DUNGEONS & DRAGONS: Dawn of Revolution
The Challenger
Ten months before the coalition war began...
"Is that the best you can do? You told me you're this town's strongest fighter." Juliano Aurus glared down at the dragonborn man sprawled on the town's dusty dirt road before him, his obsidian-black eyes narrowed.
"I'm not... done yet," the dragonborn man spat. He staggered to his feet, his orange-yellow scales chipped and dented from repeated blows in this duel. "Prepare yourself!"
The barechested dragonborn man let out a yell and leaped forth, his right fist drawn back, his left hand's fingers splayed like claws. It was a clumsy and obvious move, desperate even, and Juliano only had to twist to the side to dodge it. The dragonborn man stumbled forth, overextending and losing his balance as he went. Juliano mentally sighed and balled his left hand into a fist, with only his stony thumb extended.
"One-finger jab," Juliano declared, and he explosively thrust his thumb right into his opponent's chest.
"Gah!" The dragonborn man was blasted clean off his feet and thrown onto his back once again, groaning and clutching his chest, his clawed feet scuffing at the dirt road. The small crowd that had gathered to watch stared at Juliano in shock.
"Who in blazes are you?" one man, a blacksmith by the looks of him, demanded.
Juliano grunted and finally relaxed. "I am Juliano Aurus. I came here seeking a challenge, and I found none. It's a shame." He wiped his brow and stalked right past his fallen opponent, ready to head to the next town and find another battle partner. Maybe one less disappointing. Probably not.
"W... wait," the dragonborn man choked out.
Juliano turned and faced him.
"Why... are you doing this?" the dragonborn wheezed, still clutching his badly bruised stomach.
Juliano lowered his head, a wave of grief crashing through his brain. "Because my combat school, the Benevento academy, was betrayed. I was too slow and too weak to stop it. But I'm stronger now. It's all I have. Now, goodbye." Juliano turned back and stalked out of town.
Earth genasi folk like Juliano Aurus had a well-earned reputation for being stubborn, tough, and sparing with their words, a reputation Juliano was perfectly comfortable upholding. It pained him to speak of the worst day of his life, when he had failed so miserably. He had long since swallowed his tears, his face a stony mask of iron resolve.
No one in his native Trassus Kingdom was up to the challenge this month. Perhaps it was time for the desert people to face him next.
"I challenge you," Juliano declared in an oasis town just a dozen miles across the Mehir Balad border. He balled his hands into rock-like fists, staring down the toughest fire genasi man he could find in this cozy bar and grill.
"You're messin' with the wrong, guy, pal," the burly fire genasi said, standing up from his stool at the bar and cracking his neck. His thuggish friends chuckled, ready to see their friend pummel this foolish earth genasi senseless. "Any challenger who tangles with me is gonna end up buried under the sands. You prayed to your gods yet? Last chance!"
Even the bartender, a fellow fire genasi, cracked a bloodthirsty grin as he wiped a glass, watching the two fellows stare each other down. Juliano, however, simply jerked his head toward the open doorway to say Let's take this outside.
"Why... won't you... go down?!" the fire genasi thug panted five minutes later as he and Juliano traded blows by the tiny town's central statue. Once again, a small crowd had gathered to watch.
Juliano socked the fire genasi on the jaw. "Fight harder!"
The fire genasi responded with a hard jab to the ribs. "So I shall!" Then he followed up with an even fiercer kick to the chest, and Juliano stumbled back, his tough skin throbbing with pain. Ah, that was it! This new opponent just might push him to the limit, but Juliano had to be sure. Juliano leaped back a few paces, then raised his left hand's thumb while pointing his index finger at his enemy.
"Two-finger zap."
A blinding, jagged bolt of blue-white lightning issued from his finger and struck the fire genasi dead in the chest. The fire genasi wailed in agony, his entire body shuddering, until Juliano delivered a roundhouse kick to put him down for real.
Not this one, either.
"What... did I ever do to you?" the fire genasi croaked, curled up and whimpering in a ball as Juliano strode away.
"You failed to help me find my true equal. The one who can defeat me," Juliano explained over his shoulder.
"Wh... why?"
"Because a fiendish follower of Asmodeus betrayed me and all my friends years ago. To prove his devotion to his dark lord, the betrayer slaughtered everyone with hellish powers, and I only barely survived with my own life. Now, goodbye."
Mehir Balad didn't have any other good challengers along this trade route, either. Time to wander into the Ayalakh Khanate's open grasslands and find a worthy foe there.
Tieflings fight pretty hard when they've got a lifetime of oppression to vent, as it turned out.
"Good! Keep it up!" Juliano grunted as he and the toughest tiefling he'd ever seen kept trading blows in a small town in the Khanate's heartland. Juliano actually felt himself cracking a satisfied grin, deploying every close-quarters combat trick he knew to keep pace with this broad-shouldered tiefling and his astonishing mastery of martial combat. Juliano grunted, the air whooshing out of his lungs as his opponent knocked him flat on his chest. That was a good leg sweep kick. But -
"Three-finger trident."
Juliano sprang to his feet, his left hand's thumb, index finger, and middle finger extended into a deadly trident that he stabbed deep into the tiefling's robed chest. The tiefling's pained shout was cut off as he stumbled back into a merchant's cart, spilling cabbages and carrots everywhere. The tiefling sank to his knees, clutching his chest for dear life, his voice failing him.
The look on his face clearly demanded: Why?
Juliano dusted off his pants and folded his arms. "Because with a proper challenge, I can fill the emptiness I feel inside after betrayal, and become the great warrior my classmates expected me to become. I have nothing else. Now, goodbye."
He stalked out of town and mounted a horse to ride deeper into the Khanate's endless plains, perhaps to the capital, Nagumtor, to find another challenger. But he found none worthy. How about the Fae Queendom of Talwydd next?
"Grrrraaaaahh!" The goliath tribal chief let out a cry as he tackled Juliano halfway through their brutal duel in the Sneachta mountain range's forested foothills. Juliano could only hang on as the mighty goliath kept charging, and with a painful thud, the goliath chief slammed his earth genasi foe onto a boulder. Juliano felt his bones creak and fracture with the overwhelming impact, almost like stone meeting stone. This was it! Now Juliano had found his true equal, the one who could make him feel alive.
Then the goliath chief got sloppy and allowed Juliano to land a heavy kick that forced him back. He was wide open, too.
"Four-finger claw slash."
The goliath didn't even know what hit him. Juliano drew back his left hand, with every finger but his pinky curled into near-indestructible claws, and Juliano slashed them through the air in a wide, elegant arc. His fingers tore right into the goliath chief's bare chest, carving into flesh and bone alike. The other tribesmen and women could only stare in shock as their leader was thrown onto his back in a bloody heap.
"Wh... why don't you... finish it, stranger?" the chief gurgled. "I have lost. Let me join my ancestors in the land of Caer Ibormeith."
That was the Talwyddian god of the afterlife and eternal peace, Juliano recalled. A fitting end for someone who challenged Juliano so well. "I shall not," Juliano declared. "I only know the warrior's path, the calling of all monks. No other trade can give my life meaning. So I seek eternal combat, and only a well-earned defeat will give me rest. Now, you may have your own rest. Goodbye." Juliano stalked right into the forest, the native beasts parting to let him through. Only one kingdom remained for his travels this year.
"Again!" the half-orc gang leader roared as he and Juliano clashed bitterly on a Verhamaine dirt road, under the shade of the gorgeous autumn trees. A brisk, cool wind picked up as Juliano and his powerhouse opponent traded bone-crushing blows yet again, Juliano landing a haymaker punch on the half-orc's chest, the half-orc retaliating with a terrific kick to the stomach.
"You have almost won," Juliano told the half-orc, his entire body throbbing and aching, a trickle of blood leaking from his mouth. He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. "Can you finish it?"
"You're askin' to die?" the half-orc demanded as his buddies watched anxiously.
"I seek a true warrior's death, to die at the hands of the worthy," Juliano told him. "Don't you?"
The half-orc spat out a bit of blood and smiled widely. "Well spoken! Have at you!" He charged, ready to end it with both fists, his orcish fortitude keeping him in the fight long after anyone else would have quit or died. Time for the final test.
"Five-finger fist of annihilation."
Juliano balled his left hand into a fist and closed his eyes, exhaling as his body tensed like a metal coil, his mind firm with the earth's unbreakable resolve. Then he snapped his eyes open and moved in a blur, whirling around his half-orc opponent like a living dervish, delivering thousands of blows with the full might of his knuckles. The half-orc was obliterated in seconds, his bloody, broken body flying apart before he could even let out a cry. His fellows, at least, had the sense to break and run.
It was over, and not just this fight; this whole year's quest had come to an end today. Juliano stood in place, his chest heaving with exertion, the breeze cooling his body's hot blood. "I do this because I do not wander aimlessly. I can only find peace when I pass on the mantle of the world's strongest warrior and finish what the Benevento academy started. I am not worthy to be the strongest. And it wasn't you. Who will it be? I wish to find out before I die. Goodbye, Kingdom of Verhamaine."
Juliano stalked down the road and didn't stop until he reached the lively trade town of Point Isaac, seeking a horse-drawn carriage that could take him out of Verhamaine and further to the northeast. He knew how to cool his head.
Finally, a week later, Juliano stood atop a secluded mountain in the Illaran Kingdom's western province, watching the kingdom live and breathe under him in its stunning natural vistas of snow-dusted pine forests and winding rivers. The land of the elves and high culture... and a fine place where lone wanderers can truly lose themselves, invisible to the world in this mysterious northern realm.
Still... even if this year's set of foes was a bust, Juliano didn't lose hope. He put his hands on his hips, managing a weary smile as he soaked in the blissful isolation. He had suffered enough in this world, and the warrior's path was all he ever got in return. So long as he lived as the continent's strongest warrior, he could not close the book on that grim chapter of his life, but passing on the title as world's strongest to a new, worthier fighter would give Juliano the eternal rest he sought.
The sun was setting when Juliano finally climbed down the mountain to find a tavern for the night. Strange, the Illaran winds felt different this year, like they were winds of... omens? Change? Some great calamity that would sweep the land?
That was just another adventure to look forward to. It positively set Juliano's heart ablaze! But for tonight... Juliano Aurus would rest.