The BlackSand Tournament I: Round I, Duel V

From Jett Apocalypse of Kobolds

Jett Apocalypse of Kobolds (14951)

They called him “the Enforcer.” And he didn’t mind. That name suited him. Almost as much as his title of “Apocalypse.” Those names instilled fear in his enemies. That was exactly what Jett wanted: cause so much fear in the “Unfaithful” that they would dare not stand against the might of the Burning Hand.

Jett was walking towards the tournament arena. He was wearing his battle tested armor of fire. In one hand he held his massive claymore; in the other his golden shield. Rare weapons, forged at the foot of Honor Mountain by direct orders of Major Razer. They were gifts bestowed upon him to reward his loyalty and contribution to the Cause: bring justice and retribution to rid the world of the “Unfaithful.”

In his travels to follow the “Cause” he had stumbled upon the little-known city of BlackSand. He then heard of a tournament and decided it could be a decent venue to hunt the Unfaithful without breaking any local law.

“Hopefully some kobolds will participate” he murmured, as he passed by a run-down inn on the side of the street. He hated those creatures. Those predictable rats had no chance of hiding or escaping him. Ever. He had just recently followed a hot trail that led him to five kobolds he quickly took care of.

Their prayers for mercy still echoing in his mind: “Please don’t” they kept squeaking. “So pathetic. Such shame. No honor in those rats.” He suddenly shouted, quickly following with a big laugh of excitement.

Some passerby looked at him in surprise as he continued marching onto the arena. Proud; confident; enlightened by the Cause and determined to carry out justice.

He wondered how long it would take for the Burning Hand to take over this black city. There was something about those dark buildings and dusty streets that he could not put his fingers on. “Something strange is at play here” his instincts told him. “I wish Major Razer could witness this.”

Before he could continue his thoughts, he spotted something odd in a corner not far from him. What looked like a green creature stepped into the streets and then ran into a nearby inn. “A kobold!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Stop running you rat! I will have you in a matter of seconds” he yelled as he started charging. He bursted into the inn where he saw the kobold enter. What from the outside looked like another run down place was flamboyant on the inside. A warm fire was crackling in the middle of the main room; several people were chanting and dancing around lavish wooden tables. Gold cups and plenty of food filled the room.

“What the f…” Jett said in surprise. “Welcome to the One Inn” a beautiful maid greeted him. Unbothered, Jett continued “where is the kobold?”

“No Kobolds here and no weapons allowed, please” what looked like a manager asked gracefully.

Jett could not deal with this nonsense, so he turned around and left right away. “This place is odd. Let me get this tournament stuff done quick.”

“The power of the Burning Hand will guide my sword” Jett thought as he started walking towards the tournament arena. Eager to meet his opponent. Eager to bring justice upon them.

From Chuck Chaos Agent of the Coliseum

Chuck Chaos Agent of the Coliseum (2164) “A tournament for real warriors!” Chuck shouted as he pulled the advertisement from the ‘quest-board’ that glowed in front of him from the side of the street. Could this be his chance? His chance to finally find his place among the REAL Warriors of the Runiverse? His chance to display his kick-ass-kung-fu-karate, in front of a crowd worthy of his skill level? And a chance to finally spread his wings and fly!? Like the giant Ostrich-Bird he knew existed, but had never actually seen. Chuck had studied martial arts and nunchaku for years. And now he was ready. Ready to fight the fiercest of opponents, flip-out in front of a crowd, and win this “Black Sand” trophy. His first real trophy, that wasn’t just for “participation”. His days in the Colosseum had been formative, but deep down, Chuck knew that his best fights were ahead of him. He tightened his headband, spun on his heel and set off towards the fighting arena. As he strutted through the busy bazaar, he noticed a tree-tall Wizard, wearing a blue hood and white robes, moving slowly toward him.

He jumped into fighting-stance-five and yelled, “Whoa ser! Nobody sneaks up on Chuck!”. The Wizard calmly drew back his hood, to reveal a shock of red hair and a really, really, really good-looking beard. “Battle Mage Hothor of the Hills!” Chuck said in surprise “What brings you here, old friend?” The wizard tilted his head, seemed to grow a few inches in size, and with a puzzled squint said, “I summoned you Chuck. Remember? …The letter…” “Ooooh, yes, yes, yes, you are right!” Chuck interrupted him with a laugh and an overly-obvious wink. The letter he received weeks ago asked him to travel West, to participate in the BlackSand Tournament.

At the time, Chuck was honored that Hothor had summoned him. But now that he was staring at this mountain of a wizard, he was starting to regret getting involved again with a ‘person of the hills'. “Well, Hothor my fire-bearded friend! What plans do you have for me and my filthy-familiar?” Hothor drew in a long breath. “None, Chuck. You are a Chaos Agent…” Chuck coughed, and let out a strange choked sound that seemed to say, “BRO WTF? WHY IS THAT IMPORTANT? WHY YOU GOTTA GET PERSONAL”? Patiently, Hothor continued, “...At this moment, I cannot trust my full plan to your knowledge. Please, collect your swine and accompany me to the arena”. Chuck ran a finger and a thumb down the length of his Fu-Man-Chu, shrugged and tightened his head-band. Then he let out a loud “KI AYE!” and vaulted fifteen feet into the air.

As if in slow motion, he started to turn a backflip. But his cape floated over his head and in front of his face. Chuck was now blind as he continued his descent. He flailed in the air, and yelled out “PIGGEY SMALLS, ASSIST ME!” Before crashing into the ground…there came a deafening “SQUEEEEEE” as a tiny razor-back-piglet came running from seemingly nowhere. About ten paces before they connected, the warthog began to grow in size and Chuck landed comfortably on his back. With his cape still covering his head, Chuck looked in the opposite direction of Hothor and exclaimed, “Well mage. Now that Chuck and Piggey have arrived, I guarantee it won’t be BOARing! I will see YOU at the Black Sand Tournament!”.

Hothor shook his head slowly as he watched the two morons ride off. A tinge of doubt flashed in the back of his mind. His plan was sure to produce favorable outcomes…but anytime he dealt with this particular Chaos Agent, he had to allow for results to occur outside his control. He drew a resolute breath, set out toward the arena and was comforted by the reminder that Piggey Smalls always seemed to even the odds in Chuck’s favor. That certainly was one notorious P.I.G.