Is This a Dream?
A Champions: Return to Arms Fanfic
By Taylor Schell
Rating: PG
Character(s): Matyl, Rikkten, Ignot
One minute he'd been back-to back with the Vah Shir, so close that he could feelthe Berserker's labored breaths and throaty growls. He'd felt Rikkten's tail bumping against his legs from time to time, heard the puma's fangs snapping. Yeah. They'd made a huge mistake. They were out of Gate Scrolls, Rikkten had barely any magic, while Matyl didn't have the energy to keep using his own.
Not that it was going to help much. For the most part? Matyl's magic was most affective against the undead. The Plain of Fire...these creatures weren't undead. He'd already used his Healing spells more times than he could keep track of. Sure, his Convert spell had helped them out a little-but the enemies he used it on fell so much faster when they attacked their own comrades. He'd known it was over as soon as they were surrounded.
Matyl wasn't sure whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that Vah Shirs were naturally stubborn and refused to fall. All they did was delay the inevitable.
They were going to die before they even gave Firiona their first report. That damn Iksar had been right: they were fools for going to the Plane of Fire when they clearly weren't strong enough yet.
Eventually, the enemy had swarmed them. Not even the Berserker's powerful, swinging broadsword kept them back any longer. Another arrow whizzed past Matyl's head-he'd heard Rikkten grunt when it grazed the big cat's shoulder, cutting through leather armor and bruising flesh as chainmail was pushed against it.
It hadn't taken long before they'd been overrun. The High Elf felt an arrow embed itself in his thigh just as he and Rikkten were separated; grunting and grinding his teeth together as blood started to soak through his leggings. He could hear the panther growling and continuing to fight; throwing sharp axes and swinging his heavy blade between tosses. Matyl kept his own weapon poised and shield raised to protect his abdomen as he limped backward. He felt foolish for choosing to bring his Dawnfire to this realm as his only weapon; its added fire damage did nothing to the creatures here. He was sure that if they hadn't been fighting, he'd have been laughed at.
"Someone help us..." he'd pleaded as he continued to swing his weapon and utter any spells he still had the energy for.
Something heavy slammed against the Elf's shield. He could hear something in his arm snapping as the rounded metal slammed against his chest. It knocked the wind out of him so he was left sprawled on the rocky ground gasping for breath.
He couldn't move his left arm, and he'd dropped his Dawnfire after hitting the ground. He had no idea where Rikkten was-if...the Vah Shir was still even standing.
Matyl looked up, still struggling for breath. The club raised above him glowed a soft orange with the light of the fires on all sides.
He didn't dare even flinch, and then all went black.
. . . . . .
Ignot shuffled back and forth over the stone floor-moving objects and checking on his...patients. He'd told himself he wouldn't help these fools. They chose to go where they shouldn't have. That wasn't his fault.
The Shaman huffed and lashed his tail. "I hope you are happy..." he hissed into empty air. The response came in a series of whispers that made the reptile snort. He glanced away from the larger of the two when the elf groaned. He moved to stand over the male Cleric, head tipped slightly and eyes narrowed.
He could tell by the blank look in the High Elf's eyes when they opened that his vision was probably blurred. Ignot had done his best in healing their wounds, but he still wasn't sure if the elf had suffered any brain injuries from the blow he'd gotten to the head. He shook his own head and turned back to the Vah Shir. He was more worried about the big male who could actually put up a good fight.
The Shaman snapped his clawed fingers by the Berserker's ear-when he was satisfied with the reaction he nodded and turned back to the High Elf. He repeated the same process until the puma was the first to actually sit up after opening his eyes.
The Vah Shir's tail lashed behind him and lip curled when he caught sight of the reptile. Ignot's lack of reaction only seemed to agitate the feline even more. The puma hissed, and then growled-still, the Iksar didn't do much more than cross his arms.
"Are you finished?" The feline grunted, and the reptile copied the action. "You asked me for my help. I gave it to you. That is your thanks?" Ignot didn't wait for a reply and spun back around to look over the elf again. He placed a hand on the young male's forehead despite a threatening growl from the Vah Shir. His magic had healed the wound on the Cleric's head caused by the club, but...-ah.
The elf flinched away from the touch and blinked rapidly. Ignot uttered a weak healing spell to help with any leftover damages, then helped the young elf to sit up. He then stepped back and looked from the puma, to the elf.
He heard the whispers of the cave's spirits-and those bound to him-and gave a slight nod before speaking. The first thing he said was...
"You are both idiots."
The Vah Shir's ears pricked and he snapped to attention, gold eyes narrowed. The High Elf just looked on groggily.
"You asked for my help. I gave it. However, I had warned you not to visit the realm you so chose. You are both new Champions. Both still weak," the Berserker growled at that, "and have much to learn."
Ignot walked about the room and collected the pairs breastplates, gauntlets, helmets, and weapons, then deposited them upon the ground between them both.
"Unfortunately," and his tail lashed to add to the word, "I was forced to bind you to myself in order to transport you here. Until that Bind wears, we will be forced to work with each other through the realms or simply remain here."
The High Elf was suddenly wide awake and groaned loudly. It was common knowledge through Norrath that Bindings took a while to wear off-especially if they were cast by Dark Elves or Iksar, which were the strongest magic-casters in Norrath.
The Shaman tucked one arm behind himself and the other across his abdomen, and then bowed deeply in the traditional Iksar fashion. "I am Ignot. Iksar Shaman and Champion to Firiona Vie."
"Is this a dream?" the elf finally asked. "I mean, come on! I don't want even a temporary Bind to a damn lizard! You're all the same: cold-blooded and selfish."
Ignot's lip curled to the derogatory term regarding his species. Iksars hated being called simply 'lizards'.
The puma's tail hit the ground once. "Nothing to do 'bout it. Just gotta wait it out." His attention turned to the reptile, and one fist pounded against his currently bare chest. "I am Rikkten. Vah Shir Berserker an' Champion to Firiona Vie." True to species, Ignot noted, the feline's grammar was poor. But he at least gave the proper Champion greeting.
The elf sighed and finally gave his own version of a bow-though it was awkward because he was still sitting on the ground. "I am Matyl. Champion to Firiona Vie. ...ah...High Elf Cleric."
Clearly, Matyl hadn't rehearsed his greeting.
Pronunciations:
Rikkten = RICK-tehn
Matyl = mah-TILL
Ignot = igg-NOT
