited crowd. Over time, the din had muffled before extinguishing altogether. Now, they watched in complete silence.
Kogan, unblinking, faced Viper with his feet planted wide. His shield, a slab of white metal with a golden cross blazed across the front, hung at his side. Sentinel gleamed brightly in his armored hand; six flanges protruded from the mace’s bulky head. Kogan’s thick plate mail, brilliant white and scrawled with gold inlays, covered him neck to toe. His head was exposed, and the long white mane that flowed down his back matched his pale skin and the white fur cloak that cascaded to the sand.
Kogan never fought with a helmet. He would give a good -natured laugh when someone suggested there was nothing in his skull to protect; even though he had heard the joke hundreds of times. His golden eyes burned holes into Viper; waiting patiently.
Viper held Focus ready. In any other arena, facing any other foe, Viper would have appeared fearsome and deadly - an obvious safe bet. His armor, casting shards of bright colors when he moved, would have distracted and worried his opponent. His array of weapons and endless pool of abilities would keep his foe off-guard and defensive. Anywhere else, facing anyone else, his victory would be assured. But here, in Kogan’s temple, he looked diminished and fragile.
If Viper felt that way he did not show it. He had never lost a battle, and had no intention of doing so this day. Focus shimmered above his shoulder for an instant before he hurled the spear with ferocious swiftness. A white streak sought for Kogan’s armored chest.
Metal kissed metal, and the spear skipped off Kogan’s shield, burying itself in the sand. Kogan spread his arms wide and roared. The crowd cheered and whistled. Kogan’s jaw was set with rage as Viper’s hand pulsed with light.
Long-short-long.
Suddenly, Viper was behind Kogan with Focus in his hands. A harsh jab screeched against Kogan’s back. Kogan whirled with grace and Sentinel struck Viper forcefully in the ribs. The impact carried Viper through the air, and he rolled in the sand, trailing shards of dragonscale.
Viper shakily got to his feet, and raised Focus once again. This time, the spear wavered slightly.
Kogan did not wait for another attack; he rushed forward with a savage growl and brought Sentinel down into the sand. A ring of light and a fountain o
f sand exploded. Viper drifted backwards with the shockwave, and released a swarm of dark purple bolts with his free hand. Tiny missiles of energy fizzled into Kogan’s bright armor, slowing his movement to a crawl. Kogan snarled with anger and charged forward, shrouded in a curtain of golden light. He picked up speed as the slowing effect from Viper’s spell was cleansed.
Viper threw up a wall of ice, which Kogan crashed through as if it were paper. Focus darted forward, but its dark blade was knocked aside with a swipe of Kogan’s shield. Sentinel struck again. The mace smashed down into Viper’s collar, driving him to his knees.
Kogan kicked savagely, and Viper was airborne. He struck a wall, sliding down it with a metallic scrape. The crowd was ecstatic. Kogan, cloaked in a dark fury that was barely hidden by his white armor and the golden aura that surrounded him, waited.
A trickle of blood ran from Viper’s helmet and dribbled down the front of his armor. He rose slowly and drew his axes. Flame and Frost burst to life.
Kogan tossed his shield aside. He raised his mace to the heavens, and a golden ray of light fell down from above. Sentinel shook violently, stretching and growing into an impossibly monstrous version of itself. When the light subsided, Sentinel burned with a dazzling golden flame. Kogan hefted the mighty hammer in both hands, “We’ve seen you bleed. Now, let’s see you die.”
Viper moved like silk; darting forward in an iridescent blur. He feinted left and right, leaping and striking out at Kogan’s flank with Frost.
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