The Crane Game
AN: Before we begin, I would just like to say that Suzanne Collins own most of the characters used here, and I would like to thank Rich Burlew for the direction of the plot.
Cato groaned a bit. This?! This is the best I could get he thought, reflecting on the recruits he found for his quest to destroy the evil lich, Heavensbane. Maybe I went about it all wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Peeta. Sitting in a corner cloaked as a mysterious stranger; what was he thinking?! Of course I'd only get the most abnormal people to join me that way! He let out a heavy sigh, pondering the alternative.
His friend, Marvel Flashpoint, a dwarf priest and an exile from his homeland, noticed his disappointment with their new allies. "Och, Cato, wha's it be now? Ye best na be reflecting on tha' 'disaster' last week that ye be so intent ta call it." Walking behind the group of adventurers, it was inexplicably easy for them to speak without being heard. It was like the others couldn't listen to anything going on. They were absorbed in their own discussions anyway, and the clanging of armor between Cato and Marvel drowned out their words.
Good thing too, because Cato only turned more scathing of the new recruits every minute. "No, it's not just yesterday. I've been regretting this since—honestly—since before we started. I thought there was something wrong with them back in the tavern, and what happened yesterday only made it worse."
"Well o' course tha dun na' but make it all worse! Ye haf to remember, Cato, ye be tha lead'r 'ere!"
"A leader's only as good as his followers, Marvel!" Cato cut him off. "Look at them!" He waved his arms in front of him, pointing to each member of the party in no particular sequence. "The thief, Katniss, she's carrying my third backup dagger on her belt like she doesn't think I'd recognize it." Katniss Everdeen was an archer, a rogue, and an integral member of organized crime back in her hometown. It was a thieves' syndicate called "The Hob" or something, and Katniss was one of the best lifters. Cato knew there was a better term for it, but couldn't think of what it might be; he wasn't an insider on underworld jargon, neither its shady nor supernatural sense. Whenever something had to be stolen, Katniss was a pretty safe bet as the one responsible, unless evidence pointed to someone else. And if there was any evidence to be found, it would always point to someone else; she was always clean with her work.
How it contrasted with her appearance: she looked like she was always covered in dirt or mud. It was all over her skin, and with the way it was spread, it may have confused some people into thinking it was an organic camouflage mixture. Cato wasn't so fooled, but that was just his Academy education at work. The grime Katniss wore—all the words that describe it more accurately fail to do so with any semblance of elegance—was not a deliberate pattern. It was nothing more than a mess.
"Clove, the murderer, definitely hasn't learned anything at all, or else she might be somewhere else, other than behind Peeta." Clove Carabel... She was a ranger. She was on the run from something or someone. She talked a lot about killing people, which really didn't say much in her favor regarding the people who might be chasing her. For a ranger, she strayed away from using bows, finding knives and daggers much more to her liking. The two seemed to be perfect opposites to each other, a contrast that stood out even further with each aspect about them, except only for their shared disregard for the law.
Of course, their differences were apparent even in their crimes. Katniss stole wealth; Clove stole lives. Katniss never left evidence of her heists beyond the very disappearance of what she stole; Clove would let the world know who she killed, what she killed them with, and how she went about it. Then there was the bow and arrows held by the rogue, and the daggers held by the ranger. When each wielded the other's traditional specialty, they seemed so much more like perfect opposites.
"Speaking of whom, he's as dumb as blond gets." Peeta Mellark was a bard; his singing was tolerable. There was a lot of room for improvement, but it could also be a great deal worse, so Cato never bothered to complain about his music, because, on a supernatural level, bardic music was akin to magic, and because he personally understood that nobody should be lambasted for their chosen profession.
But gods damn it all, that man was DUMB! Where humans, orcs, rats, elves, goblins, dwarves and most living creatures had a brain, and where their cells all had nuclei—a brain on a much smaller scale—and even all the nuclei had a sequencer to read and decrypt all the chemical messages that needed to get through the cell, Peeta didn't have a bloody molecule up there telling him what was a good idea and what wasn't. It seemed that every day Peeta had some new test for Cato, some new trial to showcase some act of stupidity that went beyond any limit hinted towards the day before. The Academy graduate couldn't comprehend how it was possible for one person to keep getting dumber by the minute, but Peeta pulled it off.
It was even worse that the two looked so much alike. Back to back, they stood just as high. By the build of their bodies, they might be mistaken for twins or even clones; that was how similar they appeared. Both of them had the same golden hair cut close and they shared each other's icy blue eyes. All that differed was the way they presented their uncannily identical features. Something inherent about them completely changed the meaning of the handsome, blue-eyed, blond headed build. Cato was hardened, tempered like the four-foot long steel sword he carried, while Peeta was as soft as the airy, wispy bread he and his mother used to bake together.
"And I bet you Magde is just waiting for the chance to blow us all up, just like yesterday, or the day before that, or last week, as well." An elven wizard from the small village of Firknot far to the east, in one of the great forests. She kept immaculate care of herself, but the odor of animal feces always surrounded her. Madge, as a wizard, specialized in the ways of magic that could shatter both body and mind; a simple flick of her fingers could undo ten thousand years of nature's work, ripping apart and mutilating the delicacy with which the world at large created its denizens and features.
He sighed, still regretting his decisions in that tavern. "Who did you find, anyway?"
"They na' be much, Cato," Marvel said dismissively. "Tho' I o'erherd 'em say sum'thin aboot tha gates of hell. One o' 'em might'a even said 'agin' too. Dinnae worry yerself too much, Cato. It's all gonna be fine."
How many people showed up for the spot? How many left? Is this just the sort of thing they all didn't want to deal with? I can't think a CR 13 lich would be too much for them to handle... Oh, right, it's because I'm not paying them... it's a fair enough trade, I suppose.
With his final thoughts about his group concluded, Cato saw the castle on the hilltop and announced, "Here we are, everyone. The fortress of Haymitch Abernathy. If anyone has any idea what he did, speak up now." Silence from the rest of the party. Even from Madge, who always had something to say. "Alright then. We'll find Heavensbane in his throne room." Thanks for that, Oracle. "That'll probably be deep underground. Get ready. I'm kicking the door open and then we're in. No encores of the fiasco. We discussed this."
They all hustled up the hill, knowing they'd be going back down. There were mountains in the distance, providing a sort of backdrop to Abernathy's Castle. A scant few peaks rose above the line of view of the tallest spires, but for the most part, the mountain range looked pretty small from the hill. An effect of the world's curvature, no doubt.
Cato kicked the door open, broke the giant wooden portals right off their hinges. And in they went.
AN: Characterization gets boring to read sometimes, for some people. And I don't particularly enjoy writing it, which only exacerbates the issue. But I think it's tolerable to save some of it for later. Or earlier. (expect a prequel story characterizing the Order of the Flame)